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diff --git a/41801-0.txt b/41801-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d040855 --- /dev/null +++ b/41801-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9805 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41801 *** + +=Books by Arlo Bates.= + + + THE DIARY OF A SAINT. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + LOVE IN A CLOUD. A Novel. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + THE PURITANS. A Novel. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + THE PHILISTINES. A Novel. 12mo, $1.50. + THE PAGANS. A Novel. 16mo, $1.00. + PATTY'S PERVERSITIES. A Novel. 16mo, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. + PRINCE VANCE. The Story of a Prince with a Court in his Box. + By Arlo Bates and Eleanor Putnam. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + A LAD'S LOVE. 16mo, $1.00. + UNDER THE BEECH-TREE. Poems. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + TALKS ON WRITING ENGLISH. First Series. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + TALKS ON WRITING ENGLISH. Second Series. Crown 8vo, $1.30, _net_. + TALKS ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE. Crown 8vo, $1.50. + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + Boston and New York. + + + + + THE DIARY OF A + SAINT + + BY + ARLO BATES + + + For many saints have lived and died, be sure, + Yet known no name for God. + + Faith's Tragedy. + + + [Illustration] + + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1902 + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1902 BY ARLO BATES + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + _Published September, 1902_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. January 1 + + II. February 39 + + III. March 55 + + IV. April 85 + + V. May 133 + + VI. June 163 + + VII. July 186 + + VIII. August 214 + + IX. September 244 + + X. October 263 + + XI. November 284 + + XII. December 302 + + + + +THE DIARY OF A SAINT + + + + +I + +JANUARY + + +January 1. How beautiful the world is! I might go on to say, and how +commonplace this seems written down in a diary; but it is the thing I +have been thinking. I have been standing ever so long at the window, and +now that the curtains are shut I can see everything still. The moon is +shining over the wide white sheets of snow, and the low meadows look far +off and enchanted. The outline of the hills is clear against the sky, +and the cedars on the lawn are almost green against the whiteness of the +ground and the deep, blue-black sky. It is all so lovely that it somehow +makes one feel happy and humble both at once. + +It is a beautiful world, indeed, and yet last night-- + +But last night was another year, and the new begins in a better mood. I +have shaken off the idiotic mawkishness of last night, and am more like +what Father used to tell me to be when I was a mite of a girl: "A +cheerful Ruth Privet, as right as a trivet." Though to be sure I do not +know what being as right as a trivet is, any more than I did then. Last +night, it is true, there were alleviating circumstances that might have +been urged. For a week it had been drizzly, unseasonable weather that +took all the snap out of a body's mental fibre; Mother had had one of +her bad days, when the pain seemed too dreadful to bear, patient angel +that she is; Kathie Thurston had been in one of her most despairing +fits; and the Old Year looked so dreary behind, the New Year loomed so +hopeless before, that there was some excuse for a girl who was tired to +the bone with watching and worry if she did not feel exactly cheerful. I +cannot allow, though, that it justified her in crying like a +watering-pot, and smudging the pages of her diary until the whole thing +was blurred like a composition written with tears in a primary school. I +certainly cannot let this sort of thing happen again, and I am +thoroughly ashamed that it happened once. I will remember that the last +day Father lived he said he could trust me to be brave both for Mother +and myself; and that I promised,--I promised. + +So last night may go, and be forgotten as soon as I can manage to forget +it. To-night things are different. There has been a beautiful snow-fall, +and the air is so crisp that when I went for a walk at sunset it seemed +impossible ever to be sentimentally weak-kneed again; Mother is +wonderfully comfortable; and the New Year began with a letter to say +that George will be at home to-morrow. Mother is asleep like a child, +the fire is in the best of spirits, and does the purring for itself and +for Peter, who is napping with content expressed by every hair to the +tip of his fluffy white tail. Even Hannah is singing in the kitchen a +hymn that she thinks is cheerful, about + + "Sa-a-a-acred, high, e-ter-er-er-nal noon." + +It is evident that there is every opportunity to take a fresh start, +and to conduct myself in the coming year with more self-respect. + +So much for New Year resolutions. I do not remember that I ever made one +before; and very likely I shall never make one again. Now I must decide +something about Kathie. I tried to talk with Mother about her, but +Mother got so excited that I saw it would not do, and felt I must work +the problem out with pen and paper as if it were a sum in arithmetic. It +is not my business to attend to the theological education of the +minister's daughter, especially as it is the Methodist minister's +daughter, and he, with his whole congregation, thinks it rather doubtful +whether it is not sinful for Kathie even to know so dangerous an +unbeliever. I sometimes doubt whether my good neighbors in Tuskamuck +would regard Tom Paine himself, who, Father used to say, lingers as the +arch-heretic for all rural New England, with greater theological horror +than they do me. It is fortunate that they do not dislike me personally, +and they all loved Father in spite of his heresies. In this case I am +not clear, on the other hand, that it is my duty to stand passive and +see, without at least protesting, a sensitive, imaginative, delicate +child driven to despair by the misery and terror of a creed. If Kathie +had not come to me it would be different; but she has come. Time after +time this poor little, precocious, morbid creature has run to me in such +terror of hell-fire that I verily feared she would end by going frantic. +Ten years old, and desperate with conviction of original sin; and this +so near the end of the nineteenth century, so-called of grace! Thus far +I have contented myself with taking her into my arms, and just loving +her into calmness; but she is getting beyond that. She is finding being +petted so delightful that she is sure it must be a sin. She is like what +I can fancy the most imaginative of the Puritan grandmothers to have +been in their passionate childhood, in the days when the only recognized +office of the imagination was to picture the terrors of hell. I so long +for Father. If he were alive to talk to her, he could say the right +word, and settle things. The Bible is very touching in its phrase, "as +one whom his mother comforteth," but to me "whom his father comforteth" +would have seemed to go even deeper; but then, there is Kathie's father, +whose tenderness is killing her. I don't in the least doubt that he +suffers as much as she does; but he loves her too much to risk damage to +what he calls "her immortal soul." There is always a ring of triumph in +his voice when he pronounces the phrase, as if he already were a +disembodied spirit dilating in eternal and infinite glory. There is +something finely noble in such a superstition. + +All this, however, does not bring me nearer to the end of my sum, for +the answer of that ought to be what I shall do with Kathie. It would +never do to push her into a struggle with the creeds, or to set her to +arguing out the impossibility of her theology. She is too young and too +morbid, and would end by supposing that in reasoning at all on the +matter she had committed the unpardonable sin. Her father would not let +her read stories unless they were Sunday-school books. Perhaps she might +be allowed some of the more entertaining volumes of history; but she is +too young for most of them. She should be reading about Red Riding-hood, +and the White Cat, and the whole company of dear creatures immortal in +fairy stories. I will look in the library, and see what there may be +that would pass the conscientiously searching ordeal of her father's +eye. If she can be given anything which will take her mind off of her +spiritual condition for a while, that is all that may be done at +present. I'll hunt up my old skates for her, too. A little more exercise +in the open air will do a good deal for her humanly, and perhaps blow +away some of the theology. + + * * * * * + +Later. Hannah has been in to make her annual attack on my soul. I had +almost forgotten her yearly missionary effort, so that when she appeared +I said with the utmost cheerfulness and unconcern, "What is it, Hannah?" +supposing that she wanted to know something about breakfast. I could see +by the instant change in her expression that she regarded this as +deliberate levity. She was so full of what she had come to say that it +could not occur to her that I did not perceive it too. + +Dear old Hannah! her face has always so droll an expression of mingled +shyness and determination when, as she once said, she clears her skirts +of blood-guiltiness concerning me. She stands in the doorway twisting +her apron, and her formula is always the same:-- + +"Miss Ruth, I thought I'd take the liberty to say a word to you on this +New Year's day." + +"Yes, Hannah," I always respond, as if we had rehearsed the dialogue. +"What is it?" + +"It's another year, Miss Ruth, and your peace not made with God." + +To me there is something touching in the fidelity with which she clings +to the self-imposed performance of this evidently painful duty. She is +distressfully shy about it,--she who is never shy about anything else +in the world, so far as I can see. She feels that it is a "cross for her +to bear," as she told me once, and I honor her for not shirking it. She +thinks I regard it far more than I do. She judges my discomfort by her +own, whereas in truth I am only uncomfortable for her. I never could +understand why people are generally so afraid to speak of religious +things, or why they dislike so to be spoken to about them. I mind +Hannah's talking about my soul no more than I should mind her talking +about my nose or my fingers; indeed, the little flavor of personality +which would make that unpleasant is lacking when it comes to discussion +about intangible things like the spirit, and so on the whole I mind the +soul-talk less. I suppose really the shyness is part of the general +reticence all we New Englanders have that makes it so hard to speak of +anything which is deeply felt. Father used to say, I remember, that it +was because folk usually have a great deal of sentiment about religion +and very few ideas, and thus the difficulty of bringing their expression +up to their feelings necessarily embarrasses them. + +I assured Hannah I appreciated all her interest in my welfare, and that +I would try to live as good a life during the coming year as I could; +and then she withdrew with the audible sigh of relief that the heavy +duty was done with for another twelvemonth. She assured me she should +still pray for me, and if I do not suppose that there is any great +efficacy in her petition, I am at least glad that she should feel like +doing her best in my behalf. Mother declares that she is always offended +when a person offers to pray for her. She looks at it as dreadfully +condescending and patronizing, as if the petitioner had an intimate +personal hold upon the Almighty, and was willing to exert his influence +in your behalf. But I hardly think she means it. She never fails to see +when a thing is kindly meant, even if she has a keen sense of the +ludicrous. At any rate, it does us no harm that kindly petitions are +offered for us, even if they may go out into an unregarding void; and I +am not sure that they do. + + +January 2. Kathie is delighted with the skates, and she does not think +that her father will object to her having them; so there is at least one +point gained. + +We have had such a lovely sunset! I do not see how there can be a +doubter in a world where there are so many beautiful things. The whole +west, through the leafless branches of the elms on the south lawn, was +one gorgeous mass of splendid color. I hope George saw it. It is almost +time for him to be here, and I have caught myself humming over and over +his favorite tunes as I waited. Mother has had a day of uneasiness, so +that I could not leave her much, but rubbing her side for an hour or two +relieved her. It has cramped my fingers a little, so that I write a +funny, stiff hand. Poor Mother! It made me ashamed to be so glad in my +heart as I saw how brave and quiet she was, with the lines of pain round +her dear mouth. + + * * * * * + +Later. "How long is it that we have been engaged?" + +That is what George asked me, and out of all the long talk we had this +evening this is the one thing which I keep hearing over and over. Why +should it tease me so? It is certainly a simple question, and when two +persons have been engaged six years there need no longer be any false +sensitiveness about things of this sort. About what sort? Do I mean that +the time has come when George would not mind hurting my feelings? It may +as well come out. As Father used to say: "You cannot balance the books +until the account is set down in full." Well, then, I mean that there is +a frankness about a long engagement which may not be in a short one, so +that when George and I meet after a separation it is natural that almost +the first question should be,-- + +"How long is it that we have been engaged?" + +The question is certainly an innocent one,--although one would think +George might have answered it himself. How much did the fact that he +talked afterward so eagerly about the Miss West he met while at his +aunt's, and of how pretty she is, have to do with the pain which the +question gave me? At my age one might think that I was beyond the +jealousies of a school-girl. + +We have been engaged six years and four months and five days. It is not +half the time that Jacob served for Rachel, although it is almost the +time he bowed his neck to the yoke for Leah, and I am afraid lest I am +nearer to being like the latter than the former. I always pitied Leah, +for she must have understood she had not her husband's love; any woman +would perceive that. Six years--and life is so short! Poor George, it +has not been easy for him! He has not even been able to wish that the +obstacle between us was removed, since that obstacle is Mother. Surely +she is my first duty; and since she needs me day and night, I cannot +divide my life; but I do pity George. He is wearing out his youth with +that old frump of a housekeeper, who makes him uncomfortable with an +ingenuity that seems to show intellectual force not to be suspected from +anything else. But she is a faithful old soul, and it is not kind to +abuse her. + +"How long is it that we have been engaged?" + +I have a tendency to keep on writing that over and over all down the +page as if this were the copy-book of a child at school. How Tom used to +admire my writing-books in our school-days! His were always smudged and +blotted. He is too big-souled and manly to niggle over little things; +and he laughed at the pains I took, turning every corner with absurd +care. He was so strong and splendid on the ice when we went skating over +on Getchell's Pond; and how often and often he has drawn me all the way +home on my sled! + +But all that was ages and ages ago, and long before I even knew George. +It never occurred to me until to-night, but I am really growing old. The +birthdays that Tom remembered, and on which he sent me little bunches of +Mayflowers, have not in the least troubled me or seemed too many. I have +not thought much of birthdays of late years, but to-night I realize that +I am twenty-nine, and that George has asked me,-- + +"How long is it that we have been engaged?" + + +January 7. Sackcloth and ashes have been my portion for days, and if I +could by tearing from my diary the last leaves blot out of remembrance +the foolish things I have written, it would be quickly done. My New +Year's resolutions were even less lasting than are those in the jokes +of the comic papers; and I am ashamed all through and through. I have +tried to reason myself into something resembling common sense, but I am +much afraid I have not yet entirely accomplished it. I have said to +myself over and over that it would be the best thing for George if he +did fall in love with that girl he saw at Franklin, and go his way +without wasting more time waiting for me. He has wasted years enough, +and it is time for him to be happy. But then--has he not been happy? Or +is it that I have been so happy myself I have not realized how the long +engagement was wearying him? He must have wearied, or he could never +have asked me-- + +No, I will not write it! + + +January 8. George came over last night, and was so loving and tender +that I was thoroughly ashamed of all the wicked suspicions I have had. +After all, what was there to suspect? I almost confessed to him what a +miserable little doubter I had been; but I knew that confession would +only be relieving my soul at the expense of making him uncomfortable. I +hated to have him think me better than I am; but this, I suppose, is +part of the penalty I ought to pay for having been so weak. + +Besides,--probably it was only my weakness in another form, the petty +jealousy of a small soul and a morbid fancy,--he seemed somehow more +remote than I have ever known him, and I could not have told him if I +would. We did not seem to be entirely frank with each other, but as if +each were trying to make the other feel at ease when it was not really +possible. Of course I was only attributing my own feelings to him, for +he was dearly good. + +He told me more about his visit to Franklin, and he seems to have seen +Miss West a good deal. She is a sort of cousin of the Watsons, he says, +and so they had a common ground. When she found that he lived so near to +the Watsons she asked him all kinds of questions. She has never seen +them, having lived in the West most of her life, and was naturally much +interested in hearing about her relatives. I found myself leading him on +to talk of her. I cannot see why I should care about this stranger. +Generally I deal very little in gossip. Father trained me to be +interested in real things, and meaningless details about people never +attracted me. Yet this girl sticks in my mind, and I am tormented to +know all about her. It cannot be anything he said; though he did say +that she is very pretty. Perhaps it was the way in which he said it. He +seemed to my sick fancy to like to talk of her. She must be a charming +creature. + + +January 9. Why should he not like to talk of a pretty girl? I hope I am +not of the women who cannot bear to have a man use his eyes except to +see their graces. It is pitiful to be so small and mean. I certainly +want George to admire goodness and beauty, and to be by his very +affection for me the more sensitive to whatever is admirable in others. +If I am to be worthy of being his wife, I must be noble enough to be +glad at whatever there is for him to rejoice in because of its +loveliness: and yet as I write down all these fine sentiments I feel my +heart like lead! Oh, I am so ashamed of myself! + + +January 10. Miss Charlotte came in this afternoon, looking so thin, and +cold, and tall, that I have been rather sober ever since. + +"I wish I had on shoes with higher heels," I said to her as we shook +hands; "then perhaps I shouldn't feel so insignificant down here." + +She looked down at me, laughing that rich, throaty laugh of hers. + +"Mother always used to say she knew the Kendalls couldn't have been +drowned in the Flood," she answered, "for they must all have been tall +enough to wade to Mt. Ararat." + +"You know the genealogy so far back that you must be able to tell +whether she was right." + +"I don't go quite so far as that," she said, sitting down by the fire, +"but I know that my great-great-grandfather married a Privet, so that I +always considered Judge Privet a cousin." + +"If Father was a cousin, I must be one too," said I. + +"You are the same relation to me on one side," Miss Charlotte went on, +"that Deacon Webbe is on the other. It's about fortieth cousin, you see, +so that I can count it or not, as I please." + +"I am flattered that you choose to count us in," I told her, smiling; +"and I am sure also you must be willing to count in anybody so good as +Deacon Webbe." + +"Yes, Deacon Webbe is worth holding on to, though he's so weak that he'd +let the shadow of a mosquito bully him. The answer to the question in +the New England Primer, 'Who is the meekest man?' ought to be 'Deacon +Webbe.' He used up all the meekness there was in the whole family, +though." + +"I confess that I never heard Mrs. Webbe called meek," I assented. + +"Meek!" sniffed Miss Charlotte; "I should think not. A wasp is a +Sunday-school picnic beside her. While as for Tom"-- + +She pursed up her lips with an expression of disapproval so very marked +I was afraid at once that Tom Webbe must have been doing something +dreadful again, and my heart sank for his father. + +"But Tom has been doing better," I said. "This winter he"-- + +"This winter!" she exclaimed. "Why, just now he is worse than ever." + +"Oh, dear," I asked, "what is it now? His father has been so unhappy +about him." + +"If he'd made Tom unhappy it would have been more to the purpose. Tom's +making himself the town talk with that Brownrig girl." + +"What Brownrig girl?" + +"Don't you know about the Brownrigs that live in that little red house +on the Rim Road?" + +"I know the red house, and now that you say the name, I remember I have +heard that such a family have moved in there. Where did they come from?" + +"Oh, where do such trash come from ever?" demanded Miss Charlotte. "I'm +afraid nobody but the Old Nick could tell you. They're a set of drunken, +disreputable vagabonds, that turned up here last year. They were +probably driven out of some town or other. Tom's been"-- + +But I did not wish to hear of Tom's misdeeds, and I said so. Miss +Charlotte laughed, as usual. + +"You never take any interest in wickedness, Ruth," she said +good-naturedly. "That's about the only fault I have to find with you." + +Poor Deacon Webbe! Tom has made him miserable indeed in these years +since he came from college. The bitterness of seeing one we love go +wrong must be unbearable, and when we believe that the consequences of +wrong are to be eternal--I should go mad if I believed in such a creed. +I would try to train myself to hate instead of to love; or, if I could +not do this--But I could not believe anything so horrible, so that I +need not speculate. Deacon Daniel is a saint, though of course he does +not dream of such a thing. A saint would not be a saint, I suppose, who +was aware of his beatitude, and the deacon's meekness is one of his most +marked attributes of sanctity. I wonder whether, in the development of +the race, saintliness will ever come to be compatible with a sense of +humor. A saint with that persuasively human quality would be a +wonderfully compelling power for good. Deacon Daniel is a fine influence +by his goodness, but he somehow enhances the desirability of virtue in +the abstract rather than brings home personally the idea that his +example is to be followed; and all because he is so hopelessly without a +perception of the humorous side of existence. But why do I go on writing +this, when the thought uppermost in my mind is the grief he will have if +Tom has started again on one of his wild times. I do hope that Miss +Charlotte is mistaken! So small a thing will sometimes set folk to +talking, especially about Tom, who is at heart so good, though he has +been wild enough to get a bad name. + + +January 11. Things work out strangely in this world; so that it is no +wonder all sorts of fanciful beliefs are made out of them. There could +hardly be a web more closely woven than human life. To-day, when I had +not seen Tom for months, and when the gossip of last night made me want +to talk with him, chance brought us face to face. + +Mother was so comfortable that I went out for an hour. The day was +delightful, cold enough so that the walking was dry and the snow firm, +but the air not sharp to the cheek. The sun was warm and cheery, and the +shadows on the white fields had a lovely softness. I went on in a sort +of dream, it was so good to be alive and out of doors in such wonderful +weather. I turned to go down the Rim Road, and it was not until I came +in sight of the red house that I remembered what Miss Charlotte said +last night. Then I began to think about Tom. Tom and I have always been +such good friends. I used to understand Tom better in the old +school-days than the others did, and he was always ready to tell me what +he thought and felt. Nowadays I hardly ever see him. Since I became +engaged he has almost never come to the house, though he used to be here +so much. I meet him only once or twice a year, and then I think he tries +to avoid me. I am so sorry to have an old friendship broken off like +that. The red house made me think of Tom with a sore heart, of all the +talk his wild ways have caused, the sorrow of his father, and the good +that is being lost when a fellow with a heart so big as Tom's goes +wrong. + +Suddenly Tom himself appeared before my very eyes, as if my thought had +conjured him up. He came so unexpectedly that at first I could hardly +realize how he came. Then it flashed across me that he must have walked +round the red house. I suppose he must have come out of a back door +somewhere, like one of the family; such folk never use their front +doors. He walked along the road toward me, at first so preoccupied that +he did not recognize me. When he saw my face, he half hesitated, as if +he had almost a mind to turn back, and his whole face turned red. He +came on, however, and was going past me with a scant salutation, when I +stopped him. I stood still and put out my hand, so that he could not go +by without speaking. + +"Good-afternoon, Tom," I said. "Isn't it a glorious day?" + +He looked about him with a strange air as if he had not noticed, and I +saw how heavy and weary his eyes were. + +"Yes," he answered, "it is a fine day." + +"Where do you keep yourself, Tom?" I went on, hardly knowing what I +said, but trying to think what it was best to say. "I never see you, and +we used to be such good friends." + +He looked away, and moved his lips as if he muttered something; but when +I asked what he said, he turned to me defiantly. + +"Look here, Ruth, what's the good of pretending? You know I don't go to +see you because you're engaged to George Weston. You chose between us, +and there's the end of that. What's more, you know that nowadays I'm not +fit to go to see anybody that's decent." + +"Then it is time that you were," was my answer. "Let me walk along with +you. I want to say something." + +I turned, and we walked together toward the village. I could see that +his face hardened. + +"It's no sort of use to preach to me, Ruth," he said, "though your +preaching powers are pretty good. I've had so much preaching in my life +that I'm not to be rounded up by piety." + +I smiled as well as I could, though it made me want to cry to hear the +hard bravado of his tone. + +"I'm not generally credited with overmuch piety, Tom. The whole town +thinks all the Privets heathen, you know." + +"Humph! It's a pity there weren't a few more of 'em." + +I laughed, and thanked him for the compliment, and then we went on in +silence for a little way. I had to ignore what he said about George, but +it did not make it easier to begin. I was puzzled what to say, but the +time was short that we should be walking together, and I had to do +something. + +"Tom," I began, "you may not be very sensitive about old friendships, +but I am loyal; and it hurts me that those I care for should be talked +against." + +"Oh, in a place like Tuskamuck," he returned, at once, I could see, on +the defensive, "they'll talk about anybody." + +"Will they? Then I suppose they talk about me. I'm sorry, Tom, for it +must make you uncomfortable to hear it; unless, that is, you don't count +me for a friend any longer." + +He threw back his head in the way he has always had. I used to tell him +it was like a colt's shaking back its mane. + +"What nonsense! Of course they don't talk about you. You don't give +folks any chance." + +"And you do," I added as quietly as I could. + +He looked angry for just the briefest instant, and then he burst into a +hard laugh. + +"Caught, by Jupiter! Ruth, you were always too clever for me to deal +with. Well, then, I do give the gossips plenty to talk about. They would +talk just the same if I didn't, so I may as well have the game as the +name." + +"Does that mean that your life is regulated by the gossips? I supposed +that you had more independence, Tom." + +He flushed, and stooped down to pick up a stick. With this he began +viciously to strike the bushes by the roadside and the dry stalks of +yarrow sticking up through the snow. He set his lips together with a +grim determination which brought out in his face the look I like least, +the resemblance to his mother when she means to carry a point. + +"Look here, Ruth," he said after a moment; "I'm not going to talk to you +about myself or my doings. I'm a blackguard fast enough; but there's no +good talking about it. If you'd cared enough about me to keep me +straight, you could have done it; but now I'm on my way to the Devil, +and no great way to travel before I get there either." + +We had come to the turn of the Rim Road where the trees shut off the +view of the houses of the village. I stopped and put my hand on his arm. + +"Tom," I begged him, "don't talk like that. You don't know how it hurts. +You don't mean it; you can't mean it. Nobody but yourself can send you +on the wrong road; and I know you're too plucky to hide behind any such +excuse. For the sake of your father, Tom, do stop and think what you are +doing." + +"Oh, father'll console himself very well with prayers; and anyway he'll +thank God for sending me to perdition, because if God does it, it must +be all right." + +"Don't, Tom! You know how he suffers at the way you go on. It must be +terrible to have an only son, and to see him flinging his life away." + +"It isn't my fault that I'm his son, is it?" he demanded. "I've been +dragged into this infernal life without being asked whether I wanted to +come or not; and now I'm here, I can't have what I want, and I'm +promised eternal damnation hereafter. Well, then, I'll show God or the +Devil, or whoever bosses things, that I can't be bullied into a +molly-coddle!" + +The sound of wheels interrupted us, and we instinctively began to walk +onward in the most commonplace fashion. A farmer's wagon came along, and +by the time it had passed we had come to the head of the Rim Road, in +full sight of the houses. Tom waited until I turned to the right, toward +home, and then he said,-- + +"I'm going the other way. It's no use, Ruth, to talk to me; but I'm +obliged to you for caring." + +I cannot see that I did any good, and very likely I have simply made him +more on his guard to avoid giving me a chance; but then, even if I had +all the chance in the world, what could I say to him? And yet, Tom is so +noble a fellow underneath it all. He is honest and kind, and strong in +his way; only between his father's meekness and his mother's +sharpness--for she is sharp--he has somehow come to grief. They have +tried to make him religious so that he would be good; and he is of the +sort that must be good or he will not be religious. He cannot be pressed +into a mould of orthodoxy, and so in the end--But it cannot be the end. +Tom must somehow come out of it. + + +January 13. When George came in to-night I was struck at once with the +look of pleasant excitement in his face. + +"What pleases you?" I asked him. + +"Pleases me?" he echoed, evidently surprised. "Isn't it a pleasure to +see you?" + +"But that's not the whole of it," I said. "You've something pleasant to +tell me. Oh, I can read you like a book, my dear; so it is quite idle +trying to keep a secret from me." + +He seemed confused, and I was puzzled to know what was the matter. + +"You are too wise entirely," was his reply. "I really hadn't anything to +tell." + +"Then something good has happened," I persisted; "or you have heard good +news." + +"What a fanciful girl you are, Ruth," George returned. "Nothing has +happened." + +He walked away from me, and went to the fire. He was strangely +embarrassed, and I could only wonder what I had said to confuse him. I +reflected that perhaps he was planning some sort of a surprise, and felt +I ought not to pry into his thoughts in this fashion whatever the matter +was that interested him. I sat down on the other side of the hearth, and +took up some sewing. + +"George," I asked, entirely at random, "didn't you say that the Miss +West you met at Franklin is a cousin of the Watsons?" + +I flushed as soon as I had spoken, for I thought how it betrayed me that +in my desire to hit on a new subject I had found the thought of her so +near the surface of my mind. I had not consciously been thinking of her +at all, and certainly I did not connect her with George's strangeness of +manner. There was something almost weird, it seems to me now, in my +putting such a question just then. Perhaps it was telepathy, for she +must have been vividly in his thoughts at that moment. He started, +flushed as I have never seen him, and turned quickly toward me. + +"What makes you think that it was Miss West?" + +"Think what was Miss West?" I cried. + +I was completely astonished; then I saw how it was. + +"Never mind, George," I went on, laughing and putting out my hand to +him. "I didn't mean to read your thoughts, and I didn't realize that I +was doing it." + +"But what made you"-- + +"I'm sure I don't know," I broke in; and I managed to laugh again. "Only +I see now that you know something pleasant about Miss West, and you may +as well tell it." + +He looked doubtful a minute, studying my face. The hesitation he had in +speaking hurt me. + +"It's only that she's coming to visit the Watsons," he said, rather +unwillingly. "Olivia Watson told me just now." + +"Why, that will be pleasant," I answered, as brightly as if I were +really delighted. "Now I shall see if she is really as pretty as you +say." + +I felt so humiliated to be playing a part,--so insincere. Somebody has +said the real test of love is to be unwilling to deceive the loved one, +even in the smallest thing. That may be the test of a man's love, but a +woman will bear the pain of that very deception to save the man she +cares for from disquiet. I am sure it has hurt me as much not to be +entirely frank with George as it could have hurt a man; but I could not +make him uncomfortable by letting him see that I was disturbed. Yet that +he should have been afraid or unwilling to tell me did trouble me. He +knows that I am not jealous or apt to take offense. He is always saying +that I am too cold to be really in love. It made me feel that the coming +of this girl must mean much to him when he feared to speak of it. If he +had not thought it a matter of consequence, he would have realized that +I should take it lightly. + +I am not taking it lightly; but what troubles me is not that she is +coming, but that he hesitated to tell me. Something is wrong when George +fears to trust me. + + +January 17. I have seen her. I went to church this morning for that +especial reason. Mother was a little astonished at me when I said that I +was going. + +"Well, Ruth," she said, "you don't have much dissipation, but I didn't +suppose that you were so dull you would take to church-going." + +"You can never tell," I answered, making a jest of a thing which to me +was far from funny. "Mr. Saychase will be sure to conclude I'm under +conviction of sin, and come in to finish the conversion." + +She looked at me keenly. + +"What is the matter, Ruth?" she asked in that soft voice of hers which +goes straight to my heart. + +"It isn't anything very serious, Mother," I said. "Since you will have +the truth, I am going to church to see that Miss West who's visiting the +Watsons. George thinks her so pretty that my curiosity is roused to a +perfect bonfire." + +She did not say more, but I saw the sudden light in her eye. Mother has +never felt about George as I have wished. She has never done him +justice, and she thinks I idealize him. That is her favorite way of +putting it; but this is because she is my mother, and doesn't see how +much idealizing there must have been on his side before he could fall in +love with me. + +Miss West is very pretty. All the time I watched in church I tried to +persuade myself that she was not. I meanly and contemptibly sat there +finding fault with her face, saying to myself that her nose was too +long, her eyes too small, her mouth too big; inventing flaws as if my +invention would change the fact. It was humiliating business; and +utterly and odiously idiotic. Miss West is pretty; she is more than +this, she is wonderfully pretty. There is an appealing, baby look about +her big blue eyes which goes straight to one's heart. She looks like a +darling child one would want to kiss and shelter from all the hard +things of life. I own it all; I realize all that it means; and if in my +inmost soul I am afraid, I will not deny what is a fact or try to shut +my eyes to the littleness of my feeling about her. Of course George +found her adorable. She is. The young men in the congregation all +watched her, and even grim Deacon Richards could not keep his eyes off +of her. + +She does not have the look of a girl of any especial mind. Her +prettiness is after all that of a doll. Her large eyes are of the sort +to please a man because of their appealing helplessness; not because +they inspire him with new meanings. Her little rosebud lips will never +speak wisdom, I am afraid; but in my jealousy I wonder whether most men +do not care more for lips which invite kisses than for lips which speak +wisdom. I am frankly and weakly miserable. George walked home with me, +but he had not two words to say. + +I must try to meet this. If George should come to care for her more than +for me! If he should,--if by a pretty face he forgets all the years that +we have belonged to each other, what is there to do? I cannot yet +believe that it is best for him; but if it will make him happy, even if +he thinks that it will, what is there for me but to make it as easy for +him as I may? He certainly would not be happy to marry me and love +somebody else. He cannot leave me without pain; that I am sure. I shall +show my love for him more truly if I spare him the knowledge of what it +must cost me. + +But what mawkish nonsense all this is! A man may admire a pretty face, +and yet not be ready for it to leave behind all that has been dear to +him. Oh, if he had not asked me that question when he came back from +Franklin! I cannot get it out of my mind that even if he was not +conscious of it, it meant he still was secretly tired of his long +engagement; that he was at least dreaming of what he would do if he were +free. He shall not be bound by any will of mine; and if his heart has +gone out to this beautiful creature, I must bear it as nobly as I can. +Father used to say,--and every day I go back more and more to what he +said to me,--"What you cannot at need sacrifice nobly you are not worthy +to possess." + + +January 18. I have had a note which puzzles me completely. Tom Webbe +writes to say that he is going away; that I am to forgive him for the +shame of having known him, and that his address is inclosed in a sealed +envelope. I am not to open it unless there is real need. Why should he +give his address to me? + + +January 19. The disconcerting way Aunt Naomi has of coming in without +knocking, stealing in on feet made noiseless by rubbers, brought her +into the sitting-room last night while I was mooning in the twilight, +and meditating on nothing in particular. I knew her slow fashion of +opening the door, "like a burglar at a cupboard," as Hannah says,--so +that I was able to compose my face into an appropriate smile of welcome +before she was fairly in. + +"Sitting here alone?" was her greeting. + +"Mother is asleep," I answered, "and I was waiting for her to wake." + +Aunt Naomi seated herself in the stiffest chair in the room, and began +to swing her foot as usual. + +"Deacon Daniel's at it again," she observed dispassionately. + +I smiled a little. It always amuses me that the troubles of the church +should be so often brought to me who am an outsider. Aunt Naomi arrives +about once a month on the average, with complaints about something. They +are seldom of any especial weight, but it seems to relieve her to tell +her grievances. + +"Which Deacon Daniel?" I asked, to tease her a little. + +"Deacon Richards, of course. You know that well enough." + +"What is it now?" + +"He won't have any fire in the vestry," she answered. + +"Why not let somebody else take care of the vestry then, if you want a +fire?" + +"You don't suppose," was her response, with a chuckle, "that he'd give +up the key to anybody else, do you?" + +"I should think he'd be glad to." + +"He'll hold on to that key till he dies," retorted Aunt Naomi with a +sniff; "and I shouldn't be surprised if he had it buried with him. He +wouldn't lose the chance of making folks uncomfortable." + +"Oh, come, Aunt Naomi, you are always so hard on Deacon Richards," I +protested. "He is always good-natured with me." + +"I wish you'd join the church, then, and see if you can't keep him in +order. Last night it was so cold at prayer-meeting that we were all half +frozen, and Mr. Saychase had to dismiss the meeting. Old lady Andrews +spoke up in the coldest part of it, when we were all so chilled that we +couldn't speak, and she said in that little, high voice of hers: 'The +vestry is very cold to-night, but I trust that our hearts are warm with +the love of Christ.'" + +I laughed at the picture of the half-frozen prayer-meeting, and dear old +lady Andrews coming to the rescue with a pious jest; it was so +characteristic. + +"But has anybody spoken to Deacon Richards?" I asked. + +"You can't speak to him," she responded, wagging her foot with a +violence that seemed to speak celestial anger within. "I try to after +every prayer-meeting; but he has the lights out before I can say two +words. I can't stay there in the dark with him; and the minute he gets +me outside he locks the door, and posts off like a streak." + +"Why not go down to his mill in broad daylight?" I suggested. + +"Oh, he'd stick close to the grinding-thing just so he couldn't hear, +and I'm afraid of being pitched into the hopper," she said, laughing. +"You must speak to him. He pays some attention to what you say." + +"But it's none of my business. I don't go to prayer-meeting." + +"But it's your duty to go," she answered, with a shrewd smile that +showed that she appreciated her response; "and if you neglect one duty +it's no excuse for neglecting another. Besides, you can't be willing to +have the whole congregation die of cold." + +So in the end it was somehow fixed that I am to remonstrate with Deacon +Daniel because the faithful are cold at their devotions. It would seem +much simpler for them to stay at home and be warm. They do not, as far +as I can see, enjoy going; but they are miserable if they do not go. +Their consciences trouble them worse than the cold, poor things. I +suppose that I can never be half thankful enough to Father for bringing +me up without a theological conscience. Prayer-meetings seem to be a +good deal like salt in the boy's definition of something that makes food +taste bad if you don't put it on; prayer-meetings make church-goers +uneasy if they do not go. If they will go, however, and if they are +better for going, or believe they are better, or if they are only worse +for staying away, or suppose they are worse, they should not be expected +to sit in a cold vestry in January. Why Deacon Daniel will not have a +fire is not at all clear. It may be economy, or it may be a lack of +sensitiveness; it may be for some recondite reason too deep to be +discovered. I refuse to accept Aunt Naomi's theory that it is sheer +obstinacy; and I will beard the deacon in his mill, regardless of the +danger of the hopper. At least he generally listens to me. + + +January 20. Hannah came up for me this evening while I was reading to +Mother. + +"Deacon Webbe's down in the parlor," she announced. "Says he wants to +see you if you're not busy. 'Ll come again if you ain't able to see +him." + +"Go down, Ruth dear," Mother said at once. "It may be another church +quarrel, and I wouldn't hinder you from settling it for worlds." + +"But don't you want me to finish the chapter?" I asked. "Church quarrels +will generally keep." + +"No, dear. I'm tired, and we'll stop where we are. I'll try to go to +sleep, if you'll turn the light down." + +As I bent over to kiss her, she put up her feeble thin fingers, and +touched my cheek lovingly. + +"You're a dear girl," she said. "Be gentle with the deacon." + +There was a twinkle in her eye, for the idea of anybody's being anything +but gentle with Deacon Daniel Webbe is certainly droll enough. Miss +Charlotte said the other night that a baby could twist him round its +finger and never even know there was anything there; and certainly he +must call out the gentle feelings of anybody. Only Tom seemed always +somehow to get exasperated with his father's meekness. Poor Tom, I do +wonder why he went away! + +The deacon dries up by way of growing old. I have not seen him this +winter except the other day at church, and then I did not look at him. +To-night he seemed worn and sad, and somehow his face was like ashes, it +was so lifeless. The flesh has dried to the bones of his face till he +looks like a pathetic skull. His voice is not changed, though. It has +the same strange note in it that used to affect me as a child; a weird, +reedy quality which suggests some vague melancholy flavor not in the +least fretful or whining,--a quality that I have never been able to +define. I never hear him speak without a sense of mysterious +suggestiveness; and I remember confiding to Father once, when I was +about a dozen years old, that Deacon Webbe had the right voice to read +fairy stories with. Father, I remember, laughed, and said he doubted +much if Deacon Daniel knew what a fairy story was, unless he thought it +was something wickedly false. Tom's voice has something of the same +quality, but only enough to give a little thrill to his tone when he is +really in earnest. There is an amusing incongruity between that odd +wind-harp strain in Deacon Webbe's voice and his gaunt New England +figure. + +"Ruth," the deacon asked, almost before we had shaken hands, "did you +know Tom had gone away?" + +I was impressed and rather startled by the intensity of his manner, and +surprised by the question. + +"Yes," I said. "He sent me word he was going." + +"Do you know where he has gone?" + +"No." + +I wondered whether I ought to tell him about the sealed address, but it +seemed like a breach of confidence to say anything yet. + +"Did he say why he was going?" the deacon asked. + +"No," I said again. + +The deacon turned his hat over and over helplessly in his knotted hands +in silence for a moment. He was so pathetic that I wanted to cry. + +"Then you don't know," he said after a moment. + +"I only know he has gone." + +There was another silence, as if the deacon were pondering on what he +could possibly do or say next. Peter, who was pleased for the moment to +be condescendingly kind to the visitor, came and rubbed persuasively +against his legs, waving a great white plume of tail. Deacon Daniel bent +down absently and stroked the cat, but the troubled look in his face +showed how completely his mind was occupied. + +"I'm afraid there's something wrong," he broke out at length, with an +energy unusual with him; an energy which was suffering rather than +power. "I don't know what it is, but I'm afraid it's worse than ever. +Oh, Miss Ruth, if you could only have cared for Tom, you'd have kept him +straight." + +I could only murmur that I had always liked Tom, and that we had been +friends all our lives; but the deacon was too much moved to pay +attention. + +"Of course," he went on, "I hadn't any right to suppose Judge Privet's +daughter would marry into our family; but if you had cared for him, Miss +Ruth"-- + +"Deacon Webbe," I broke in, for I could not hear any more, "please don't +say such things! You know you mustn't say such things!" + +As I think of it, I am afraid I was a little more hysterical than would +have been allowed by Cousin Mehitable, but I could not help it. At least +I stopped him from going on. He apologized so much that I set to work to +convince him I was not offended, which I found was not very easy. Poor +Deacon Daniel, he is really heart-broken about Tom, but he has never +known how to manage him, or even to make the boy understand how much he +loves him. Meekness may be a Christian virtue; but over-meekness is a +poor quality for one who has the bringing up of a real, wide-awake, +head-strong boy. A little less virtue and a little more common sense +would have made Deacon Webbe a good deal more useful in this world if it +did lessen his value to heaven. He is the very salt of the earth, yet he +has so let himself be trampled upon that to Tom his humility has seemed +weakness. I know, too, Tom has never appreciated his father, and has +failed to understand that goodness need not always be in arms to be +manly. And so here in a couple of sentences I have come round to the +side of the deacon after all. Perhaps in the long run the effect of his +goodness, with all its seeming lack of strength, may effect more than +sterner qualities. + + +January 21. I was interrupted last night in my writing to go to Mother; +but I have had Deacon Webbe and Tom in my mind ever since. I could not +help remembering the gossip about Tom, and the fact that I saw him +coming from the red house. I wonder if he has not gone to break away +from temptation. In new surroundings he may turn over a new leaf. Oh, I +would so like to write to him, and to tell him how much I hope for this +fresh start, but I hardly like to open the envelope. + +I have been this afternoon to call on Miss West. The Watsons are not +exactly of my world, but it seemed kind to go. If you were really +honest, Ruth Privet, you would add that you wanted to see what Miss West +is like. It is all very well to put on airs of disinterested virtue; but +if George had not spoken of this girl it is rather doubtful whether you +would have taken the trouble to go to her in your very best bib and +tucker,--and you did put on your very best, and wondered while you were +doing it whether she would appreciate the lace scarf you bought at +Malta. I understand you wanted to impress her a little, though you did +try to make yourself believe that you were only wearing your finest +clothes to do honor to her. What a humbug you are! + +Olivia Watson came to the door, and asked me into the parlor, where I +was left to wait some time before Miss West appeared. I confessed then +to myself how I had really half hoped that she would not be in; but now +the call is over I am glad to have seen her. I am a little confused, but +I know what she is. + +She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw. She has a clear color, +when she flushes, like a red clover in September, the last and the +richest of all the clovers of the year. Then her hair curls about her +forehead in such dear little ringlets that it is enough to make one want +to kiss her. She speaks with a funny little Western burr to her r's +which might not please me in another, but is charming from her lips, the +mouth that speaks is so pretty. Yes, George was right. + +Of her mind one cannot say quite as much. She is not entirely well bred, +it seemed to me; but then we are a little old-fashioned in Tuskamuck. +She did notice the scarf, and asked me where I got it. + +"Oh," she said, when I had told her, "then you have been abroad." + +"Yes," I said, "I went with my father." + +"Judge Privet took you abroad several times, didn't he?" Olivia put in. + +"Yes; I went with him three times." + +"Oh, my!" commented Miss West. "How set up you must feel!" + +"I don't think I do," I answered, laughing. "Do you feel set up because +you have seen the West that so few of us have visited?" + +"Why, I never thought of that," she responded. "You haven't any of you +traveled in the West, have you?" + +"I haven't, at least." + +"But that ain't anything to compare with going abroad," she continued, +her face falling; "and going abroad three times, too. I should put on +airs all the rest of my life if I'd done that." + +It is not fair to go on putting down in black and white things that she +said without thinking. I am ashamed of the satisfaction I found myself +taking in her commonness. I was even so unfair to her that I could not +help thinking that she somehow did not ring true. I wonder if a woman +can ever be entirely just to another woman who has been praised by the +man she cares for? If not I will be an exception to my sex! I will not +be small and mean, just because Miss West is so lovely that no man could +see her without--well, without admiring her greatly. + + +January 22. I went down to the grist-mill this afternoon to see Deacon +Daniel, and to represent to him the sufferings of the faithful at frozen +prayer-meetings. He was standing in the door of the mill, which was open +to the brisk air, and his mealy frock gave a picturesque air to his +great figure. He greeted me pleasantly, as he always does. + +"I've come on business," I said. + +"Your own or somebody's else?" he asked, with a grin. + +"Not exactly mine," I admitted. + +"What has Aunt Naomi sent you for now?" he demanded. + +I laughed at his penetration. + +"You are too sharp to be deceived," I said. "Aunt Naomi did send me. +They tell me you are trying to destroy the church by freezing them all +to death at the prayer-meetings." + +"Aunt Naomi can't be frozen. She's too dry." + +"That isn't at all a nice thing to say, Deacon Richards," I said, +smiling. "You can't cover your iniquities by abusing her." + +He showed his teeth, and settled himself against the door-post more +comfortably. + +"Why didn't she come herself?" he inquired. + +"She said that she was afraid you'd pop her into the hopper. You see +what a monster you are considered." + +"I wouldn't be willing to spoil my meal." + +Deacon Daniel likes to play at badinage, and if he had ever had a +chance, might have some skill at it. As it is, I like to see how he +enjoys it, if I am not always impressed by the wit of what he says. + +"Deacon Richards," I said, "why do you freeze the people so in the +vestry?" + +"I haven't known of anybody's being frozen." + +"But why don't you have a fire?" I persisted. "If you don't want to +build it, there are boys enough that can be hired." + +"How is your mother to-day?" was the only answer the deacon vouchsafed. + +"She's very comfortable, thank you. Why don't you have a fire?" + +"Makes folks sleepy," he declared; and once more switched off abruptly +to another subject. "Did you know Tom Webbe's gone off?" + +"Yes." + +"Where's he gone?" + +"I don't know. Why should I?" + +"If you don't know," Deacon Daniel commented, "I suppose nobody does." + +"Why don't you have a fire in the vestry?" I demanded, determined to +tire him out. + +"You asked me that before," he responded, with a grin of delight. + +I gave it up then, for I saw that there was nothing to be got out of him +in that mood. I looked up at the sky, and saw how the afternoon was +waning. + +"I must go home," I said. "Mother may want me; but I do wish you would +be reasonable about the vestry. I'll give you a load of wood if you'll +use it." + +"Send the wood, and we'll see," was all the promise I could extract from +the dear old tease. + +Deacon Daniel was evidently not to be cornered, and I came away without +any assurance of amendment on his part. The faithful will have still to +endure the cold, I suppose; but I have made an effort. + +What I said to Deacon Richards and what Deacon Richards said to me is +not what I sat down to write. I have been lingering over it because I +hated to put down what happened to me after I left the mill. Why should +I write it? This diary is not a confessional, and nothing forces me to +set these things down. I really write it as a penance for the +uncharitable mood I have been in ever since. I may as well have my +thoughts on paper as to keep turning them over and over in my mind. + +I crossed the foot-bridge and turned up Water Street. I went on, pleased +by the brown water showing through the broken ice in the mill-flume, and +the fantastic bunches of snow in the willows beyond, like queer, white +birds. I smiled to myself at the remembrance of Deacon Daniel, and +somehow felt warmed toward him, as I always do, despite all his +crotchety ways. He radiates kindness of heart through all his +gruffness. + +Suddenly I saw George coming toward me with Miss West. They did not +notice me at first, they were so engaged in talking and laughing +together. My mood sobered instantly, but I said to myself that I +certainly ought to be glad to see George enjoying himself; and, in any +case, a lady does not show her foolish feelings. So I went toward them, +trying to look as I had before I caught sight of them. They saw me in a +moment, and instantly their laughter stopped. If they had come forward +simply and at ease, I should have thought no more about it, I think; but +no one could see their confusion without feeling that they expected me +to disapprove. And if they expected me to disapprove, it seems to me +they must have been saying things--But probably this is all my +imagination and mean jealousy. + +"You see I've captured him," Miss West called out in rather a high +voice, as we came near each other. + +"I have no doubt he was a very willing captive," I answered, smiling, +and holding out my hand. + +I realize now how I hated to give her my hand, and most certainly her +manner was not entirely that of a lady. + +"We've been for a long walk," she went on, "and now I suppose I ought to +let you have him." + +"I couldn't think of taking him. I am only going home." + +"But it seems real mean to keep him, after I've had him all the +afternoon. I must give him to you." + +"I hope he wouldn't be so ungallant as to be given, and leave you to go +home alone," I said. "That is not the way we treat strangers in +Tuskamuck." + +"Oh, you mustn't call me a stranger," Miss West responded, twisting her +head to look up into George's face. "I'm really in love with the place, +and I should admire to live here all the rest of my life." + +To this I had nothing to say. George had not spoken a word. I could not +look at him, but I moved on now. I felt that I must get away from this +girl, with her strange Western speech, and her familiar manner. + +"Good-by," I said. "Mother will want me, and I mustn't linger any +longer." + +I managed to smile until I had left them, but the tears would come as I +hurried up the hill toward home. Oh, how can I bear it! + + +January 23. The happiness of George is the thing which should be +considered. In any case I am helpless. I can only wait, in woman's +fashion. Even if I were convinced he would be happier and better with +me,--and how can I tell that?--what is there I could do? My duty is by +mother's sick-bed, and even if my pride would let me struggle for the +possession of any man, I am not free to try even that degrading +conflict. I should know, moreover, that any man saved in spite of +himself would be apt to look back with regret to the woman he was saved +from. Jean Ingelow's "Letter L" is not often repeated in life, I am +afraid. Still, if one could be sure that it is a danger and he were +saved, this might be borne. If it were surely for his good to think less +of me, I might bear it somehow, hard as it would be. But my hands are +tied. There is nothing for me but waiting. + + +January 24. George met Kathie last night as she was coming here, and +sent word that he had to drive over to Canton. I thought it odd for him +to send me such a message instead of coming himself, for he had not seen +me since I met him in the street with Miss West. To-day Aunt Naomi came +in, and the moment I saw her I knew that she had something to say that +it would not be pleasant to hear. + +"What's George Weston taking that West girl over to Canton for?" she +asked. + +It was like a stab in the back, but I tried not to flinch. + +"Why shouldn't he take her?" I responded. + +Aunt Naomi gave a characteristic sniff, and wagged her foot violently. + +"If he wants to, perhaps he should," she answered enigmatically. + +The subject dropped there, but I wonder a little why she put it that +way. + + +January 26. Our engagement is broken. George is gone, and the memory of +six years, he says, had better be wiped out. + + +January 27. I could not tell Mother to-day. By the time I got my courage +up it was afternoon, and I feared lest she should be too excited to +sleep to-night. To-morrow morning she must know. + + + + +II + +FEBRUARY + + +February 1. I wonder sometimes if human pride is not stronger than human +affection. Certainly it seems sometimes that we feel the wound to vanity +more than the blow to love. I suppose that the truth is that the little +prick stings where the blow numbs. For the moment it seemed to me +to-night as if I felt more the sudden knowledge that the village knows +of my broken engagement than I did the suffering of the fact; but I +shall have forgotten this to-morrow, and the real grief will be left. + +Miss Charlotte, tall and gaunt, came in just at twilight. She brought a +lovely moss-rose bud. + +"Why, Miss Charlotte," I said, "you have never cut the one bud off your +moss-rose! I thought that was as dear to you as the apple of your eye." + +"It was," she answered with her gayest air. "That's why I brought it." + +"Mother will be delighted," I said; "that is, if she can forgive you for +picking it." + +"It isn't for your mother," Miss Charlotte said, with a sudden softening +of her voice; "it is for you. I'm an old woman, you know, and I've +whims. It's my whim for you to have the bud because I've watched it +growing, and loved it almost as if it were my own baby." + +Then I knew that she had heard of the broken engagement. The sense of +the village gossip, the idea of being talked over at the sewing-circle, +came to me so vividly and so dreadfully that for a moment I could hardly +get my breath. Then I remembered the sweetness of Miss Charlotte's act, +and I went to her and kissed her. The poor old dear had tears in her +eyes, but she said nothing. She understood, I am sure, that I could not +talk, but that I had seen what she meant me to see, her sympathy and her +love. We sat down before the fire in the gathering dusk, and talked of +indifferent things. She praised Peter's beauty, although the ungrateful +Peter refused to stay in her lap, and would not be gracious under her +caresses. She did not remain long, and she was gay after her fashion. +Miss Charlotte is apt to cover real feeling with a decent veil of +facetiousness. + +"Now I must go home and get my party ready," she said, rising with +characteristic suddenness. + +"Are you going to have a party?" I asked in some surprise. + +"I have one every night, my dear," she returned, with her explosive +laugh. "All the Kendall ghosts come. It isn't very gay, but it's very +select." + +She hurried away, and left me more touched than I should have wished her +to see. + + +February 2. It was well for me that Miss Charlotte's visit prepared me +last night, for to-day Kathie broke in upon me with the most childish +frankness. + +"Miss Ruth," she burst out, "ain't you going to marry George Weston?" + +"No, my dear," I answered; "but you mustn't say 'ain't.'" + +"'Aren't,' then. But I thought you promised years and years ago." + +"Kathie, dear," said I, "this isn't a thing that you may talk about. You +are too young to understand, and it is vulgar to talk to people about +their private affairs unless they begin." + +"But it's no wronger than"-- + +"There's no such word as 'wronger,' Kathie." + +"No worse than to break one's word, is it?" + +"When two persons make an agreement they have a right to unmake it if +they change their minds; and that is not breaking their word. How do the +skates work?" + +"All right," Kathie answered; "but father said that you and George +Weston"-- + +"Kathie," I said as firmly as I could, "I have told you before that you +must not repeat what your father says." + +"It isn't wrong," she returned rather defiantly. + +I was surprised at her manner, but I suppose that she is always fighting +with her conscience about right and wrong, so the mere idea makes her +aggressive. + +"I am not so sure," I told her, trying to turn the whole matter off with +a laugh. "I don't think it's very moral to be ill bred. Do you?" + +"Why, Father says manners don't matter if the heart is right." + +"This is only another way of saying that if the heart is right the +manners will be right. If you in your heart consider whether your father +would wish you to tell me what he did not say for my ears, you will not +be likely to say it." + +That sounds rather priggish now it is written down, but I had to stop +the child, and I could not be harsh with her. She evidently wanted much +to go on with the subject, but I would not hear another word. How the +town must be discussing my affairs! + + +February 5. Mother is certainly growing weaker, and although Dr. +Wentworth will not admit to me that she is failing, I am convinced that +he thinks so. She has been telling me this afternoon of things which she +wishes given to this and that relative or friend. + +"It will not make me any more likely to die, Ruth," she said, "and I +shall feel more comfortable if I have these things off my mind. I've +thought them out, and if you'll put them on paper, then I shall feel +perfectly at liberty to forget them if I find it too much trouble to +remember." + +I put down the things which she told me, trying hard not to let her see +how the tears hindered my writing. When I had finished she lay quiet for +some time, and then she said,-- + +"May I say one thing, Ruth, about George?" + +She has said nothing to me before except comforting words to show me +that she felt for me, and that she knew I could not bear to talk about +it. + +"You know you may," I told her, though I confess I shrank at the +thought. + +"I know how it hurts you now," she said, "and for that I am grieved to +the heart; but Ruth, dear, I can't help feeling that it is best after +all. You are too much his superior to be happy with him. You would try +to make him what you think he ought to be, and you couldn't do it. The +stuff isn't in him. He'd get tired of trying, and you would be so +humiliated for him that in the end I'm afraid neither of you would be +happy." + +She stopped, and rested a little, and then went on. + +"I am afraid I don't comfort you much," she said, with a sigh. "I +suppose that that must be left to time. But I want you to remember it is +much less hard for me to leave you alone than it would have been to go +with the feeling that you were to make a mistake that would hamper and +sadden your whole life." + +The tears came into her eyes, and she put out her dear, shadowy hand so +feebly that I could not bear it. I dropped on my knees by the bed, and +fell to sobbing in the most childish way. Mother patted my head as if I +were the baby I was acting. + +"There, there, Ruth," she said; "the Privets, as your father would have +said, do not cry over misfortunes; they live them down." + +She is right; and I must not break down again. + + +February 7. There are times when I seem like a stranger visiting myself, +and I most inhospitably wish that this guest would go. I must determine +not to think about my feelings; or, rather, without bothering to make +resolutions, I must stop thinking about myself. The way to do it, I +suppose, is to think about others; and that would be all very well if it +were not that the others I inevitably think about are George and Miss +West. I cannot help knowing that he is with her a great deal. Somehow it +is in the air, and comes to me against my will. If I go out, I cannot +avoid seeing them walking or driving together. I am afraid that George's +law business must suffer. I should never have let him neglect it so for +me. Perhaps I am cold-blooded. + +What Mother said to me the other day has been much in my thoughts. I +wonder how it was ever possible for me to be engaged to a man of whom +neither Father nor Mother entirely approved. To care for him was +something I could not help; I am sure of that. But the engagement is +another matter. It came about very naturally after his being here so +much in Father's last illness. George was so kind and helpful about the +business that we were all full of gratitude, and in my blindness I did +not perceive how Mother really felt. I realize now it was his kindness +to Father, and the relief his help brought to Mother, which made it hard +for her to say then that she did not approve of the engagement; and so +soon after she became a helpless invalid that things went on naturally +in their own course. + +I am sure that if Mother could have known George as I have known him, +she would have cared for him. She has hardly seen him in all these +years. She hopes that I will forget, but I should be poorer if I could. +One does not leave off loving just because circumstances alter. He is +free to go his way, but that does not make me any the less his if there +is any virtue in my being so. + + +February 8. I met Mrs. Webbe in the street to-day, her black eyes +brighter, more piercing, more snapping than ever. She came up to me in +her quick, jerky way, stopped suddenly, tall and strong, and looked at +me as if she were trying to read some profound secret, hid in the very +bottom of my soul. I could never by any possibility be half so +mysterious as Mrs. Webbe's looks seemed to make me. + +"Do you write to Tom?" she demanded. + +"I don't even know where he is," I answered. + +"Then you don't write to him?" + +"No." + +"That's a pity," Mrs. Webbe went on, her eyes piercing me so that they +almost gave me a sensation of physical discomfort. "He ought to know." + +I looked at her a moment in silence, thinking she might explain her +enigmatic words. + +"To know what?" I asked at length. + +"About you and George Weston," she responded, nodding her head +emphatically; "but if you don't know where he is, that's the whole of +it. Good-day." + +She was gone before I could gather my wits to tell her that the news +could make no difference to Tom. In discussing my separation from George +I suppose the village gossips--But I will not be unkind because I am +unhappy. I know, and know with sincere pain, that Deacon and Mrs. Webbe +believe that I could have saved Tom if I had been willing to marry him. +I have cared for Tom from girlhood, and I am fond of him now, in spite +of all that has happened to show how weak he is; but it would be wicked +for him to be allowed to suppose the breaking of my engagement makes any +difference in our relations. He cannot be written to, however, so I need +not trouble. + + +February 10. Miss West has gone back to Franklin, but I do not see that +this makes any especial difference to me. Aunt Naomi told me this +afternoon, evidently thinking that I should wish to hear it, and +evidently, too, trying not to let me see that she regarded it as more +than an ordinary bit of news. I only wonder how long it will be before +George will follow her. Oh, I do hope she will make him happy! + + +February 12. The consequence of my being of no religion seems to be +that I am regarded as a sort of neutral ground by persons of all +religions, where they may air their theological troubles. Now it is a +Catholic who asks advice. Perhaps I had better set up as a consulting +something or other. Mediums are the only sort of female consulting +things that I think of, and they are so far from respectable that I +could not be a medium; but I shall have to invent a name to call myself +by, if this goes much further. + +This time it is Rosa. Rosa is as devout a little superstitious body as I +ever saw. She firmly believes all that her church teaches her, and she +believes all sorts of queer things besides. I wonder sometimes that her +small mind, which never can remember to lay the table properly, can hold +in remembrance all the droll superstitions she shiveringly accepts. +Perhaps the reason why she is so inefficient a servant, and is so +constantly under the severe blight of Hannah's awful disapproval, is +that her mental faculties are exhausted in remembering signs and omens. +I've no right to make fun of her, however, for I don't like to spill +salt myself! + +The conundrum which Rosa brings to me is not one which it is easy to +handle. She believes that her church has the power of eternal life and +death over her, and she wishes, in defiance of her church's prohibition, +to marry a divorced man. She declares that unless she can marry Ran +Gargan her heart will be broken into the most numerous fragments, and +she implores me to devise a method by which she can accomplish the +difficult feat of getting the better of the church. + +"Sure, Miss Privet," she said in the most naïve way in the world, +"you're that clever that ye could invint a way what would get round +Father O'Rafferty; he's no that quick at seein' things." + +I suspect, from something the child let fall, that Hannah, with genuine +righteous hatred of the Scarlet Woman, had urged Rosa to fly in the face +of her church, and marry Ran. Hannah would regard it as a signal triumph +of grace if Rosa could be so far persuaded to disobey the tenets of +Catholicism. I can understand perfectly Hannah's way of looking at the +matter; but I have no more against Rosa's church than I have against +Hannah's, so this view does not appeal to me. + +"Rosa," I said, "don't you believe in your church?" + +She broke into voluble protestations of her entire faithfulness, and +seemed inclined to feel that harm might come to her from some unseen +malevolence if such charges were made so as to be heard by spying +spirits. + +"Then I don't see why you come to me," I said. "If you are a good +Catholic, I should think that that settled the matter." + +"But I thought you'd think of some way of gettin' round it," she +responded, beginning to cry. "Me heart is broke for Ran, an' it is +himsilf that'll go to the bad if I don't have him." + +Poor little ignorant soul! How could one reason with her, or what was +there to say? I could only try to show her that she could not be happy +if she did the thing that she knew to be wrong. + +"But what for is ye tellin' me that, when ye don't belave it's wrong?" +she demanded, evidently aggrieved. + +"I do think it is wrong to act against a church in which you believe," I +said. + +I am afraid I did not in the least comfort her, for she went away with +an air in which indignation was mingled with disappointment. + + +February 15. Rosa is all right. She told me to-day, fingering her apron +and blushing very prettily, that she saw Dennis Maloney last night, and +was engaged to him already. He has, it seems, personal attractions +superior to those of Ran, and Rosa added that on the whole she prefers a +first-hand husband. + +"So I'm obliged to ye for yer advisin' me to give Ran the go-by," she +concluded. "I thought yer would." + +I do not know whether the swiftness of the change of sweethearts or the +amazing conclusion of her remarks moved me more. + + +February 16. Father used to say that Peggy Cole was the proudest thing +on the face of the earth, and he would certainly be amused if he could +know how her pride has increased. I could not leave Mother this +afternoon, and so I sent Rosa down with a pail of soup to the poor old +goody. Peggy refused to have it because I did not bring it myself. She +wasn't a pauper to have me send her soup, she informed Rosa. I am afraid +that Rosa was indiscreet enough to make some remark upon the fact that I +carry her food pretty often, for old Peggy said,--I can see her wrinkled +old nose turned up in supreme scorn as she brought it out,--"That's +different. When Miss Ruth brings me a little thing now and then,--and it +ain't often she'll take that trouble, either!--that's just a friend +dropping in with something to make her sure of her welcome!" I shall +have to leave everything to-morrow to go and make my peace with Peggy, +for the old goose would starve to death before she would take anything +from the Overseers of the Poor, and I do not see how she keeps alive, +anyway. + + +February 17. I had a note from George this morning about the Burgess +mortgage, and in it he said that he is to be away for a week or two. +That means-- + +But I have no longer any right to speculate about him. It is not my +business what it means. Henceforth he must come and go, and I must not +even wonder about it. + + +February 19. I must face the fact that Mother will not be with me much +longer. I can see how she grows weaker, and I can only be thankful that +she does not suffer. She speaks of death now and then as calmly as if it +were a matter of every-day routine. + +"Mrs. Privet," Dr. Wentworth said this morning, "you seem to be no more +afraid of death than you are of a sunrise." + +"I'm not orthodox enough to be afraid," she answered, with her little +quizzical smile. + +Dear little Mother, she is so serene, so sweet, so quiet; nothing could +be more dignified, and yet nothing more entirely simple. She is dying +like a gentlewoman. She lies there as gracious as if she had invited +death as a dear friend, and awaited him with the kindliest welcome. The +naturalness of it all is what impresses me most. When I am with her it +is impossible for me to feel that anything terrible is at hand. She +might be going away to pass a pleasant summer visit somewhere; but there +is no suspicion of anything dreadful or painful. + +It is not that she is indifferent, either,--she has always found life a +thing to be glad of. + +"I should have liked well enough to stay a while longer to bother you, +Ruth," she said, after Dr. Wentworth had gone, "but we must take things +as they come. It's better, perhaps; you need a rest." + +Dear Mother! She is always so lovely and so wonderful! + + +February 21. Mother has been brighter to-day, and really seems better. +If it will only last! I asked her last night if she expected to see +Father. She lay quiet a moment, and then she turned her face to smile on +me before she answered. + +"I don't know, Ruth," she said. "I have wondered about that a good deal, +and I cannot be sure. If he is alive and knows, then I shall see him. I +am sure of that. It is only life that has been keeping us apart. If he +is not any more, why, then I shall not be either, and so of course I +can't be unhappy. I feel just as he used to when he had you read that +translation from something to him the week before he died; the thing +that said death could not be an evil, for if we kept on existing we +would be no longer bothered by the body, and that if we didn't, it was +no matter, for we shouldn't know." + +She was still a moment, looking into some great distance with her +patient, sunken eyes. Then she smiled again, and said as if to herself, +"But I think I shall see him." + + +February 25. George is married. Aunt Naomi has been in to tell me. She +mentioned it as if it were a thing in which I should have no more +interest than in any bit of village news. She did not watch me, I +remember now, or ask my opinion as she generally does. She was +wonderfully tactful and kind; only I can see she thought I ought to know +about it, and that the best way was to put the matter bluntly and +simply, as if it had no possible sentiment connected with it. When she +had done her errand, she went on to make remarks about Deacon Richards +and the vestry fires; just what, I do not know, for I could not listen. +Then she mercifully went away. + +I did not expect it so soon! I knew that it must come, but I was not +prepared for this suddenness. I supposed that I should hear of the +engagement, and get used to it; and then come to know the wedding was to +be, and so come gradually to the thing itself that shuts George forever +out of my life. It is better, it is a thousand times better to have it +all over at once. I might have brooded morbidly through the days as they +brought nearer and nearer the time when George was to be her husband +instead of mine. Now it is done without my knowing. For three days he +has been married; and I have only to think of him as the husband of +another woman, and try to take it as a matter of course. Whether George +has done this because he cares so much for her or not, he has done what +is kindest for me. It is like waking from the ether to find that the +tooth is out. We may be sick and sore, but the worst is past, and we may +begin, slowly perhaps, but really, to recover. + +Yet it is so soon! How completely he must be carried away to be so +forgetful of all that is past! We were engaged six years; and he marries +Miss West after an acquaintance of hardly as many weeks. I wonder if +all men are like this. It seems sometimes as if they were not capable of +the long, brooding devotion of women. But it is better so, and I would +not have him thinking about me. He must be wrapped up in her. I do care +most for his happiness, and his happiness now lies in his thinking of +her and forgetting all the six years when he was--when I thought he was +mine. + +I will not moon, and I will not fret. That George has changed does not, +of course, alter my feeling. I am sore and hurt; I see life now +restricted in its uses. He has cut me off from the happiness of serving +him and helping him as a wife; but as a friend there is still much that +I may do. Very likely I can help his wife,--she seems so far short of +what his wife should be. For service in all loyalty I belong to him +still; and that is the thought which must help me. + + +February 28. I have already had a chance to do something for George. I +hope that I have not been unfair to my friends; but I do not see how I +could decide any other way. + +Old lady Andrews came in this afternoon, with her snowy curls and cheeks +pink from the wind. Almost as soon as she was seated she began with +characteristic directness. + +"I know you won't mind my coming straight to the point, my dear," she +said. "I came to ask you about George Weston's new wife. Do you think we +had better call on her?" + +The question had come to me before, but I confess I had selfishly +thought of it only as a personal matter. + +"Mr. Weston's people were hardly of our sort, you know," she continued +in her gentle voice, "though of course after your father took him into +his office as a student we all felt like receiving him. I never knew him +until after that." + +"I have seen a good deal of him," I said, wondering if my voice sounded +queer; "you know he helped settle the estate." + +"It did seem providential," Mrs. Andrews went on, "that his mother did +not live, for of course we could hardly have known her. She was a Hardy, +you know, from Canton. But I have always found Mr. Weston a very +presentable young man, especially for one of his class. He is really +very intelligent." + +"As we have received him," I said, "I don't see how we can refuse to +receive his wife." + +"That's the way I thought you would feel about it," old lady Andrews +answered; "but I wished to be sure. As he has been received entirely on +account of his connection with your family, I told Aunt Naomi that it +ought to be for you to say whether the favor should be extended to his +wife. I am informed that she is very pretty, but she is not, I believe, +exactly one of our sort." + +"She is exceedingly pretty," I assured her. "I have seen her. She is +not--Well, I am afraid that she is rather Western, but I shall call." + +"Then that settles it. Of course we shall do whatever you decide. I +suppose he will bring her to our church. I say 'our,' Ruth, because you +really belong to it. You are just a lamb that has found a place with a +picket off, and got outside the fold. We shall have you back some time." + +"I am afraid," I said laughing, "that I should only disgrace you and +injure the fold by pulling a fresh picket off somewhere to get out +again." + +She laughed in turn, and fluttered her small hands in her delightful, +birdlike way. + +"I am not afraid of that," she responded. "When the Lord leads you in, +He is able to make you want to stay. I hope your mother is comfortable." + +So that is settled, and Miss West--Why am I such a coward about writing +it?--Mrs. Weston is to be one of us. George will be glad that she is not +left out of society. + + + + +III + +MARCH + + +March 2. Mother's calmness keeps me ashamed of the hot ache in my heart +and the restlessness which makes it so hard for me to keep an outward +composure. Hannah is rather shocked that she should be so entirely +unmoved in the face of death, and the dear, foolish old soul, steeped in +theological asperities from her cradle, must needs believe that Mother +is somehow endangering her future welfare by this very serenity. + +"Don't you think, Miss Ruth," she said to me yesterday, "that you could +persuade your mother to see Mr. Saychase? She'd do it to oblige you." + +"But it wouldn't oblige me, Hannah." + +"Oh, Miss Ruth, think of her immortal soul!" + +"Hannah," I said as gently as I could, she was so distressed, "you know +how Mother always felt about those things. It certainly couldn't do any +good now to try to alter her opinions, and it would only tire her." + +I left Hannah as quickly as I could without hurting her feelings, but I +might have known that her conscience would force her to speak to Mother. + +"Bless me, Hannah," Mother said to her, "I'm no more wicked because I'm +going to die than if I were going to live. I can't help dying, you know, +so I don't feel responsible." + +When Hannah tried to go on, and broke down with tears, Mother put out +her thin hand, like a sweet shadow. + +"Hannah," she said, "I know how you feel, and I thank you for speaking; +but don't be troubled. Where there are 'many mansions,' don't you think +there may be one even for those who did not see the truth, if they were +honest in their blindness?" + + +March 4. How far away everything else seems when the foot of death is +almost at the door! As I sit by the bedside in the long nights, +wondering whether he will come before morning, I think of the nights in +which I may sometime be waiting for death myself. I wonder whether I +shall be as serene and absolutely unterrified as Mother is. It is after +all only the terror of the unknown. Why should we be more ready to think +of the unknown as dreadful than as delightful? We certainly hail the +thought of new experiences in the body; why not out of it? Novelty in +itself must give a wonderful charm to that new life, at least for a long +time. Think of the pleasure of having youth all over again, for we shall +at least be young to any new existence into which we go, just as babies +are young to this. + +Death is terrible, it seems to me, only when we think of ourselves who +are left behind, not when we think of those who go. Life is a thing so +beautiful that it may be sad to think of them as deprived of it; but the +more beautiful it is, the more I am assured that whatever power made the +earth must be able to make something better. If life is good, a higher +step in evolution must be nobler; and however we mourn, none of us would +dare to say that our grief is caused by the belief that our friends +have through death gone on to sorrow. + + +March 8. This morning-- + + +March 11. Mother was buried to-day. I have taken out this book to try to +set down--to set down what? Not what I have felt since the end came. +That is not possible, and if it were, I have not the courage. I suppose +the mournful truth is that in the dreadful loneliness which death has +left in the house, I got out my diary as a companion. One's own thoughts +are forlorn company when they are so sad, but if they are written out +they may come to have more reality, and the journal to seem more like +another personality. How strange and shameful the weakness is which +makes it hard for us to be alone; the feeling that we cannot endure the +brooding universe about us unless we have hold of some human hand! Yet +we are so small,--the poor, naked, timorous soul, a single fleck of +thistle-down tossed about by all the winds which fill the immensities of +an infinite universe. Why should we not be afraid? Father would say, +"Why should we?" He believed that the universe took care of everything +in it, because everything is part of itself. "You've only to think of +our own human instinct of self-preservation on a scale as great as you +can conceive," he told me the day before he died, "and you get some idea +of the way in which the universal must protect the particular." I am +afraid that I am not able to grasp the idea as he did. I have thought of +it many times, and of how calm and dignified he was in those last days. +I am a woman, and the universe is so great that it turns me cold to +think of it. I am able to get comfort out of Father's idea only by +remembering how sure he was of it, and how completely real it was to +him. Yet Mother was as sure as he. She told me once that not to be +entirely at ease would be to dishonor Father's belief, and she was no +less serene in the face of death than he was. Yes; it would be to +dishonor them both to doubt, and I do not in my heart of hearts; but it +is lonely, lonely. + + +March 12. It is touching to see how human kindness, the great sympathy +with what is real and lasting in the human heart, overcomes the +narrowness of creeds in the face of the great tragedy of death. Hannah +would be horrified at any hint that she wavered in her belief, yet she +said to me to-day:-- + +"Don't you worry about your mother, Miss Ruth. She was a good woman, if +her eyes were not opened to the truth as it is in Jesus. Her Heavenly +Father'll look after her. I guess she sees things some different now +she's face to face with Him; and I believe she had the root of the +matter in her somehow, though she hadn't grace given her to let her +light shine among men." + +Dear old Hannah! She is too loving in her heart not to be obliged to +widen her theology when she is brought to the actual application of the +awful belief she professes, and she is too human not to feel that a life +so patient and so upright as Mother's must lead to eternal peace, no +matter what the creed teaches. + + +March 13. The gray kitten is chasing its tail before the fire, and I +have been looking at it and the blazing wood through my tears until I +could bear it no longer. The moonlight is on the snow in the graveyard, +and must show that great black patch where the grave is. She cannot be +there; she cannot be conscious of the bleak chill of the earth; and the +question whether she is anywhere and is conscious at all is in my mind +constantly. She must be; she cannot have gone out like a candle-flame. +She said to Mr. Saychase, that day Hannah brought him and Mother was too +gentle to refuse to see him, that she had always believed God must have +far too much self-respect not to take care of creatures He had made, and +that she was not in the least troubled, because she did not feel any +responsibility about what was to happen after death. She was right, of +course; but he was horrified. He began to stammer out something, but +Mother stopped him. + +"I didn't mean to shock you," she said gently; "but don't you think, Mr. +Saychase, I am near enough to the end to have the privilege of saying +what I really believe?" + +He wouldn't have been human if he could have resisted the voice that +said it or the smile that enforced the words. Now she knows. She has +found the heart of truth somewhere out there in the sky, which to us +looks so wide, so thick with stars which might be abiding-places. She +may have met Father. How much he, at least, must have to tell her! +Whether he would know about us or not, I cannot decide. In any case I +think he would like her to tell him. She is learning wonderful things. +Yes; she knows, and I am sure she is glad. + + +March 14. George has been to see me. In the absorption and grief of the +last fortnight I have hardly remembered him, and he has brought his +wife home without my giving the matter a thought. It is wonderful that +anything could so hold me that I have not been moved, but they came back +the day after the funeral, and I did not hear of it until a couple of +days later. It gave me a great shock when I saw him coming up the walk, +but by the time he was in the house, I had collected myself, and I had, +I think, my usual manner. + +He was most kind and sympathetic, and yet he could not help showing how +ill at ease he was. Perhaps he could not help reflecting that my duty to +Mother had been the thing which kept us apart, and that it was strange +for this to end just as there was no longer the possibility of our +coming together. + +I do not remember what George and I said to each other to-night, any +more than I can recall what we said on that last time when he was here. +I might bring back that other talk out of the dull blur of pain, but +where would be the good? Nothing could come of it but new suffering. We +were both outwardly calm and self-possessed, I know, and talked less +like lovers than like men of business. So a merchant might sell the +remnants of a bankrupt fortune, I fancy; and when he was gone I went to +prepare Mother's night drink as calmly as if nothing had happened. I did +not dare not to be calm. + +To-night we met like the friends we promised to be. He was uncomfortable +at first, but I managed to make him seem at ease, or at least not show +that he felt strange. He looked at me rather curiously now and then. I +think he was astonished that I showed no more feeling about our past. I +cannot have him unhappy through me, and he must feel that at least I +accept my fate serenely, or he will be troubled. I must not give myself +the gratification of proving that I am constant. He may believe I am +cold and perhaps heartless, but that is better than for him to feel +responsible for my being miserable. + +What did he tell me that night? It was in effect--though I think he +hardly realized what he said or implied--how our long engagement had +worn out the passion of a lover, and he felt only the friendship of a +brother; the coming of a new, real love had shown him the difference. +Does this mean that married love goes through such a change? Will he by +and by have lived through his first love for his wife, and if so what +will be left? That is not my concern; but would this same thing have +come if I had been his wife, and should I now find myself, if we had +been married when we hoped to be, only a friend who could not so fill +his heart as to shut out a new love? Better a hundredfold that it should +be as it is. At least he was not tied to me when the discovery came. But +it is not always so. Certainly Father and Mother loved each other more +after long years of living together.--But this is not a train of thought +which it is well to follow. What is must be met and lived with; but I +will not weaken my heart by dwelling on what might have been. + +George was most kind to come, and it must have been hard for him; but I +am afraid it was not a happy half-hour for either of us. I suppose that +any woman brought face to face with a man she still loves when he has +done with loving her must feel as if she were shamed. That is nonsense, +however, and I fought against the feeling. Now I am happy in the thought +that at least I have done one thing. I have made it possible for George +to come to me if hereafter he need me. If he were in trouble and I could +help, I know he would appeal to me as simply as ever. If I can help him, +I am yet free to do it. I thank God for this! + + +March 16. I have asked Charlotte Kendall to stay with me for a while. +Dear old Miss Charlotte, she is so poor and so proud and so plucky! I +know that she is half starving in that great, gaunt Kendall house, that +looms up so among its Balm of Gilead trees, as if it were an asylum for +the ghosts of all the bygone generations of the family. Somehow it seems +to me that in America the "decayed gentlewomen," as they are +unpleasantly called in England, have a harder time than anywhere else in +the world. Miss Charlotte has to live up to her instincts and her +traditions or be bitterly humiliated and miserable. People generally +assume that the family pride behind this is weak if it is not wicked; +but surely the ideal of an honorable race, cultivated and right-minded +for generations, is a thing to be cherished. The growth of civilization +must depend a good deal upon having these ideas of family preserved +somehow. Father used to say the great weakness of modern times is that +nowadays the best of the race, instead of saying to those below, "Climb +up to us," say, "We will come down to you." I suppose this is hardly a +fair summing up of modern views of social conditions, though of course I +know very little about them; but I am sure that the way in which class +distinctions are laughed at is a mistake. I hope I hate false pride as +much as anybody could; yet dear Miss Charlotte, trying hard not to +disgrace her ancestors, and being true to her idea of what a +gentlewoman should do, is to me pathetic and fine. She cares more for +the traditions of her race than she does for her own situation; and +anybody who did not admire this strong and unselfish spirit must look at +life from a point of view that I cannot understand. I can have her here +now on an excuse that she will not suspect, and she shall be fed and +rested as she has not been for years. + + +March 17. I forgot Miss Charlotte's plants when I asked her to come +here. I went over this morning to invite her, and I found her trimming +her great oleander tree with tender little snips and with loving glances +which were like those a mother gives her pet child in dressing it for a +party. The sun came in at the bay window, and the geraniums which are +the pride of Miss Charlotte's heart were coming finely into blossom. If +the poor old soul is ever really happy it is in the midst of her plants, +and things grow for her as for nobody else. + +"Do look, Ruth," she said with the greatest eagerness; "that slip of +heather that came from the wreath is really sprouting. I do think it +will live." + +She brought me a vial full of greenish water into which was stuck a bit +of heather from the wreath that Cousin Mehitable sent for Mother. Miss +Charlotte had asked me if she might go to the graveyard for the slip. +She was so pathetic when she spoke of it! + +"It isn't just to have a new plant," she said. "It is partly that it +would always remind me of your mother, and I should love it for that." + +To-day she was wonderful. Her eyes shone as she looked at the twig, and +showed me the tiny white point, like a little mouse's tooth, that had +begun to come through the bark under the green water. It was as if she +had herself somehow accomplished the miracle of creation. I could have +taken her into my arms and cried over her as she stood there so happy +with just this slip and her plants for family and riches. + +I told her my errand, and she began to look troubled. Unconsciously, I +am sure, she glanced around at the flowers, and in an instant I +understood. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," I said before she had time to speak, "I forgot +that you cannot leave the plants." + +"I was thinking how I could manage," she answered, evidently troubled +between the wish to oblige me and the thought that her precious plants +could not be left. + +"You need not manage," I said. "I was foolish enough not to think of +them. Of course you can't leave them." + +"I might come over in the daytime," she proposed hesitatingly. "I could +make up the fire in the morning, and at this time of the year the room +would be warm enough for them till I came back at night. I know you must +be most lonely at night, and I would stay as late as I could." + +"You are a dear thing," I said, and her tone brought tears to my eyes. +"If you will come over after breakfast and stay until after supper that +will do nicely,--if you think you can spare the time." + +"There's nothing I can spare better," she said, laughing. "I'm like the +man that was on his way to jail and was met by a beggar. 'I've nothing +to give you but time,' he said, 'and that his Honor just gave me, so I +don't like to give it away.' That's one of your father's stories, +Ruth." + +I stayed talking with her for an hour, and it was touching to see how +she was trying to be entertaining and to make me cheerful. I did come +away with my thoughts entirely taken off of myself and my affairs, and +that is something. + + +March 20. It has done me good to have Miss Charlotte here. She makes her +forlorn little jests and tells her stories in her big voice, and somehow +all the time is thinking, I can see, of brightening the days for me. +Peter was completely scornful for two days, but now he passes most of +his time in her lap, condescending, of course, but gracious. + +Miss Charlotte has been as dear and kindly as possible, and to-night in +the twilight she told me the romance of her life. I do not know how it +came about. I suppose that she was thinking of Mother and wanted me to +know what Mother had been to her. Perhaps, too, she may have had a +feeling that it would comfort me to know that she understood out of her +own suffering the pain that had come to me through George's marriage. + +I do not remember her father and mother. They both died when I was very +young. I have heard that Mr. Kendall was a very handsome man, who +scandalized the village greatly by his love of horses and wine, but +Father used to tell me he was a scholar and a cultivated man. I am +afraid he did not care very much for the comfort of others; and Aunt +Naomi always speaks of him as a rake who broke his wife's heart. +Charlotte took care of him after Mrs. Kendall died, and was devoted to +him, they say. She was a middle-aged woman before she was left alone +with that big house, and she sold the Kendall silver to pay his debts. +To-night she spoke of him with a sort of pitiful pride, yet with an air +as if she had to defend him, perhaps even to herself. + +"I'm an old woman, Ruth," she said, "and my own life seems to me like an +old book that I read so long ago that I only half remember it. It is +forty years since I was engaged." + +It is strange I had never known of this before; but I suppose it passed +out of people's minds before I was old enough to notice. + +"I never knew you had been engaged, Miss Charlotte," I said. + +"Then your mother never told you what she did for me," she answered, +looking into the fire. "That was like her. She was more than a mother to +me at the time"--She broke off, and then repeated, "It was like her not +to speak of it. There are few women like your mother, Ruth." + +We were both silent for a time, and I had to struggle not to break down. +Miss Charlotte sat looking into the fire with the tears running +unchecked down her wrinkled cheeks. She did not seem conscious of them, +and the thought came to me that there had been so much sadness in her +life that she was too accustomed to tears to notice them. + +"It is forty years," she said again. "I was called a beauty then, though +you'd find that hard to believe now, Ruth, when I'm like an old +scarecrow in a cornfield. I suppose no young person ever really believes +that an old woman can have been beautiful unless there's a picture to +prove it. I'll show you a daguerreotype some time; though, after all, +what difference does it make? At least he thought"-- + +Another silence came here. The embers in the fire dropped softly, and +the dull March twilight gathered more and more thickly. I felt as if I +were being led into some sacred room, closed many years, but where the +dead had once lain. Perhaps it was fanciful, but it seemed almost as if +I were seeing the place where poor Miss Charlotte's youth had died. + +"It wasn't proper that I should marry him, Ruth. I know now father was +right, only sometimes--For myself I suppose I hadn't proper pride, and I +shouldn't have minded; but father was right. A Kendall couldn't marry a +Sprague, of course. I knew it all along; and I vowed to myself over and +over that I wouldn't care for him. When a girl tells herself that she +won't love a man, Ruth," she broke in with a bitter laugh, "the thing's +done already. It was so with me. I needn't have promised not to love him +if I hadn't given him my whole heart already,--what a girl calls her +heart. I wouldn't own it; and over and over I told him that I didn't +care for him; and then at last"-- + +It was terrible to hear the voice in which she spoke. She seemed to be +choking, and it was all that I could do to keep control of myself. I +could not have spoken, even if there had been anything to say. I wanted +to take her in my arms and get her pitiful, tear-stained face hidden; +but I only sat quiet. + +"Well, we were engaged at last, and I knew father would never consent; +but I hoped something would happen. When we are young enough we all hope +the wildest things will happen and we shall get what we want. Then +father found out; and then--and then--I don't blame father, Ruth. He was +right. I see now that he was right. Of course it wouldn't have done; but +then it almost killed me. If it hadn't been for your mother, dear, I +think I should have died. I wanted to die; but I had to take care of +father." + +I put out my hand and got hold of hers, but I could not speak. The tears +dropped down so that they sparkled in the firelight, but she did not +wipe them away. I was crying myself, for her old sorrow and mine seemed +all part of the one great pain of the race, somehow. I felt as if to be +a woman meant something so sad that I dared not think of it. + +"And the hardest was that he thought I was wrong to give him up. He +could not see it as I did, Ruth; and of course it was natural that he +couldn't understand how father would feel about the family. I could +never explain it to him, and I couldn't have borne to hurt his feelings +by telling him." + +"Is he"-- + +"He is dead, my dear. He married over at Fremont, and I hope he was +happy. I think probably he was. Men are happy sometimes when a woman +wouldn't be. I hope he was happy." + +That was the whole of it. We sat there silent until Rosa came to call us +to supper. When we stood up I put my arms about her, and kissed her. +Then she made a joke, and wiped her eyes, and through supper she was so +gay that I could hardly keep back the tears. Poor, poor, lonely, brave +Miss Charlotte! + + +March 21. Cousin Mehitable arrived yesterday according to her usual +fashion, preceded by a telegram. I tell her that if she followed her +real inclinations, she would dispatch her telegram from the station, and +then race the messenger; but she is constrained by her breeding to be a +little more deliberate, so I have the few hours of her journey in which +to expect her. It is all part of her brisk way. She can never move fast +enough, talk quickly enough, get through whatever she is doing with +rapidity enough. I remember Father's telling her once that she would +never have patience to lie and wait for the Day of Judgment, but would +get up every century or two to hurry things along. It always seems as if +she would wear herself to shreds in a week; yet here she is, more lively +at sixty than I am at less than half that age. + +She was very kind, and softened wonderfully when she spoke of Mother. I +think that she loved her more than she does any creature now alive. + +"Aunt Martha," she said last night, "wasn't human. She was far too +angelic for that. But she was too sweet and human for an angel. For my +part I think she was something far better than either, and far more +sensible." + +This was a speech so characteristic that it brought me to tears and +smiles together. + +To-night Cousin Mehitable came to the point of her errand with customary +directness. + +"I came down," she said, "to see how soon you expect to arrange to live +with me." + +"I hadn't expected anything about it," I returned. + +"Of course you would keep the house," she went on, entirely disregarding +my feeble protest. "You might want to come back summers sometimes. This +summer I'm going to take you to Europe." + +I am too much accustomed to her habit of planning things to be taken +entirely by surprise; but it did rather take my breath away to find my +future so completely disposed of. I felt almost as if I were not even to +have a chance to protest. + +"But I never thought of giving up the house," I managed to say. + +"Of course not; why should you?" she returned briskly. "You have money +enough to keep up the place and live where you please. Don't I know that +for this ten years you and Aunt Martha haven't spent half your income? +Keep it, of course; for, as I say, sometimes you may like to come back +for old times' sake." + +I could only stare at her, and laugh. + +"Oh, you laugh, Ruth," Cousin Mehitable remarked, more forcibly than +ever, "but you ought to understand that I've taken charge of you. We are +all that are left of the family now, and I'm the head of it. You are a +foolish thing anyway, and let everybody impose on your good-nature. You +need somebody to look after you. If I'd had you in charge, you'd never +have got tangled up in that foolish engagement. I'm glad you had the +sense to break it." + +I felt as if she had given me a blow in the face, but I could not +answer. + +"Don't blush like that," Cousin Mehitable commanded. "It's all over, and +you know I always said you were a fool to marry a country lawyer." + +"Father was a country lawyer," I retorted. + +"Fudge! Cousin Horace was a judge and a man whose writings had given him +a wide reputation. Don't outrage his memory by calling him a rustic. For +my part I never had any patience with him for burying himself in the +country like a clodhopper." + +"You forget that Mother's health"--I began; but with Cousin Mehitable +one is never sure of being allowed to complete a sentence. + +"Oh, yes," she interrupted, "of course I forgot. Well, if there could be +an excuse, Aunt Martha would serve for excusing anything. I beg your +pardon, Ruth. But now all that is past and gone, and fortunately the +family is still well enough remembered in Boston for you to take up life +there with very little trouble. That's what I had in mind ten years ago, +when I insisted on your coming out." + +"People who saw me then will hardly remember me." + +"The folks that knew your father and mother," she went on serenely, "are +of course old people like me; but they will help you to know the younger +generation. Besides, those you know will not have forgotten you. A +Privet is not so easily forgotten, and you were an uncommonly pretty +bud, Ruth. What a fool you were not to marry Hugh Colet! You always were +a fool." + +Cousin Mehitable generally tempers a compliment in this manner, and it +prevents me from being too much elated by her praise. + +She was interrupted here by the necessity of going to prepare for +supper. Miss Charlotte did not come over to-day, so we were alone +together. No sooner were we seated at the supper-table than she returned +to the attack. + +"When you live in Boston," she said, "I shall"-- + +"Suppose I should not live in Boston?" I interrupted. + +"But you will. What else should you do?" + +"I might go on living here." + +"Living here!" she cried out explosively. "You don't call this living, +do you? How long is it since you heard any music, or saw a picture, or +went to the theatre, or had any society?" + +I was forced to confess that music and painting and acting were all +entirely lacking in Tuskamuck; but I remarked that I had all the books +that attracted me, and I protested against her saying I hadn't any +society. + +"Oh, you see human beings now and then," Cousin Mehitable observed +coolly; "and I dare say they are very worthy creatures. But you know +yourself they are not society. You haven't forgotten the year I brought +you out." + +I have not forgotten it, of course; and I cannot deny that when I think +of that winter in Boston, the year I was nineteen, I do feel a little +mournful sometimes. It was all so delightful, and it is all so far away +now. I hardly heard what Cousin Mehitable said next. I was thinking how +enchanting a home in Boston would be, and how completely alone as for +family I am. Cousin Mehitable is the only near relative I have in the +world, and why should I not be with her? It would be delightful. Perhaps +I may manage to get in a week or two in town now and then; but I cannot +go away for long. There would be nobody to start the reading-room, or +keep up the Shakespeare Club; and what would become of Kathie and Peggy +Cole, or of all that dreadful Spearin tribe? I dare say I am too proud +of my consequence, and that if I went away somebody would be found to +look after things. Still I know I am useful here; and it seems to me I +am really needed. Besides, I love the place and the people, and I think +my friends love me. + + +March 23. Cousin Mehitable went home to-day. Easter is at hand, and she +has a bonnet from Paris,--"a perfect dream of a bonnet," she said with +the enthusiasm of a girl, "dove-colored velvet, and violets, and steel +beads, and two or three white ostrich tips; a bonnet an angel couldn't +resist, Ruth!"--and this bonnet must form part of the church service on +Easter. The connection between Paris bonnets and the proper observance +of the day is not clear in my mind; but when I said something of this +sort to Cousin Mehitable she rebuked me with great gravity. + +"Ruth, there is nothing in worse form than making jokes about sacred +subjects." + +"Your bonnet isn't sacred," I retorted, for I cannot resist sometimes +the temptation to tease her; "or at least it can't be till it's been to +church on Easter." + +"You know what I mean," was her answer. "When you live with me I shall +insist upon your speaking respectfully of the church." + +"I wasn't speaking of the church," I persisted, laughing at the gravity +with which she always takes up its defense; "I was speaking of your +bonnet, your Paris bonnet, your Easter bonnet, your ecclesiastical, +frivolous, giddy, girlish bonnet." + +"Oh, you may think it too young for me," she said eagerly, forgetting +the church in her excitement, "but it isn't really. It's as modest and +appropriate as anything you ever saw; and so becoming and _chic_!" + +"Oh, I can always trust your taste, Cousin Mehitable," I told her, "but +you know you're a worldly old thing. You'd insist upon having your +angelic robes fitted by a fashionable tailor." + +Again she looked grave and shocked in a flash. + +"How can you, Ruth! You are a worse heathen than ever. But then there is +no church in Tuskamuck, so I suppose it is not to be wondered at. That's +another reason for taking you away from this wilderness." + +"There are two churches, as you know very well," I said. + +"Nonsense! They're only meeting-houses,--conventicles. However, when you +come to Boston to live, we will see." + +"I told you last night that I shouldn't give up Tuskamuck." + +"I know you did, but I didn't mind that. You must give it up." + +She went away insisting upon this, and refusing to accept any other +decision. I did so far yield as to promise provisionally that I would go +abroad with her this summer. I need to see the world with a broader view +again, and I shall enjoy it. To think of the picture galleries fills me +with joy already. I should be willing to cross the Atlantic just to see +once more the enchanting tailor of Moroni's in the National Gallery. It +is odd, it comes into my mind at this moment that he looks something +like Tom Webbe, or Tom looks something like him. Very likely it is all +nonsense. Yes; I will go for the summer--to leave here altogether--no, +that is not to be thought of. + + +March 24. The whole town is excited over an accident up at the lake this +morning. A man and his son were drowned by breaking through the ice. +They had been up to some of the logging camps, and it is said they were +not sober. They were Brownrigs, and part of the family in the little red +house. The mother and the daughter are left. I hope it is not heartless +to hate to think of them. I have no doubt that they suffer like others; +only it is not likely folk of this sort are as sensitive as we are. It +is a mercy that they are not. + + +March 25. The Brownrig family seems just now to be forced upon my +attention, and that in no pleasant way. + +Aunt Naomi came in this forenoon, and seated herself with an air of +mysterious importance. She looked at me with her keen eyes, penetrating +and humorous even when she is most serious, and seemed to be examining +me to discover what I was thinking. It was evident at once that she had +news. This is generally true, for she seems always to have something to +tell. Her mind gathers news as salt gathers moisture, and her greatest +pleasure is to impart what she has heard. She has generally with me the +air of being a little uncertain how I may receive her tidings. Like all +persons of strong mind and a sense of humor, she is by nature in +sympathy with the habit of looking at life frankly and dispassionately, +and I believe that secretly and only half consciously she envies me my +mental freedom. Sometimes I have suspected her of leading me on to say +things which she would have felt it wrong to say herself because they +are unorthodox, but which she has too much common sense not to +sympathize with. She is convinced, though, that such freedom of thought +as mine is wrong, and she nobly deprives herself of the pleasure of +being frank in her thoughts when this would involve any reflection upon +the theological conventions which are her rule of life. She gratifies a +lively mind by feeding it on scraps of gossip and commenting on them in +her pungent way; she is never unkind in her thought, I am sure, but she +does sometimes say sharp things. Like Lady Teazle, however, she abuses +people out of pure good nature. I looked at her this morning as she sat +swinging her foot and munching--there is no other word for it!--her +green barège veil, and I wondered, as I have often wondered before, how +a woman really so clever could be content to pass so much of her time in +the gathering and circulating of mere trivialities. I suppose that it is +because there is so little in the village to appeal to the intellectual +side of her, and her mind must be occupied. She might be a brilliant +woman in a wider sphere. Now she seems something like a beaver in +captivity, building dams of hairbrushes and boots on a carpeted floor. + +I confess, too, that I wondered, as I looked at her, if she represented +my future. I thought of Cousin Mehitable's doleful predictions of what I +should come to if I stay in Tuskamuck, and I tried to decide whether I +should come in time to be like Aunt Naomi, a general carrier of news +from house to house, an old maid aunt to the whole village, with no real +kindred, and with no interests wider than those of village gossip. I +cannot believe it, but I suppose at my age she would not have believed +it of herself. + +"We're really getting to be quite like a city," Aunt Naomi said, with a +grimness which showed me there was something important behind this +enigmatic remark. + +"Are we?" I responded. "I confess I don't see how." + +"Humph!" she sniffed. "There's wickedness here that isn't generally +looked for outside of the city." + +"Oh, wickedness!" I said. "There is plenty of that everywhere, I +suppose; but I never have thought we have more than our share of it." + +She wagged her foot more violently, and had what might have seemed a +considerable lunch on her green veil before she spoke again--though it +is wicked for me to make fun of her. Then she took a fresh start. + +"What are you knitting?" she asked. + +"What started in January to be some mittens for the Turner boy. He +brings our milk, and he never seems to have mittens enough." + +"I don't wonder much," was her comment. "His mother has so many babies +that she can't be expected to take care of them." + +"Poor Mrs. Turner," I said. "I should think the poor thing would be +discouraged. I am ashamed that I don't do more for her." + +"I don't see that you are called upon to take care of all the poor in +the town; but if you could stop her increasing her family it'd be the +best thing you could do." + +When Aunt Naomi makes a remark like this, I feel it is discreet to +change the subject. + +"I hope that now the weather is getting milder," I observed, "you are +not so cold in prayer-meetings." + +She was not diverted, even by this chance to dwell on her pet grievance, +but went her own way. + +"I suppose you'll feel now you've got to look out for that Brownrig +girl, too," she said. + +"That Brownrig girl?" I repeated. + +I tried not to show it, but the blood rushed to my heart and made me +faint. I realized something terrible was coming, though I had nothing to +go upon but the old gossip about Tom and the fact that I had seen him +come from the red house. + +"Her sin has found her out," returned Aunt Naomi with indignant +emphasis. "For my part, I don't see what such creatures are allowed to +live for. Think what kind of a mother she will make. They'd better take +her and her baby and drown 'em along with her father and brother." + +"Aunt Naomi!" was all I could say. + +"Well, I suppose you think I'm not very charitable, but it does make me +mad to see that sort of trash"-- + +"I don't know what you are talking about," I interrupted. "Has the +Brownrig girl a child?" + +"No; but she's going to have. Her mother's gone off and left her, and +she's down sick with pneumonia besides." + +"Her mother has gone off?" + +"Yes; and it'd be good riddance, if there was anybody to take care of +the girl." + +It is useless to ask Aunt Naomi how she knows all that goes on in the +town. She collects news from the air, I believe. I reflected that she is +not always right, and I hoped now she might be mistaken. + +"But somebody must be with her if she's down with pneumonia," I said. + +"Yes; that old Bagley woman's there. The Overseers of the Poor sent her, +but she's about twice as bad as nobody, I should think. If I was sick, +and she came round, I know I'd ask her to go away, and let me die in +peace." + +It was evident enough that Aunt Naomi was a good deal stirred up, but I +did not dare to ask her why. If there is anything worse behind this +scandal, I had rather not know it. We were fortunately interrupted, and +Aunt Naomi went soon, so I heard no more. I was sick with the +loathsomeness of having Tom Webbe connected in my thought with that +wretched girl, and I do hope that it is only my foolishness. He cannot +have fallen to such depths. + + +March 27. I have heard no more from the Brownrigs, and I must hope +things were somehow not as Aunt Naomi thought. To-day I learned that she +is shut up with a cold. I must go in to-morrow and see her. Miss +Charlotte is a great comfort. The dear old soul begins really to look +better, and the thinness about her lips is yielding to good feeding. She +tells me stories of the old people of the town whom I can just remember, +and she is full of reverence for both Father and Mother. Of course I +never talk theology with her, but I am surprised sometimes to find that +under the shell of her orthodoxy is a good deal of liberalism. I suppose +any kindly mortal who accepted the old creeds made allowances for those +nearest and dearest, and human nature will always make allowances for +itself. I should think that an imaginative belief in a creed, a belief +that realized the cruelty of theology, must either drive one mad or make +one disbelieve from simple horror. Nobody but a savage could worship a +relentless god and not become insane from the horror of being in the +clutch of an implacable power. + + +March 28. I have had a most painful visit from Deacon Webbe. He came in +looking so gray and old that it shocked me to see him. He shook hands as +if he did not know what he was doing, and then sat down in a dazed way, +slowly twirling his hat and fixing his eyes on it as if he were blind. I +tried to say something, but only stumbled on in little commonplaces +about the weather, to which he paid so little attention that it was +evident he had no idea what I was saying. In a minute or two I was +reduced to silence. One cannot go on saying mechanical nothings in the +face of suffering, and it was impossible not to see that Deacon Webbe +was in grievous pain. + +"Deacon Webbe," I said at last, when I could not bear the silence any +longer, "what is the matter?" + +He raised his eyes to mine with a look of pitiful helplessness. + +"I've no right to come to you, Miss Ruth," he said in his slow way, "but +there's nobody else, and you always were Tom's friend." + +"Tom?" I repeated. "What has happened?" + +"It isn't a thing to talk to a woman about," he went on, "and you'll +have to excuse me, Miss Ruth. I'm sure you will. It's that Brownrig +girl." + +I sat silent, and I felt my hands growing cold. + +"She's had a baby," he said after a moment. + +The simple bald fact was horrible as he said it. I could not speak, and +after a little hesitation he continued in a tone so low I could scarcely +hear him. + +"It's his. Think of the shame of it and the sin of it. It seems to me, +if it could only have been the Lord's will, I would have been glad to +die rather than to have this happen. My son!" + +The wail of his voice went to my heart and made me shiver. I would have +given anything I possessed to comfort him, but what could I say? Shame +is worse than death. When one dies you can at least speak of the +happiness that has been and the consolation of the memory of this. In +disgrace whatever has been good before makes the shame only the harder +to bear. What could I say to a father mourning the sin and the disgrace +of his only son? + +It seemed to me a long time that we sat there silent. At last he said:-- + +"I didn't come just to make you feel bad, Miss Ruth. I want you to tell +me what I ought to do, what I can do. I ought to do something to help +the girl. Bad as she is, she's sick, and she's a woman. I don't know +where Tom is, and I'm that baby's grandfather." His voice choked, but he +went on. "Of course I ought not to trouble you, but I don't know what to +do, I don't know what to do. My wife"-- + +The poor old man stopped. He is not polished, but he has the instinct of +a good man to screen his wife, and plainly was afraid he might say +something which would seem to reflect on her. + +"My wife," he said, evidently changing the form of his words, "is +dreadfully put out, as she naturally would be, and of course I don't +like to talk much with her about it. I thought you might help me, Miss +Ruth." + +Never in my life have I felt more helpless. I tried to think clearly, +but the only thing I could do was to try to comfort him. I have no +remembrance of what I said, and I believe it made very little +difference. What he wanted was sympathy. I had no counsel to give, but I +think I sent Deacon Daniel away somewhat comforted. I could only advise +him to wait and see what was needed. He of course must have thought of +this himself, but he liked to have me agree with him and be good to him. +He will do his duty, and what is more he will do his best, but he will +do it with very little help from Mrs. Webbe, I am afraid. Poor Deacon +Daniel! I could have put my arms round his neck and kissed his +weather-beaten cheek, but he would not have understood. I suppose he +would have been frightened half out of his wits, and very likely would +have thought that I had suddenly gone mad. It is so hard to comfort a +slow-minded person; he cannot see what you mean by a caress. Yet I hope +that Deacon Daniel went away somewhat heartened. Oh, if Tom could only +realize the sorrow I saw in his father's eyes, I think he would have his +punishment. + + +March 29. When Deacon Webbe said last night that he did not know where +Tom was, I thought for just a moment of the sealed address Tom left me. +I was so taken up with pity, however, that the thought passed from my +mind. After the Deacon was gone I wondered whether I should have spoken +of the letter; but it seemed to me that it was better to have said +nothing. I thought I should open it before saying anything; and I needed +to consider whether the time had come when I was justified in reading +it. Tom trusted me, and I was bound by that; yet surely he ought to be +told the state of things. It was imperative that he should know about +the poor girl. I have never been able to be sure why he did not let his +family know where he was, but I fear he may have quarreled with them. +Now he must be told. Oh, it is such wretched business, so sad and +dreadful! + +I went upstairs after thinking by the fire until it had burned to +embers, and indeed until the very ashes were cold. I took out Tom's +letter, and for a moment I was half sick at the thought that he had +degraded himself so. It seemed almost as if in holding his letter I was +touching her, and I would gladly have thrown it in the fire unopened. +Then I was ashamed to be so squeamish and so uncharitable, and realized +how foolish I was. The sealed envelope had in it a card with Tom's +address in New York, and this note:-- + +"If you open this it must mean that you know. I have nothing to say in +my own defense that you could understand; only this is true, Ruth: I +have never really cared for any woman in the world but you. You will not +believe it, and you will not be likely to find it very easy to forgive +me for saying it now, but it is true. I never knew better how completely +you have possession of me than I do just at this moment, when I know I +am writing what you will read hating me. No, I suppose you can't really +hate anybody; but you must despise me, and it is an insult for me to say +I love you. But I have loved you all my life, and I cannot help it. I +shall go on till I die, even if you do not speak to me again in my whole +life. Do not make me come home unless I must. Forgive me, if you can." + +The note had neither end nor beginning. I was so overcome by it all, by +the pity of it, that I could not trust myself to think. I sat down and +wrote to Tom just this message, without salutation or signature:-- + +"Your father has been here to see me. The Brownrig girl is ill of +pneumonia. Her baby was born night before last, and is alive." + +I sent this off to-day. What he will do I cannot tell. I cannot even be +sure what he ought to do, and I had no right to urge him to come or to +stay away. Certainly for him to marry that outcast creature seems +impossible; but if he does not the baby must go through life with a +brand of shame on her. The world is so cruel to illegitimate children! +Perhaps it has to be; at least Father believed that the only +preservation of society lay in this severity; but I am a woman, and I +think of the children, who are not to blame. Things are so tangled up in +human relations that one thread cannot be drawn taut without bringing +about tragedies on other lines. + +Yet to marry this girl--Oh, it is not possible! To think of Tom Webbe's +living in the same house with that dreadful creature, of his having it +known that he had married such a woman-- + +It is horrible, whichever way I look at it. I cannot be kind in my +thoughts to one of them without being cruel to the other. I am so +thankful that I have not to decide. I know I should be too weak to be +just, and then I should be always unhappy at the wrong I had done. Now, +whatever I was called upon to take the responsibility of was done when I +had written to Tom. + + + + +IV + +APRIL + + +April 1. When a new month comes in it always seems as if something +should happen. The divisions of time do not appeal to the feelings as +simple arbitrary conveniences, but as real endings and beginnings; so +the fancy demands that the old order shall end and some better, new +fashion begin. I suppose everybody has had the vague sense of +disappointment that the new month or the new year is so like the one +before. I used to feel this very strongly as a child, though never +unhappily. It was a disappointment, but as all times were happy times, +the disappointment was not bitter. The thought is in my mind to-night +because I am troubled, and because I would so gladly leave the fret and +worry behind, to begin afresh with the new month. + +The thought of Tom and his trouble weighs on me so that I have been +miserable all day. Miss Charlotte has not been here this week. Her +beloved plants need attention, and she is doing mysterious things with +clippers and trowels, selecting bulbs, sorting out seeds, making plans +for her garden beds, and working herself into a delightful fever of +excitement over the coming glories of her garden. It is really rather +early, I think, but in her impatience she cannot wait. Her flowers are +her children, and all her affection for family and kin, having nothing +nearer to cling to, is lavished on them. It is so fortunate that she +has this taste. I cannot help to-day feeling so old and lonely that I +could almost envy her her fondness for gardening. I must cultivate a +taste for something, if it is only for cats. I wonder how Peter would +like to have me set up an asylum for crippled and impoverished tabbies! + +Over and over again I have asked myself what I can do to help Deacon +Webbe, but I have found no answer. One of the hardest things in life is +to see our friends bear the consequences of their mistakes. Deacon +Daniel is suffering for the way he brought Tom up, and yet he has done +as well as he was able. Father used to say what I declared was a hard +saying, and which was the harder because in my heart of hearts I could +never with any success dispute it. "You cannot wisely help anybody until +you are willing not to interfere with the discipline that life and +nature give," he said. "You would not offer to take a child's medicine +for it; why should you try to bear the brunt of a friend's suffering +when it comes from his own fault? That is nature's medicine." I remember +that once I answered I would very gladly take a child's medicine for it +if I could, and Father laughed and pinched my ear. "Don't try to be +Providence," he said. I would like to be Providence for Deacon Webbe and +Tom now,--and for the girl, too. It makes me shiver to think of her, and +if I had to see or to touch her, it would be more than I could endure. + +This moralizing shows that I am low in my mind. I have been so out of +sorts that I was completely out of key to-day with George. I have had to +see him often about the estate, but he has seemed always anxious to get +away as quickly as possible. To-day he lingered almost in the old +fashion; and I somehow found him altered. He is--I cannot tell how he is +changed, but he is. He has a manner less-- + +It is time to stop writing when I own the trouble to be my own +wrong-headedness and then go on to set down imaginary faults in my +neighbors. + + +April 3. I am beset with deacons lately. Deacon Richards has been here +for an hour, and he has left me so restless that I may as well try to +write myself into calmness. + +Deacon Richards never seems so big as when he stands talking with me, +looking down on the top of my head, with his great bald forehead looming +above his keen eyes like a mountain-top. I always get him seated as soon +as I can, and he likes to sit in Father's wide arm-chair. One of the +things that I like best about him is that, brusque and queer as he is, +he never takes that seat until he has been especially asked. Then as he +sits down he says always, with a little softening of his great voice,-- + +"This was your father's chair." + +He has never been out of Tuskamuck a fortnight, I dare say; but there is +something about this simple speech, ready for it as I of course always +am, that almost brings the tears to my eyes. He is country born and +country bred, but the delicacy of the courtesy underlying his +brusqueness is pure gold. What nonsense it is for Cousin Mehitable to +insist that we are too countrified to have any gentlemen! She does not +appreciate the old New England stock. + +What Deacon Daniel wanted I could not imagine, but while we were talking +of the weather and the common things of the day I could see that he was +preparing to say something. He has a wonderful smile when he chooses to +show it. It always reminds me of the picture one sees sometimes of a +genial face peering from behind a glum mask. When I teased him about the +vestry fires, he only grinned; but his grin is to his smile as the smell +of peppermint to that of a rose. He amused me by his comments of Aunt +Naomi. + +"She runs after gossip," he said, "just as a kitten runs after its tail. +It doesn't mean anything, but it must do something." + +"She is a shrewd creature," I answered. "It is absurd enough to compare +anybody so decorous to a kitten." + +"Aunt Naomi's nobody's fool," was his response. "She sent me here +to-night." + +"Sent you here?" I echoed. + +His face grew suddenly grave. + +"I don't know how this thing will strike you, Miss Ruth," he said +explosively. "It seems to me all wrong. The fact is," he added more +calmly, but with the air of meaning to have a disagreeable thing over, +"it's about the Brownrig girl. You know about her, and that she is very +sick." + +"Yes," I said. + +He stretched out his large hand toward the fire in a way that showed he +was not at ease. I could not help noticing the difference between the +hand of this Deacon Daniel and that of the other. Deacon Webbe is a +farmer, and has a farmer's hand. Deacon Richards has the white hand of a +miller. + +"I don't see myself," he said grimly, looking into the coals, "that +there is likely to be anything contagious in her wickedness, but none +of the women are willing to go near her. I should think she'd serve +pretty well as a warning. The Overseers of the Poor 've sent old Marm +Bagley to nurse her, and that seems to be their part; but who's to look +out that Marm Bagley doesn't keep drunk all the time's more than I can +see." + +He sniffed scornfully, as if his opinion of women was far from +flattering. + +"How did you know about it?" I asked. + +"Job Pearson--he's one of the Overseers--came to see if there wasn't +somebody the church could send down. I went to Aunt Naomi, but she +couldn't think of anybody. She's housed with a cold, and she wouldn't be +the one to go into a sick-room anyway." + +"And she sent you here?" + +He turned to me with the smile which I can never resist. + +"The truth is," he answered, "that when there's nothing else to do we +all come to you, Miss Ruth." + +"But what can I do?" + +"That is what I came to see." + +"Did you expect me to go down and nurse the girl?" + +He looked at me with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, and for a moment said +nothing. + +"I just expected if there was anything possible to be done you'd think +of it," he replied. + +I thought for a moment, and then I told him I would write to Cousin +Mehitable to send down a trained nurse from Boston. + +"The Overseers won't pay her," he commented with a grin. + +"Perhaps you will," I returned, knowing perfectly that he was trying to +tease. + +"It will take several days at least to get her here." + +We considered for a little in silence. I do not know what passed through +his mind, but I thought with a positive sickening of soul of being under +the same roof with that girl. I knew that it must be done, though; and, +simply to be rid of the dread of it, I said as steadily as I could,-- + +"I will go down in the morning." + +And so it has come about that I am to be nurse to the Brownrig girl and +to Tom Webbe's baby. + + +April 6. The last four days have been so full and so exhausting that +there has been no time for scribbling in diaries. Like Pepys I have now +to write up the interval, although I cannot bring myself to his way of +dating things as if he always wrote on the very day on which they +happened. Father used to laugh at me because I always insisted that it +was not honest of Pepys to put down one date when he really wrote on +another. + +Tuesday forenoon I went down to the Brownrig house. I had promised +myself not to let the sick girl see how I shrank from her, but I had a +sensation of sickening repugnance almost physical. When I got to the red +house I was so ashamed of myself that I forgot everything else. The girl +was so sick, the place so cheerless, so dirty, so poverty-stricken; she +was so dreadful to look at, with her tangled black hair, her hot cheeks, +her fierce eyes; everything was so miserable and dreadful, that I could +have cried with pity. Julia was in a bed so dirty that it would have +driven me to distraction; the pillow-slip was ragged, and the comforter +torn in great places, as if a wild cat had clawed it. Marm Bagley was +swaying back and forth in an old broken rocking-chair, smoking a black +pipe, which perhaps she thought fumigated the foul air of the sick-room. +She had the appearance of paying very little attention to the patient +and none at all to the baby, which wailed incessantly from a shabby +clothes-basket in a corner. The whole scene was so sordid, so pitiful, +so hopeless, that I could think only of the misery, and so forget my +shrinking and dread. + +A Munson boy, that the Overseers of the Poor had sent down, was chopping +wood in the yard, and I dispatched him to the house for Hannah and clean +linen, while I tried to get Marm Bagley to attend to the baby and to +help me to put things to rights a little. She smelled of spirits like +another Sairey Gamp, and her wits did not appear to be entirely steady. +After I found her holding the baby under her arm literally upside down, +while she prepared its food, I decided that unless I wished to run the +risk of being held as accessory to the murder of the infant, I had +better look after it myself. + +"Can't you pick up the room a little while I feed the baby?" I asked. + +"Don't see no use of clearing up none," she said. "'Tain't time for the +funeral yet." + +This, I suppose, was some sort of an attempt at a rudimentary joke, but +it was a most ghastly one. I looked at the sick girl to see if she heard +and understood. It was evident that she had, but it seemed to me that +she did not care. I went to the bedside. + +"I ought to have spoken to you when I came in," I said, "but your eyes +were shut, and I thought you might be asleep. I am Miss Privet, and I +have come to help Mrs. Bagley take care of you till a regular nurse can +get here from Boston." + +She looked at me with a strange sparkle in her eyes. + +"From Boston?" she repeated. + +"Yes," I said. "I have sent to my cousin to get a regular trained +nurse." + +She stared at me with her piercing eyes opened to their fullest extent. + +"Do they train 'em?" she asked. + +"Yes," I told her. "A trained nurse is almost as good as a doctor." + +"Then I shall get well?" she demanded eagerly. "She'll get me well?" + +"I hope so," I said, with as much of a smile as I could muster when I +wanted to cry. "And before she comes we must clear up a little." + +I began to do what I could about the room without making too much +bustle. The girl watched me with eager eyes, and at last, as I came near +the bed, she asked suddenly,-- + +"Did he send you?" + +I felt myself growing flushed, though there was no reason for it. + +"Deacon Richards asked me to come," I answered. + +"I don't know him," she commented, evidently confused. "Is he Overseer?" + +I hushed her, and went on with my work, for I wanted to think what I had +better tell her. Of course Marm Bagley was of no use, but when Hannah +came things went better. Hannah was scandalized at my being there at +all, and of course would not hear of my doing the rough work. She took +possession of Mrs. Bagley, and ordered her about with a vigor which +completely dazed that unsatisfactory person, and amused me so much that +my disturbed spirits rose once more. This was all very well as long as +it lasted, but Hannah had to go home for dinner, and when the restraint +of her presence was removed Marm Bagley reasserted herself. She tied a +frowzy bonnet over a still more frowzy head, lighted her pipe, and +departed for the woods behind the house. + +"When that impudent old hired girl o' yours's got all through and got +out," she remarked, "you can hang a towel out the shed winder, and I'll +come back. I ain't got no occasion to stay here and git ordered round by +no hired girl of anybody's." + +My remonstrances were of no avail, since I would not promise not to let +Hannah come into the house, and the fat old woman waddled away into the +seclusion of the woods. I suppose she slept somewhere, though the woods +must be so damp that the indulgence seems rather a dangerous one; but at +nightfall she returned more odorous, and more like Sairey Gamp than +ever. + +Hannah came back, and we did what we could. When Dr. Wentworth came in +the afternoon he allowed us to get Julia into clean linen, and she did +seem grateful for the comfort of fresh sheets and pillow-slips. It +amused me that Hannah had not only taken the servants' bedding, but had +picked out the oldest. + +"I took the wornest ones," she explained. "Of course we wouldn't any of +us ever want to sleep in them again." + +She was really shocked at my proposing to remain for the night. + +"It ain't for you, Miss Ruth, to be taking care of such folks," she +declared; "and as for that Bagley woman, I'd as soon have a bushel +basket of cockroaches in the house as her, any time." + +Even this lively image did not do away with the necessity of my +remaining. I could not propose to Hannah to take my place. The mere fact +of being mistress often forces one to do things which servants would +feel insulted if asked to undertake. Father used to say, "Remember that +_noblesse oblige_ does not exist in the kitchen;" though of course this +is true only in a sense. Servants have their own ideas of what is due to +position, I am sure; only that their ideas are so different, and often +so funnily different, from ours. I could not leave the sick girl to the +mercies of Mrs. Bagley, and so I had no choice but to stay. + +All day long Julia watched me with a closeness most strangely +disconcerting. She evidently could not make out why I was there. In the +evening, as I sat by her, she said suddenly,-- + +"I dunno what you think yer'll get by it." + +"Get by what?" + +"Bein' here." + +I smiled at her manner, and told her that at least I had already got the +satisfaction of seeing her more comfortable. She made no reply for a +time, but evidently was considering the matter. I did not think it well +for her to talk, so I sat knitting quietly, while Mrs. Bagley loomed in +the background, rocking creakingly. + +"'Twon't please him none," she said at last. "He don't care a damn for +me." + +I tried to take this without showing that I understood it. + +"I'm not trying to please anybody," I responded. "When a neighbor is +sick and needs help, of course anybody would come." + +"Humph! Folks hain't been so awful anxious to help me." + +"There is a good deal of sickness in town," I explained. + +"'Tain't nobody's business to come, anyhow," commented Mrs. Bagley +dispassionately. + +"There's precious few'd come if 'twas," the girl muttered. + +"Has anybody been to see you?" I asked. + +The Brownrig girl turned her fierce eyes up to me with a look which made +me think of some wild bird hurt and caged. + +"One old woman that sat and chewed her veil and swung her foot at me. +She never come but once." + +I had no difficulty in recognizing this portrait, even without Mrs. +Bagley's explanatory comment. + +"That was Aunt Naomi Dexter," she remarked. "She's always poking round." + +"Miss Dexter is one of the kindest women alive," I said, "though she is +a little odd in her manner sometimes." + +"She said she hoped I'd found things bad enough to give me a hankerin' +for something better," went on Julia with increasing bitterness. "God! +How does she think I'd get anything better? What does she know about it, +anyway?" + +"There, there, Jule," interposed Mrs. Bagley in a sort of professional +tone, "now don't go to gettin' excited and rampageous. You know she +brought you some rippin' flannel for the baby. Them pious folks has to +talk, but, Lord, nobody minds it, and you hadn't ought ter. They don't +really mean nothing much." + +It seemed to be time to interpose, and I forbade Julia to talk, sent +Mrs. Bagley off to sleep in the one other bedroom, and settled down for +the night's watching. The patient fell asleep at last, and I was left to +care for the fire and the poor little pathetic, forlorn, dreadful baby. +The child was swathed in Aunt Naomi's "rippin' flannel," and I fell into +baffling reflections in regard to human life. After all, I had no right +to judge this poor broken girl lying there much more in danger than she +could dream. What do I know of the intolerable life that has not +self-respect, not even cleanliness of mind or body? Society and morality +have so fenced us about and so guarded us that we have rather to try to +get outside than to struggle to keep in; and what do we know of the poor +wretches fighting for life with wild beasts in the open? I am so glad I +do not believe that sin is what one actually does, but is the proportion +between deeds and opportunity. How carefully Father explained this to me +when I was not much more than a child, and how strange it is that so +many people cannot seem to understand it! If I thought the moral law an +inflexible thing like a human statute, for which one was held +responsible arbitrarily and whether he knows the law or not, I should +never be able to endure the sense of injustice. Of course men have to be +arbitrary, because they can see only tangible things and must judge by +outward acts; but if this were true of a deity he would cease to be a +deity at all, and be simply a man with unlimited power to do harm. + + +April 7. I found myself so running aground last night in metaphysics +that it seemed just as well to go to bed, diary or no diary. I was +besides too tired to write down my interview with Mrs. Webbe. + +I was just about to go home for a bath and a nap after watching that +first night, when, without even knocking, Mrs. Deacon Webbe opened the +outside door. I was in the kitchen, and so met her before she got +further. Naturally I was surprised to see her at six o'clock in the day. + +"Good-morning," I said. + +"I knew you were here yesterday," she said by way of return for my +greeting, "but I thought I'd get here before you came back this +morning." + +"I have been here all night," I answered. + +She looked at me with her piercing black eyes, which always seem to go +into the very recesses of one's thoughts, and then, in a manner rather +less aggressive, remarked,-- + +"I've come to speak to this Brownrig girl. You know well enough why." + +"I'm afraid you can't see her," I answered, ignoring the latter part of +her words. "She is not so well this morning, and Dr. Wentworth told us +to keep her as quiet as possible." + +Mrs. Webbe leaned forward with an expression on her face which made me +look away. + +"Is she going to die?" she demanded. + +I turned away, and began to close the door. I could not bear her manner. +She has too much cause to hate the girl, but just then, with the poor +thing sick to the very point of death, I could never have felt as she +looked. + +"I'm sure I hope not," I returned. "We expect to have a professional +nurse to-morrow, and then things will go better." + +"A professional nurse?" + +"Yes; we have sent to Boston for one." + +"Sent to Boston for a nurse for that creature? She's a great deal better +dead! She only leads men"-- + +"If you will excuse me, Mrs. Webbe," interrupted I, pushing the door +still nearer to closing, "I ought to go back to my patient. It isn't my +business to decide who had better be dead." + +She started forward suddenly, taking me unawares, and before I +understood what she intended, she had thrust herself through the door +into the house. + +"If it isn't your business," she demanded sharply, "what are you here +for? What right have you to interfere? If Providence is willing to take +the creature out of the way, what are you trying to keep her alive for?" + +I put up my hand and stopped her. + +"Will you be quiet?" I said. "I cannot have her disturbed." + +"You cannot!" she repeated, raising her voice. "Who gave you a right to +order me round, Ruth Privet? Is this your house?" + +I knew that her shrill voice would easily penetrate to Julia's bedroom, +and indeed there was only a thin door between the sick girl and the +kitchen where we were. I took Mrs. Webbe by the wrist as strongly as I +could, and before she could collect her wits, I led her out of the +house, and down to the gate. + +"What are you doing?" she demanded. "How dare you drag me about?" + +"I beg your pardon," I said, dropping my hold. "I think you did not +understand, Mrs. Webbe, that as nurse I cannot have my patient excited." + +She looked at me in a blaze of anger. I have never seen a woman so +carried away by rage, and it is frightful. Yet she seemed to be making +an effort to control herself. I was anxious to help her if I could, so I +forced a smile, although I am afraid it was not a very warm one, and I +assumed as conciliatory a manner as I could muster. + +"You must think I was rather abrupt," I said, "but I did not mean to be. +I couldn't explain to you in the kitchen, the partition is so thin. You +see she's in the room that opens out of it." + +Mrs. Webbe softened somewhat. + +"It is very noble of you to be here," she said in a new tone, and one +which I must confess did not to me have a genuine ring; "it's splendid +of you, but what's the use of it? What affair of yours is it, anyway?" + +I was tempted to serve her up a quotation about a certain man who went +down to Jericho and fell among thieves, but I resisted. + +"I could come, Mrs. Webbe, and apparently nobody else could." + +"They wouldn't," she rejoined frankly. "Don't you see everybody else +knew it was a case to be let alone?" + +I asked her why. + +"Everybody felt as if it was," responded she quickly. "I hope you don't +set up to be wiser than everybody else put together." + +"I don't set up for anything," I declared, "but I may as well confess +that I see no sense in what you say. Here's a human creature that needs +help, and it seems to be my place to help her." + +"It's a nice occupation for the daughter of Judge Privet to be nursing a +disreputable thing like a Brownrig." + +"A Privet," I answered, "is likely to be able to stand it. You wouldn't +let the girl die alone, would you?" + +"She wasn't alone. Mrs. Bagley was here." + +"You wouldn't let her die with Mrs. Bagley, then?" + +Mrs. Webbe looked me straight in the eye for a moment, with a look as +hard as polished steel. + +"Yes," she said, "I would." + +I could only stare at her in silence. + +"There," she went on, "make the best of that. I'm not going to be +mealy-mouthed. I would let her die, and be glad of it. Why should I want +her alive? Do you think I've no human feelings? Do you think I'd ever +forgive her for dragging Tom into the mud? I've been on my knees half +the night praying she and her brat might both die and leave us in peace! +If there's any justice in heaven, a man like Deacon Webbe won't be +loaded down with the disgrace of a grandchild like that." + +There was a sort of fascination in her growing wildness. Everybody knows +how she sneers at the meekness of her husband, and that she is +continually saying he hasn't any force, but here she was catching at his +goodness as a sort of bribe to Heaven to let her have the life of mother +and child. I could not answer her, but could only be thankful no houses +were near. Mrs. Bagley would hear, I supposed, but that could not be +helped. + +"What do you know about how I feel?" she demanded, swooping down upon me +so that I involuntarily shrank back against the fence. "It is all very +pretty for you to have ideas of charity, and play at taking care of the +sick. I dare say you mean well enough, Miss Privet, but this isn't a +case for you. Go home, and let Providence take care of that girl. +God'll look after her!" + +I stood up straight, and faced her in my turn. + +"Stop!" I cried. "I'm not a believer in half the things you are, but I +do have some respect for the name of God. If you mean to kill this girl, +don't try to lay the blame on Providence!" + +She shrank as if I had struck her; then she rallied again with a sneer. + +"I think I know better than an atheist what it is right to say about my +own religion," was her retort. + +Somehow the words appealed to my sense of humor, and unconsciously I +smiled. + +"Well," I said, "we will not dispute about words. Only I think you had +better go now." + +Perhaps my slight smile vexed her; perhaps it was only that she saw I +was off my guard. She turned quickly, and before I had any notion of +what she intended, she had run swiftly up the path to the house. I +followed instantly. The idea of having a personal encounter with Mrs. +Webbe was shocking, but I could not let her go to trouble Julia without +making an effort to stop her. I thought I might reach the door first, +but she was too quick for me. Before I could prevent her, she had +crossed the kitchen and opened the door of the sick-room. I followed, +and we came almost together into the room, although she was a few steps +in advance. She went hastily to the bed. Julia had been awakened by the +noise, and stared at Mrs. Webbe in a fright. + +"Oh, here you are, are you?" Mrs. Webbe began. "How did you dare to say +that my son was the father of your brat? I'd like to have you whipped, +you nasty slut!" + +"Mrs. Webbe," I said resolutely, "if you do not leave the house +instantly, I will have you arrested before the sun goes down." + +She was diverted from her attack upon Julia, and wheeled round to me. + +"Arrested!" she echoed. "You can't do it." + +"I can do it, and you know me well enough to know that if I say it, I +mean it. I'm not a lawyer's daughter for nothing. Go out of the house +this instant, and leave that sick girl alone. Do you want to kill her?" + +She blazed at me with eyes that might have put me to flight if I had had +only myself to defend. + +"Do you think I want her to live? I told you once she ought to be out of +the way. Do you think you are doing a favor to Tom by keeping this +disreputable thing alive?" + +I took her by the wrist again. + +"You had better go," I said. "You heard what I said. I mean it." + +I confess that now I consider it all, the threat to have her arrested +seems rather silly, and I do not see how I could well have carried it +out. At the moment it appeared to me the simplest thing in the world, +and at least it effected my purpose to frighten Mrs. Webbe with the law. +She turned slowly toward the door, but as she went she looked over her +shoulder at Julia. + +"You are a nice thing to try to keep alive," she sneered. "The doctor +says you haven't a chance, and you'd better be making your peace with +God. I wouldn't have your heap of sins on my head for anything." + +I put my hand over her lips. + +"Mrs. Bagley," I said, "take her other arm." + +Mrs. Bagley, who had apparently been too confused to understand what +was going on, and had stood with her mouth wide open in blear-eyed +astonishment, did as I commanded, and we led Mrs. Webbe out of the room. +I motioned Mrs. Bagley back into the bedroom to look after Julia, and +shut the door behind her. Then I took Mrs. Webbe by the shoulders and +looked her in the face. + +"I had rather have that girl's sins on my head than yours," I said. "You +came here with murder in your heart, and you would be glad to kill her +outright, if you dared. If you have not murdered her as it is, you may +be thankful." + +I felt as if I was as much of a shrew as she, but something had to be +done. She looked as if she were as much astonished as impressed, but she +went. Only at the door she turned back to say,-- + +"I'll come again to see my grandchild." + +After that I hardly dared to leave the house, but I got Hannah to stand +guard while I was at home. She has a deep-seated dislike for Mrs. Webbe, +and I fear would greatly have enjoyed an encounter with her; but Mrs. +Webbe did not return. + +Now that I go over it all, I seem to have been engaged in a disreputable +squabble, but I do not see what else there was for me to do. Julia was +so terrified and excited that I had to send for Dr. Wentworth as soon as +I could find anybody to go. I set Mrs. Bagley to watch for a passer, and +she took her pipe and went placidly to sleep before the door. I had to +be with Julia, yet keep running out to spy for a messenger, and it was +an hour before I caught one. By the time the doctor got to us the girl +was in hysterics, declaring she did not want to die, she did not dare to +die, could not, would not die. All that day she was constantly starting +out of her sleep with a cry; and by the time night had come, I began to +feel that Mrs. Webbe would have her wish. + + +April 8. That night was a dreadful one to me. The nurse from Boston had +not come, and I could not leave the girl alone with Mrs. Bagley. Indeed +Marm Bagley seemed more and more inefficient. I think she took advantage +of the fact that she no longer felt any responsibility. The smell of +spirits and tobacco about her grew continually stronger, and I was kept +from sending her away altogether only by the fact that it did not seem +right for me to be alone with Julia. No house is near, and if anything +happened in the night I should have been without help. Julia was +evidently worse. The excitement of Mrs. Webbe's visit had told on her, +and whenever she went to sleep she began to cry out in a way that was +most painful. + +About the middle of the night, that dreadfully forlorn time when the day +that is past has utterly died out and nothing shows the hope of another +to come, Julia woke moaning and crying. She started up in bed, her eyes +really terrible to see, her cheeks crimson with fever, and her black +hair tangled all about her face. + +"Oh, I am dying!" she shrieked. + +For the instant I thought that she was right, and it was dreadful to +hear her. + +"I shall die and go to hell!" she cried. "Oh, pray! Pray!" + +I caught at my scattered wits and tried to soothe her. She clung to me +as if she were in the greatest physical terror. + +"I am dying!" she kept repeating. "Oh, can't you do something for me? +Can't you save me? Oh, I can't die! I can't die!" + +She was so wild that her screams awakened Mrs. Bagley, who came running +in half dressed, as she had lain down for the night. + +"Lawk-a-marcy, child," she said, coming up to the bed, "if you was dying +do you think you'd have strength to holler like that?" + +The rough question had more effect than my efforts to calm the girl. She +sank back on the pillow, sobbing, and staring at Mrs. Bagley. + +"I ain't got no strength," she insisted. "I know I'm goin' to die right +away." + +"Nonsense, Jule," was Mrs. Bagley's response. "I know when folks is +dyin', I guess. I've seen enough of 'um. You're all right if you'll stop +actin' like a blame fool." + +I see now that this was exactly the way in which the girl needed to be +talked to. It was her own language, and she understood it. At the time +it seemed to me brutal, and I interposed. + +"There, Mrs. Bagley," I said as soothingly as I could, "you are rather +hard on Julia. She is too sick to be talked to so." + +Marm Bagley sniffed contemptuously, and after looking at us a moment, +apparently decided that the emergency was not of enough importance to +keep her from her rest, so she returned to her interrupted slumbers. I +comforted my patient as well as I could, and fortunately she was not +again violent. Still she moaned and cried, and kept urging me to pray +for her. + +"Pray for me! Pray for me!" she kept repeating. "Oh, can't you pray and +keep me from hell, Miss Ruth?" + +There was but one thing to be done. If prayer was the thing which would +comfort her, evidently I ought to pray with her. + +"I will pray if you will be quiet," I said. "I cannot if you go on like +this." + +"I'll be still, I'll be still," she cried eagerly. "Only pray quick!" + +I kneeled down by the bed and repeated the Lord's Prayer as slowly and +as impressively as I could. The girl, who seemed to regard it as a sort +of spell against invisible terrors, clutched my hand with a desperate +grasp, but as I went on the pressure of her hot fingers relaxed. Before +I had finished she had fallen asleep as abruptly as she had awakened. + +I sat watching her, thinking what a strange thing is this belief in +prayer. The words I had said are beautiful, but I do not suppose this +made an impression on Julia. To her the prayer was a fetich, a spell to +ward her soul from the dark terrors of Satan, a charm against the powers +of the air. I wondered if I should be happier if I could share this +belief in the power of men to move the unseen by supplication, but I +reflected that this would imply the continual discomfort of believing in +invisible beings who would do me harm unless properly placated, and I +was glad to be as I am. The faith of some Christians is so noble, so +sweet, so tender, that it is not always easy to realize how narrowing +are the conditions of mind which make it possible. When one sees the +crude superstition of a creature like Julia, it is not difficult to be +glad to be above a feeling so ignorant and degrading; when I see the +beautiful tenderness of religion in its best aspect I am glad it can be +so fine and so comforting, but I am glad I am not limited in that way. + +My prayer with Julia had one unexpected result. While I was at home in +the morning Mr. Thurston came to see her. The visit was most kind, and I +think it did her good. + +"He did some real praying," Mrs. Bagley explained to me afterward. +"Course Jule'd rather have that." + +My efforts in the devotional line had more effect, so far as I could +judge, upon Mr. Thurston than upon Julia. I met him when I was going +back to the house, and he stopped me with an expression of gladness and +triumph in his face. + +"My dear Miss Privet," he said, "I am so glad that at last you have come +to realize the efficacy of prayer." + +I was so astonished at the remark that for the moment I did not realize +what he meant. + +"I don't understand," I said, stupidly enough. + +My look perhaps confused him a little, and his face lost something of +its brightness. + +"That poor girl told me of your praying with her last night, when she +thought she was dying." + +"Yes," I repeated, before I realized what I was saying, "she thought she +was dying." + +Then I reflected that it was useless to hurt his feelings, and I did not +explain. I could not wound him by saying that if Julia had wanted me to +repeat a gypsy charm and I had known one I should have done it in the +same spirit. I wanted to make the poor demented thing comfortable, and +if a prayer could soothe her there was no reason why I should not say +one. People think because I do not believe in it I have a prejudice +against prayer; but really I think there is something touching and noble +in the attitude of a mind that can in sincerity and in faith give itself +up to an ideal, as one must in praying. It seems to me a pathetic +mistake, but I can appreciate the good side of it; only to suppose that +I believe because I said a prayer to please a frightened sick girl is +absurd. + +It is well that we are not read by others, for our thoughts would often +be too disconcerting. Poor Mr. Thurston would have been dreadfully +horrified if he had realized I was thinking as we stood there how like +my saying this prayer for Julia was to my ministering to Rosa's +chilblains. She believes that crosses cut out of a leaf of the Bible and +stuck on her feet take away the soreness, but she regards it as wicked +to cut up a Bible. I have an old one that I keep for the purpose, and +she comes to me every winter for a supply. We began at the end, and are +going backwards. Revelation is about used up now. She evidently thinks +that as I am a heretic anyway, the extra condemnation which must come +from my act will make no especial difference, and I am entirely willing +to run the risk. Still, it is better Mr. Thurston did not read my +thought. + +"I wish you might be brought into the fold," the clergyman said after a +moment of silence. + +I could only thank him, and go on my way. + + +April 10. Yesterday the new nurse, Miss Dyer, arrived, and great is the +comfort of having her here. She is a plain, simple body, in her neat +uniform, rather colorless except for her snapping black eyes. Her eyes +are interestingly at variance with the calmness of her demeanor, and +give one the impression that there is a volcano somewhere within. She +interests me much,--largely, I fancy, from the suggestion about her of +having had a history. She is swift and yet silent in her motions, and +understands what she has to do so well that I felt like an awkward +novice beside her. She disposed of Mrs. Bagley with a turn of the hand, +as it were, somehow managing that the frowzy old woman was out of the +house within an hour, with her belongings, pipe and all, yet without any +fuss or any contention. Mrs. Bagley had the appearance of being too +dazed to be angry, although I fancy when she has had time to think +matters over she will be indignantly wrathful at having been so +summarily expelled. + +"I pity you more for having that sort of a woman in the house than for +having to take care of the patient, Miss Privet," Miss Dyer said. "I +don't see what the Lord permits such folks in the world for, without it +is to sharpen up our Christian charity." + +"She would sharpen mine into vinegar, I'm afraid," I answered, laughing. +"I confess it has been about all I could do to stay in the house with +her." + +To-night I can sleep peacefully in my own bed, secure that Julia is well +taken care of. The girl seems to me to be worse instead of better, and +Dr. Wentworth does not give much encouragement. I suppose it is better +for her to die, but it is cruel that she wants so to live. She is +horribly afraid of death, and she wants so much to live that it is +pitiful to reflect it is possible she may not. What is there she can +hope for? She does not seem to care for the child. This is because she +is so ill, I think, for anybody must be touched by the helplessness of +the little blinking, pink thing. It is like a little mouse I saw in my +childhood, and which made a great impression on me. That was naked of +hair, just so wrinkled, so pink, so blinking. It was not in the least +pretty, any more than the baby is; but somehow it touched all the +tenderness there was in me, and I cried for days because Hannah gave it +to the cat. I feel much in the same way about this baby. I have not the +least feeling toward it as a human being, I am afraid. To me it is just +embodied babyhood, just a little pink, helpless, palpitating bunch of +pitifulness. + + +April 11. Miss Dyer came just in time. I could not have gone through +to-night without her, I think. I could not have stayed quiet by Julia's +beside, although I am as far as possible from being able to sleep. + +To-night, just as the evening was falling, and I was almost ready to +come home, I heard a knock at the door. Miss Dyer was in the room with +Julia, so I answered the knock myself. I opened the door to find myself +face to face with Tom Webbe. + +The shock of seeing his white face staring at me out of the dusk was so +great that I had to steady myself against the door-post. He did not put +out his hand, but greeted me only by taking off his hat. + +"Father said you were here," he began, in a strained voice. + +"Yes," I answered, feeling my throat contract; "I am here now, but I am +going home soon." + +I was so moved and so confused that I could not think. I had longed for +him to come; I could not have borne that he should have been so base as +not to come; and yet now that he was here I would have given anything to +have him away. He had to come; he had to bear his part of the +consequences of wrong, but it was horrible to me for him to be so near +that dreadful girl, and it was worse because I pitied her, because she +was so helpless, so pathetic, so near even to death. + +We stood in the dusk for what seemed to me a long time without further +speech. Tom must have found it hard to know what to say at such a time. +He looked at me with a sort of wild desperation. Then he cleared his +throat, and moistened his lips. + +"I have come," he said. "What do you want me to do?" + +I could not bear to have him seem to put the responsibility on me. + +"I did not send for you," I answered quickly. + +He gave me the wan ghost of a smile. + +"Do you suppose that I should have come of myself?" he returned. "What +shall I do?" + +I would not take the burden. The decision must be his. + +"You must do what you think right," I said. Then I added, with a queer +feeling as if I were thinking aloud, "What you think right to her and +to--to the baby." + +His face darkened, and I was glad that I had not said "your baby." I +understood it was natural for him to look angry at the thought of the +child, the unwelcome and unwitting betrayer of what he would have kept +hidden; and yet somehow I resented his look. + +"The baby is not to blame, Tom," I said. "It has every right to blame +you." + +"To blame me?" he repeated. + +"If it has to bear a shame all its life, whose fault is it, its own or +yours? If it has been born to a life like that of its mother, it +certainly has no occasion to thank you." + +He turned his flushed and shamed face away from me, and looked out into +the darkening sky. I could see how he was holding himself in check, and +that it was hard for him. I hated to be there, to be seeing him, to be +talking over a matter that it was intolerable even to think about; but +since I was there, I wanted to help him,--only I did not know how. I +wanted to give him my hand, but I somehow shrank from touching his. I +felt as if it was wicked and cruel to hold back, but between us came +continually the consciousness of Julia and that little red baby sleeping +in the clothes-basket. I am humiliated now to think of it, but the truth +is that I was a brute to Tom. + +Suddenly Tom turned for a moment toward the west, so that the little +lingering light of the dying day fell on his face, and I saw by his set +lips and the look in his eyes that he had come to some determination. +Then he faced me slowly. + +"Ruth," he said, "I would go down into hell for you, and I'm going to do +something that is worse. What's past, it's no use to make excuses for, +and you're too good to understand if I told you how I got into this foul +mess. Now"-- + +He stopped, with a catch in his voice, and I wanted more than I can tell +to say something to help him, but no words came. I could not think; I +wanted to comfort him as I comfort Kathie when she is desperate. The +evident difficulty he had in keeping his self-control moved me more than +anything he could have said. + +"I'll marry the girl," he burst out in a moment. "You are right about +the baby. It's no matter about Jule. She isn't of any account anyway, +and she never expected me to marry her. I'll never see her after +she's--after I've done it. It makes me sick to think of her, but I'll do +what I can for the baby." He stopped, and caught his breath. I could +feel in the dusk, rather than see, that he looked up, as if he were +trying to read my face in the darkness. "I will marry her," he went on, +"on one condition." + +"What is that?" I asked, with my throat so dry that it ached. + +"That you will take the child." + +I think now that we must both have spoken like puppets talking by +machinery. I hardly seemed to myself to be alive and real, but this +proposition awoke me like a blow. I could at first only gasp, too much +overcome to bring out a word. + +"But its mother?" I managed to stammer at last. + +"If I'm to marry her for the sake of the child," he answered in a voice +I hardly recognized, "it would be perfect tomfoolery to leave it to grow +up with the Brownrigs. If that's to be the plan, I'll save myself. Jule +doesn't mind not being married. You don't know what a tribe the +Brownrigs are. It's an insult for me to be talking to you about them, +only it can't be helped. Is it a boy or a girl?" + +I told him. + +"And you think a girl ought to be left to follow the noble example of +the mother!" + +"Oh no, no!" I cried out. "Anything is better than that." + +"That is what must happen unless you take the poor thing," he said in a +voice which, though it was hard, seemed somehow to have a quiver in it. + +"But would she give the baby up?" I asked. "She's its mother." + +"Jule? She'll be only too glad to get rid of it. Anyway she'd do what I +told her to." + +I tried to think clearly and quickly. To have the baby left to follow in +the steps of its mother was a thing too terrible to be endured, and yet +I shrank selfishly from taking upon my shoulders the responsibility of +training the child. Whatever Tom decided about the marriage, however, I +felt that he should not have to resolve under pressure. If he were doing +it for the sake of the baby's future, I could clear his way of that +complication. I could not bear the thought of having Tom marry Julia. +This would be a bond on his whole life; and yet I could not feel that he +had a right to shirk it now. If I agreed to take the child, that would +leave him free to decide without being pushed on by fear about the baby. +My mind seemed to me wonderfully clear. I see now it was all in a whirl, +and that the only thing I was sure of was that if it would help him for +me to take the baby there was nothing else for me to do. + +"Tom," I said, "I do not, and I will not, decide for you; and I will not +have anything to do with conditions. If she will give me the baby, I +will take it, and you may decide the rest without any reference to that +at all." + +He took a step forward so quickly and so fiercely that he startled me, +and put out his hand as if he meant to take me by the arm. Then he +dropped it. + +"Do you think," he said, "that I would have an illegitimate brat near +you? It is bad enough as it is, but you shall not have the reproach of +that." + +My cheeks grew hot, but the whole talk was so strange and so painful +that I let this pass with the rest. I cannot tell how I felt, but I know +the remembrance of it makes my eyes swim so that I cannot write without +stopping continually; and I am writing here half the night because I +cannot sleep. I could not answer Tom; I only stood dully silent until he +spoke again. + +"I know I can't have you, Ruth," he said, "and I know you were right. +I'm not good enough for you." + +"I never said that," I interrupted. "I never thought that." + +"Never mind. It's true; but I'd have been a man if you'd have given me a +chance." + +"Oh, Tom," I broke in, "don't! It is not fair to make me responsible!" + +"No," he acknowledged, with the shake of his shoulders I have known ever +since we were children; "you are not to blame. It's only my infernal, +sneaking self!" + +I could not bear this, either. Everything that was said hurt me; and it +seemed to me that I had borne all that I could endure. + +"Will you go away now, Tom," I begged him. "I--I can't talk any more +to-night. Shall I tell Julia you have come?" + +He gave a start at the name, and swore under his breath. + +"It is damnable for you to be here with that girl," he burst out +bitterly; "and I brought it on you! It isn't your place, though. Where +are all the Christians and church members? I suppose all the pious are +too good to come. They might get their righteousness smudged. Oh, how I +hate hypocrisy!" + +"Don't, Tom," I interrupted. "Go away, please." + +My voice was shaky; and indeed I was fast getting to the place where I +should have broken down in hysterical weeping. + +"I'll go," he responded quickly. "I'll come in the morning with a +minister. Will eight o'clock do? I'd like to get it over with." + +The bitterness of his tone was too much for me. I caught one of his +hands in both of mine. + +"Oh, Tom," I said, "are you quite sure this is what you ought to do?" + +"Do you tell me not to marry her?" he demanded fiercely. + +I was completely unnerved; I could only drop his hand and press my own +on my bosom, as if this would help me to breathe easier. + +"Oh no, no," I cried, half sobbing. "I can't, I can't. I haven't the +right to say anything; but I do think it is the thing you ought to do. +Only you are so noble to do it!" + +He made a sound as if he would answer, and then he turned away suddenly, +and dashed off with great strides. I could not go back into the house, +but came home without saying good-night, or letting Miss Dyer know. I +must be ready to go back as soon as it is light. + + +April 12. It seems so far back to this morning that I might have had +time to change into a different person; and yet most of the day I have +simply been longing to get home and think quietly. I wanted to adjust +myself to the new condition of things. Last night the idea that Tom +should marry the girl was so strange and unreal that it could make very +little impression on me. Now it is done it is more appallingly real than +anything else in the world. + +I went down to the red house almost before light, but even as early as I +came I found Tom already there. The nurse had objected to letting him +in, and even when I came she was evidently uncertain whether she had +done right in admitting him; but Tom has generally a way of getting what +he is determined on, and before I reached the house everything had been +arranged with Julia. + +"I wanted to come before folks were about to see me," Tom said to me. +"There'll be talk enough later, and I'd rather be out of the way. I've +arranged it with her." + +"Does she understand"--I began; but he interrupted. + +"She understands all there is to understand; all that she could +understand, anyway. She knows I'm marrying her for the sake of the +child, and that you're to have it." + +The Munson boy that I have hired to sleep in the house now Mrs. Bagley +is gone, in order that Miss Dyer may have somebody within call, appeared +at this minute with a pail of water, and we were interrupted. The boy +stared with all his eyes, and I was half tempted to ask him not to speak +of Tom's being here; but I reflected with a sick feeling that it was of +no use to try to hide what was to be done. If Tom's act was to have any +significance it must be known. I turned away with tears in my eyes, and +went to Julia. + +Julia I found with her eyes shining with excitement, and I could see +that despite Tom's idea that she did not care about the marriage, she +was greatly moved by it. + +"Oh, Miss Privet," she cried out at once, "ain't he good! He's truly +goin' to marry me after all! I never 'sposed he'd do that." + +"You must have thought"--I began; and then, with a sinking consciousness +of the difference between her world and mine, I stopped. + +"And he says you want the baby," she went on, not noticing; "though I +dunno what you want of it. It'll be a pesky bother for yer." + +"Mr. Webbe wanted me to take it and bring it up." + +"Well," Julia remarked with feeble dispassionateness, "I wouldn't 'f I +was you." + +"Are you willing I should have it?" I asked. + +"Oh, I'm willing anything he wants," was her answer. "He's awful good to +marry me. He never said he would. He's real white, he is." + +She was quiet a moment, and then she broke out in a burst of joy. + +"I never 'sposed I'd marry a real gentleman!" she cried. + +Her shallow delight in marrying above her station was too pathetic to be +offensive. I was somehow so moved by it that I turned away to hide my +face from her; but she caught my hand and drew me back. Then she peered +at me closely. + +"You don't like it," she said excitedly. "You won't try to stop him?" + +"No," I answered. "I think he ought to do it for the sake of his child." + +She dropped her hold, and a curious look came into her face. + +"That's what he said. Yer don't either of yer seem to count me for +much." + +I was silent, convicted to the soul that I had not counted her for +much. I had accepted Tom's decision as right, not for the sake of this +broken girl-mother, this castaway doomed to shame from her cradle, but +for the sake purely of the baby that I was to take. It came over me how +I might have been influenced too much by the selfish thought that it +would be intolerable for me to have the child unless it had been as far +as might be legitimatized by this marriage. I flushed with shame, and +without knowing exactly what I was doing I bent over and kissed her. + +"It is you he marries," I said. + +Her tears sprang instantly, tears, I believe, of pure happiness. + +"You're real good," she murmured, and then closed her eyes, whether from +weakness or to conceal her emotion I could not be sure. + +It was nearly eight before Mr. Thurston came. Tom has never been on good +terms with Mr. Saychase, and it must have been easier for him to have a +clergyman with whom he had never, I suppose, exchanged a word, than one +who knew him and his people. I took the precaution to say at once to Mr. +Thurston that Julia was too ill to bear much, and that he must not say a +word more than was necessary. + +"I will only offer prayer," he returned. + +I know Mr. Thurston's prayers. I have heard them at funerals when I have +been wickedly tempted to wonder whether he were not attempting to fill +the interval between us and the return of the lost at the Resurrection. + +"I am afraid it will not do," I told him. "You do not realize how feeble +she is." + +"Then I will only give them the blessing. Perhaps I might talk with Mr. +Webbe afterward, or pray with him." + +I knew that if this proposition were made to Tom he would say something +which would wound the clergyman's feelings. + +"Mr. Thurston," I urged, "if you'll pardon me, I wouldn't try to say +anything to him just now. He is doing a plucky thing, and a thing that's +noble, but it must be terribly hard. I don't think he could endure to +have anybody talk to him. He'll have to be left to fight it out for +himself." + +It was not easy to convince Mr. Thurston, for when once a narrow man +gets an idea of duty he can see nothing else; but I managed in the end +to save Tom at least the irritation of having to fight off religious +appeals. The ceremony was as brief as possible. It was touching to see +how humble and yet how proud Julia was. She seemed to feel that Tom was +a sort of god in his goodness in marrying her,--and after all perhaps +she was partly right. His coldness only made her deprecatory. I wondered +how far she was conscious of his evident shrinking from her. He seemed +to hate even to touch her fingers. I cannot understand-- + + +April 15. I have had many things to do in the last two days, and I find +myself so tired with the stress of it all that I have not felt like +writing. It is perhaps as much from a sort of feverish uneasiness as +from anything else I have got out my diary to-night. The truth is, that +I suffer from the almost intolerable suspense of waiting for Julia to +die. Dr. Wentworth and Miss Dyer both are sure there is no chance +whatever of her getting well, and I cannot think that it would be +better for her, or for Tom, or for her baby--who is to be my baby!--if +she should live. We are all a little afraid to say, or even to think, +that it is better for a life of this sort to end, and I seem to myself +inhuman in putting it down in plain words; but we cannot be rational +without knowing that it is better certain persons should be out of the +way, for their own sakes as well as for the good of the community, and +the more quickly the better. Julia is a weed, poor thing, and the sooner +she is pulled up the better for the garden. And yet I pity her so! I can +understand religion easily when I think of lives like hers. It is so +hard to see the justice of having the weed destroyed for the good of the +flowers that men have to invent excuses for the Eternal. Somebody has +defined theology as man's justification of a deity found wanting by +human standards, and now I realize what this means. Human mercy could +not bear to make a Julia, and a power which allows the possibility of +such beings has to be excused to human reason. The gods that men invent +always turn to Frankensteins on their hands. If there is a conscious +power that directs, He must pity the gropings of our race, although I +suppose seeing what it is all for and what it all leads to must make it +possible to bear the sight of human weakness. + +The baby is growing wonderfully attractive now she is so well fed and +attended to. I am ashamed to think how little the poor wee morsel +attracted me at first. She was so associated with dreadful thoughts, and +with things which I hated to know and did not wish to remember, that I +shrank from her. Perhaps now the fact that she is to be mine inclines me +to look at her with different eyes, but she is really a dear little +thing, pretty and sweet. Oh, I will try hard to make her life lovely! + + +April 16. Aunt Naomi came in last night almost as soon as I was at home. +She should not have been out in the night air, I think, for her cold is +really severe, and has kept her shut up in the house for a fortnight. +She was so eager for news, however, that she could not rest until she +had seen me, and I am away all day. + +"Well," was her greeting, "I am glad to see you at home once more. I've +begun to feel as if you lived down in that little red house." + +I said I had pretty nearly lived there for the last two weeks, but that +since Miss Dyer came I had been able to get home at night most of the +time. + +"How do you like going out nursing?" she asked, thrusting her tongue +into her cheek in that queer way she has. + +I told her I certainly shouldn't think of choosing it as a profession, +at least unless I could go to cleaner places. + +"I hear you had Hannah clean up," she remarked with a chuckle. + +"How did you hear that?" I asked her. "I thought you had been housed +with a cold." + +Aunt Naomi's smile was broad, and she swung her foot joyously. + +"I've had all my faculties," she answered. + +"So I should think. You must keep a troop of paid spies." + +"I don't need spies. I just keep my eyes and ears open." + +I wondered in my heart whether she had heard of the marriage, and as if +she read the question in my mind, she answered it. + +"I thought I'd like to know one thing, though," she observed with the +air of one who candidly concedes that he is not infallible. "I'd like to +know how the new Mrs. Webbe takes his marrying her." + +"Aunt Naomi," I burst out in astonishment, "you are a witch, and ought +to be looked after by the witch-finders." + +Aunt Naomi laughed, and her eyes twinkled at the agreeable compliment I +paid to her cleverness. Then she suddenly became grave. + +"I am not sure, Ruth," she said, "that I should be willing to have your +responsibility in making him marry such a girl." + +I disclaimed the responsibility entirely, and declared I had not even +suggested the marriage. I told her he had done it for the sake of the +child, and that the proposition was his, and his only. + +She sniffed contemptuously, with an air which seemed to cast doubts on +my sanity. + +"Very likely he did, and I don't suppose you did suggest it in words; +but it's your doing all the same." + +"I will not have the responsibility put on me," I protested. "It isn't +for me to determine what Tom Webbe shall do." + +"You can't help it," was her uncompromising answer. "You can make him do +anything you want to." + +"Then I wish I were wise enough to know what he ought to do," I could +not help crying out. "Oh, Aunt Naomi, I do so want to help him!" + +She looked at me with her keen old eyes, to which age has only imparted +more sharpness. I should hate to be a criminal brought before her as my +judge; her eyes would bring out my guilty secret from the cunningest +hiding-place in my soul, and she would sentence me with the utmost rigor +of the law. After the sentence had been executed, though, she would come +with sharp tongue and gentle hands, and bind up my wounds. Now she did +not answer my remark directly, but went on to question me about the +Brownrig girl and the details of her illness; only when she went away +she stopped to turn at the door and say,-- + +"The best thing you can do for Tom Webbe is to believe in him. He isn't +worth your pity, but your caring what happens to him will do him more +good than anything else." + +I have been wondering ever since she went how much truth there is in +what she said. Tom cannot care so much for me as that, although placed +as he is the faith of any woman ought to help him. I know, of course, he +is fond of me, and that he was always desperate over my engagement; but +I cannot believe the motive power of his life is so closely connected +with my opinions as Aunt Naomi seems to think. If it were he would never +have been involved at all in this dreadful business. But I do so pity +him, and I so wish I might really help him! + + +April 18. Julia is very low. I have been sitting alone with her this +afternoon, almost seeing life fade away from her. Only once was she at +all like her old self. I had given her some wine, and she lay for a +moment with her great black eyes gleaming out from the hollows into +which they have sunk. She seemed to have something on her mind, and at +last she put it feebly into words. + +"Don't tell her any bad of me," she said. + +For an instant I did not understand, and I suppose that my face showed +this. She half turned her heavy head on her pillow, so that her glance +might go toward the place where the baby slept in the broken +clothes-basket. The sadness of it came over me so suddenly and so +strongly that tears blinded me. It was the most womanly touch that I +have ever known in Julia; and for the moment I was so moved that I could +not speak. I leaned over and kissed her, and promised that from me her +child should never know harm of its mother. + +"She'd be more likely to go to the devil if she knew," Julia explained +gaspingly. "Now she'll have some sort of a chance." + +The words were coarse, but as they were said they were so pathetic that +they pierced me. Poor little baby, born to a tainted heritage! I must +save her clean little soul somehow. Poor Julia, she certainly never had +any sort of a chance. + + +April 24. She is in her grave at last, poor girl, and it is sad to think +that nobody alive regrets her. Tom cannot, and even her dreadful mother +showed no sorrow to-day. Somehow the vulgarity of the mother and her +behavior took away half the sadness of the tragedy. When I think about +it the very coarseness of it all makes the situation more pathetic, but +this is an afterthought that can be felt only when I have beaten down my +disgust. When one considers how Julia grew up with this woman, and how +she had no way of learning the decencies of life except from a mother +who had no conception of them, it makes the heart ache; and yet when +Mrs. Brownrig broke in upon us at the graveyard this morning, disgust +was the strongest feeling of which I was conscious. The violation of +conventionalities always shocks a woman, I suppose, and when it comes to +anything so solemn as services over the dead, the lack of decency is +shocking and exasperating together, with a little suggestion besides of +sacrilege. + +Miss Charlotte surprised me by coming over just after breakfast to go to +the funeral with me. + +"I don't like to have you go alone," she said, "and I knew you would +go." + +I asked her in some surprise how in the world she knew when the funeral +was to be, for we thought that we had kept it entirely quiet. + +"Aunt Naomi told me last night," she answered. "I suppose she heard it +from some familiar spirit or other,--a black cat, or a toad, or +something of the kind." + +I could only say that I was completely puzzled to see how Aunt Naomi had +discovered the hour in any other way, and I thanked Miss Charlotte for +coming, though I told the dear she should not have taken so much +trouble. + +"I wanted to do it, my dear," she returned cheerfully. "I am getting to +be an old thing, and I find funerals rather lively and amusing. Don't +you remember Maria Harmon used to say that to a pious soul a funeral was +a heavenly picnic?" + +Whatever a "heavenly picnic" may be, the funeral this morning was one of +the most ghastly things imaginable. Tom and Mr. Thurston were in one +carriage and Miss Charlotte and I in another. We went to the graveyard +at the Rim, where Julia's father and brother were buried, a place half +overgrown with wild-rose and alder bushes. In summer it must be a +picturesque tangle of wild shrubs and blossoms, but now it is only +chill, and barren, and neglected. The spring has reddened and yellowed +the tips of the twigs, but not enough to make the bushes look really +alive yet. The heap of clay by the grave, too, was of a hideous ochre +tint, and horribly sodden and oozy. + +Just as the coffin was being lowered a wild figure suddenly appeared +from somewhere behind the thickets of alders and low spruces which skirt +the fence on one side. It proved to be old Mrs. Brownrig, who with rags +and tags, and even her disheveled gray hair fluttering as she moved, +half ran down the path toward us. She must have been hiding in the woods +waiting, and I found afterward that she had been seen lurking about +yesterday, though for some reason she had not been to her house. Now she +had evidently been drinking, and she was a dreadful thing to look at. + +I wonder why it is that nature, which makes almost any other ruin +picturesque, never succeeds in making the wreck of humanity anything but +hideous? An old tower, an old tree, even an old house, has somehow a +quality that is prepossessing; but an old man is apt to look +unattractive, and an old woman who has given up taking care of herself +is repulsive. Perhaps we cannot see humanity with the impartial eyes +with which we regard nature, but I do not think this is the whole of it. +Somehow and for some reason an inanimate ruin is generally attractive, +while a human ruin is ugly. + +Mrs. Brownrig seemed to me an incarnation of the repulsive. She made me +shudder with some sort of a feeling that she was wicked through and +through. Even the pity she made me feel could not prevent my sense that +she was vicious. I wanted to wash my hands just for having seen her. I +was ashamed to be so uncharitable, and of course it was because she was +so hideous to look at; but I do not think I could have borne to have her +touch me. + +"Stop!" she called out. "I'm the mother of the corpse. Don't you dare to +bury her till I get there!" + +I glanced at Tom in spite of myself. He had been stern and pale all the +morning, not saying a word more than was necessary, but now the color +came into his face all at once. I could not bear to see him, and tried +to look at the mother, but repulsion and pity made me choke. She was +panting with haste and intoxication by the time she reached us, and +stumbled over something in the path. She caught at Tom's arm to save +herself, and there she hung, leering up into his face. + +"You didn't mean for me to come, did you?" she broke out, half +whimpering and half chuckling. "She was mine before she was yours. You +killed her, too." + +Tom kept himself still, though it must have been terribly hard. He must +have been in agony, and I could have sobbed to think how he suffered. He +grew white as I have never seen him, but he did not look at the old +woman. She was perhaps too distracted with drink and I hope with grief +to know what she was doing. She turned suddenly, and looked at the +coffin, which rested on the edge of the grave. + +"My handsome Jule!" she wailed. "Oh, my handsome Jule! They're all dead +now! What did you put on her? Did you make a shroud or put on a dress?" + +"She has a white shroud," I said quickly. "I saw to everything myself." + +She turned to me with a fawning air, and let go her clasp on Tom's arm. + +"I'm grateful, Miss Privet," she said. "We Brownrigs ain't much, but +we're grateful. I hope you won't let 'em bury my handsome gel till I've +seen her," she went on, with a manner pitifully wheedling. "She was my +gel before she was anybody else's, and it ain't goin' to hurt nobody for +me to see her. I'd like to see that shroud." + +How much natural grief, how much vanity, how much maudlin excitement was +in her wish, I cannot tell; but manifestly there was nothing to do but +to have the coffin opened. When the face of the dead woman had once more +been uncovered to the light, the dreadful mother hung over it raving and +chuckling. Now she shrieked for her handsome Jule, and wailed in a way +that pierced to the marrow; then she would fall to imbecile laughter +over the shroud, "just like a lady's,--but then Jule was a lady after +she was married." Miss Charlotte, Tom, and I stood apart, while Mr. +Thurston tried to get the excited creature away; and the grave-diggers +looked on with open curiosity. I could not help thinking how they would +tell the story, and of how Tom's name would be bandied about in +connection with it. Sometimes I feel as if it were harder to bear the +vulgarities of life than actual sorrows. Father used to say that pain is +personal, but vulgarity a violation of general principles. This is one +of his sayings which I do not feel that I understand entirely, and yet I +have some sense of what he meant. A thing which is vulgar seems to fly +in the face of all that should be, and outrages our sense of the fitness +of things. + +Well, somehow we got through it all. It is over, and Julia is in her +grave. I cannot but think that it is better if she does not remember; if +she has gone out like an ill-burning candle. Nothing is left now but to +consider what can be done for the lives that we can reach. I am afraid +that the mother is beyond me, but for Tom I can, perhaps, do something. +For baby I should do much. + + +April 25. It is so strange to have a child in the house. I feel queer +and disconcerted when I think of it, although things seem to go easily +enough. The responsibility of taking charge of a helpless life +overwhelms me, and I do not dare to let my thoughts go when they begin +to picture possibilities in the future. I wonder that I ever dared to +undertake to have baby; and yet her surroundings will be so much better +here than with the dreadful Brownrig grandmother that she must surely be +better for them. In any case I had to help Tom. + +I proposed a permanent nurse for baby, but Hannah and Rosa took up arms +at once, and all but upbraided me with having cast doubts on their +ability and faithfulness. Surely we three women among us should be able +to take care of one morsel, although none of us ever had babies of our +own. + + +April 29. Nothing could be more absurd than the way in which the entire +household now revolves about baby. All of us are completely slaves +already, although the way in which we show it is naturally different. +Rosa has surrendered frankly and without reservations. She sniffed and +pouted at the idea of having the child "of that Brownrig creature" in +the house. She did not venture to say this to me directly, of course; +but she relieved her mind by making remarks to Hannah when I could not +help hearing. From the moment baby came, however, Rosa succumbed without +a struggle. It is evident she is born with the full maternal instinct, +and I see if she does not marry her Dennis, or some more eligible lover, +and take herself away before baby is old enough to be much affected, the +child will be spoiled to an unlimited extent. As for Hannah, her method +of showing her affection is to exhibit the greatest solicitude for +baby's spiritual welfare, mingled with the keenest jealousy of Rosa's +claims on baby's love. I foresee that I shall have pretty hard work to +protect my little daughter from Hannah's well-meant but not very wise +theology; and how to do this without hurting the good old soul's +feelings may prove no easy problem. + +As for myself--of course I love the little, helpless, pink thing; the +waif from some outside unknown brought here into a world where +everything is made so hard to her from the start. She woke this +afternoon, and looked up at me with Tom Webbe's eyes, lying there as +sweet and happy as possible, so that I had to kiss and cuddle her, and +love her all at once. It is wonderful how a baby comes out of the most +dreadful surroundings as a seedling comes out of the mud, so clean and +fresh. I said this to Aunt Naomi yesterday, and she sniffed cynically. + +"Yes," she answered, "but a weed grows into a weed, no matter how it +looks when it is little." + +The thought is dreadful to me. I will not believe that because a human +being is born out of weakness and wickedness there is no chance for it. +The difference, it seems to me, is that every human being has at least +the germs of good as well as of bad, and one may be developed as well as +the other. Baby must have much that is good and fine from her father, +and the thing I have to do is to see to it that the best of her grows, +and the worse part dies for want of nourishment. Surely we can do a +great deal to aid nature. Perhaps my baby cannot help herself much, at +least not for years and years; but if she is kept in an atmosphere which +is completely wholesome, whatever is best in her nature must grow strong +and crowd down everything less noble. + + + + +V + +MAY + + +May 1. Baby is more bewitching every day. She is so wonderful and so +lovely that I am never tired of watching her. The miracle of a baby's +growth makes one stand speechless in delight and awe. When this little +morsel of life, hardly as many days in the world as I have been years, +coos and smiles, and stretches out those tiny rosebud fingers only big +enough for a fairy, I feel like going down on my knees to the mystery of +life. I do not wonder that people pray. I understand entirely the +impulse to cry out to something mighty, something higher than our own +strength, some sentient heart of nature somewhere; the desire to find, +by leaning on the invisible, a relief from the oppressiveness of the +emotions we all must feel when a sense of the greatness of life takes +hold on us. If it were but possible to believe in any of the many gods +that have been offered to us, how glad I should be. Father used to say +that every human being really makes a deity for himself, and that the +difference between believers and unbelievers is whether they can allow +the church to give a name to the god a man has himself created. I cannot +accept any name from authority, but the sense of some brooding power is +very strong in me when I see this being growing as if out of nothing in +my very hands. + +When I look at baby I have so great a consciousness of the life outside +of us, the life of the universe as a whole, that I am ready to agree +with any one who talks of God. The trouble is that one idea of deity +seems to me as true and also as inadequate as all the rest; so that in +the end I am left with only my overwhelming sense of the mightiness of +the mystery of existence and of the unity of all the life in the +universe. + + +May 2. To-day we named baby. I would not do it without consulting her +father, so I sent for Tom, and he came over just after breakfast. The +day has been warm, and the windows were open; a soft breath of wind came +in with a feeling of spring in it, and a faint hint of a summer coming +by and by. I was upstairs in the nursery when Tom came; for we have made +a genuine, full-fledged nursery of the south chamber, and installed Rosa +and the baby there. When they told me that he was here, I took baby, all +pink and sweet from her bath, and went down with her. + +Tom stood with his back to the parlor door, looking out of the window. +He did not hear me until I spoke, and said good-morning. Then he turned +quickly. At sight of baby he changed color, and forgot to answer my +greeting. He came across the room toward us, so that we met in the +middle of the floor. + +"Good God, Ruth!" he said. "To think of seeing you with her baby in your +arms!" + +The words hurt me for myself and for him. + +"Tom," I cried out excitedly, "I will not hear you say anything against +baby! It is neither hers nor yours now. It is mine, mine! You shall not +speak of her as if she were anything but the sweetest, purest thing in +the whole world!" + +He looked at me so intently and so feelingly while I snuggled the pink +ball up to me and kissed it, that it was rather disconcerting. To change +the subject, I went straight to the point. + +"Tom," I said, "I want to ask you about baby's name." + +"Oh, call it anything you like," he answered. + +"But you ought to name her," I told him. + +He was silent a moment; then he turned and walked away to the window +again. I thought that he might be considering the name, but when he came +back abruptly he said:-- + +"Ruth, I can't pretend with you. I haven't any love for that child. I +wish it weren't here to remind me of what I would give anything to have +forgotten. If I have any feeling for it, it is pity that the poor little +wretch had to be chucked into the world, and shame that I should have +any responsibility about it." + +I told him he would come to love her some time; that she was after all +his daughter, and so sweet he couldn't help being fond of her. + +"If I ever endure her," he said, almost doggedly, "it will be on your +account." + +"Nonsense, Tom," I retorted, as briskly as I could when I wanted to cry, +"you'll be fond of her because you can't help it. See, she has your +eyes, and her hair is going to be like yours." + +He laughed with a trace of his old buoyant spirit. + +"What idiocy!" was his reply. "Her eyes are any color you like, and she +has only about six hairs on her head anyway." + +I denied this indignantly, partly because it was not true, and partly, +I am afraid, with feminine guile, to divert him. We fell for a moment +almost into the oldtime boy-and-girl tone of long ago, and only baby in +my arms reminded us of what had come between. + +"Well," I said at last, "it is evident that you are not worthy to give +this nice little, dear little, superfine little girl a name; so I shall +do it myself. I shall call her Thomasine." + +"What an outlandish name!" + +"It is your own, so you needn't abuse it. Do you agree?" + +"I don't see how I can help myself, for you can call her anything you +like." + +"Of course I shall," I told him; "but I thought you should be +consulted." + +He shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. + +"Having made up your mind," he said, "you ask my advice." + +"I shouldn't think of consulting you till I had made up my mind," was my +retort. "Now I want you to give her her name." + +"Give it to her how?" + +"Her name is to be Thomasine," I repeated. + +"It is an absurd name," Tom commented. + +"That's as it may be," was all I would answer, "but that's what she's to +be called. You're to kiss her, and"-- + +He looked at me with a sudden flush. He had never, I am sure, so much as +touched his child with the tip of his finger, much less caressed her. +The proposition took him completely by surprise, and evidently +disconcerted him. I did not give him time to consider. I made my tone +and manner as light as I could, and hurried on. + +"You are to kiss her and say, 'I name you Thomasine.' I suppose that +really you ought to say 'thee,' but that seems rather theatrical for us +plain folk." + +He hesitated a second, and then he bent over baby in my arms. + +"I name you Thomasine," he said, and just brushed her forehead with his +lips. Then he looked at me solemnly. "You will keep her?" he said. + +"Yes," I promised. + +So baby is named, and Tom must have felt that she belongs really to him, +however he may shrink from her. + + +May 3. I have had a dreadful call from Mrs. Webbe. She came over in the +middle of the forenoon, and the moment I saw her determined expression I +felt sure something painful was to happen. + +"Good-morning," she said abruptly; "I have come after my son's infant." + +"What?" I responded, my wits scattering like chickens before a hawk. + +"I have come after my son's infant," she repeated. "We are obliged to +you for taking care of it; but I won't trouble you with it any longer." + +I told her I was to keep baby always. She looked at me with tightening +lips. + +"I don't want to have disagreeable words with you, Ruth," she said, "but +you must know we could never allow such a thing." + +I asked her why. + +"You must know," she said, "you are not fit to be trusted with an +immortal soul." + +I fear that I unmeaningly let the shadow of a smile show as I said,-- + +"But baby is so young"-- + +"This is no laughing matter," she interrupted with asperity, "even if +the child is young. I must do my duty to her from the very beginning. Of +course it will be a cross for me, but I hope I shall bear it like a +Christian." + +Something in her voice and manner exasperated me almost beyond +endurance. I could not help remembering the day Mrs. Webbe came to the +Brownrig house, and I am much afraid I was anything but conciliatory in +my tone when I answered. + +"Mrs. Webbe," I said to her, "if you cared for baby, and wanted to love +her, I might perhaps think of giving her up, though I am very fond of +her, dear little thing." + +Mrs. Webbe's keen black eyes snapped at me. + +"I dare say you look at it in that way," she retorted. "That's just it. +It's just the sort of worldliness that would ruin the child. It's come +into the world with sin and shame enough to bear, and you'd never help +it to grace to bear it." + +The words were not entirely clear, yet I had little doubt of their +meaning. The baby, however, was after all her own flesh and blood, and I +was secretly glad that to strengthen me in my resolve to keep Thomasine +I had my promise to the dead mother and to Tom. + +"But, Mrs. Webbe," I said as gently as I could, "don't you think the +fact that baby has no mother, and must bear that, will make her need +love more?" + +"She'll need bracing up," was the emphatic rejoinder, "and that's just +what she won't get here. I don't want her. It's a cross for me to look +at her, and realize we've got to own a brat with Brownrig blood in her. +I'm only trying to do my duty. Where's that baby going to get any +religious training from you, Ruth Privet?" + +I sat quiet a moment, thinking what I had better say. Mrs. Webbe was +entirely conscientious about it all. She did not, I was sure, want baby, +and she was sincere in saying that she was only trying to do her duty. +When I thought of Thomasine, however, as being made to serve as a living +and visible cross for the good of Mrs. Webbe's soul, I could not bear +it. Driven by that strong will over the thorny paths of her +grandmother's theology, poor baby would be more likely to be brought to +despair than to glory. It was of course right for Mrs. Webbe to wish to +take baby, but it could not be right for me to permit her to do so. If +my duty clashed with hers, I could not change on that account; but I +wished to be as conciliatory as possible. + +"Don't you think, Mrs. Webbe," I asked, trying to look as sunny as a +June day, "that baby is rather young to get harm from me or my heresies? +Couldn't the whole matter at least be left till she is old enough to +know the meaning of words?" + +She looked at me with more determination than ever. + +"Well, of course it's handsome of you to be willing to take care of +Tom's baby, and of course you won't mind the expense; but you made him +marry that girl, so it's only fair you should expect to take some of the +trouble that's come of what you did." + +"You don't mean," I burst out before I thought, "that you wouldn't have +had Tom marry her?" + +"It's no matter now, as long as she didn't live," Mrs. Webbe answered; +"though it isn't pleasant knowing that one of that Brownrig tribe +married into our family." + +I had nothing to say. It would have hurt my pride, of course, had one of +my kin made such a marriage, and I cannot help some secret feeling that +Julia had forfeited her right to be treated like an honest girl; but +there was baby to be considered. Besides this, the marriage was made, it +seems to me, by Tom's taking the girl, not by the service at her +deathbed. Mrs. Webbe and I sat for a time without words. I looked at the +carpet, and was conscious that Mrs. Webbe looked at me. She is not a +pleasant woman, and I have had times of wishing she might be carried off +by a whirlwind, so that Deacon Webbe and Tom might have a little peace; +but I believe in her way she tries to be a good one. The trouble is that +her way of being good seems to me to be a great deal more vicious than +most kinds of wickedness. She uses her religion like a tomahawk, and +whacks with it right and left. + +"Look here," she broke out at last, "I don't want to be unpleasant, but +it ain't a pleasant thing for me to come here anyway. I suppose you mean +to be kind, but you'd be soft with baby. That's just what she mustn't +have. She'd better be made to know from the very start what's before +her." + +"What is before her?" I asked. + +Mrs. Webbe flushed. + +"I don't know as there's any use of my telling you if you don't see it +yourself. She's got to fight her way through life against her +inheritance from that mother of hers, and--and her father." + +She choked a little, and I could not help laying my hand on hers, just +to show that I understood. She drew herself away, not unkindly, I +believe, but because she is too proud to endure pity. + +"She's got to be hardened," she went on, her tone itself hardening as +she spoke. "From her cradle she's got to be set to fight the sin that's +in her." + +I could not argue. I respected the sternness of her resolve to do her +duty, and I knew that she was sacrificing much. Every smallest sight of +the child would be an hourly, stinging humiliation to her pride, and +perhaps, too, to her love. In her fierce way she must love Tom, so that +his shame would hurt her terribly. Yet I could not give up my little +soft, pink baby to live in an atmosphere of disapproval and to be +disciplined in the rigors of a pitiless creed. That, I am sure, would +never save her. Tom Webbe is a sufficient answer to his mother's +argument, if she could only see it. If anything is to rescue Thomasine +from the disastrous consequences of an unhappy heritage, it must be just +pure love and friendliness. + +"Mrs. Webbe," I said, as firmly as I could, "I think I know how you +feel; but in any case I could not give up baby until I had seen Tom." + +A deeper flush came over the thin face, and a look which made me turn my +eyes away, because I knew she would not wish me to see the pain and +humiliation which it meant. + +"Tom," she began, "Tom! He"--She broke off abruptly, and, rising, began +to gather her shawl about her. "Then you refuse to let me have her?" she +ended. + +"The baby's father should have something to say in the matter, it seems +to me," I told her. + +"He has already decided," she replied sternly, "and decided against the +child's good. He wants her to stay with you. I suppose," she added, and +I must say that her tone took a suggestion of spite, "he thinks you'll +get so interested in the baby as sometime"-- + +She did not finish, perhaps because I gave her a look, which, if it +expressed half I felt, might well silence her. She moved quickly toward +the door, and tightened her shawl with an air of virtuous determination. + +"Well," she observed, "I have done my duty by the child. What the Lord +let it live for is a mystery to me." + +She said not another word, not even of leave-taking, but strode away +with something of the air of a brisk little prophetess who has +pronounced the doom of heaven on the unrighteous. It is a pity such +people will make of religion an excuse for taking themselves so +seriously. All the teachings of theology Mrs. Webbe turns into +justifications of her prejudices and her hardness. The very thought of +Thomasine under her rigorous rule makes me shiver. I wonder how her +husband has endured it all these years. Saintship used to be won by +making life as disagreeable as possible for one's self; but nowadays +life is made sufficiently hard by others. If living with his wife +peacefully, forbearingly, decorously, does not entitle Deacon Webbe to +be considered a saint, it is time that new principles of canonization +were adopted. + +Heavens! What uncharitableness I am running into myself! + + +May 4. I told Aunt Naomi of Mrs. Webbe's visit, and her comments were +pungent enough. It is wicked, perhaps, to set them down, but I have a +vicious joy in doing it. + +"Of course she'd hate to have the baby," Aunt Naomi declared, "but she'd +more than get even by the amount of satisfaction she'd get nagging at +it. She's worn Deacon Daniel till he's callous, so there can't be much +fun rasping him, and Tom won't listen to her. She wants somebody to +bully, and that baby'd just suit her. She could make it miserable and +get in side digs at its father at the same time." + +"You are pretty severe, Aunt Naomi," I said; "but I know you don't mean +it. As for troubling Tom, he says he doesn't care for baby." + +"Pooh! He's soft-hearted like his father; and even if he didn't care for +his own child, which is nonsense anyway, he'd be miserable to see any +child go through what he's been through himself with that woman." + +It is useless to attempt to stay Aunt Naomi when once she begins to talk +about Mrs. Webbe, and she has so much truth in her favor I am never able +successfully to urge the other side of the case so as to get for Mrs. +Webbe any just measure of fair play. To-night I almost thought that Aunt +Naomi would devour her green veil in the energy with which she freed her +mind. The thing which she cannot see is that Mrs. Webbe is entirely +blind to her own faults. Mrs. Webbe would doubtless be amazed if she +could really appreciate that she is unkind to Deacon Daniel and to Tom. +She acts her nature, and simply does not think. I dare say most of us +might be as bad if we had her disposition.--Which tags on at the end of +the nasty things I have been writing like a piece of pure cant! + + +May 6. It certainly would seem on the face of it that a woman alone in +the world as I am, of an age when I ought to have the power of managing +my own affairs, and with the means of getting on without asking +financial aid, might take into her house a poor, helpless, little baby +if she wished. Apparently there is a conspiracy to prevent my doing +anything of the sort. Cousin Mehitable has now entered her protest, and +declares that if I do not give up what she calls my mad scheme she shall +feel it her duty to have me taken in charge as a lunatic. She wants to +know whether I have no decency about having a bachelor's baby in the +house, although she is perfectly well aware that Tom was married. She +reminds me that she expects me to go to Europe with her in about a +month, and asks whether I propose to leave Thomasine in a foundling +hospital or a day nursery while I am gone. Her letter is one breathless +rush of indignation from beginning to end, so funnily like her that with +all my indignation I could hardly read it for laughing. + +I confess it is hard to give up the trip abroad. I was only half aware +how I have been counting on it until now I am brought face to face with +the impossibility of carrying out the plan. I have almost unconsciously +been piecing together in my mind memories of the old days in Europe, +with delight in thinking of seeing again places which enchanted me. Any +one, I suppose, who has been abroad enough to taste the charm of travel, +but who has not worn off the pleasure by traveling too much, must have +moments of longing to get back. I have had the oddest, sudden pangs of +homesickness when I have picked up a photograph or opened a magazine to +a picture of some beautiful place across the ocean. The smallest things +can bring up the feeling,--the sound of the wind in the trees as I heard +it once when driving through the Black Forest, the sun on a stone wall +as it lay in Capri, the sky as it looked at one place, or the grass as I +saw it at another. I remember how once a white feather lying on the turf +of the lawn brought up the courtyard of Warwick Castle as if a curtain +had lifted suddenly; and always these flashing reminders of the other +side of the world have made me feel as if I must at once hurry across +the ocean again. Now I have let myself believe I was really going, and +to give it up is very hard. + +It is perhaps making too much of it to be so disappointed. Certainly +baby must be taken care of, and I have promised to take care of her. I +fear that it will be a good while before I see Europe again. I am sorry +for Cousin Mehitable, but she has never any difficulty in finding +friends to travel with. It is evident enough that my duty is here. + + +May 10. Rosa has not yet come to the end of her matrimonial +perplexities. The divorced wife of Ran Gargan is now reported as near +death, and Rosa is debating whether to give up Dennis Maloney and wait +for Ran. + +"Of course Dennis is gone on me," she explained last night in the most +cold-bloodedly matter-of-fact fashion, "and I'd make him a main good +wife. But Ran was always the boy for me, barring Father O'Rafferty +wouldn't let me marry him." + +"Rosa," I said, with all the severity I could command, "you must not +talk like that. It sounds as if you hadn't any feeling at all. You don't +mean it." + +Rosa tossed her saucy head with emphatic scorn. + +"What for don't I mean it?" she demanded. "Any woman wants to marry the +man she likes best, and, barring him, she'd take up with the man who +likes her best." + +I laughed, and told her she was getting to be a good deal of a +philosopher. + +"Humph!" was her not very respectful reply; "it's the only choice a +woman has, and she don't always have that. She's better off if she'll +take the man that's sweet on her; but it's the way we girls are made, to +hanker after the one we're sweet on ourselves." + +Her earnestness so much interfered with the supper which she was giving +to Thomasine that I took baby into my arms, and left Rosa free to speak +out her mind without hindrance. + +"I'm not going to take either of 'em in a hurry," she went on. "I'd not +be leaving you in the lurch with the baby, Miss Ruth. I'd like to have +Ran, but I don't know what he's got. He'd make me stand round awful, +they say, and Dennis'd be under my thumb like a crumb of butter. I +mistrust I'd be more contented with Ranny. It'd be more stirred up like; +but I'd have some natural fear of him, and that's pleasant for a woman." + +I had never seen Rosa in this astonishing mood before, and so much +worldly wisdom was bewildering. Such generalizations on the relation of +the sexes took away my breath. I was forced to be silent, for there was +evidently no chance of my holding my own in a conversation of this sort. +It is strange how boldly and bluntly this uneducated girl has thought +out her relations with her lovers. She recognizes entirely that Dennis, +who is her slave, will treat her better than Ran, who will be her +master; yet she "mistrusts she will be more contented with Ranny." The +moral seems to be that a woman is happier to be abused by the man she +loves than to be served by the man who loves her. That can only be crude +instinct, the relics of savagery. In civilized woman, I am sure, when +respect goes love must go also. + +No; that isn't true! Women keep on loving men when they know them to be +unworthy. Perhaps this applies especially to good wives. A good woman is +bound to love her husband just as long as she can in any way compass it, +and to deceive herself about him to the latest possible instant. I +wonder what I should do? I wonder--Well, George has shown that he is not +what I thought him, and do I care for him less? He only showed, however, +that he did not care for me as much as I thought, and of course that +does not necessarily prove him unworthy. And yet-- + +What is the use of all this? What do I know about it anyway? I will go +to bed. + + +May 12. It is amusing to see how jealous Hannah and Rosa are of baby's +attention. Thomasine can as yet hardly be supposed to distinguish one +human being from another, and very likely has not drawn very accurate +comparisons between any of us and the furniture; but Rosa insists that +baby knows her, and is far more fond of her than of Hannah, while of +course Hannah indignantly sniffs at an idea so preposterous. + +"She really laughed at me this morning when I was giving her her bath," +Rosa assured me to-day. "She knows me the minute I come into the +nursery." + +It is beautiful to see how the sweetness and helplessness of the little +thing have so appealed to the girls that prejudices are forgotten. When +I brought Thomasine home I feared that I might have trouble. They +scorned the child of that Brownrig girl, and they both showed the fierce +contempt which good girls of their class feel for one who disgraces +herself. All this is utterly forgotten. The charm of baby has so +enslaved them that if an outsider ventured to show the feelings they +themselves had at first, they would be full of wrath and indignation. +The maternal instinct is after all the strongest thing in most women. +Rosa considers her matrimonial chances in a bargain-and-sale fashion +which takes my breath, but she will be perfectly fierce in her fondness +for her children. Hannah is a born old maid, but she cannot help +mothering every baby who comes within her reach, and for Thomasine she +brings out all the sweetness of her nature. + + +May 15. I have been through a whirlwind, but now I am calm, and can +think of things quietly. It is late, but the fire has not burned down, +and I could not sleep, so Peter and I may as well stay where we are a +while longer. + +I was reading this afternoon, when suddenly Kathie rushed into the room +out of breath with running, her face smooched and wet with tears, and +her hair in confusion. + +"Why, Kathie," I asked, "what is the matter?" + +Her answer was to fly across the room, throw herself on her knees beside +me, and burst into sobs. The more I tried to soothe her, the more she +cried, and it was a long time before she was quiet enough to be at all +reasonable. + +"My dear," I said, "tell me what has happened. What is the matter?" + +She looked up at me with wild eyes. + +"It isn't true!" she broke out fiercely. "I know it isn't true! I didn't +say a word to him, because I knew you wouldn't want me to; but it's a +lie! It's a lie, if my father did say it." + +"Why, Kathie," I said, amazed at her excitement, "what in the world are +you saying? Your father wouldn't tell a lie to save his life." + +"He believes it," she answered, dropping her voice. A sullen, stubborn +look came into her face that it was pitiful to see. "He does believe it, +but it's a lie." + +I spoke to her as sternly as I could, and told her she had no right to +judge of what her father believed, and that I would not have her talk so +of him. + +"But I asked him about your mother, and he said she would be punished +forever and ever for not being a church member!" she exclaimed before I +could stop her. "And I know it's a lie." + +She burst into another tempest of sobs, and cried until she was +exhausted. Her words were so cruel that for a moment I had not even the +power to try to comfort her; but she would soon have been in hysterics, +and for a time I had to think only of her. Fortunately baby woke. Rosa +was not at home, and by the time Hannah and I had fed Thomasine, and +once more she was asleep in her cradle, I had my wits about me. Kathie +had, with a child's quick change of mood, become almost gay. + +"Kathie," I said, "do you mind staying here with baby while I take a +little walk? Rosa is out, and I have been in the house all day. I want a +breath of fresh air." + +"Oh, I should love to," she answered, her face brightening at the +thought of being trusted with a responsibility so great. + +I was out of doors, and walking rapidly toward Mr. Thurston's house, +before I really came to my senses. I was so wounded by what Kathie had +thoughtlessly repeated, so indignant at this outrage to my dead, that I +had had strength only to hide my feelings from her. Now I came to a +realization of my anger, and asked myself what I meant to do. I had +instinctively started out to denounce Mr. Thurston for bigotry and +cruelty; to protest against this sacrilege. A little, I feel sure,--at +least I hope I am right,--I felt the harm he was doing Kathie; but most +I was outraged and angry that he had dared to speak so of Mother. I was +ashamed of my rage when I grew more composed; and I realized all at once +how Mother herself would have smiled at me. So clear was my sense of her +that it was almost as if she really repeated what she once said to me: +"My dear Ruth, do you suppose that what Mr. Thurston thinks alters the +way the universe is made? Why should he know more about it than you do? +He's not nearly so clever or so well educated." I smiled to recall how +she had smiled when she said it; then I was blinded by tears to remember +that I should never see her smile again; and so I walked into a tree in +the sidewalk, and nearly broke my nose. That was the end of my dashing +madly at Mr. Thurston. The wound Kathie's words had made throbbed, but +with the memory of Mother in my mind I could not break out into anger. + +I turned down the Cove Road to walk off my ill-temper. After all Mr. +Thurston was right from his point of view. He could not believe without +feeling that he had to warn Kathie against the awful risk of running +into eternal damnation. It must hurt him to think or to say such a +thing; but he believes in the cruelty of the deity, and he has beaten +his natural tenderness into subjection to his idea of a Moloch. It is so +strange that the ghastly absurdity of connecting God's anger with a +sweet and blameless life like Mother's does not strike him. Indeed, I +suppose down here in the country we are half a century or so behind the +thought of the real world, and that Mr. Thurston's creed would be +impossible in the city, or among thinkers even of his own denomination. +At least I hope so, though I do not see what they have left in the +orthodox creed if they take eternal punishment out of it. + +The fresh air and the memory of Mother, with a little common sense, +brought me right again. I walked until I had myself properly in hand, +and till I hoped that the trace of tears on my face might pass for the +effect of the wind. It was growing dusk by this time, and the lamps +began to appear in the houses as I came to Mr. Thurston's at last. I +slipped in at the front door as quietly as I could, and knocked at the +study. + +Mr. Thurston himself opened the door. He looked surprised, but asked me +in, and offered me a chair. He had been writing, and still held his pen +in his hand; the study smelled of kerosene lamp and air-tight stove. +Poor man! Theology which has to live by an air-tight stove must be +dreary. If he had an open fire on his hearth, he might have less in his +religion. + +"I have come to confess a fault, Mr. Thurston," I said, "and to ask a +favor." + +He smiled a little watery smile, and put down his pen. + +"Is the favor to be a reward for the fault or for confessing it?" he +asked. + +I was so much surprised by this mild jest, coming from him, that I +almost forgot my errand. I smiled back at him, and forgot the bitterness +that had been in my heart. He looked so thin, so bloodless, that it was +impossible to have rancor. + +"I left Kathie with baby while I went for a walk," I said, "and I have +stayed away longer than I intended. I forgot to tell her she could call +Hannah if she wanted to come home, and she is too conscientious to +leave, so I am afraid that she has stayed all this time. I wanted you to +know it is my fault." + +"I am glad for her to be useful," her father said, "especially as you +have been so kind to her." + +"Then you will perhaps let her stay all night," I went on. "I can take +over her night-things. I promised to show her about making a new kind of +pincushion for the church fair; and I could do it this evening. Besides, +it is lonely for me in that great house." + +I felt like a hypocrite when I said this, though it is true enough. He +looked at me kindly, and even pityingly. + +"Yes," he returned, "I can understand that. If you think she won't +trouble you, and"-- + +I did not give him opportunity for a word more. I rose at once and held +out my hand. + +"Thank you so much," I said. "I'll find Mrs. Thurston, and get Kathie's +things. I beg your pardon for troubling you." + +I was out of the study before he could reconsider. Across the hall I +found his wife in the sitting-room with another air-tight stove, and +looking thinner and paler than he. She had a great pile of sewing beside +her, and her eyes looked as if months of tears were behind them, aching +to be shed. + +I told her Mr. Thurston had given leave for Kathie to pass the night +with me, and I had come for her night-things. She looked surprised, but +none the less pleased. While she was out of the room I looked cautiously +at the mending to see if the clothing was too worn for her to be willing +that I should see it. When she came in with her little bundle, I said, +as indifferently as I could, "I suppose if Kathie were at home she would +help you with the mending, so I'll take her share with me, and we'll do +it together." Of course she remonstrated, but I managed to bring away a +good part of the big pile, and now it is all done. Poor Mrs. Thurston, +she looked so tired, so beaten down by life, the veins were so blue on +her thin temples! If I dared, I'd go every week and do that awful +mending for her. I must get Kathie to smuggle some of it over now and +then. When we blame these people for the narrowness of their theology, +we forget their lives are so constrained and straitened that they cannot +take broad views of anything. The man or woman who could take a wide +outlook upon life from behind an air-tight stove in a half-starved home +would have to be almost a miracle. It is wonderful that so much +sweetness and humanity keep alive where circumstances are so +discouraging. When I think of patient, faithful, hard-working women like +Mrs. Thurston, uncomplaining and devoted, I am filled with admiration +and humility. If their theology is narrow, they endure it; and, after +all, men have made it for them. Father said once women had always been +the occasion of theology, but had never produced any. I asked him, I +remember, whether he said this to their praise or discredit, and he +answered that what was entirely the result of nature was neither to be +praised nor to be blamed; women were so made that they must have a +religion, and men so constituted as to take the greatest possible +satisfaction in inventing one. "It is simply a beautiful example," he +added, with his wonderful smile which just curled the corners of his +mouth, "of the law of supply and demand." + +I am running on and on, although it is so late at night. Aunt Naomi, I +presume, will in some occult way know about it, and ask me why I sat up +so long. I am tired, but the excitement of the afternoon is not all +gone. That any one in the world should believe it possible for Mother to +be unhappy in another life, to be punished, is amazing! Surely a man +whose theology makes such an idea conceivable is profoundly to be +pitied. + + +May 19. Hannah is perfectly delightful about Tomine. She hardly lets a +day go by without admonishing me not to spoil baby, and yet she is +herself an abject slave to the slightest caprice of the tyrannous small +person. We have to-night been having a sort of battle royal over baby's +going to sleep by herself in the dark. I made up my mind the time had +come when some semblance of discipline must be begun, and I supposed, of +course, that Hannah would approve and assist. To my surprise she failed +me at the very first ditch. + +"I am going to put Tomine into the crib," I announced, "and take away +the light. She must learn to go to sleep in the dark." + +"She'll be frightened," Rosa objected. + +"She's too little to know anything about being afraid," I retorted +loftily, although I had secretly a good deal of misgiving. + +"Too little!" sniffed Hannah. "She's too little not to be afraid." + +I saw at a glance that I had before me a struggle with them as well as +with baby. + +"Children are not afraid of the dark until they are told to be," I +declared as dogmatically as possible. + +"They are told not to be," objected Rosa. + +"But that puts the idea into their heads," was my answer. + +Hannah regarded me with evident disapprobation. + +"But supposing the baby cries?" she demanded. + +"Then she must be left to stop," I answered, with outward firmness and +inward quakings. + +"But suppose she cries herself sick?" insisted Rosa. + +"She won't. She'll just cry a little till she finds nobody comes, and +then she'll go to sleep." + +The two girls regarded me with looks that spoke disapproval in the +largest of capitals. It is so seldom they are entirely united that it +was disconcerting to have them thus make common cause against me, but I +had to keep up for the sake of dignity if for nothing else. Thomasine +was fed and arranged for the night; she was kissed and cuddled, and +tucked into her crib. Then I got Hannah and Rosa, both protesting they +didn't mind sitting up with the darling all night, out of the room, +darkened the windows, and shut baby in alone for the first time in her +whole life, a life still so pathetically little. + +I closed the nursery door with an air of great calmness and +determination, but outside I lingered like a complete coward. The girls +were glowering darkly from the end of the hall, and we needed only +candlelight to look like three bloodthirsty conspirators. For two or +three minutes there was a soothing and deceptive silence, so that I +turned to smile with an air of superior wisdom on the maids. Then +without warning baby uplifted her voice and wailed. + +There was something most disconcertingly explosive about the cry, as if +Thomasine had been holding her breath until she were black in the face, +and only let it escape one second short of actual suffocation. I jumped +as if a mouse had sprung into my face, and the two girls swooped down +upon me in a whirl of triumphant indignation. + +"There, Miss Ruth!" cried Hannah. + +"There, Miss Privet!" cried Rosa. + +"Well," I said defensively; "I expected her to cry some." + +"She wants to be walked with, poor little thing," Rosa said +incautiously. + +I was rejoiced to have a chance to turn the tables, and I sprang upon +her tacit admission at once. + +"Rosa," I said severely, "have you been walking Thomasine to sleep? I +told you never to do it." + +Rosa, self-convicted, could only murmur that she had just taken her up +and down two or three times to make her sleepy; she hadn't really walked +her to sleep. + +"What if she had?" Hannah demanded boldly, her place entirely forgotten +in the excitement of the moment. "If babies like to be walked to sleep, +it stands to reason that's nature." + +I began to feel as if all authority were fast slipping away from me, and +that I should at this rate soon become a very secondary person in my own +house. I tried to recover myself by assuming the most severe air of +which I was capable. + +"You must not talk outside the nursery door," I told them. "If Thomasine +hears voices, of course she'll keep on crying. Go downstairs, both of +you. I'll see to baby." + +They had not yet arrived at open mutiny, and so with manifest +unwillingness they departed, grumbling to each other as they went. Baby +seemed to have some superhuman intelligence that her firmest allies were +being routed, for she set up a series of nerve-splitting shrieks which +made every fibre of my body quiver. As soon as the girls were out of +sight I flopped down on my knees outside of the door, and put my hands +over my ears. I was afraid of myself, and only the need I felt of +holding out for Tomine's own sake gave me strength to keep from rushing +into the nursery in abject surrender. + +The absurdity of it makes me laugh now, but with the shrieks of baby +piercing me, I felt as if I were involved in a tragedy of the deepest +dye. I think I was never so near hysterics in my life; but I had even +then some faint and far-away sense of how ridiculous I was, and that +saved me. Thomasine yelled like a young tornado, and every cry went +through me like a knife. I was on my knees on the floor, pouring out +tears like a watering-pot, trying to shut out the sound. There is +something in a baby's cry that is too much even for a sense of humor; +and no woman could have heard it without being overcome. + +I had so stopped my ears that although I could not shut out baby's cries +entirely I did not hear Hannah and Rosa when they came skulking back. +The first I knew of their being behind me was when Hannah, in a +whispered bellow, shouted into my ear that baby would cry herself into +convulsions. Demoralized as I was already, I almost yielded; I started +to my feet, and faced them in a tragic manner, ready to give up +everything. I was ready to say that Rosa might walk up and down with +Tomine every night for the rest of her life. Fortunately some few gleams +of common sense asserted themselves in my half-addled pate, and instead +of opening the door, I spread out my arms, and without a word shooed the +girls out of the corridor as if they were hens. Then the ludicrousness +of it came over me, and although I still tingled with baby's wailing, I +could appreciate that the cries were more angry than pathetic, and that +we must fight the battle through now it had been begun. The drollest +thing about it all was that it seemed almost as if the willful little +lady inside there had some uncanny perception of my thought. I had no +sooner got the girls downstairs again, and made up my mind to hold out +than she stopped crying; and when we crept cautiously in ten minutes +after, she was asleep as soundly and as sweetly as ever. + +But I feel as if I had been through battles, murders, and sudden deaths. + + +May 20. Baby to-night cried two or three minutes, but her ladyship +evidently had the sense to see that crying is a painful and useless +exercise when she has to deal with such a hard-hearted tyrant as I am, +and she quickly gave it up. Rosa hoped pointedly that the poor little +thing's will isn't broken, and Hannah observed piously that she trusted +I realized we all of us had to be treated like babies by our Heavenly +Father. I was tempted to ask her if our Heavenly Father never left us to +cry in the dark. If we could be as firm with ourselves as we can be with +other people, what an improvement it would be. I wonder what Tom would +think of my first conflict with his baby. + + +May 25. I went to-day to call on Mrs. Weston. Although I am in mourning, +I thought it better to go. I feared lest she should think my old +relations to George might have something to do with my staying away. + +It was far less difficult than I thought it would be. I may be frank in +my diary, I suppose, and say I found her silly and rather vulgar, and I +wonder how George can help seeing it. She was inclined to boast a little +that all the best people in town had called. + +"Olivia Watson acted real queer about my wedding-calls," she said. "She +doesn't seem to know the rich folks very well." + +"Oh, we never make distinctions in Tuskamuck by money," I put in; but +she went on without heeding. + +"Olivia said Mrs. Andrews--she called her Lady Andrews, just as if she +was English." + +"It is a way we have," I returned. "I'm sure I don't know how it began. +Very likely it is only because it fits her so well." + +"Well, anyway, she called; and Olivia owned she'd never been to see +them. I could see she was real jealous, though she wouldn't own it." + +"Old lady Andrews is a delightful person," I remarked awkwardly, feeling +that I must say something. + +"I didn't think she was much till Olivia told me," returned Mrs. Weston, +with amazing frankness. "I thought she was a funny old thing." + +It is not kind to put this down, I know; but I really would like to see +if it sounds so unreal when it is written as it did when it was said. It +was so unlike anything I ever heard that it seemed almost as if Mrs. +Weston were playing a part, and trying to cheat me into thinking her +more vulgar and more simple than she is. I am afraid I shall not lessen +my unpleasant impression, however, by keeping her words. + +Mrs. Weston talked, too, about George and his devotion as if she +expected me to be hurt. Possibly I was a little; although if I were, it +was chiefly because my vanity suffered that he should find me inferior +in attraction to a woman like this. I believe I am sincerely glad that +he should prove his fondness for his wife. Indeed fondness could be the +only excuse for his leaving me, and I do wish happiness to them both. + +I fear what I have written gives the worst of Mrs. Weston. She perhaps +was a little embarrassed, but she showed me nothing better. She is not a +lady, and I see perfectly that she will drop out of our circle. We are a +little Cranfordish here, I suppose, but anywhere in the world people +come in the long run to associate with their own kind. Mrs. Weston is +not our kind; and even if this did not affect our attitude, she would +herself tire of us after the first novelty is worn off. + + +May 26. George came in this morning on business, and before he went he +thanked me for calling on his wife. + +"I shouldn't have made a wedding-call just now on anybody else," I told +him; "but your association with Father and the way in which we have +known you of course make a difference." + +He showed some embarrassment, but apparently--at least so I thought--he +was so anxious to know what I thought of Mrs. Weston that he could not +drop the subject. + +"Gertrude isn't bookish," he remarked rather confusedly. "I hope you +found things to talk about." + +"Meaning that I can talk of nothing but books?" I returned. "Poor +George, how I must have bored you in times past." + +He flushed and grew more confused still. + +"Of course you know I didn't mean anything like that," he protested. + +I laughed at his grave face, and then I was so glad to find I could talk +to him about his wife without feeling awkward that I laughed again. He +looked so puzzled I was ready to laugh in turn at him, but I restrained +myself. I could not understand my good spirits, and for that matter I do +not now. Somehow my call of yesterday seems to have made a difference in +my feeling toward George. Just how or just what I cannot fully make out. +I certainly have not ceased to care about him. I am still fond of the +George I have known for so many years; but somehow the husband of Mrs. +Weston does not seem to be the same man. The George Weston who can love +this woman and be in sympathy with her is so different from anything I +have known or imagined the old George to be that he affects me as a +stranger. + +The truth is I have for the past month been in the midst of things so +serious that my own affairs and feelings have ceased to appear of so +much importance. When death comes near enough for us to see it face to +face, we have a better appreciation of values, and find things strangely +altered. I have had, moreover, little time to think about myself, which +is always a good thing; and to my surprise I find now that I am not able +to pity myself nearly as much as I did. + +This seems perhaps a little disloyal to George. My feeling for him +cannot have evaporated like dew drying from the grass. At least I am +sure that I am still ready to serve him to the very best of my ability. + + + + +VI + +JUNE + + +June 1. Cousin Mehitable is capable of surprises. She has written to +Deacon Richards to have my baby taken away from me. + +The Deacon came in to-night, so amused that he was on the broad grin +when he presented himself, and chuckling even when he said good-evening. + +"What pleases you?" I asked. "You seem much amused about something." + +"I am," he answered. "I've been appointed your guardian." + +"By the town authorities?" I demanded. "I should have thought I was old +enough to look after myself." + +"It's your family," he chuckled. "Miss Privet has written to me from +Boston." + +"Cousin Mehitable?" I exclaimed. + +"Miss Mehitable Privet," he returned. + +"She has written to you about me?" asked I. + +He nodded, in evident delight over the situation. + +My astonishment got the better of my manners so that I forgot to ask him +to sit down, but stood staring at him like a booby. I remembered Cousin +Mehitable had met him once or twice on her infrequent visits to +Tuskamuck, and had been graciously pleased to approve of him,--largely, +I believe, on account of some accidental discovery of his very +satisfactory pedigree. That she should write to him, however, was most +surprising, and argued an amount of feeling on her part much greater +than I had appreciated. I knew she would be shocked and perhaps +scandalized by my having baby, and she had written to me with sufficient +emphasis, but I did not suppose she would invoke outside aid in her +attempts to dispossess me of Thomasine. + +"But why should she write to you?" I asked Deacon Daniel. + +"She said," was his answer, "she didn't know who else to write to." + +"But what did she expect you to do?" + +The Deacon chuckled and caressed his beardless chin with a +characteristic gesture. When he is greatly amused he seizes himself by +the chin as if he must keep his jaw stiff or an undeaconical laugh would +come out in spite of him. + +"I don't think she cared much what I did if I relieved you of that +baby," was his reply. "She said if I was any sort of a guardian of the +poor perhaps I could put it in a home." + +"But you are not," I said. + +"No," he assented. + +"And you shouldn't have her if you were," I added. + +"I don't want the child," Deacon Daniel returned. "I shouldn't know what +to do with it." + +Then we both laughed, and I got him seated in Father's chair, and we had +a long chat over the whole situation. I had not realized how much I +wanted to talk matters over with somebody. Aunt Naomi is out of the +question, because she is so fond of telling things; Miss Charlotte +would be better, but she is not very worldly wise; and if I may tell the +truth, I wanted to talk with a man. The advice of women is wise often, +and yet more often it is comforting; but it has somehow not the +conclusiveness of the decision of a sensible man. At least that is the +way I felt to-night, though in many matters I should never think of +trusting to a man's judgment. + +"I think I shall adopt baby legally," I said. "Then nobody could take +her away or bother me about her." + +He asked me if her father would agree, and I said that I was sure he +would. + +"It would make her your heir if you died without a will," he commented. + +I said that nothing was more easy than to make a will, and of course I +should mean to provide for her. + +"You are not afraid of wills, then?" Deacon Daniel observed, looking at +me curiously. "So many folks can't bear the idea of making one." + +"Very likely it's partly because I am a lawyer's daughter," I said; "but +in any case making a will wouldn't have any more terrors for me than +writing a check. But then I never had any fear of death anyway." + +Deacon Daniel regarded me yet more intently, clasping his great white +hands over his knee. + +"I never can quite make you out, Miss Ruth," he said after a little. +"You haven't any belief in a hereafter that I know of, but you seem to +have no trouble about it." + +I asked him why I should have, and he answered that most people do. + +"Perhaps that is because they feel a responsibility about the future +that I don't," I returned. "I don't think I can alter what is to come +after death, and I don't see what possible good I can do by fretting +about it. Father brought me up, you know, to feel that I had all I could +attend to in making the best I can of this life, without wasting my +strength in speculating about another. In any case I can't see why I +should be any more afraid of death than I am of sleep. I understand one +as well as I do the other." + +He looked at the rug thoughtfully a moment, and then, as if he declined +to be drawn into an argument, he came back to the original subject of +our talk. + +"Would Tom Webbe want to have anything to do with the child?" he asked. + +"I think he would rather forget she is in the world," I told him. "By +and by he may be fond of her, but now he tries not to think of her at +all. I want to make her so attractive and lovely he can't help caring +for her." + +"But then she will care for him," the Deacon commented. + +"Why, of course she will. That is what I hope. Then she might influence +him, and help him." + +"You are willing to share her with her father even if you do adopt her?" +he asked. + +I did not understand his manner, but I told him I did not think I had +any right to deprive her of her father's affection or him of hers if I +adopted her a dozen times over. + +The Deacon made no answer. His face was graver, and for some time we sat +without further word. + +"Tom Webbe isn't as bad as he seems, Miss Ruth," Deacon Daniel said at +length. "If you had to live with his mother, I guess you'd be ready to +excuse him for 'most anything. His father never had the spunk to say +boo to a goose, and Mrs. Webbe has bullied him from the time we were +boys. He's as good as a man can be, but it's a pity he don't carry out +Paul's idea of being ruler in his own house." + +"Paul was a bachelor like you, Deacon Daniel," I answered, rather +saucily; "and neither of you knows anything about it." + +He grinned, but only added that Tom had been nagged into most of his +wildness. + +"I'm not excusing him," he went on, apparently afraid that he should +seem to be condoning iniquity; "but there's a good deal to be said for +him. Aunt Naomi says he ought to be driven out of decent society, but +Tom Webbe never did a mean thing in his life." + +I was rather surprised to hear this defense from Deacon Richards, but I +certainly agreed with him. Tom's sin makes me cringe; but I realize that +I'm not capable of judging him, and he certainly has a good deal of +excuse for whatever evil he has fallen into. + + +June 2. One thing more which Deacon Richards said has made me think a +good deal. He asked me what Tom had meant to do about the child if its +mother lived. I told him Julia had been willing for me to have baby in +any case. He thought in silence a moment. + +"I don't believe," he said, "Tom ever meant to live with that woman. He +must have married her to clear his conscience." + +"He married her so the child should not be disgraced," I answered. + +Deacon Daniel looked at me with those great keen eyes glowing beneath +his shaggy white brows. + +"Then he went pretty far toward clearing his record," was his comment. +"There are not many men would have tied themselves to such a wife for +the sake of a child." + +This was not very orthodox, perhaps, but a good heart will get the +better of orthodoxy now and then. It has set me to thinking about Tom +and his wife in a way which had not occurred to me. I wonder if it is +true that he did not mean to live with her. I remember now that he said +he would never see Julia again, but at the time this meant nothing to +me. If he had thought of making a home, he would naturally expect to +have his child, but after all I doubt if at that time he considered +anything except the good of baby. He did not love her; he had not even +looked at her; but he tried to do her right as far as he could. He could +give her an honest name in the eyes of the world, but he must have known +that he could not make a home with Julia where the surroundings would be +good for a child. This must have been what he considered for the moment. +Yet Tom is one who thinks out things, and he may have thought out the +future of the mother too. + +When I look back I wonder how it was I consented so quickly to take +Tomine. I wanted to help Tom, and I wanted him to be able to decide +without being forced by any consideration of baby. I do not know whether +he ought to have married Julia for her own sake. If she had lived, I am +afraid I should have been tempted to think he had better not have bound +himself to her; and yet I realize that I should have been disappointed +in him if he had decided not to do it. I doubt if I could have got rid +entirely of the feeling that somehow he would have been cowardly. I +wonder if he had any notion of my feeling? He came out of the trial +nobly, at least, and I honor him with all my heart for that. + + +June 5. Aunt Naomi has now a theme exactly to her taste in the growing +extravagance of George's wife. Mrs. Weston has certainly elaborated her +style of dress a good deal, a thing which is the more noticeable from +the fact that in Tuskamuck we are on the whole so little given to +gorgeous raiment. I remember that when I called I thought her rather +overdressed. To-day Aunt Naomi talked for half an hour with the greatest +apparent enjoyment about the fine gowns and expensive jewelry with which +the bride is astonishing the town. I am afraid it does not take much to +set us talking. I tried half a dozen times to-day to change the subject, +but my efforts were wasted. Aunt Naomi was not to be diverted from a +theme so congenial. I reminded her that any bride was expected to +display her finery--this is part of the established formality with which +marriage is attended. + +"That's all very well," she retorted with a sniff; "folks want to see +the wedding outfit. This is finery George Weston has had to pay for +himself." + +"I don't see how anybody can know that," I told her; and I added that it +did not seem to me to be the town's business if it were true. + +"She tells everybody he gave her the jewelry," Aunt Naomi responded; +"and the dresses she's had made since she was married. She hadn't +anything herself. The Watsons say she was real poor." + +"The marriage was so sudden," I said, "that very likely she hadn't time +to get her wedding outfit. At any rate, Aunt Naomi, I don't see what +you and I have to do with her clothes." + +The dear old gossip went on wagging her foot and smiling with evident +delight. + +"It's the business of the neighbors that she's sure to ruin her husband +if she keeps on with her extravagance, isn't it? Besides, she wears her +clothes to have them talked about. She talks about them herself." + +"A few dresses won't ruin her husband," I protested. + +"She has one hired girl now, and she's talking of a second," Aunt Naomi +went on, unshaken. "Did you ever hear of such foolishness?" + +I reminded her that I had two maids myself. + +"Oh, you," she returned; "that's different. I hope you don't put her on +a level with real folks, do you?" + +I tried to treat the whole matter as if it were of no consequence, and I +did stop the talk here; but secretly I am troubled. George has very +little aside from what he earns in his profession, and he might easily +run behind if his wife is really extravagant. He needs a woman to help +him save. + + +June 6. Tomine delighted the family to-day by her wonderful precocity in +following with her eyes the flight of a blue-bottle fly that buzzed +about the nursery. Such intelligence in one so young is held by us women +to betoken the most extraordinary promise. I communicated the important +event to Mr. Saychase, who came to call, and he could neither take it +gravely nor laugh at the absurdity of our noticing so slight a thing. He +seemed to be trying to find out how I wished him to look at it; and as +I was divided between laughter and secret pride in baby he could not get +a sure clue. How dull the man is; but no doubt he is good. When piety +and stupidity are united, it is unfortunate that they should be made +prominent by being set high in spiritual places. + + +June 9. I have a good deal of sympathy with Cain's question when he +asked the Lord if he were his brother's keeper. Of course his crime +turned the question in his case into a mere pitiful excuse, but Cain was +at least clever enough to take advantage of a principle which must +appeal to everybody. We cannot be responsible for others when we have +neither authority nor control over them. It is one of the hardest forms +of duty, it seems to me, when we feel that we ought to do our best, yet +are practically sure that in the end we can effect little or nothing. +What can I do to influence George's wife? Somehow we seem to have no +common ground to meet on. Father used to say that people who do not +speak the same ethical language cannot communicate moral ideas to each +other. This is rather a high-sounding way of saying that Mrs. Weston and +I cannot understand each other when anything of real importance comes +up. It is of course as much my fault as hers, but I really do not know +how to help or change it. I suppose there is a certain arrogance and +self-righteousness in my feeling that I could direct her, but I am +certainly older and I believe I am wiser. Yet I am not her keeper, and +if to feel that I am not involves me in the cowardice of Cain, I cannot +help it. I am ready to do anything I can do, but what is there? + + +June 11. Still it is George's wife. I dare say a good deal of talk has +been circulating, and I have not heard it. I have been so occupied with +graver matters ever since George was married that I have seen few +people, and have paid little heed to the village talk. To-day old lady +Andrews said her say. She began by reminding me of the conversation we +had had in regard to calling on the bride. + +"I am glad we did it, Ruth," she went on. "It puts us in the right +whatever happens; but she will not do. I shall never ask her to my +house." + +I could say nothing. I knew she was right, but I was so sorry for +George. + +"She is vulgar, Ruth," the sweet old voice went on. "She called a second +time on me yesterday, and I've been only once to see her. She said a +good deal about it's being the duty of us--she said 'us,' my dear,--to +wake up this sleepy old place. I told her that, personally, since she +was good enough to include me with herself, I preferred the town as it +had been." + +I fairly laughed out at the idea of old lady Andrews' delivering this +with well-bred sweetness, and I wondered how far Mrs. Weston perceived +the sarcasm. + +"Did she understand?" I asked. + +"About half, I think, my dear. She saw she had made a mistake, but I +doubt if she quite knew what it was. She was uneasy, and said she +thought those who had a chance ought to make things more lively." + +I asked if Mrs. Weston gave any definite idea how this liveliness was to +be secured. + +"Not very clearly," was the answer. "She said something about hoping +soon to have a larger house so she could entertain properly. Her dress +was dreadfully showy, according to my old-fashioned notions. I am afraid +we are too slow for her, my dear. She will have to make a more modern +society for herself." + +And so the social doom of George's wife is written, as far as I can see. +I can if I choose ask people to meet her, but that will do her little +good when they have looked her over and given her up. They will come to +my house to meet anybody I select, but they will not invite her in their +turn. It is a pity social distinctions should count for so much; but in +Tuskamuck they certainly do. + + +June 12. Mr. Saychase called again this afternoon. He is so thin and so +pale that it is always my inclination to have Hannah bring him something +to eat at once. To-day he had an especially nervous air, and I tried in +vain to set him at his ease. I fear he may have taken it into his head +to try to bring me into the church. He did not, it is true, say anything +directly about religion, but he had an air of having something very +important in reserve which he was not yet ready to speak of. He talked +about the church work as if he expected me to be interested. He would +not have come so soon again if he did not have some particular object. + +It is a pity anything so noble as religion should so often have weak men +to represent it. What is good in religion they do not fairly stand for, +and what is undesirable they somehow make more evident. If superstition +is to be a help, it must appeal to the best feelings, and a weak priest +touches only the weaker side of character. One is not able to receive +him on his merits as a man, but has to excuse him in the name of his +devotion to religion. + +Still, Mr. Saychase is a good man, and he means well with whatever +strength of mind nature endowed him. + + +June 13. Tom came to-day to see baby,--not that he paid much attention +to her when he saw her. It amuses me to find how jealous I am getting +for Tomine, and anxious she shall be treated with deference. I see +myself rapidly growing into a hen-with-one-chicken attitude of mind, but +I do not know how it is to be helped. I exhibited baby this afternoon +with as much pride and as much desire that she should be admired as if +she had been my veriest own, so it was no wonder that Tom laughed at me. + +He was very grave when he came, but little by little the fun-loving +sparkle came into his eyes and a smile grew on his face. + +"You'd make a first rate saleswoman, Ruth," he said, "if you could show +off goods as well as you do babies." + +I suppose I can never meet Tom again with the easy freedom we used to +feel, especially with baby to remind us; but we have been good friends +so long that it is a great comfort to feel something of the old +comradeship to be still possible. + +Tom was so awkward about baby, so unwilling to touch her, that I offered +to put her into his arms. Then he suddenly grew brave. + +"Don't, Ruth," he said. "It hurts you that I can't care for the baby, +but I can't. Perhaps I shall sometime." + +I took Thomasine away without a word, and gave her to Rosa in the +nursery. When I came back to the parlor Tom was in his favorite position +before the window. He wheeled round suddenly when he heard me. + +"You are not angry, Ruth?" he asked. + +"No, Tom," I answered; "only sorry." + +I sat down and took up my sewing, while he walked about the room. He +stopped in front of me after a moment. + +"I wanted to tell you, Ruth," he said, "that I am not going back to New +York." + +I looked at him questioningly, and waited. + +"I had really a good opening there," he went on; "but I thought I ought +not to take it." + +I asked him why. + +"I'll be hanged if I quite know," he responded explosively. "I suppose +it's part obstinacy that makes me too stubborn to run away from +disgrace, and partly it's father. This thing has broken him terribly. +I'm going to stay and help him out." + +I know how Tom hates farming, and I held out my hand to him and said so. + +"I hate everything," he returned desperately; "but it wouldn't be square +to leave him now when he's so cut up on my account." + +We were both of us, I am sure, too moved to have much talk, and Tom did +not stay long. He went off rather abruptly, with hardly a good-by; but I +think I understood. I am glad he has the pluck to stand by poor old +Deacon Daniel; but he must learn to be fond of baby. That will be a +comfort to him. + + +June 15. George seems to me to be almost beside himself. I cannot +comprehend what his wife is doing to him. She has apparently already +come to realize that she is not succeeding in Tuskamuck, and is +determined to conquer by display and showy ways of living. She cannot +know us very well if she supposes that such means will do here. + +Her latest move I find it hard to forgive her. I do not understand how +George can have done it, no matter how much she urged him; but I am of +course profoundly ignorant how such a woman controls a man. I am afraid +one thing which made him attractive to me was that he was so willing to +be influenced, but we see a man in a light entirely different when it is +another woman who shapes his life. What once seemed a fine compliance +takes on a strange appearance of weakness when we are no longer the +moving force; but I think I do myself no more than justice when I feel +that at least I tried always to influence George for his own good. + +Poor Miss Charlotte came over directly after breakfast this morning to +tell me. She had been brooding over it half the night, poor soul, and +her eyes looked actually withered with crying and lack of sleep. + +"I know I exaggerate it," she kept saying, "and of course he didn't mean +to insult me; but to think anybody dared to ask me to sell the house, +the Kendall house that our family has lived in for four generations! It +would have killed my father if he had known I should live to come to +this!" + +I tried to soothe her, and to make her believe that in offering to buy +her house George had thought only of how much he admired it, and not at +all of her feelings, which he could not understand. + +"Of course he could not understand my feelings," Miss Charlotte said, +with a bitterness which I am sure was unconscious. "He never had a +family, and I ought to remember that." + +She grew somewhat more calm as she unburdened her heart. She told me +George had praised the place, and said how much he had always liked it. +He confessed that it was his wife who first suggested the purchase: she +wanted a house where she could entertain and which would be of more +importance than the one in which she lived. + +"He said," Miss Charlotte went on with a strange mingling of pride and +sorrow, "his wife felt that the house in itself would give any family +social standing. I don't know how pleased his wife would be if she knew +he told me, but he said it. He told me she meant to have repairs and +improvements. She must feel as if she owned it already. He said she had +an iron dog stored somewhere that she meant to put on the lawn. Think of +it, Ruth, an iron dog on our old lawn!" + +Then suddenly all the sorrow of her lot seemed to overwhelm her at once, +and she broke down completely. She sobbed so unrestrainedly and with so +complete an abandonment of herself to her grief that I cried with her, +even while I was trying to stop her tears. + +"It isn't just George Weston's coming to ask me to sell the place," she +said; "it is all of it: it's my being so poor I can't keep up the name, +and the family's ending with me, and none of my kin even to bury me. +It's all of the hurts I've got from life, Ruth; and it's growing so old +I've no strength any longer to bear them. Oh, it's having to keep on +living when I want to be dead!" + +I threw my arms about her, and kissed the tears from her wrinkled +cheeks, though there were about as many on my own. + +"Don't," I begged her, "don't, dear Miss Charlotte. You break my heart! +We are all of us your kin, and you know we love you dearly." + +She returned my embrace convulsively, and tried to check her sobbing. + +"I know it's cowardly," she got out brokenly. "It's cowardly and wicked. +I never broke down so before. I won't, Ruth dear. Just give me a little +time." + +Dear Miss Charlotte! I made her stay with me all day; and indeed she was +in no condition to do anything else. I got her to take a nap in the +afternoon, and when she went home she was once more her own brave self. +She said good-night with one of her clumsy joking speeches. + +"Good-by, my dear," she said; "the next time I come I'll try not to be +so much like the waterworks girl that had a creek in her back and a +cataract in each eye." + +She is always facetious when she does not quite trust herself to be +serious. And I, who do not dare to trust myself to think about George +and his wife, had better stop writing. + + +June 17. Deacon Richards presented himself at twilight, and found me +sitting alone out on the doorsteps. I watched his tall figure coming up +the driveway, bent with age a little, but still massive and vigorous; +and somehow by the time he was near enough to speak, I felt that I had +caught his mood. He smiled broadly as he greeted me. + +"Where's the baby?" he demanded. "I supposed I should find you giving it +its supper." + +"There isn't any 'it' in this house," was my retort; "and as for baby's +supper, you are just as ignorant as a man always is. Any woman would +know that babies are put to bed long before this." + +He grinned down upon me from his height. + +"How should I know what time it went to bed?" he asked, with a laugh in +his voice. "I never raised a baby. I've come to talk about it, though." + +"Look here, Deacon Daniel," I cried out, with affected indignation, "I +will not have my baby called 'it,' as if she were a stick or a stock!" + +He laughed outright at this; then at my invitation sat down beside me. +We were silent for a time, looking at the color fading in the west, and +the single star swimming out of the purple as the sky changed into gray. +The frogs were working at their music with all the persistence of a +child strumming five-finger exercises, but their noise only made the +evening more peaceful. + +"How restful it is," I said to him at last; "it almost makes one feel +there can never be any fretting again about anything." + +Deacon Daniel did not answer for a moment, then he said with the +solemnity of one who seldom puts sentiment into words,-- + +"It is like the Twenty-third Psalm." + +I simply assented, and then we were silent again, until at last he moved +as if he were waking himself, and sighed. I always wonder whether +somewhere in the past Deacon Richards has had his romance, and if so +what it may have been. If he has, a night like this might well bring it +up to his memory. I am glad if it comes to him with the peace of a +psalm. + +"Have you thought, Miss Ruth," the Deacon asked at length in the +growing dark, "what a responsibility you are taking upon yourself in +having that baby?" + +It was like the dear old man to have considered me and to look at the +moral side of the question. He wanted to help me, I could see; and of +course he cannot understand how entirely religious one may be without +theology. I told him I had thought of it very seriously; and it seemed +to me sometimes that it was more than I was equal to. But I added that I +could not help thinking I could do better by baby than Mrs. Webbe. + +"Mrs. Webbe is no sort of a woman to bring up a child," he agreed. Then +he added, with a shrewdness that surprised me a little: "Babies have got +to be given baby-treatment as well as baby-food." + +"Of course they have," was my reply. "Babies have a right to love as +well as to milk, and poor little Thomasine would get very little from +her grandmother." + +Deacon Daniel gave a contemptuous snort. + +"That woman couldn't really love anything," he declared; "or if she did +she'd show it by being hateful." + +I said she certainly loved Tom. + +"Yes," he retorted; "and she's nagged him to death. For my part I can't +more than half blame Tom Webbe as I ought to, when I think of his having +had his mother to thorn him everlastingly." + +"Then you do think it's better for baby to be with me than with her +grandmother?" I asked him. + +"It's a hundred times better, of course; but I wondered if you'd thought +of the responsibility of its--of her religious instruction." + +We had come to the true kernel of the Deacon's errand. I really believe +that in his mind was more concern for me than for baby. He is always +unhappy that I am not in the fold of the church; and I fancy that more +or less consciously he was making of Thomasine an excuse for an attempt +to reach me. It is not difficult to understand his feeling. Mother used +to affirm that believers are anxious to proselyte because they cannot +bear to have anybody refuse to acknowledge that they are right. This is +not, I am sure, the whole of it. Of course no human being likes to be +thought wrong, especially on a thing which, like religion, cannot be +proved; but there is a good deal of genuine love in the attempt of a man +like Deacon Daniel to convert an unbeliever. He is really grieved for +me, and I would do anything short of actual dishonesty to make him +suppose that I believed as he would have me. I should so like him to be +happy about my eternal welfare. When the future does not in the least +trouble me, it seems such a pity that he should be disturbed. + +I told him to-night I should not give baby what he would call religious +instruction, but I should never interfere if others should teach her, if +they made what is good attractive. + +"But you would tell her that religion isn't true," he objected. + +"Oh, no;" I answered. "I should have to be honest, and tell her if she +asked that I don't believe we know anything about another life; but of +course as far as living in this one goes I shouldn't disagree with +religion." + +He tried to argue with me, but I entirely refused to be led on. + +"Deacon Daniel," I told him, "I know it is all in your kindness for me +that you would talk, but I refuse to have this beautiful summer evening +wasted on theology. You couldn't convince me, and I don't in the least +care about convincing you. I am entirely content that you should believe +your way, and I am entirely satisfied with mine. Now I want to talk with +you about our having a reading-room next winter." + +So I got him to another subject, and what is better I think I really +interested him in my scheme of opening a free library. If we can once +get that to working it will be a great help to the young men and boys. +"The time seems to have come in human development," I remember Father's +saying not long before he died, "when men must be controlled by the +broadening instead of by the narrowing of their minds." + + +June 18. I have been considering why it is that I have had so much said +to me this spring about religion. People have not been in the habit of +talking to me about it much. They have come to let me go my own way. I +suppose the fact of Mother's death has brought home to them that I do +not think in their way. How a consistent and narrow man can look at the +situation I have had a painful illustration in Mr. Thurston. If Kathie +had not pushed him into a corner by asking him about Mother, I doubt if +he could have gone to the length he did; but after all any really +consistent believer must take the view that I am doomed to eternal +perdition. I am convinced that few really do believe anything of the +sort, but they think that they do, and so baby and I have been a centre +of religious interest. + +Another phase of this interest has shown itself in Mr. Saychase's +desire to baptize Thomasine. I wonder if I had better put my preferences +in my pocket, and let the thing be done. It offends my sense of right +that a human being should have solemn vows made for her before she can +have any notions of what all this means; but if one looks at the whole +as simply promises on the part of adults that they will try to have the +child believe certain things and follow certain good ways of living, +there is no great harm in it. I suppose Deacon Webbe and his wife would +be pleased. I will let Tom decide the matter. + + +June 21. I met Tom in the street to-day, and he absolutely refuses to +have baby christened. + +"I'll have no mummeries over any child of mine," he declared. "I've had +enough of that humbug to last me a lifetime." + +I could not help saying I wished he were not so bitter. + +"I can't help it, Ruth," was his retort. "I am bitter. I've been banged +over the head with religion ever since I was born, and told that I was +'a child of the covenant' till I hate the very thought of the whole +business. Whatever you do, don't give anybody the right to twit +Thomasine with being 'a child of the covenant.' She has enough to bear +in being the child of her parents." + +"Don't, Tom," I begged him. "You hurt me." + +Without thinking what I did I put my hand on his arm. He brushed it +lightly with his fingers, looking at it in a way that almost brought +tears to my eyes. I took it off quickly, but I could not face him, and I +got away at once. Poor Tom! He is so lonely and so faithful. I am so +sorry that he will keep on caring for me like that. No woman is really +good enough not to tremble at the thought of absorbing the devotion of a +strong man; and it seems wicked that I should not love Tom. + + +June 25. The rose I transplanted to Mother's grave is really, I believe, +going to bloom this very summer. I am glad the blossoms on Father's +should have an echo on hers. + + +June 29. Babies and diaries do not seem to go very well together. There +is no tangible reason why I should not write after the small person is +asleep, for that is the time I have generally taken; but the fact is I +sit working upon some of Tomine's tiny belongings, or now and then sit +in the dark and think about her. My journal has been a good friend, but +I am afraid its nose is out of joint. Baby has taken its place. I begin +to see I made this book a sort of safety-valve for poor spirits and +general restlessness. Now I have this sweet human interest in my life I +do not need to resort to pen and ink for companionship. The dear little +rosy image of Thomasine is with me all the time I seem to be sitting +alone. + + +June 30. Last night I felt as if I was done with relieving my mind by +writing in an unresponsive journal; to-night I feel as if I must have +just this outlet to my feelings. Last night I thought of baby; to-night +I am troubled about her father. + +I saw Tom this afternoon at work in the hayfield, looking so brown and +so handsome that it was a pleasure to see him. He had the look of a man +who finds work just the remedy for heart-soreness, and I was happy in +thinking he was getting into tune with wholesome life. I was so pleased +that I took the footpath across the field as a mere excuse to speak to +him, and I thought he would have been glad to see me. I came almost up +to him before he would notice me, although I think he must have seen me +long before. He took off his hat as I came close to him, and wiped his +forehead. + +"Tom," I said at once, "I came this way just to say how glad I am to see +you look as if you were getting contented with your work. You were +working with such a will." + +I do not know that it was a tactful speech, but I was entirely +unprepared for the shadow which came over his face. + +"I was trying to get so completely tired out that I should sleep like a +log to-night," he answered. + +Before anything else could be said Deacon Daniel came up, and the talk +for the rest was of the weather, and the hay, and nothings. I came away +as sad as I had before been pleased. I can understand that Tom is sore +in his heart. He is dominant, and his life is made up of things which he +hates; he is ambitious, and he is fond of pleasure. He has no pleasure, +and he can see nothing before him but staying on with his father. It is +true enough that it is his own fault. He has never been willing to stick +to work, and the keenest of his regrets must be about his own ill-doing. +He is so generous, however, and so manly and kind that I cannot bear to +see him grow hard and sad and bitter. Yet what can I do to help it? +Certainly this is another case for asking if I am my brother's keeper. I +am afraid that I was resigned not to be the keeper of Mrs. Weston, but +with Tom it is different. Poor Tom! + + + + +VII + +JULY + + +July 2. Thomasine is legally my daughter. It gives me an odd feeling to +find myself really a parent. George and Tom met here this forenoon with +the papers, and all necessary formalities were gone through with. It was +not a comfortable time for any of us, I fancy; and I must own that +George acted strangely. He was out of spirits, and was but barely civil +to Tom. He has never liked the idea of my having Thomasine, and has +tried two or three times to persuade me to give her up. I have refused +to discuss the question with him, because it was really settled already. +To-day he came before Tom, and made one more protest. + +"You can keep the child if you are so determined," he said, "though why +you should want to I can't conceive; but why need you adopt it? It +hasn't any claim on you." + +I told him that she had the claim that I loved her dearly. He looked at +me with an expression more unkind than I had ever seen in his face. + +"How much is it for her father's sake?" he burst out. + +The words, offensive as they were, were less so than the manner. + +"A good deal," I answered him soberly. "I have been his friend from the +time we were both children." + +He moved in his chair uneasily. + +"Look here, Ruth," he said; "you've no occasion to be offended because I +hint at what everybody else will say." + +I asked what that was. + +"You are angry," was his response. "When you put on your grand air it is +no use to argue with you; but I've made up my mind to be plain. +Everybody says you took the baby because you are fond of him." + +I could feel myself stiffening in manner with every word, but I could +not help it. I had certainly a right to be offended; but I tried to +speak as naturally as I could. + +"I don't know, George," was my reply, "what business it is of +everybody's; and if it were, why should I not be fond of Tom?" + +He flushed and scowled, and got up from his seat. + +"Oh, if you take it that way," he answered, "of course there's nothing +more for me to say." + +I was hurt and angry, but before anything more could be said Rosa showed +Tom in. He said good-morning to George stiffly, but Tom is always +instinctively polite, I think. George had toward him an air plainly +unfriendly. I do not understand why George should feel as he does about +my adopting Thomasine, but in any case he has no right to behave as he +did. I felt between the two men as if I were hardly able to keep the +peace, and as if on the slightest provocation, George would fly out. It +was absurd, of course, but the air seemed to be full of unfriendliness. + +"I suppose we need not be very long over business," I said, trying with +desperation to speak brightly. "I've been over the papers, Tom, and I +can assure you they are all right. I'm something of a lawyer, you +know." + +George interposed, as stiffly as possible, that he must urge me to have +the instrument read aloud, in order that I might realize what I was +doing. I assured him I knew perfectly what the paper was, even if it +were called an instrument. + +"Ruth is entirely right," Tom put in emphatically. "There is not the +slightest need of dragging things out." + +"I can understand that you naturally would not want any delay," George +retorted sharply. + +Tom turned and looked at him with an expression which made George change +color, but before anything worse could be said, I hurried to ask Tom to +ring for Rosa to act as a witness. I looked in my turn at George, and I +think he understood how indignant I was. + +"It's outrageous for you to burden yourself with his brat," George +muttered under his breath as Tom went across the room to the bell-rope. + +"You forget that you are speaking of my daughter," I answered him, with +the most lofty air I could manage to assume. + +He turned on his heel with an angry exclamation, and no more objections +were made. George never showed me this unpleasant side of his character +before in all the years I have known him. For the moment he behaved like +a cad, like nothing else than a cad. Something very serious must have +been troubling him. He must have been completely unstrung before he +could be so disagreeable. + +Rosa came in, and the signing was done. After the business was finished +George lingered as if he wished to speak with me. Very likely he wished +to apologize, but my nerves were not in tune for more talk with him, +and in any case it was better to ignore all that had been unpleasant. + +"You have no more business, have you, George?" I asked him directly. +"Tom of course will want to see the daughter he has given away. I didn't +let him see her first for fear he'd refuse to part with her." + +George had no excuse for staying after that, and he was just leaving the +room when Rosa reappeared with Tomine. The darling looked like a cherub, +and was in a mood truly angelic. George scowled at her as if the dear +little thing had done him some wrong, and hurried away. I do not +understand how he could resist my darling, or why he should feel so +about her. It is, I suppose, friendship for me; but he should realize a +little what a blessing baby is to my lonely life. + +Tom stood silent when Rosa took Thomasine up to him. He did not offer to +touch the tiny pink face, and I could fancy how many thoughts must go +through his mind as he looked. While he might not regret the dead woman, +indeed, while he could hardly be other than glad that Julia was not +alive, he must have some feeling about her which goes very deep. I +should think any man who was not wholly hard must have some tenderness +toward the mother of his child, no matter who or what she was. It moves +even me, to think of such a feeling; and I could not look at Tom as he +stood there with the living child to remind him of the dead mother. + +It seemed a long time that he looked at baby, and we were all as quiet +as if we had been at prayer. Then Tom of his own accord kissed Tomine. +He has never done it before except as I have asked him. He came over to +me and held out his hand. + +"I must go back to haying," he said. Then he held my hand a minute, and +looked into my eyes. "Make her as much like yourself as you can, Ruth," +he added; "and God bless you." + +The tears came into my eyes at his tone, and blinded me. Before I could +see clearly, he was gone. I hope he understood that I appreciated the +generosity of his words. + + +July 3. I am troubled by the thought of yesterday. George went away so +evidently out of sympathy with what I had done, and very likely thinking +I was unfriendly, that it seems almost as if I had really been unkind. I +must do something to show him that I am the same as ever. Perhaps the +best thing will be to have his wife to tea. My mourning has prevented my +doing anything for them, and secretly, I am ashamed to say, this has +been a relief. I can ask them quietly, however, without other guests. + + +July 8. I feel a little as if I had been shaken up by an earthquake, but +I am apparently all here and unhurt. Day before yesterday Cousin +Mehitable descended upon me in the wake of her usual telegram, +determined to bear me away to Europe, despite, as she said, all the +babies that ever were born. She had arranged my passage, fixed the date, +engaged state-rooms, and cabled for a courier-maid to meet us at +Southampton; and now I had, she insisted, broken up all her +arrangements. + +"It's completely ungrateful, Ruth," she declared. "Here I have been +slaving to have everything ready so the trip would go smoothly for you. +I've done absolutely every earthly thing that I could think of, and now +you won't go. You've no right to back out. It's treating me in a way I +never was treated in my whole life. It's simply outrageous." + +I attempted to remind her that she had been told of my decision to stay +at home long before she had made any of her arrangements; but she +refused to listen. + +"I could bear it better," she went on, "if you had any decent excuse; +but it's nothing but that baby. I must say I think it's a pretty severe +reflection on me when you throw me over for any stray baby that happens +to turn up." + +I tried again to put in a protest, but the tide of Cousin Mehitable's +indignation is not easily stemmed. + +"To think of your turning Cousin Horace's house into a foundling +hospital!" she exclaimed. "Why don't you put up a sign? Twenty babies +wouldn't be any worse than one, and you'd be able to make a martyr of +yourself to some purpose. Oh, I've no patience with you!" + +I laughed, and assured her that there was no sort of doubt of the truth +of her last statement; so then she changed her tone and begged me not to +be so obstinate. + +Of course I could not yield, for I cannot desert baby; and in the end +Cousin Mehitable was forced to give me up as incorrigible. Then she +declared I should not triumph over her, and she would have me know that +there were two people ready and just dying to take my place. I knew she +could easily find somebody. + +The awkward thing about this visit was that Cousin Mehitable should be +here just when I had asked the Westons to tea. I always have a late +dinner for Cousin Mehitable, although Hannah regards such a perversion +of the usual order of meals as little less than immoral; and so George +and his wife found a more ceremonious repast than I had intended. I +should have liked better to have things in their usual order, for I +feared lest Mrs. Weston might not be entirely at her ease. I confess I +had not supposed she might think I was endeavoring to impress her with +my style of living until she let it out so plainly that I could not by +any possibility mistake her meaning. She evidently wished me to know +that she saw through my device; and of course I made no explanations. + +It was an uncomfortable meal. Cousin Mehitable refused to be +conciliating. She examined the bride through her lorgnette, and I could +see that Mrs. Weston was angered while she was apparently fascinated. +George was taciturn, and I could not make things go smoothly, though I +tried with all my might. By the time the guests went, I felt that my +nerves were fiddlestrings. + +"Well," Cousin Mehitable pronounced, as soon as the door had closed +behind them, "of all the dowdy frumps I ever saw, she is the worst. I +never saw anybody so overdressed." + +"She was overdressed," I assented; "but you behaved horribly. You +frightened her into complete shyness." + +"Shyness! Humph!" was her response. "She has no more shyness than a +brass monkey. That's vulgar, of course, Ruth. I meant it to be to match +the subject." + +I put in a weak defense of Mrs. Weston, although I honestly do find her +a most unsatisfactory person. She is self-conscious, and somehow she +does not seem to me to be very frank. Very likely, moreover, she had +been disconcerted by the too evident snubs of my unmanageable cousin. + +"If I snubbed her," was the uncompromising rejoinder with which a +suggestion of this sort was met, "I'm sure I am not ashamed of it. To +think of her saying that you evidently wanted to show Tuskamuck how to +do things in style! Does she think any person with style would let her +into the house?" + +I thanked her for the compliment to me. + +"Oh, bother!" she retorted. "You are only a goose, with no sense at all. +To think you once thought of marrying that country booby yourself!" + +I was too much hurt to reply, and probably my face showed my feeling, +for Cousin Mehitable burst into a laugh. + +"You needn't look so grumpy about it," she cried. "All's well that ends +well. You're safely out of that, thank heaven!" + +I felt that loyalty to George required that I should protest, but she +interrupted me. + +"Don't be a humbug, Ruth," she said; "and for pity's sake don't be such +a fool as to try to humbug yourself. You're not a sentimental schoolgirl +to moon after a man, especially when he's shown what his taste is by +taking up with such a horror as Mrs. Weston." + +"I am fond of him," I asserted, stubbornly enough. + +She seized me by the shoulders, and looked with her quick black eyes +into mine so that I felt as if she could see down to my very toes. + +"Can you look me in the face, Ruth Privet, and tell me you really care +for a man who could marry that ignorant, vulgar, dowdy woman just for +her pretty face? Can you fool yourself into thinking that you haven't +had a lucky escape from a man that's in every way your inferior? You +know you have! Why, can you honestly think now for a moment of marrying +him without feeling your backbone all gooseflesh?" + +Fortunately she did not insist upon my answering her, but shook me and +let me go. I doubt if I could have borne to have her press her +questions. I was suddenly conscious that George has changed or that my +idea of him has altered; and that if he were still single, I could not +marry him under any circumstances. + +Cousin Mehitable went home this morning, but her talk has been in my +mind all day. + +It comes over me that I have lost more than George. His loving another +did not deprive me of the power or the right to love him, and his +marriage simply set him away from my life. In some other life, if there +be one, I might have always been sure he would come back to me. I cannot +help knowing I fed his higher nature, and I helped him to grow, while +his wife appeals to something lower, even if it is more natural and +human. I felt that in some other possible existence he would see more +clearly, and she would no longer satisfy him. Now I begin to feel that I +have lost more than I knew. I have lost not only him, but I have +lost--no, I cannot have lost my love for him. It is only that to-night I +am foolish. It is rainy, dreary, hopeless; and seeing Mrs. Weston +through Cousin Mehitable's eyes has put things all askew. + +Yet why not put it down fearlessly, since I have begun? If I am to write +at all it should be the truth. I am beginning to see that the man I +loved was not George Weston so much as a creature I conjured up in his +image. I see him now in a colder, a more sane light, and I find that I +am not looking at the man who filled my heart and thought. He has +somehow changed. This would be a comfort to some, I suppose. I see now +how Mother felt about him. She never thought him what he seemed to me, +and she always believed that sooner or later I should be disappointed in +him. I should not have been disappointed if I had married him--I think! +Yet now I see how he is under the influence of his wife--But no, it is +not her influence only; I see him now, I fear, as he is when he is free +to act his true self, unmoved by the desire to be what I would have had +him. He was influenced by me. I knew it from the very first, and I see +with shame how proud of it I was. Yet it gave me a chance to help him, +to grow with him, to feel that we were together developing and +advancing. Oh, dear, how cold and superior, and conceited it sounds now +it is on paper! It truly was not that I thought I was above him; but it +is surely the part of a woman to inspire her lover and to grow into +something better with him. Now it seems as if whatever George did he did +for me, and not because of any inner love for growth. He appears now +less worthy by just so much as what he was seems to me higher than what +he is. I have lost what he was. It is cruel that I cannot find the +George I cared for. It is hard to believe he existed only in my mind. + + +July 9. I have been reading over what I wrote last night. It troubles +me, and it has a most self-righteous flavor; but I cannot see that it is +not true. It troubles me because it is true. I remember that I wondered +when George tired of me if the same would have come about if we had +married. Am I so changeable that if I had been his wife I should have +tried him by my severe standards, and then judged him unworthy? I begin +to think the Pharisees were modest and self-distrustful as compared to +self-righteous me. It is terribly puzzling. If I were his wife I should +surely feel that my highest duty was to help him, to bring out whatever +is best in him. I think I should have been too absorbed in this ever to +have discovered that I was idealizing him. Now I am far enough away from +him to see him clearly. The worse part of him has come out; and very +likely I am not above a weak feminine jealousy which makes me incapable +of doing him justice. I believe if I had been his wife I might have kept +him--Yet he was already tired of my influence! + +Such speculations are pretty unprofitable work. The only thing to keep +in mind now is that he is my friend, and that it is for me to do still +whatever I can for him. I confess that Cousin Mehitable is right. I am +no longer sorry I did not marry George, but I still care for him +sincerely, and mean to serve him in every way possible. + + +July 12. Miss Charlotte came in this morning while I was playing with +Tomine, and hailed me as a mother in Israel. She is a great admirer of +baby, but she declines to touch her. + +"I'm too big and too rough," she says. "I know I should drop her or +break her, or forget she isn't a plant, and go to snipping her with my +pruning-shears. You'd better keep her. You've the motherly way with +you." + +It must please any woman to be told that she has the motherly way, and +just now I certainly need it. Miss Charlotte came to talk with me about +Kathie. The poor child has been growing more and more morbid all summer, +and I do not see what is to be done for her. I have tried to comfort and +help her, but as her troubles are religious I am all but helpless. + +Miss Charlotte went over the Cove yesterday on one of her roving tramps +in the woods,--"bushwhacking," as she calls it,--and found Kathie +roaming about in Elder's Cut-down, wringing her hands and crying aloud +like a mad thing. + +"You can't tell what a start it gave me, Ruth," she said. "I heard her, +and I thought of wild beasts and wild Indians, and all sorts of horrors. +Then when I saw her, I didn't know her at first. Her hair was all +tousled up, and she wrung her hands in the craziest way." + +"Did you speak to her?" I asked. + +"I couldn't. She ran away as soon as I called to her. She'll end in a +lunatic asylum if you don't get hold of her." + +I could only shake my head. + +"What can I do, Miss Charlotte?" I asked her. "The trouble is she is +half crazy about sin and judgment, and things of that sort that I don't +even believe in at all. What can I say? You don't want me to tell her +her father's religion is a mistake, I suppose." + +Miss Charlotte smiled serenely, and regarded me with a look of much +sweet kindliness. + +"You're a fearful heathen, Ruth," was her response, "but you have a fine +wheedling way with you. Couldn't you persuade her she's too young to +think about such things?" + +"I've tried something of the kind, but she says she is not too young to +die. She is like a child out of an old memoir. She isn't of our time at +all. We read of that sort of a girl, but I supposed they all died a +hundred years ago." + +"I doubt if there ever were such girls," Miss Charlotte returned with +candor; "except once in a very great while. I think the girls of the +memoirs were very much like the rest of us most of the time. They +probably had spells of being like Kathie. The difference is that she is +at boiling point all the time." + +"Of course it's her father," I said thoughtfully. + +"Yes," she assented. "He's such a rampant Methodist." + +I could not help the shadow of a smile, and when she saw it Miss +Charlotte could no more help smiling in her turn. + +"Of course you think it's a case of the pot's calling the kettle black," +she said, "but the Methodists do make such a business of frightening +folks out of their wits. We don't do that." + +I let this pass, and asked if she couldn't make some practical +suggestion for the treatment of Kathie. + +"I can't tell you how to dilute her Methodism," she returned with a +shrewd twinkle in her eye. "You must know the way better than I do." + +I am troubled and perplexed. I have so many times wondered what I ought +to do about talking to Kathie. I have always felt that the fact her +father trusted her with me put me on my honor not to say things to her +of which he would not approve. It seemed unwise, too, for the child to +have any more turmoil in her brain than is there already; and I know +that to make her doubt would be to drive her half distracted. The +question is whether she has not really begun to doubt already, and needs +to be helped to think fearlessly. She is a strange survival from another +century. Our grandmothers used to agonize over sin, it is claimed, +although I think Miss Charlotte is probably right when she says they +were after all a good deal like us. At any rate they were brought up to +dread eternal punishment, but it is astonishing to find anybody now who +receives this as anything but a theory. Belief in the old creeds would +seem impossible in these days except in a conventional and remote +fashion; and yet Kathie takes it all with the desperation of two hundred +years ago. If she were to listen to a suggestion of using her creed less +like a hair-shirt, she would feel she had committed an appalling +transgression. She is only a baby after all, and heaven knows what +business she has with creeds anyway. I would as soon think of giving +Tomine dynamite bombs to play with. + +I said something of this sort to Miss Charlotte, and she agreed with me +that Kathie ought not to brood over theologic questions, but she thought +even a child ought, as she put it, instinctively falling into the +conventional phraseology of the church, to make her peace with God. I am +so glad that nobody ever put it into my childish head that I could ever +be at war with God. + +Peter has made a leap to the table, and set his foot on my wet writing. +Evidently he thinks it foolish to waste time in this sort of scribbling; +but I do wish I knew what I can do and what I ought to do. + + +July 15. Deacon Daniel Webbe came this afternoon to see his +granddaughter. Mrs. Webbe--had forbidden him, I was about to write, but +perhaps that is not fair. He only said she thought he had better not +come, and he tried clumsily to hint that he hoped I would not betray +him. It was touching to see him, he was so much moved by the beauty and +the daintiness of baby, and by all the thoughts he must have had about +Tom. He said little, only that he spoke with a good deal of feeling of +how good it is in Tom to stay at home and take charge of the farm; but +tears were in his patient eyes, and he looked at Tomine with a glance so +pathetic that I had to go away to wipe my own. + +I find that having baby here naturally keeps my thoughts a good deal on +Tom and his possible future. I can't help the feeling that I owe him +some sort of reparation for the devotion he has given me all these +years. Surely a woman owes a man something for his caring for her so, +even if she cannot feel in the same way toward him. Tom has always been +a part of my life. We were boy and girl together long before I knew +George. When the Westons moved here, I must have been ten or twelve +years old; and I never knew George until Father took him into the +office. It was the winter Father had first been ill, and he had to have +an assistant at once. I remember perfectly the excellent reports Father +got from some office in Boston where George had been, and these decided +him. He had been inclined not to like George at the beginning. I think I +first became interested in George through defending him. + +George always seemed rather to prefer that I should not know his people, +and this struck me as strange. The less admirable they were the more Tom +would have insisted upon my knowing them. Dear old Tom! How many times +he has told me of his own faults, and never of his good deeds. He is +certainly one of the most stubbornly honest creatures alive. + +Tom and George are about as different as two mortals could be. George +has very little of Tom's frankness, and he has not much of Tom's +independence. Father used to declare that George would always be led by +a woman, but would never own it to himself. I wonder if this is true. He +is being led now by his wife. I fancy, though, he has no idea of such a +thing. Tom would lead wherever he was. + +I have rambled far enough away from Deacon Daniel and the baby. I do +hope Tomine will have her father's honesty. If she have that, other +things may be got over. Deacon Daniel spoke of her having her father's +eyes, and she could hardly have Tom's eyes and not be straightforward. + + +July 20. Mr. Saychase has taken to frequent pastoral visitations of +late. He probably feels now that the moral welfare of baby is involved +he must be especially active. I wish he did not bore me so, for he comes +often, and I do wish to be friendly. + +To-night he seemed rather oddly interested in my plans for the future. + +"I hope that you mean to remain in Tuskamuck," he said. "Some folks +think you are likely to move to Boston." + +I told him that I had no such intention, and reminded him that baby made +a new bond between me and the place. + +"Oh, the baby," he responded, it seemed to me rather blankly. "You mean, +I presume, that you contemplate keeping the infant." + +"Keeping her?" I responded. "Why, I have adopted her." + +"I heard so," Mr. Saychase admitted; "but I did not credit the report. I +suppose you will place her in some sort of a home." + +"Yes," I answered; "in my home." + +He flushed a little, and as he was my guest I set myself to put him at +his ease. But I should like to understand why everybody is so determined +that Tomine shall be sent to a "Home." + + +July 21. I went to see old lady Andrews to-day. She was as sweet and +dear as ever, and as immaculate as if she had just been taken out of +rose-leaves and lavender. She never has a hair of her white curls out of +place, and her cheeks are at seventy-five pinker than mine. I like to +see her in her own house, for she seems to belong to the time of the +antique furniture, so entirely is she in harmony with it. I get a fresh +sense of virtue every time I look at her beautiful old laces. I wonder +if the old masters ever painted angels in thread laces; if not it was a +great oversight. Dear old lady Andrews, she has had enough sorrow in her +life to embitter any common mortal; her husband, her two sons, and her +near kin are all dead before her; but she is too sweet and fine to +degenerate. When sorrow does not sour, how it softens and ennobles. + +Old lady Andrews was greatly interested about baby, and we gossiped of +her in a delightful way for half an hour. + +"It pleases me very much, Ruth," she said at last, "to see how motherly +you are. I never had any doubt about you at all except that I wondered +whether you could really mother a baby. I knew you would love it, and +be kind, of course; but babies ought to have motherliness if they are +really to thrive." + +I flushed with pleasure, and asked if she meant that she had thought me +cut out for an old maid. + +"If I did," she answered, with that smile of hers which always makes me +want to kiss her on the spot, "I shall never think so again. You've the +genuine mother-instinct." + +She looked at me a moment as if questioning with herself. + +"The truth is," she went on, as if she had made up her mind to say the +whole, "you have been for years making an intellectual interest do +instead of real love, and of course your manner showed it." + +I could not ask her what she meant, though I only half understood, and I +wished to hear more. She grew suddenly more serious, and spoke in a +lower tone. + +"Ruth," she asked, "I am an old woman, and I am fond of you. May I say +something that may sound impertinent?" + +Of course I told her she might say anything, and that I knew she could +not be impertinent. I could not think what was coming. She leaned +forward, and put her thin hand on mine, the little Tennant hand with its +old-fashioned rings. + +"It is just this, Ruth. Be careful whom you marry. I'm so afraid you'll +marry somebody out of charity. At least don't think of being a parson's +wife." + +"A parson's wife?" I echoed stupidly, not in the least seeing what she +meant. + +"That would be worse than to take up with the prodigal son," she added, +not heeding my interrogation; "though it does seem to me, my dear, that +you are too good to be just served up like a fatted calf in honor of his +return." + +I stared at her with bewilderment so complete that she burst into a soft +laugh, as mellow as her old laces. + +"I am speaking parables, of course, and it's no matter now about the +prodigal. I only wanted to suggest that you are not just the wife for +Mr. Saychase, and"-- + +"Mr. Saychase!" I burst out, interrupting her, I think, for the first +time in my life. "Why, who ever thought of anything so preposterous?" + +"Oh, you innocent!" she laughed. "I knew you'd be the last one to see +it, and I wanted to warn you so that he need not take you entirely by +surprise. He is my pastor, and a very good man in his way; but he isn't +our kind, my dear." + +I sat staring at her in a sort of daze, while I suddenly remembered how +much Mr. Saychase has been to see me lately, and how self-conscious he +has seemed sometimes. I had not a word to say, even in protest, and old +lady Andrews having, I suppose, accomplished all she wished in warning +me, dropped the subject entirely, and turned back to Thomasine's doings +and welfare. + +The idea that Mr. Saychase has been thinking of me as a possible +helpmate is certainly ludicrous. I believe thoroughly any girl should +"thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love," but in this case I do +not see how love comes into the question at all. I cannot help feeling +that he would intellectually be the sort of a husband to put into a +quart-pot, there to bid him drum, and at least he will lose no sleep +from a blighted passion for me. Certainly I should be intellectually +starved if I had to live with him. He is not naturally a man of much +power of thinking, I suppose, and he has never cultivated the habit. One +cannot help seeing that whatever his original capabilities they have +been spoiled by his profession. A minister, Father said to me once, must +either be so spiritual that his creed has no power to restrain him, or a +poor crippled thing, pathetic because the desire of rising has made him +hamper himself with vows. I think I understand what he meant, and I am +afraid Mr. Saychase is of the latter sort: a man who meant well, and so +pledged himself always to cling to the belief the church had made for +him, no matter what higher light might come into his life. He is to be +pitied,--though he would not understand why. He could hardly care for +anybody so far from his way of thinking as I am, so old lady Andrews +cannot be right there. + + +July 25. George is having his house enlarged. Mrs. Weston is certainly +energetic, with what is perhaps a Western energy. She has been married +only about four months. George told me the other day that he meant to +make the house larger. + +"Gertrude wants a bigger parlor," he explained, rather ill at ease, I +thought. "The house is big enough for me, but when a man has a wife +things are different." + +There was a labored playfulness in his manner which troubled me. He has +bought a phaeton and pony for her. I hope that he is not going beyond +his means. As for a larger parlor, I am afraid that Mrs. Weston will +have to fill it with rather odd people. + + +July 27. Kathie has shown a new side to her character which troubles me. +It is all, I suppose, part of her morbid, unhinged condition, but it is +unpleasant. She has conceived a violent jealousy of baby. She refuses to +stay in the house if I have Thomasine with me. This afternoon I had sent +for her to come over and stay to tea. She came in about five, with a +wild look in her eyes which she has almost all the time now. She sat +down without saying anything, and began to pull the roses in a bowl on +the table to pieces, scattering the petals on the floor. + +I laughingly told her that she evidently thought she was in the woods +where roses grew wild and there were no rugs. Instead of answering me, +or apologizing, she looked at me strangely, and for a moment said +nothing. + +"Are you going to have baby brought down here this afternoon?" she +demanded at last. + +I said Tomine was out with Rosa, but that I expected them in soon, as it +was almost time for baby's supper. + +"Will she come in here?" Kathie asked. + +"Oh, yes," was my reply. "You will see her. Never fear." + +"Then I may as well go home now," observed this astounding child, +rising, and going deliberately toward the door. + +"What in the world do you mean?" I cried out, completely taken by +astonishment. + +"I never will stay in the room with her again," Kathie responded +emphatically. "I just hate her!" + +I could only stare at her. + +"You're all taken up with her now," Kathie continued. "You used to like +me, but now it's all that baby. I'm much obliged to you for inviting me +to supper, but I can't stay any longer if she's coming." + +If anybody could make me understand whether Kathie is sane or not I +should have more confidence in attempting to deal with her. To-day I +felt as if I were dealing with a mad creature, and that it was idle to +try to do anything. It seemed to me it would be a pity to treat the +matter too seriously, and I tried to act as if I thought she was merely +joking. I laughingly told her that the idea was one of the funniest I +ever heard, and that we must tell baby when she came in, to see if we +could make the small person laugh. Kathie received my remarks with +unmoved seriousness. + +"It isn't a joke at all, Miss Ruth," she said, with an uncanny air which +was most uncomfortable, but which in some indefinable way gave me for +the first time in all my dealings with the girl a sort of hint that she +was partly acting. "It is just my wicked heart. I hate"-- + +I interrupted her briskly. + +"Your wicked fiddlesticks, Kathie!" I said. "Don't talk nonsense. What +time has been settled on for the church fair?" + +She was so taken aback that she had no defense ready, and after a sort +of gasp of amazement she answered my question, and said no more about +her wickedness. Baby came in with Rosa, and Kathie behaved as usual, +only I remember now that she did not offer to touch Tomine. I went +upstairs for a moment with Rosa and baby to see if everything was right, +and when I went back to the parlor my guest had taken herself off. She +had gone without her supper as she had said she should. I confess my +first feeling was that she needed to be soundly shaken; but after all +when a child is morbidly wrong in her feelings the particular way in +which she shows it is not of much consequence. Perhaps she had better be +expending her distempered mood on jealousy of baby than on religion. The +question is what I had better do; and I confess I do not know how to +answer it. + + +July 28. Mr. Saychase has made his purpose and his ideas entirely clear, +and I wish I could think of them with less inclination to laugh. If he +could for a single minute know how funny he was, it would do him more +good than anything I can think of as likely to happen to him. + +He came to call to-night, and so evident was his air of excitement that +even Rosa must have noticed it; she was all significant smiles when she +ushered him in. I tried to talk about commonplace things, but could get +practically no response. For half an hour by the clock we went stumbling +on with intervals of silence when I could think of nothing except that I +must say something. At last he cleared his throat with a manner so +desperate and determined that I knew something dreadful was coming. + +"Miss Privet," he said, "I thought I would mention to you that I came +to-night for a particular purpose." + +It came over me with a sickening sense that old lady Andrews was right, +and that it was too late to stop him. I did make a desperate effort to +interpose, but he had at last got started, and would not be stayed. + +"You must have noticed," he went on, as if he were repeating a lesson, +"that I entertain a great respect for your character." + +"Indeed, Mr. Saychase," I responded, with a laugh which was principally +nerves, "you evidently mean to make me unbearably vain." + +"That you could never be," he returned with an air of gallantry I should +not have thought him capable of. "Your modesty is one of your greatest +charms." + +The girl who can hear her modesty praised and not be amused must be +lacking in a sense of humor. I laughed aloud before I realized what I +was doing. Then, as he looked hurt, I apologized humbly. + +"It's no matter," he said graciously; "of course you wouldn't be modest +if you knew how modest you are." + +This sounded so ambiguous and so like comic opera that in spite of +myself I laughed again. + +"Come, Mr. Saychase," I begged him, "don't say any more about my +modesty, please. We'll take it for granted. Have you seen Aunt Naomi +this week? She has had a little return of her bad cold." + +"I came over to-night," he broke out explosively, not in the least +diverted by my question, "to ask you to marry me." + +All I could do was to blurt out his name like an awkward schoolgirl. + +"I dare say you are surprised, Miss Ruth," he went on, evidently +relieved to have got the first plunge over with, "but that, as we were +saying, may be laid to modesty." + +I respect Mr. Saychase,--at least I think he means well, and I hated to +be the means of making him uncomfortable; but this return to my modesty +was too funny, and nearly sent me off into laughter again. My sense of +the fun of the situation brought back, however, my self-control. + +"Mr. Saychase," I said, as gravely as I could, "I am not so dull as not +to feel the honor you have done me, but such a thing is entirely +impossible. We had better talk of something else." + +"But I am in earnest, Miss Privet," he urged. + +I assured him that I was not less so. + +"I hope you will not decide hastily," was his response. "I have long +recognized your excellent qualities; our ages are suitable; and I think +I am right in saying that we both find our highest satisfaction in doing +good. Be sure my esteem for you is too great for me to easily take a +refusal." + +"But, Mr. Saychase," I argued, catching at any excuse to end his +importunity, "you forget that I am not a sharer in your beliefs. A +clergyman ought not to marry a woman that half his parish would think an +atheist." + +"I have thought of that," he responded readily, "and knew you must +recognize that a clergyman's wife should be a helpmeet in his religious +work; but I hoped that for the sake of the work, if not for mine, you +might be willing to give up your unhappy views." + +There was a sort of simplicity about this which was so complete as to be +almost noble. It might be considered an amazing egotism, and it might be +objected that Mr. Saychase had a singular idea of the sincerity of my +"unhappy views;" but the entire conviction with which he spoke almost +made me for the moment doubt myself. Unfortunately for him, a most +wickedly absurd remembrance came into my mind of a sentimental story in +an old red and gold annual that was grandmother's. A noble Christian +chieftain has falled in love with a Moorish damsel, and says to her: +"Beautiful Zorahida, only become a Christian, and thou shalt be my +bride." Beautiful Zorahida took at once to the proposition, but I am +made of more obstinate stuff. I hid the smile the story brought up, but +I determined to end this talk at once. + +"Mr. Saychase," I said as firmly as I could, "you are kind, but it is +utterly impossible that I should change my views or that I should marry +you. We will, if you please, consider the subject closed entirely. How +soon do you go to Franklin to the annual conference?" + +He evidently saw I was in earnest, and to my great relief said no more +in this line. He could not help showing that he was uncomfortable, +although I was more gracious to him than I had ever been in my life. He +did not stay long. As he was going I said I was sure he would not let +anything I had said wound him, for I had not meant to hurt him. He said +"Oh, no," rather vaguely, and left me. I wonder how many girls ever get +an offer of marriage without a hint of love from beginning to end! + + +July 30. Tomine is more adorable every day. I wish Tom could see her +oftener. It would soften him, and take out of his face the hard look +which is getting fixed there. He surely could not resist her when she +wakes up from her nap, all rosy and fresh, and with a wonder-look in her +eyes as if she had been off in dreamland so really that she could not +understand how she happens not to be there still. I think the clasp of +her soft little fingers on his would somehow take the ache out of his +heart. Poor Tom! I wonder how far being sorry for a thing makes one +better. Repentance is more than half discomfort, Mother used to say. I +always told her that to me it seemed like a sort of moral indigestion +which warned us not to eat any more of the forbidden fruit that caused +it. Tom is unhappy. He is proud, and he feels the disgrace more than he +would own. Any country town is so extremely pronounced in its +disapproval of sins of a certain kind that a man would have to be +covered with a rhinoceros hide not to feel it; and to stand up against +it means to a man of Tom's disposition a constant attitude of defiance. + +Sometimes I find myself feeling so strongly on Tom's side that I seem to +have lost all moral sense. It is my instinct, the cruelly illogical +injustice of my sex perhaps, to lay the blame on poor dead Julia. +Only--but I cannot think of it, and how I come to be writing about it is +more than I can tell. I do think a good deal about Tom, however, and +wonder what the effect on his character will be. He is of a pretty +stubborn fibre when once he has taken a determination; and now that he +has made up his mind to fight down public opinion here he will do it. +The question is what it will cost him. Sometimes it seems a pity that he +could not have gone away from home, into a broader atmosphere, and one +where he could have expended his strength in developing instead of +resisting. Here he will be like a tree growing on a windy sea-cliff; he +will be toughened, but I am afraid he will be twisted and gnarled. + +I wonder if little Tomine will ever ask me, when she is grown, about her +mother. If she does I can only say that I never saw Julia until she was +on her deathbed; and that will have to do. Dear little soft baby! The +idea of her being grown up is too preposterous. She is always to be my +baby Thomasine, and then I can love her without the penalty of having to +answer troublesome questions. + + + + +VIII + +AUGUST + + +August 1. I said a thing to Tom to-day which was the most natural thing +in the world, yet which teases me. He came to pay one of his rare visits +to baby, and we were bending over her so that our heads were almost +together. I was not thinking of him, but just of Tomine, and without +considering how he might take it I declared that I felt exactly as if +she were my very own. + +"What do you mean?" Tom asked. "She is yours." + +"Oh, but I mean as if I were really her mother," I explained, stupidly +making my mistake worse. + +"Would to God you were!" he burst out. "Would to God you cared enough +for me to be now!" + +I was of course startled, though I had brought it on myself. I got out +of it by jumping up and calling to Rosa to take Tomine and give her her +supper. Now recalling it, and remembering how Tom looked, his eyes and +his voice, I wonder what I ought to do. I do not know how to make him +understand that because George has left me I am no more likely to marry +somebody else. I may not feel the same toward George, but nothing +follows from that. I own to myself frankly that I respect Tom more than +I do George; I can even say that I find more and more as time goes on +that I had rather see Tom coming up the walk. The old boy and girl +friendship has largely come back between Tom and me; and I am a little, +just a little on the defensive on his account against the talk of the +village. I think now all is over, and Julia in her grave, that might be +allowed to rest. Only one thing I do not understand. I am no more moved +by the touch of George's hand now than by that of any acquaintance; I +cannot touch Tom's fingers without remembering Julia. + + +August 2. It is curious to see how Rosa's heart and her religion keep up +the struggle. Ran's wife has obstinately refused to die, but has instead +got well enough to send Rosa an insulting message; so the hope of +finding a solution of all difficulties in Ran's becoming a widower is +for the present at least abandoned. Rosa is evidently fond of Ran, and +while the priest and her conscience--or rather her religious fear of +consequences--keep her from marrying him, they cannot make her give him +up entirely. She still clings to some sort of an engagement with Dennis; +and she still talks in her amazingly cold-blooded way about her lovers, +speculating on the practical side of the question in a fashion so +dispassionate that Ran's chance would seem to be gone forever; but in +the end she comes back to him. What the result will be I cannot even +guess, but I feel it my duty not to encourage Rosa to incline toward +Ran, who is really drunken and disreputable. I remind her how he beat +his wife; but then she either says any man with spunk must beat his wife +now and then when he isn't sober, or she declares that anybody might and +indeed should beat that sort of a woman. I can only fall back upon the +fact that she cannot marry him without incurring the displeasure of her +church, and although she never fails to retort that I do not believe in +her religion, I can see that the argument moves her. In dealing with +Rosa it is very easy to see how necessary a religion is for the +management of the ignorant and unreasonable. In this case the obstinacy +of Rosa's attachment may prove too strong for the church, but the church +is the only thing which in her undisciplined mind could combat her +inclination for a moment. + +Sometimes when Rosa appeals to me for sympathy I wonder whether genuine +love is not entirely independent of reason; and I wonder, too, whether +it is or is not a feeling which must last a whole life long. I seem to +myself to be sure that if I had married George I should always have +loved him,--or I should have loved the image of him I kept in my mind. I +would have defied proof and reason, and whatever he did I should have +persuaded myself that no matter what circumstances led him to do he was +really noble in his nature. I know I should have stultified myself to +the very end, rather than to give up caring for him; and it seems to me +that I should have done it with my mental eyes shut. I should have been +hardly less illogical about it than Rosa is. What puzzles me most is +that while I can analyze myself in this lofty way, I believe I have in +me possibilities of self-deception so complete. Whether it is a virtue +in women to be able to cheat themselves into constancy I can't tell, and +indeed I think all these speculations decidedly sentimental and +unprofitable. + + +August 5. Aunt Naomi came to-day, like an east wind bearing depression. +She has somehow got hold of a rumor that George is speculating. Where +she obtained her information I could not discover. She likes to be a +little mysterious, and she pieces together so many small bits of +information that I dare say it would often be hard for her to say +exactly what the source of her information really was. She is sometimes +mistaken, but for anybody who tells so many things she is surprisingly +seldom entirely wrong. Besides I half think that in a village like ours +thoughts escape and disseminate themselves. I am sometimes almost afraid +as I write things down in this indiscreet diary of mine, lest they shall +somehow get from the page into the air, and Aunt Naomi will know them +the next time she appears. This is to me the worst thing about living in +a small place. It is impossible not to have the feeling of being under a +sort of foolish slavery to public opinion, a slavish regard to feelings +we neither share nor respect; and greater still is the danger of coming +to be interested in trifles, of growing to be gossips just as we are +rustics, simply from living where it is so difficult not to know all +about our neighbors. + +Speculation was the word which to-day Aunt Naomi rolled as a sweet +morsel under her tongue. Any sort of financial dealing is so strangely +far away from our ordinary village ways that any sort of dealing in +stocks would, I suppose, be regarded as dangerously rash, if not +altogether unlawful; but I do hope that there is nothing in George's +business which will lead him into trouble. I know that I am bothering +about something which is none of my affair, and which is probably all +right, if it has any existence. + +"I don't know much about speculation myself," Aunt Naomi observed; "and +I doubt if George Weston does. He's got a wife who seems bound to spend +every cent she can get hold of, and it looks as if he found he'd got to +take extra pains to get it." + +"But how should anybody know anything about his affairs?" I asked in +perplexed vexation. + +She regarded me shrewdly. + +"Everybody knows everything in a place like this," she responded +waggishly. "I'm sure I don't see how everything gets to be known, but it +does. You can't deny that." + +I told her that I was afraid we were dreadfully given to gossiping about +our neighbors, and to talking about things which really didn't concern +us. + +"Some do, I suppose," she answered coolly, but with a twinkle from +behind the green veil which is always aslant across her face. "It's a +pity, of course; but you wouldn't have us so little interested in each +other as not to notice the things we hear, would you?" + +I laughed, of course, but did not give up my point entirely. + +"But so much that is said is nonsense," I persisted. "Here Mrs. Weston +has been in Tuskamuck for four or five months, and she is already +credited with running into extravagance, and bringing her husband into +all sorts of things. We might at least give her time to get settled +before we talk about her so much." + +"She hadn't been here four or five weeks before she made it plain enough +what she is," was the uncompromising retort. "She set out to astonish us +as soon as she came. That's her Western spirit, I suppose." + +I did not go on with the talk, but secretly the thing troubles me. +Speculation is a large word, and it is nonsense to suppose George to be +speculating in any way which could come to much, or that Aunt Naomi +would know it if he were. I do wish people would either stop talking +about George, or talk to somebody besides me. + + +August 6. Mrs. Tracy came in to call to-day. She makes a round of calls +about once in two years, and I have not seen her for a long time. She +had her usual string of questions, and asked about me and baby and Tom +and the girls and the summer preserving until I felt as if I had been +through the longest kind of a cross-examination. Just before she left +she inquired if Mrs. Weston had told me that her husband was going to +make a lot of money in stocks. I said at once that I seldom saw Mrs. +Weston, and that I knew nothing about her husband's business affairs; +but this shows where Aunt Naomi got her information. Mrs. Weston must +have been talking indiscreetly. I wonder--But it seems to me I am always +wondering! + + +August 7. Kathie has not been near me since she left the house the other +evening. It seemed better to let her work out things in her own way than +to go after her. I hoped that if I took no notice she might forget her +foolishness, and behave in a more natural way. I met her in the street +this afternoon, and stopped to speak with her. I said nothing of her +having run away, but talked as usual. At last I asked her if she would +not come home with me, and she turned and came to the gate. Then I asked +her to come in, but she stopped short. + +"Is the baby gone?" she demanded. + +"No," I answered. + +"You know I shall never come into your house again while that baby is +there," she declared in an odd, quiet sort of way. "I hate that baby, +and he that hates is just like a murderer." + +She said it with a certain relish, as if she were proud of it. I begin +to suspect that there may be a good deal of the theatrical mixed with +her abnormal feeling. + +"Kathie," I said, "you may be as silly as you like, but you can't make +me believe anything so absurd as that you hate Thomasine. As for being a +murderer in your heart, you wouldn't hurt a fly." + +She looked at me queerly. I half thought there was a little +disappointment in her first glance; then a strange expression as if she +unconsciously took herself for audience, since I would not serve, and +went on with her play of abnormal wickedness. + +"You don't know how wicked I am," she responded. "I am a murderer in my +heart." + +A strangely intense look came into her eyes, as if a realization of what +she was saying took hold of her, and as if she became really frightened +by her own assumption. She clutched my arm with a grasp which must have +been at least half genuine. + +"Oh, Miss Ruth," she said. "I don't know what I shall do. I know I am +lost!" + +I wanted to shake the child, so completely for the moment did I feel +that a lot of her emotion was make-believe, even if unconscious; but on +the other hand she was actually beginning to turn pale and tremble with +the nervous excitement she had raised by her fear or her theatricals. + +"Kathie," I said, almost severely, "you know you are talking nonsense. +Come into the house, and have a glass of milk and a slice of cake. +You'll feel better after you've had something to eat." + +She looked at me with eyes really wild, and without a word turned +quickly and ran down the street at full speed, leaving me utterly +confounded. I am sure she acts to herself, and that her religious mania +is partly theatrical; but then I suppose religious mania always is. Yet +it has a basis in what she believes, and with her imaginative, +hysterical temperament she has the power of taking up her ideas so +completely that she gets to be almost beside herself. When she is so +much in earnest she must be treated, I suppose, as if all her +self-accusations and agony of mind were entirely real. + + +August 8. I have been to lay a bunch of sweet-peas on Mother's grave. I +wonder and wonder again if she knows when I am so near the place where +we left her, the place where it always seems to me some life must yet +linger. I have all my life been familiar with the doubt whether any +consciousness, any personality survives death; and yet it is as natural +to assume that life goes on as it is to suppose the sun will rise +to-morrow. I know that my feeling proves nothing; but still +instinctively I cling to it. + +In any case there is the chance the dead are alive and alert somewhere +in the shadows, and if they are they must be glad not to be forgotten. I +should not be willing to take the chance, and neglect the grave of one +who had been fond of me. Mother loved me as I loved her; and this +decides I shall run no risk of her being unhappy after death in the +thought that I have forgotten. + +I suppose I cling to a feeling that there must be some sort of +immortality largely from the loneliness I feel. The idea of never seeing +Father or Mother again is more than I could endure. Father used to say +that after all each of us is always really alone in this world, and even +our best friends can no more come close to us than if they did not +exist; but this always seemed to me a sort of cold, forlorn theory. The +warmth of human companionship somehow makes it impossible for me to feel +anything like this. When I said so to Father, I remember he smiled, and +said he was glad I did find it impossible. + +One thing I am sure of to the very bottom of my heart: that things are +somehow completely right, so that whatever death means it must be part +of a whole which is as it should be. + + +August 10. To-day Tom brought me a bunch of cardinal-flowers. He had +been up to the Lake Meadows, he said, and thought I might like them. The +whole parlor is alive with the wonderful crimson--no, scarlet, of the +great flaming armful of blossoms. Tom used to get them for me when I was +a girl, but since those days I have had only a stray spike now and then. +They bring back the past, and the life-long friendship I have had with +Tom. I wonder sometimes why I have never been in love with Tom. Life +never seemed complete without him. In the years he kept away on account +of George I missed him sorely, and more than once I have thought of all +sorts of ways to bring things back to the former footing; only I knew +all the time it was of no use. It is the greatest comfort to have the +old friendship back, and now Tom must understand that I have no more +than friendship to give him. It would be vexing if he should +misunderstand, but I must take care he does not. + + +August 11. I have been at the Town Hall helping to make ready for a +raspberry festival, to raise money for the church. Miss Charlotte came +after me, and of course I had to go. She said all that was wanted was my +taste to direct about decorating the hall, but I have been told so +before, and I knew from experience that taste is expected to work out +its own salvation. To be really fair I suppose I should say I cannot +stand by and give directions, but have to take hold with my own hands, +so it is nobody's fault but my own if I do things. Besides, it is really +good fun among the neighbors, with the air full of the smell of cedar, +with all the pretty young girls making wreaths and laughing while they +work, and with your feet tangled in evergreens and laurel whenever you +cross the floor. Miss Charlotte is in her element at such a time. Her +great-throated laugh, as strong as a man's, rings out, and she seems for +the time quite happy and jolly with excitement. + +It came over me to-day almost with a sense of dismay how old I seem to +the young girls. They treated me with a sort of respect which couldn't +be put into words exactly, I suppose, but which I felt. Somehow I +believe the breaking of my engagement has made me seem older to them. +Perhaps it is my foolish fancy, but I seem to see that while I was +engaged I had still for them a hold on youth which I have now lost. I +suppose they never thought it out, but I know they feel now that I am +very much their senior. + +At a time like this, too, I realize how true it is that I am somehow a +little outside of the life of the village. I have lived here almost all +my life. Except for the years I was at school, and a winter or two in +Boston or abroad I have been generally at home. I know almost everybody +in town, by sight at least. Yet I always find when I am among Tuskamuck +people in this way that I am looking at them as if I were a spectator. I +wonder if this means that I am egotistical or queer, or only that my +life has been so much more among books and intellectual things than the +life of most of them. I am sure I love the town and my neighbors. + +The thing I wish to put down, however, has nothing to do with my +feelings toward the town. It is that I am ashamed of the way I wrote the +other day about Mr. Saychase. He entered the hall this afternoon just as +old Mrs. Oliver came limping in to see the decorations; and the lovely +way in which he helped the poor old lame creature made me blush for +myself. I almost wanted to go to him and apologize then and there. It +would have been awkward, however, first to explain that I had made fun +of him in my diary, and then apologize! But he is a good soul, even if +he did think I was a sort of nineteenth century Zorahida, to give up +Mohammedanism for the sake of wedding a Christian chief.--And here I go +again! + + +August 15. I have been reading to-night a book about the East, and it +has stirred me a good deal. The speculations of strange peoples on the +great mystery of life and death bring them so close to us. They show how +alike all mankind is, and how we all grope about after some clue to +existence. On the whole it is better, I think, not to give much thought +to what may come after death,--no more thought, that is, than we cannot +help. We can never know, and we must either raise vague hopes to make us +less alive to the importance of life, the reality of life--I do not know +how to say it. Of course all religion insists on the importance of life, +but rather as a preparation for another existence. I think we need to +have it always before us that what is important is not what will happen +after we are dead and gone, but what is happening now because we are +alive and have a hand in things. I see this is not very clear, but I am +sure the great thing is to live as if life were of value in itself. To +live rightly, to make the most out of the life we can see and feel, is +all that humanity is equal to, and it is certainly worth doing for its +own sake. + +The idea which has struck me most in what I have been reading to-night +is the theory that each individual is made up of the fragments of other +lives; that just as the body is composed of material once part of other +bodies, so is the spirit built up of feelings, and passions, and +tendencies, and traits of temperament formerly in other individuals dead +and gone. At first thought it does not seem to me a comfortable theory. +I should not seem to belong to myself any more, if I believed it. To +have the temper of some bygone woman, and the affections of another, and +the tastes of a third,--it is too much like wearing false hair! It does +not seem to me possible, but it may be true. At least it is a theory +which may easily be made to seem plausible by the use of facts we all +know. If it is the true solution of our characters here, it is pleasant +to think that perhaps we may modify what for the present is our very own +self so it shall be better stuff for the fashioning of another +generation. I should like to feel that when this bunch of ideas and +emotions goes to pieces, the bits would make sweet spots in the +individuals they go to make part of. I suppose this is what George Eliot +meant in the "Choir Invisible," or something like this. As one thinks of +the doctrine it is not so cold and unattractive as it struck me in the +reading. One could bear to lose a conscious future if the alternative +was happiness to lives not yet in being. I should like, though, to know +it. But if there weren't any me to know, I should not be troubled, as +the old philosophers were fond of saying, and the important thing would +be not for me to know but for the world to be better. I begin to see how +the doctrine might be a fine incentive to do the best with life that is +in any way possible; and what more could be asked of any doctrine? + + +August 17. Baby was ill night before last, and we three women were +smitten to the heart. Hannah went for Dr. Wentworth, and when he came he +laughed at our panic, and assured me nothing serious was the matter. It +was only a little indigestion caused by the excessive heat. I do not +know how I should have behaved if it had not been that Rosa was in such +a panic I had to give all my spare attention to keeping her in order. It +came to me then what an advantage an officer must have in a battle; he +cannot break down because he has to look to his men. Last night I wished +greatly Tom were in reach; it would have been dreadful if anything +really serious had happened to baby, and he not to know it until it was +too late. Yet he could have done nothing if the worst had been true and +he had been here. It would have been no comfort to poor little sick +Tomine to have one person by her more than another, so long as her +nurses were not strangers. A father is nothing to her yet. I wonder when +he will be. + +Yesterday Tomine was better, and to-night she seems as well as ever; but +it will take time for me to be rid entirely of fear. I wonder if she had +gone whether her little bunch of vitality would have been scattered +through new lives. She can hardly have much personality or individuality +yet. Sometimes the universe, the power that keeps going on and on, and +which is so unmoved by human pain, strikes me as too terrible for +thought; but I cling desperately to Father's idea that nature is too +great to be unkind, and that what looks to us like cruelty is only the +size of things too big for us to grasp. It is a riddle, and the way I +put it is neither so clear nor wise, I suppose, as the theories of +countless religious teachers, they and I alike guessing at things human +insight is not equal to. I doubt much if it is profitable to speculate +in this vein. "Think all you can about life as a good and glorious +thing," Father wrote to me once when I had expressed in a school-letter +some trouble or other about what comes after death, "but keep in mind +that of what came before we were born or will happen after we are dead +we shall never in this life know anything, no matter how much we +speculate, so dreaming about it or fretting about it is simply building +air-castles." I have said over to myself ever since I began to be +perplexed that to speculate about another life is to build air-castles. + +Baby is well again and I will not fret or dream of what it would mean if +she had slipped away from us. + + +August 20. I must settle myself a little by writing, or I shall be like +old Mrs. Tuell, who said that for years she never slept a wink because +her nerves wiggled like angleworms all over her inside. I have certainly +been through an experience which might make anybody's nerves wiggle. + +About half past two o'clock Rosa brought me a note, and said:-- + +"That Thurston girl left it, and told me not to give it to you till +three o'clock; but if I don't give it to you now, I know I'd forget it." + +I opened the note without thinking anything about the time. It was +written in Kathie's uneven hand, and blotched as if it had been cried +over. This is what it said:-- + + Dear Miss Ruth,--This letter is to bid you good-by. You are the + only one in the world I love, and nobody loves me. I cant stand you + to love that baby better than me, and God is so angry it dont make + any difference what I do now. When you read this I shall be in + torment forever, because I am going down to Davis Cove to drownd + myself because I am so wicked and nobody loves me. Dont tell on me, + because it would make you feel bad and father wouldnt like it to + get round a child of his had drownd herself and mother would cry. + Yours truly and with a sad and loving good-by forever, + + Kathie Thurston. + + P. S. If they get me to bury will you please put some flowers on + my coffin. No more from yours truly + + K. T. + +My first impulse was to laugh at this absurd note, but it came over me +suddenly that there was no knowing what that child will do. Even now I +am bewildered. I cannot get it out of my mind that there is a good deal +of the theatrical in Kathie, but I may be all wrong. At any rate I +reflected how she has a way of acting so that apparently she can herself +take it for real. + +I thought it over a while; then I got my hat and started down the +street, with the notion that at least it would do no harm to go down to +Davis Cove, and see if Kathie were there. As I walked on, recalling her +incomprehensible actions, a dreadful feeling grew in my mind that she +might have meant what she said, and she would be more likely to try to +drown herself because she had told me. A sort of panic seized me; and +just then the town clock struck three. + +I had got down just opposite the Foot-bridge, and when I remembered that +three was the time when I was to have the note, I feared I should be too +late, and I began to run. Fortunately, there was nobody in sight, and as +I came to the bend in the street I saw George coming, leading Kathie by +the arm. She was dripping wet, and half staggering, although she kept +her feet. I hurried up to them, too much out of breath with haste and +excitement to be able to speak. + +"Hullo!" George called out, as I came up to them, "see what a fish I've +caught." + +"Why, Kathie," gasped I, with a stupidity that was lucky, for it kept +George from suspecting, "you've been in the water." + +She gave me a queer look, but she said nothing. + +"A little more and she'd have stayed there," George put in. + +"You are wet too," I said, looking at him for the first time. + +"Yes," he returned; "luckily I got off my coat and vest as I ran, so I +saved my watch, but everything else is wet fast enough." + +"How did it happen?" I asked. + +"She was trying to get sugar-pears from those trees by the water," +George answered; "and I suppose she lost her balance. I was going along +the road and heard her scream." + +"Along the road?" I echoed; for I knew Davis Cove is too far from the +road for him to have heard a cry. + +"She fell in just by the old shipyard on the point," he said. + +"The boys were in swimming in the cove," Kathie explained, in a way +which was of course unintelligible to George. + +"Well," George commented, after a moment in which he seemed to clear up +her meaning, "the next time you want sugar-pears you'd better get them +when the boys are out of the way, so you needn't go in swimming +yourself." + +We had been walking along the road as we talked, and by this time had +reached the Foot-bridge. I told George he must go home and get on dry +clothing, and I would see to Kathie. He demurred at first, but I +insisted, so he left us to cross the bridge alone. We walked in silence +almost across the bridge, and then I asked her what kept bumping against +me as I held her up. + +"It's rocks in my pocket," she answered, quite in a matter-of-fact way. +"I put 'em there to sink me." + +I could have shaken her on the spot, so uncharitable was my mood, but I +managed to answer her in a perfectly cool tone. + +"Then you had better take them out," I said. + +She got her hand into her pocket and fished out three or four pebbles, +which all together wouldn't have sunk a three-days-old-kitten; and when +these had been thrown over the bridge we proceeded on our drabbled way. +My doubts of the genuineness of the whole performance grew in spite of +me. I do not know exactly why I am coming so strongly to feel that +Kathie is not wholly ingenuous, but I cannot get rid of the idea. + +"Kathie," I asked, "did you see Mr. Weston coming when you jumped in?" + +She looked up at me with eyes so honest I was ashamed of myself, but +when she answered unhesitatingly that she had seen him, I went on +ruthlessly to ask if she did not know he would save her. + +"I thought if he was coming I'd got to hurry," she returned, as simply +as possible. + +I was more puzzled than ever, and I am puzzled still. Whether she really +meant to take her life, or whether she only thought she meant it, does +not, I suppose, make any great difference; but I confess I have been +trying to make out ever since I left her. I would like to discover +whether she is consciously trying to fool me or endeavoring as much to +cheat herself, or is honest in it all; but I see no way in which I am +ever likely to be satisfied. + +I asked her to say nothing at home about how her ducking happened, and I +satisfied her mother by repeating what George had said. To-morrow I must +have it out with Mr. Thurston somehow or other; although I am still +completely in the dark what I shall say to him. I hope the old +fairy-tales are right when they say "the morning is wiser than the +evening." + + +August 21. The morning is wiser than the evening, for I got up to-day +with a clear idea in my mind what I had better do about Kathie. It is +always a great comfort to have a definite plan of action mapped out, and +I ate my breakfast in a cheerful frame of mind, intending to go directly +to see Mr. Thurston while I should be fairly sure of finding him. I +reckoned without Kathie, however, who presented herself at the +dining-room window before I had finished my coffee, and begged me to +come out. + +"I can't come in without breaking my word," she said. + +I could not argue with the absurd chit in that situation, so I went out +into the garden with her and sat down on the bench by the sun-dial. The +big red roses Father was so fond of are all in blossom, and in the +morning air were wonderfully sweet. It was an enchanting day, and the +dew was not entirely dried, so the garden had not lost the freshness it +has when it first wakes up. I was exhilarated by the smell of the roses +and the beauty of everything, and the clearness of the air. Rosa held +baby up to us at the nursery window above, and I waved my hand to her, +smiling from pure delight in everything. Kathie watched me with her +great eyes, and when I sat down on the bench she threw herself at full +length on the grass, and burst out sobbing. + +"You do love her better than me!" she wailed. "I came to say how sorry I +was, but I'm sorry now that I didn't stay in the water." + +I took her by the shoulder, and spoke to her so sternly that I startled +her. + +"You are not to talk in that way anymore, Kathie," I said. "I am fond of +you and I am fond of baby; but if baby were big enough and talked this +silly way about you, do you suppose I would allow it? Sit up and stop +crying." + +I have always been careful not to hurt her feelings; perhaps I have been +too careful. She sat up now, and then rose to her feet in a dazed sort +of way. I determined to see if anything was to be made out of her mood. + +"Kathie," said I, "how much of that performance yesterday was real, and +how much was humbug? Tell me the truth." + +She grew a little paler and her eyes dilated. I looked her straight in +the face, half minded to force her if need be to give me some guidance +in what I should do. + +"I really meant to drown myself," she answered solemnly, "only when I +saw the water and thought of hell I was afraid." + +She stopped, and I encouraged her to go on. + +"I saw Mr. Weston, and I was scared of him and--and everything, and so I +jumped in." + +I reflected that very likely the child was more of a puzzle to herself +than she was to me, and in any case I had more important ends to gain +than the satisfying of my curiosity, so I asked her as gently as I could +if she really believed she would be eternally lost if she killed +herself. + +"Oh, yes, Miss Ruth!" she cried with feverish eagerness. + +"Then why do you do it?" I went on. "How do you dare to do it?" + +She looked at me with a growing wildness in her face that was certainly +genuine. + +"I'm lost, anyway," she burst out. "I know I have been too wicked for +God to forgive me. I have committed murder in my heart, and I know I was +never meant to be saved." + +"Stop!" I commanded her. "You are a little, foolish girl, too young even +to know what you are talking about. How dare you decide what God will +do?" + +She regarded me with a look of stupefaction as if I were a stranger whom +she had never seen; and indeed I can well believe I seemed one. Then the +perversity of her mind came back to the constant idea. + +"That's just it," she declared. "That's just my wickedness." + +After this I refused to go into the subject any further. I got up and +asked her if I should find her father at home. She begged me not to go +to see him, and then said with an air of relief that he had gone out to +Connecticut Mills to visit a sick woman. I did not stay with her longer. +I said I must go into the house, and as she refused to come, I left her, +a forlorn little figure, there among the roses, and went in. It seemed +hard to do it, but I had made up my mind she had better not indulge in +any more talk this morning. + + +August 22. Cousin Mehitable, in a letter which came this morning, pities +me because of my colorless existence; but I begin to feel that life is +becoming too lurid. I have to-day bearded--no, Mr. Thurston hasn't any +beard; but I have had my interview with him, and I feel as if I had been +leading a cavalry charge up a hill in the face of a battery of whatever +kind of guns are most disconcertingly destructive. + +I am somewhat confused about the beginning of our talk. I got so excited +later that the tame beginnings have slipped away; but I know I said I +had come to make a proposition about Kathie, and somehow I led up to the +child's mad performance the other day. I showed him the note and told +him the story, but not until I had made him promise not to mention the +matter to the child. When he had finished he was as pale as my +handkerchief, his thin, bloodless face positively withered with pain. + +"I cannot keep silence about this," he said when I had finished. "I must +withdraw my promise, Miss Privet. My Kathie's soul is in danger." + +I am sure that I am not ill-tempered, but over Kathie and her father I +find myself in a state of exasperation which threatens to destroy all my +claims to be considered a sane and temperate body. I had to struggle +mightily to keep myself in hand this morning, but at first, at least, I +succeeded. + +"Mr. Thurston," I said, "I cannot release you. I should never have told +you except on your promise, and you cannot honestly break it. Now listen +to me. I have no right to dictate, but I cannot stand by and see dear +little Kathie going to ruin. I am sure I know what is good for her just +now better than you do. She is a good child, only she has gone nearly +wild brooding over theologic questions she should never have heard of +until she was old enough to judge them more reasonably." + +He tried to interrupt me, but I put up my hand to stop him, and went on. + +"You know how nervous and high-strung she is, and you cannot think her +capable of looking fairly at the awful mysteries with which a creed +deals." + +"But I have only instructed her in those things on which her eternal +salvation depends," he broke in. + +"Her eternal salvation does not depend on her being driven into a +madhouse or made to drown herself," I retorted, feeling as if I were +brutal, but that it couldn't be helped. "The truth is, Mr. Thurston, you +have been offering up Kathie as a sacrifice to your creed just as the +fathers and mothers of old made their children pass through the fires to +Moloch." He gasped, and some thin blood rushed to his face, but I did +not stop. "I have no doubt they were conscientious, just as you are; but +that didn't make it any better for the children. You have been entirely +conscientious in torturing Kathie, but you have been torturing her." + +His face was positively gray, and there was a look of anguish in his +eyes which made me weak. It would have been so much easier to go on if +he had been angry. + +"You don't understand," he said brokenly. "You think all religion is a +delusion, so of course you can't see. You think I don't love my child, +and that I am so wrapped up in my creed I can't see she suffers. You +won't believe it hurts me more than it does her." + +"Do you think then," I asked him, doing my best to keep back the tears, +"that it can give any pleasure to a kind Heavenly Father? I do +understand. You have been so afraid of not doing your duty to Kathie you +have brought her almost to madness, almost"-- + +"Don't! Don't!" he interrupted, putting out his hand as if I had struck +him. "Oh, Miss Privet, if she had"-- + +I saw the real affection and feeling of the man as I have never realized +them. I had been hard, and perhaps cruel, but it was necessary to save +Kathie. I spoke now as gently as I could. + +"No matter for the things that didn't happen, Mr. Thurston. She is safe +and sound." + +"But she meant to do it," he returned in a tone so low I could hardly +catch the words. + +"Meant?" I repeated. "She isn't in a condition to mean anything. She was +distraught by brooding over things that at her age she should never even +have heard of. I beg your pardon, Mr. Thurston, but doesn't what has +happened prove she is too high-strung to be troubled with theology yet? +I am not of your creed, but I respect your feeling about it. Only you +must see that to thrust these things on Kathie means madness and +despair"-- + +"But she might die," he broke in. "She might die without having made her +peace with her Maker, and be lost forever." + +There was anguish in his face, and I know he meant it from the bottom of +his heart; but in his voice was the trace of conventional repetition of +phrases which made it possible for me to be overcome by exasperation. I +looked at him in that mingled fury of impatience and passionate +conviction of my ground which must have been the state of the prophets +of old when the spirit of prophecy descended upon them. I realize now +that to have the spirit of prophecy it is necessary to lose the temper +to a degree not altogether commendable in ordinary circumstances. I +blazed out on that poor, thin-blooded, dejected, weak-minded, loving +Methodist minister, and told him he insulted the God he worshiped; I +said he had better consider the text "I will have mercy and not +sacrifice;" I flung two or three other texts at him while he stood +dazed with astonishment; I flamed at him like a burning-bush become +feminine flesh; and fortunately he did not remember that even the Old +Nick is credited with being able to cite Scripture for his purposes. I +think the texts subdued him, so that it is well Father brought me up to +know the Bible. At least I reduced Mr. Thurston to a state where he was +as clay in the hands of the potter. + +Then I presented to his consideration my scheme to send Kathie away to +boarding-school for a year. I told him he was at liberty to select the +school, if only it was one where she would not be too much troubled +about theology. Of course I knew it would be hopeless to think of her +going to a school entirely unsectarian, but I have already begun to make +inquiries about the relative reasonableness of Methodist schools, and I +think we may find something that will do. To put the child into +surroundings entirely new, where her mind will be taken away from +herself, and where a consciousness of the keenly discerning eyes of +girls of her own age will keep her theatrical tendencies in check, +should work wonders. I made Mr. Thurston give his consent, and before I +left the house I saw Mrs. Thurston. I told her not to trouble about +Kathie's outfit, and so I hope that bother is pretty well straightened +out for the present. + + +August 24. George has taken a violent cold from his ducking, and is +confined to the house. I hope that it is nothing serious. It is +especially awkward now, for Mr. Longworthy is coming over from Franklin +in a day or two to go over his accounts as trustee. + +Kathie came over this morning while I was at breakfast, and tapped on +the dining-room window. She was positively shining with happiness. I +never saw a child so transformed. + +"Oh, Miss Ruth," she cried out, as soon as I turned, "oh, won't you come +out here? I do so want to kiss you!" + +I asked her to come inside, but she said she had promised not to, and +rather than to get into a discussion I went out to her. She ran dancing +up to me, fairly quivering with excitement. + +"Oh, Miss Ruth," she said, "it is too good to be true! You are the most +loveliest lady that ever lived! Oh, I am so happy!" + +I had to laugh at her demonstrativeness, but it was touching to see her. +She was no more like the morbid, hollow-eyed girl she had been than if +she had never had a trouble. It is wonderful that out of the family of a +Methodist parson should come a nature so exotic, but after all, the +spiritual raptures and excesses which have worn Mr. Thurston as thin as +a leaf in December must have their root in a temperament of keenly +emotional extremes. + +"I always wanted to go to boarding-school," Kathie went on, possessing +herself of my hand, and covering it with kisses; "but Mother always said +we couldn't afford it. Now I am going. Oh, I shall have such a beautiful +time!" + +I laughed at her enthusiasm, but I tried to moderate her extravagance a +little by telling her that at boarding-school she would have to work, +and to live by rule, so that she must give up her wild ways. + +"Oh, I'll work," she responded, her ardor undampened. "I'll be the best +girl you ever heard of. I beg your pardon for everything I've done, and +I'll never do anything bad again." + +This penitence seemed to me rather too general to amount to much, but +that she was so much pleased was after all the chief thing, so I made no +allusion to particular shortcomings, I did not even urge her to come +into the house, for I felt this was a point for her to work out in her +own mind. We walked in the dewy garden, discussing the preparations for +her leaving home, and it was droll and pathetic to find how poverty had +bred in her fantastic little pate a certain sort of shrewdness. She said +in the most matter-of-fact way that it would be nice for her father to +have one less mouth to fill, and that she supposed her smaller sisters +could have her old clothes. I confess she did not in talking exhibit any +great generosity of mind, but perhaps it was not to be expected of a +child dazzled by the prospect of having a dream come true, and of +actually being blessed with more than one new frock at a time. I am not +clear what the result of sending her among strangers will be, and I see +that a good deal of care will be necessary in choosing the school. I do +believe good must come of it, however; and at least we are doing the +best we can. + + +August 25. I went over to George's this morning to find out whether he +is able to see Mr. Longworthy. He was in bed, but insisted upon seeing +me. I have had a terrible day. I left him completely broken down with +his confession. O Mother! Mother! + + +August 26. Childishly I cried myself to sleep last night. It is so +terrible to feel that a friend has done wrong and proved himself +unworthy. I could not help shivering to think of George, and of how he +has had night after night to go to sleep with the knowledge of his +dishonesty. I settled in my own mind what I could do to cover his +defalcation, which fortunately is small enough for me to provide for by +going to Boston and selling some of the bonds Aunt Leah left me, and +which Mr. Longworthy has nothing to do with. Then I lay there in the +dark and sopped my pillow, until somehow, I found myself in the middle +of a comforting dream. + +I dreamed that I was a little girl, and that I was broken-hearted about +some indefinite thing that had happened. I had in my dream, so far as I +can recall, no idea what the trouble was, but the grief was keen, and my +tears most copious. I was in the very thickest of my childish woe when +Father came behind me, picked me up like a feather, and set me down in +his lap. I had that ineffable sense of companionship which can be named +but never described, and I clung to him with a frantic clasp. He kissed +me, and wiped away my tears with soothing words, and then at last he +whispered in my ear as a precious secret something so infinitely +comforting that my sorrow vanished utterly. I broke into smiles, and +kissed him again and again, crying out that it was too good to be true, +and he had made me happy for my whole life. So keen was my joy that I +awoke, and lay in bed half dreaming still, saying over and over to +myself his enchanting words as if they would forever be a safeguard +against any pain which life might bring. Gradually I became sufficiently +wide awake to realize what this wonderful message of joy was, and found +myself ecstatically repeating: "Pigs have four feet and one tail!" Of +course I laughed at the absurdity, but the comfort stayed with me all +the same, and all day I have gone about with a peaceful mind, cheered by +the effect of this supernaturally precious fact of natural history. + +I went to Boston and came back without seeing anybody but business men. +I saw George a moment on my way from the station, and now everything is +ready for Mr. Longworthy to-morrow. Both George and I may sleep to-night +in peace. + +All the way to and from Boston I found myself going over my whole +acquaintance with George, questioning myself about what he has been and +what he is. To-night I have been reading over what I have written of him +in my diary, and the picture I find of him this year has gone to my +heart. I am afraid I have not been kind, perhaps have not been just; for +if what I have been writing is true George is--he is not a gentleman. It +does not startle me now to write this as it would have done two days +ago. I am afraid it will be years before I am able to get out of my +remembrance how he looked when he confessed. It seems almost as if I +should never be able to think of him again except as I saw him then, his +face almost as colorless as his pillow, and then red with shame. He +looked shrunken, morally as well as physically. I do not know whether I +blamed him more or less because he was so eager to throw the whole blame +on his wife's extravagance; I only know that it can hardly have been +more cruel for him to tell me of his dishonor than it was for me to +hear. + +If he had asked me I would have lent him money, or given it to him, for +that matter, and done it gladly rather than to have him troubled. To +think how he must have been teased and bothered for this pitiful sum, +just two or three hundred dollars, before he could have made up his mind +to borrow it on my securities! He might have got it honestly, it was so +little; but he did not wish anybody to know he needed it. Pride, and +folly, and vanity,--I am so hurt that I begin to rail. I will put the +whole thing out of my mind, and never think of it again if I can help +it. + + + + +IX + +SEPTEMBER + + +September 15. At last Kathie is gone. What with having dressmakers and +seeing to her, and doing the shopping, and corresponding with the +principal of the school, and all the rest of it, I have had my hands +full for the last three weeks. I have enjoyed it, though; I suppose it +is always a pleasure partaking of the moral for a woman when she can +conscientiously give her whole mind up to the making of clothes. I do +not doubt the delight of sewing fig-leaves together went for the moment +far toward comforting Eve for leaving Paradise. I cannot now help +smiling to see how entirely Kathie's fine scruples about breaking her +vow not to come into the house were forgotten when I had a dressmaker +here waiting to fit her frocks. + +I feel a little as if I were trying to be Providence and to interfere in +her life unwarrantably now she is gone and there is nothing more to do +about it but to await the result. I have done what I thought best, +though, and that is the whole of it. As Father used to say, it is not +our duty to do the wisest thing, for we cannot always tell what it is, +but only to be honest in doing what seems to us wisest. I hope she will +do well, and I believe she will. + + +September 17. Cousin Mehitable writes me from Rome that she is sure I +am tired of baby, and had better come over for a couple of months. I +cannot tell whether she means what she says, or is only trying to carry +her point. She has never had a child near her, and can hardly know how +completely a baby takes possession of one. There are many things in the +world that I should enjoy, and I should certainly delight in going +abroad again, but baby has so taken the first place in my heart and life +that everything else is secondary. I wonder sometimes whether after a +woman has a child of her own she can any longer give her husband her +very warmest love. Perhaps the law of compensation comes in, and if men +grow less absorbed in their wives the wives have an equal likelihood of +coming to feel that the husband is less a part of their lives than the +child. Only if a woman really loved a man-- + + +September 18. It is a childish habit to break off in the middle of a +sentence because one does not know how to finish it. I have been turning +over the leaves of this book to see if I had done it often, and I have +been amused and humiliated to find so many places where I have ended +with a dash, like an hysterical schoolgirl. Yet I do not see just what +one is to do when suddenly one finds a subject hopelessly too deep. Last +night when I got to a place where I was balancing the love of a mother +for her husband and for her child, I naturally realized suddenly that I +had never had a child, and very likely never really loved a man. The +love I had for George seems now so unreal that I feel completely fickle; +although I believe I am generally pretty constant. I could not bear to +think I am not loyal in my feelings. I have come to be so sure the +George I was fond of never existed, though, that I can hardly have the +same feelings I had before. + +This is the sort of subject, however, which is sure to end in a dash if +I go on with it, so it seems wiser to stop before such a catastrophe is +reached. + + +September 19. To-day is Father's birthday. It is always a day which +moves me a good deal. I can never be reminded of an anniversary like +this without finding my head full of a swarm of thoughts. I cannot think +of the beginning or the ending of Father's life without looking at it as +a whole, and reckoning up somehow the effect of his having lived. This +is the real question, I suppose, in regard to any life. He was to me so +wonderful, he was so great a man, that I have almost to reason with +myself to appreciate why the world in general does not better remember +him. His life was and is so much to me that I find it hard to realize +how narrow is the circle which ever even knew of him at all. His books +and his decisions keep his name still in the memory of lawyers somewhat, +and those who knew him will not easily forget; but after all this is so +little in comparison to the fame he might have had. + +How persistent is an old thought! I should have supposed this idea might +have died long ago. Father himself answered it when he told Cousin +Mehitable he was entirely satisfied if his part in the progress of +humanity was conducted decently and in order; he was not concerned +whether anybody knew he lived or did not know. "The thing is that I live +as well as I can," he said, "and not that it should be known about. I +shan't mind, Cousin Mehitable, whether anybody takes the trouble to +praise me after I am dead, but I do think it may make some tiny +difference to the race that I did my level best while I was alive." + +I can see him now as he stood by the library fire saying this, with his +little half whimsical smile, and I remember thinking as he spoke how +perfectly he lived up to his theories. Certainly the best thing a man +can leave to his children is a memory like that which I have of Father: +a memory half love and half respect. + +Father's feeling about the part of the individual in the general scheme +of things was like certain oriental doctrines I have read since his +death; and I suppose he may have been influenced by the writings of the +East. He seemed to feel that he was part of a process, and that the +lives of those who sometime would come after him might be made easier +and happier if he lived well and wisely. I am sure he was right. I do +not know how or where or when the accounts of life are settled, or +whether it makes any difference to the individual as an individual or +not; but I am sure what we do is of consequence, and I wish my life +might be as fine, as strong, as noble as was Father's. + + +September 20. Aunt Naomi came in this forenoon with her catlike step, +and seated herself by the south window in the sunshine. The only eye +which could be seen clearly was bright with intention, and it was +evident at a glance that she had things to say. She was rather +deliberate in coming at it. Aunt Naomi is an artist in gossip, and never +spoils the effect of what she has to tell by failing to arouse +expectation and interest. She leads one on and stirs up curiosity +before she tells her news, and with so much cleverness does she manage, +that a very tiny bit of gossip will seem a good deal when she has set it +forth. It is a pleasure to see anything well done, even gossip; so Aunt +Naomi is an unfailing source of amusement to me,--which is perhaps not +to my credit. + +She made the usual remarks about the weather and asked after baby; she +observed that from the way Miss Charlotte breathed when she was asleep +in prayer-meeting last night she was afraid she had taken cold; she told +me Ranny Gargan's divorced wife was at death's door again, and tried to +get from me some sort of information of Rosa's feelings toward the +possible widower; then she gradually and skillfully approached her real +subject. + +"It's strange how folks get over being in love when once they are +married," she said, hitching her chair into the sunlight, which had +moved a little from her while she talked. + +I knew by her careless tone, too careless not to be intentional, that +something was coming, but I would not help her. I simply smiled vaguely, +and asked where the sewing-circle was to be next week. She was not +disconcerted by the question, but neatly turned it to her uses. + +"At Mrs. Tobey's," she answered. "I hope we shan't see anything +unpleasant across the road." + +"What do you mean?" I asked, rather startled at this plain allusion to +George's house. + +"They say George Weston and his wife do rather queer things sometimes." + +I asked her at once to say exactly what she meant, and not to play with +it. I added that I did not see why George and his wife should be so +much discussed. + +"They are talked about because they deserve it," Aunt Naomi returned, +evidently delighted by the effect she had produced. "If they will +quarrel so all the neighborhood can hear and see, of course people will +talk about it. Why shouldn't they? We ought to take some interest in +folks, I should think." + +I was silent a minute. I wanted to know why she said this, and what +George and his wife had been doing to make the village comment, but I +would not go on gossiping about them, and I dropped the subject +altogether. I made a remark about the Willeyville Fair. Aunt Naomi +chuckled audibly, but she did not persist in talking about the Westons. + + +September 22. Rosa is once more in a state of excitement, and the +household is correspondingly stirred. Hannah goes about with her head in +the air and an expression of the most lofty scorn on her face; Rosa +naturally resents this attitude, both of mind and of body; so I have to +act as a sort of buffer between the two. + +The fuss is about Ranny again. I begin to feel that I should be +justified in having him kidnapped and carried off to some far country, +but I hardly see my way clear to measures so extreme. I am astonished to +find that Aunt Naomi did not know all the facts about the illness of +Ranny's wife; or perhaps she was too much occupied with the affairs of +the Westons to tell the whole. Ranny seems this time to have got into +real difficulty, and apparently as the result of his latest escapade is +likely to pay a visit to the county jail. It seems that while he was +pretty far gone in liquor ex-Mrs. Ranny came to plead with him to take +her back and marry her over again. She having had the greatest +difficulty in getting divorced from him in the first place, one would +think she might be content to let well enough alone; but she is +evidently madly fond of Gargan, who must be a good deal of an Adonis in +his own world, so completely does he sway the hearts of the women, even +though they know him to be brutal, drunken, disreputable, and generally +worthless. On this occasion Ranny behaved worse than usual, and met his +former wife's petition by giving her a severe beating with the first +thing which came to hand, the thing unluckily being an axe-handle. The +poor woman is helpless in her bed, and Ranny has been taken possession +of by the constable. + +Rosa refuses to see anything in the incident which is in the least to +the discredit of Ranny. I was in the garden this morning, and overheard +her defending her lover against Hannah's severe censures upon him and +upon Rosa for siding with him. + +"Why shouldn't he beat his own wife when she deserved it," Rosa +demanded, "and she nothing but a hateful, sharp-nosed pig?" + +"She isn't his wife," Hannah retorted, apparently not prepared to +protest against a doctrine so well established as that a man might beat +his spouse. + +"Well, she was, anyhow," persisted Rosa; "and that's the same thing. You +can't put a man and his wife apart just by going to law. Father +O'Rafferty said so." + +"Oh, you can't, can't you?" Hannah said with scornful deliberation. +"Then you're a nice girl to be talking about marrying Ranny Gargan, if +he's got one wife alive already." + +This blow struck too near home, I fear, for Rosa's voice was pretty +shrill when she retorted. + +"What do you know about marrying anyhow, Hannah Elsmore? Nobody wants to +marry you, I'll be bound." + +It seemed to be time to interfere, so I went nearer to the window and +called to Rosa to come out to baby and me. + +"Rosa," I said, when she appeared, flushed and angry, "I wish you +wouldn't quarrel with Hannah." + +"Then what for's she all the time twitting me about Ranny Gargan?" +demanded the girl with angry tears in her eyes. "She don't know what it +is to care for a man anyhow, and what for does she be taking me up short +when I'm that bad in my mind a'ready I can't stand it? Ranny Gargan's +old beast of a wife's got him into a scrape, but that don't make any +difference to me. I ain't going back on him." + +I established myself on the grass beside the sun-dial, and took baby, +sweet and lovely, into my arms. + +"I am sorry, Rosa," I said when we were settled comfortably. "I hoped +you'd got over thinking about Ranny Gargan. He is certainly not the sort +of man to make you happy, even if he were free. He'd never think of +sparing you or letting you have your own way." + +"Who's wanting to have their own way, Miss Privet?" demanded my +astonishing handmaid; and then went on in her usual fashion of striking +me breathless when she comes to discourse of love and marriage. "That +ain't what women marry for, Miss Privet. They're just made so they marry +to be beat and broke and abused if that's what pleases the men; and +that's the way they're best off." + +"But, Rosa," I put in, "you always talk as if you'd be meekness itself +if a husband wanted to abuse you, but I confess I never thought you +would be at all backward about defending yourself." + +A droll look came into her rosy Irish face, and a funny little touch of +brogue into her voice. + +"I'd think if he loved me the way he ought to, Miss Privet, he'd be +willing to take a whack himself now and then, just in the way of love. +Besides," she added, "I'd come it round Ranny when it was anything I +really wanted. Any man's soft enough if a woman knows how to treat him +right." + +I abandoned the discussion, as I am always forced to abandon a talk of +this sort with Rosa. I suppose in her class the crude doctrine that it +is the right of the man to take and the duty of the woman to give still +exists with a good deal of simplicity and force, but it almost stops my +breath to hear Rosa state it. It is like a bit of primeval savagery +suddenly thrust into my face in the midst of nineteenth-century +civilization. The worst of it all is, moreover, to feel the habits of +old generations buzzing dizzily in my ears until I have a confused +sensation as if in principle the absurd vagaries of Rosa might be right. +I am tinglingly aware that fibres which belonged to some remote +progenitress, some barbaric woman captured by force, perhaps, after the +marriage customs of primitive peoples, retain the instinct of submission +to man and respond to Rosa's uncivilized theories. I have a sort of +second sense that if a man I loved came and asserted a brutal +sovereignty over me, it would appeal to these inherited instincts as +right and proper, according to the order appointed by nature. I know +what nonsense this is. The sense of justice has in the modern woman +displaced the old humiliating subjection,--although if one loved a man +the subjection would not be humiliating, but just the highest pleasure. +I can conceive of a woman's being so fond of a man that to be his abject +slave would be so much the happiest thing in the world that to serve him +to her very utmost would be so great a delight as almost to be +selfishness. + +How Father would have shouted over a page like this! I would not have +supposed even Rosa could have spurred me into such an attempt at +philosophy, and I hardly believed I knew so many long words. After all I +doubt if Rosa and I are so far apart in our instincts; only she has the +coolness to put them into words I only imitate, and cannot pretend to +rival. + + +September 24. It is delightful to see how really fond Tom is becoming of +baby. I came home from a walk this afternoon, and there in the parlor +was Tom down on the floor with Tomine, shaking his head at her like a +bear, and making her laugh. Rosa beamed from the background with the +most complete approval. He sprang up when I appeared, but I ignored all +the strangeness, and only said how glad I was to see him. I think he +liked my taking as a matter of course his being there, and very likely +this was what made him confess he had been in two or three times to play +with baby when he knew that I was not at home. + +"I saw you going down the other side of the river," he said, "so I came +to keep Thomasine from being lonesome." + +I returned that it was not very complimentary to tell me he had tried to +avoid me, but that I appreciated how much more fascinating baby was than +I, so he need not apologize; and the end of it was that after this +nonsense had broken the ice we sat on the floor together to entertain +her ladyship. She was pleased to be in the most sunny mood imaginable, +and responded to our fooling most graciously. With truly feminine +preference, however, she bestowed most of her attention upon the man. +She is a more entrancing creature every day; and she certainly has her +father's eyes. I compared them this afternoon. + + +September 26. The reading-room seems really at last to be coming into +being. I have found a place for it. It is a kind of square box over the +post-office, but with furniture and pictures it can be made rather +attractive. I have made out a list of periodicals, and sent to Boston +for framed photographs for the walls. To-day I went to talk over the +plan with Deacon Richards. + +The mill was fragrant with its sweet mealy smell, and Deacon Daniel was +as dusty as a moth-miller. As I stood in the doorway waiting for him to +come down from the wheel, where he was doing something or other about +the hopper, I fell to humming the old rhyme we sang as children when we +went by the mill:-- + + "'Miller, miller, musty-poll, + How many bags of wheat you stole?' + 'One of wheat and one of rye.' + 'You naughty miller, you must die!'" + +"That isn't very polite," Deacon Daniel said, coming up behind me before +I knew he had left his perch. + +I turned and greeted him smilingly, repeating the last line:-- + + "You naughty miller, you must die!" + +"I suppose I must," he assented; "but it won't be for stealing, Miss +Ruth." + +I love the old mill, with its great beams and its continual sound of +dashing water and the chirruping of the millstones grinding away at the +corn like an insatiate monster that can never have enough. The smell of +the meal, too, is so pleasant, and even the abundant dust is so clean +and fresh it seems to belong there. The mellow light through the dim +windows and the shadows hiding in every corner have always from +childhood appealed to my imagination. I find there always a soothing and +serene mood. + +"I want your advice, Deacon Richards," I said. + +"So as not to follow it?" he demanded. "That's what women generally want +of advice." + +I assured him I was ready to follow his advice if it were good, and so +we talked about the reading-room. I told him it seemed to me that if it +was to go on properly it should have a head; somebody to manage it and +be responsible for the way in which it was carried on. + +"But you will do that yourself," he said. + +I answered that it must be a man, for it was nonsense to think of a +woman's running a reading-room for men. He looked at me for a moment +with his droll grin, and then he was pleased to say that for a woman I +had a remarkable amount of common sense. I thanked him for the +compliment to my sex, and then asked if he would undertake the business, +and promise not to freeze the readers out the way he did the +prayer-meetings. + +"I'm not the sort of person you want," he answered, chuckling at my +allusion to the fire question. "I've sense enough to know that without +being a woman. Why don't you ask Tom Webbe?" + +I confessed that I had thought of Tom, but--And there I stuck, for I +could hardly tell the deacon how I thought gossip had already said +enough about Tom and myself without my giving folk any more to talk +about. + +"I don't know what that 'but' means," he remarked, grinning more than +ever, as if he did know perfectly. "Anyway, there's nobody in town who +could do it so well. All the men and boys like him, and he has a level +head. He's the only one of the young fellows that's been to college, and +he ought to know more about books than any of the rest of them. Besides, +he needs something to take up his mind." + +I felt the deacon was right, and I began to ask myself whether my +personal feelings should be allowed to count in such a matter. Still I +could hardly make up my mind to take the responsibility of putting Tom +at the head of a reading-room I had started. If nothing else were to be +considered I did not want my connection with the plan to be too +prominent, and gossip about Tom would be just the thing to keep my name +always to the front. + +"I hope you are sensible enough to do one thing," Deacon Daniel went on, +"and that is to have everybody who uses the room pay for it. It needn't +be much, but they'll respect it and themselves more if they pay +something, and it'll give them the right to grumble." + +"I don't want them to grumble," I returned. + +"Oh, nobody cares much for anything he can't grumble about," was his +reply, with a laugh; "but really they are twice as likely to grumble if +you pay for everything than if they help. That's the way we are made." + +I told him that he was an old cynic, but I saw in a moment he was right +about the value that would be put on a thing which was paid for. If the +men feel they are helping to support the reading-room they will take a +good deal more interest in it. + +"Tom Webbe will manage them all right," the deacon declared. "He'll let +them grumble just enough, and make them so contented they'll think +they're having their own way while he's going ahead just the way he +thinks best. He's the only man for the place." + +Perhaps he is; and indeed the more I think about it, the more I see the +deacon is right. It would certainly be good for Tom, and that is a good +deal. I wonder what I ought to do? + +What Deacon Daniel said about the way in which Tom would manage the men +has been running through my mind. I wonder that I, who have known Tom so +well, never thought before of how great his power is to control people. +It showed itself when he was a boy; and if he had carried out his plan +to study law it would have been--I do wonder if Tom is working by +himself, and if that is the reason he borrowed those law-books? + + +September 27. Old lady Andrews has solved the question for me. I am so +glad I thought to go to her for advice. She suggests that we have a +committee, and make Deacon Richards chairman. Then Tom can be put on, +and really do the work. + +"It wouldn't do at all for you to put Tom Webbe at the head alone, my +dear," she said. "It would make talk, and Aunt Naomi would have you +married to him a dozen times before the week was over; but this way it +will be all right." + +I asked her if committees did not usually have three on them, and she +answered that Deacon Richards would know. + +"I belong to an old-fashioned generation, my dear, and I never can feel +that it's quite respectable for a woman to know about committees and +that sort of thing. I'm sure in my day it wouldn't have been thought +well-bred. But Deacon Daniel will know. He's always on committees at +church conferences and councils." + +Once more I visited the mill, and told Deacon Daniel of old lady +Andrews' suggestion. He agreed at once, and declared the plan was better +than that of having one man at the head. + +"It'll be much the same thing as far as managing the reading-room goes," +he observed, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "but somehow folks like +committees, and they generally think they have a better show if three or +four men are running things than if there's only one. Of course one man +always does manage, but a committee's more popular." + +Deacon Daniel was very sure that the committee should have three on it, +and when I asked who should be the other man he said:-- + +"If it were anybody else but you, Miss Ruth, I shouldn't think it was +any use to say it, but you'll see what I mean. I think Cy Turner is the +man for the third place." + +"The blacksmith?" I asked, a good deal surprised. "I'm afraid I don't +see what you mean. I don't even know him." + +The deacon grinned down on me from his height, and made me a +characteristic retort. + +"He doesn't look as if he'd kept awake nights on that account." + +The blacksmith's jolly round face and twinkling eyes as I had seen him +on the street now and then came up before my mind, and I felt the full +force of the deacon's irony. I told him that he was impertinent, and +asked why he named Mr. Turner. + +"Because," he answered, seriously, "what you want is for the folks that +haven't any books at home and don't have a chance to read to get +interested in the reading-room. If Cy Turner takes hold of it, he'll do +more than anybody else in town could do to make it go among just those +folks. He's shrewd and good-natured, and everybody that knows him likes +him. He'll have all the boys in the reading-room if he has to take them +there by the collar, and if he does they'll think it's fine." + +I could see at once the wisdom of the deacon's idea. I asked how Tom and +the blacksmith would work together, and was assured that Mr. Turner has +a most unlimited admiration for Tom, so that the two would agree +perfectly. I made up my mind on the spot, and decided to go at once to +interview the blacksmith, from whose shop I could hear above the +whirring of the mill the blows on the anvil. I had no time on the little +way from the mill to the blacksmith shop to consider what I should say +to Mr. Turner, and I passed the time in hoping there would be no men +about. It made no difference; he was so straightforward and simple, so +kindly and human, that I felt at ease with him from the first. He was +luckily alone, so I walked in boldly as if I were in the habit of +visiting the forge every day of my life. He looked surprised to see me, +but not in the least disconcerted. The self-respecting coolness of a New +England workingman is something most admirable. Mr. Turner was smutty +and dressed in dirty clothes, leather apron and all, but his manners +were as good as those of the best gentleman in the land. There is +something noble in a country where a common workingman will meet you +with no servility and without any self-consciousness. I liked Mr. Turner +from the moment I saw his face and heard his voice, rich and cheery, and +I was won by his merry eyes, which had all the time a twinkling +suggestion of a smile ready to break out on the slightest occasion. I +went straight to my errand, and nothing could have been better than the +way in which he received my proposition. He had no false modesty, and no +over-assurance. He evidently knew that he could do what was required, he +was undisguisedly pleased to be asked, and he was troubled by no doubts +about social proprieties or improprieties. + +"I suppose Mr. Webbe will do most of what work there is to do," I said, +"but he will be an easy person to work with on a committee, I should +think." + +"Yes, marm, he will," the blacksmith responded heartily. "There ain't a +squarer fellow alive than Tom Webbe. Tom's been a bit wild, perhaps; but +he's an awful good fellow just the same, if you know him. I'm pleased to +be on the committee with him, Miss Privet; and I'll do my best. I think +the boys'll do about as I want 'em to." + +I had only to see Mr. Turner to understand why Deacon Daniel had chosen +him. I think the committee--but "oh, good gracious mercy me," as the old +woman in the story says, it just occurs to me that I have not said a +word to Tom about the whole business! + + +September 28. It is strange that my only difficulty in arranging about +the reading-room should come from Tom, on whom I had counted as a matter +of course; but it is fortunate that I had assumed he would serve, for +this is what made him consent. When I saw him to-day, and told him what +I had done, he at first said he could not possibly have anything to do +with the whole matter. + +"I thank you, Ruth," he said, "but don't you see I had better not give +folks any occasion to think of me at all just now? The gossips need only +to be reminded of my being alive, and they will begin all over again." + +"Tom," I asked him desperately, "are you never going to get over this +bitter feeling? I can't bear to have you go on thinking that everybody +is talking about you." + +"I don't blame them for talking," was his answer. + +I assured him he would have been pleased if he could have heard the way +in which Mr. Turner spoke of him yesterday. + +"Oh, Cy! he is too good-hearted to fling at anybody." + +"But Deacon Richards was just as friendly," I insisted. + +"Yes, he would be. It isn't the men, Ruth; they are ready to give a +fellow a chance; but the women"-- + +He did not seem to know how to finish his sentence, and I reminded him +that I too was a woman. + +"Oh, you," responded Tom, "you're an angel. You might almost be a man." + +I laughed at him for putting men above angels, and so by making him +smile, by coaxing him, and appealing to his friendliness to back me up +now I had committed myself, I prevailed upon him to serve. I am sure it +will be good for the reading-room, and I am equally sure it will be good +for Tom. Why in the world this victory should have left me a little +inclined to be blue, I do not understand. + + + + +X + +OCTOBER + + +October 5. I went this afternoon to walk on the Rim road. The day was +beyond words in its beauty,--crisp, and clear, and rich with all that +vitality which nature seems so full of in autumn, as if it were filling +itself with life to withstand the long strain of the winter. The leaves +were splendid in their color, and shone against the sky as if they were +full of happiness. Perhaps it was the day that made it possible for me +to see the red house without a pang, but I think it was the sense of +baby at home, well and happy, and learning, unconsciously of course, to +love me with every day that goes over her small head. A thin thread of +smoke trickled up from the chimney, and I thought I ought to go in to +see if the old grandmother was there. I wonder if it is right not to try +if the blessed granddaughter might not soften her old heart, battered +and begrimed if it be. Nobody answered my knock, however, and so I did +not see Mrs. Brownrig, for which I was selfishly glad. She has not been +very gracious when I have sent her things, so I was not, I confess, +especially anxious for an interview. I went away smiling to myself over +a saying of Father's: "There is nothing so pleasant as a disagreeable +duty conscientiously escaped." + + +October 6. I really know something which has escaped the acuteness of +Aunt Naomi, and I feel greatly puffed up in consequence. Deacon Richards +has been here this evening, and as it was rather cool I had a brisk, +cheery fire. + +"I do like to be warm," he said, stretching out his hand luxuriously to +the blaze. "I never could understand why I feel the cold so. I should +think it was age, if it hadn't always been so from the time I was a +boy." + +I thought of the cold vestry, and smiled to myself as I wondered if +Deacon Daniel had ascetic ideas of self-torture. + +"Then I should think you would be fond of big fires," I observed. + +"I am," he responded, "only they make me sleepy. I'm like a kitten; I go +to sleep when I get warmed through." + +I laughed outright, and when he asked me what I was laughing at I told +him it was partly at the idea of his being like a kitten, and partly +because I had found him out. + +"It is all very well for you to keep the vestry as cold as a barn so +that you can keep awake," I added; "but don't you think it is unfair to +the rest of the congregation to freeze them too?" + +He looked rather disconcerted a moment, and then grinned, though +sheepishly. + +"Heat makes other people sleepy too," he said defensively. + +I chaffed him a little, and told him I should send a couple of loads of +wood to the vestry, and that if it were necessary I would give him a +bottle of smelling-salts to keep him awake, but certainly the room must +be warmer. I declared I would not have dear old lady Andrews exposed to +the danger of pneumonia, even if he was like a kitten. It is really +quite as touching as it is absurd to think of his sitting in +prayer-meeting shivering and uncomfortable because he feels it his duty +to keep awake. In biblical times dancing before the Lord was a +legitimate form of worship; it is almost a pity that sleeping before the +Lord cannot be put among proper religious observances. Dear Miss +Charlotte always sleeps--devoutly, I am sure--at every prayer-meeting, +and then comes out declaring it has been a beautiful meeting. I have no +doubt she has been spiritually refreshed, even if she has nodded. Father +used to say that no religion could be permanent until men were able to +give their deity a sense of humor; and I do think a supreme being which +could not see the humorous side of Deacon Richards' pathetic +mortification of the flesh in his frosty vestry could hardly have the +qualifications necessary to manage the universe properly. + + +October 12. Ranny Gargan has settled the question of marriage for the +present at least. He has remarried his first wife to prevent her from +bringing suit against him. As Miss Charlotte rather boldly said, he has +legitimized the beating by marrying the woman. + +Rosa takes the matter coolly. She says she is glad to have things so she +can't think of Ranny, for now she can take Dennis, and not bother any +more about it. + +"It's a comfort to any woman not to have to decide what man she'll +marry," she remarked with her amazing philosophy. + +"Then you'd like to have somebody arrange a marriage for you, Rosa," I +said, rather for the sake of saying something. + +"Arrange, is it?" she cried, bristling up suddenly. "What for would I +have somebody making my marriage? I'd like to see anybody that would +dare!" + +The moral of which seems to be that if Rosa is so much of a philosopher +that she sometimes seems to me to be talking scraps out of old heathen +sages, she is yet only a woman. + + +October 20. Aunt Naomi had about her when she came stealthily in this +afternoon an air of excitement so evident as almost to be contagious. I +could see by the very hurry of her sliding step and the extra tightness +of her veil that something had stirred her greatly. + +"What is it, Aunt Naomi?" I asked at once. "You fairly bristle with +news. What's happened?" + +She smiled and gave a little cluck, but my salutation made her instantly +moderate her movements. She sat down with a composed and self-contained +air, and only by the unusually vigorous swinging of her foot showed that +she was not as serene as on ordinary occasions. + +"Who said anything had happened?" she demanded. + +I returned that she showed it by her looks. + +"Something is always happening, I suppose." + +I know Aunt Naomi well enough to understand that the quickest way of +coming at her tidings was to pretend indifference, so I asked no more +questions, but made a careless remark about the weather. + +"What made you think anything had happened?" persisted she. + +"It was simply an idea that came into my head," was my reply. "I hope +Deacon Daniel keeps the vestry warm in these days." + +Aunt Naomi was not proof against this parade of indifference, and in a +moment she broke out with her story. + +"Well," she declared, "Tom Webbe seems bound to be talked about." + +"Tom Webbe!" I echoed. "What is it now?" + +I confess my heart sank with the fear that he had become desperate with +the pressure of weary days, and had somehow defied all the narrow +conventionalities which hem him in here in this little town. + +"It's the Brownrig woman," Aunt Naomi announced. "If you get mixed up +with that sort of creatures there's no knowing what you'll come to." + +"But what about her?" I demanded so eagerly that I became suddenly +conscious of the keen curiosity which my manner brought into her glance. +"What has she been doing?" I went on, trying to be cool. + +It was only by much questioning that I got the story. Had it not been +for my real interest in Tom I would not have bothered so much, but as it +was she had me at her mercy, and knew it. What happened, so far as I can +make out, is this: The Brownrig woman has been worse than ever since +Julia's death. She has been drunk in the streets more than once, and I +am afraid the help she has had from Tom and others has only led her to +greater excesses. Once Deacon Richards came upon her lying in the ditch +beside the road, and she has made trouble more than once, besides +disturbing the prayer-meeting. + +Last evening Tom came upon a mob of men and boys down by the Flatiron +Wharf, and in the midst of them was Mrs. Brownrig, singing and howling. +They were baiting her, and saying things to provoke her to more +outrageous profanity. + +"They do say," observed Aunt Naomi with what seemed to me, I am ashamed +to say, an unholy relish, "her swearing was something awful. John Deland +told me he never heard anything like it. He said no man could begin to +come up to it." + +"John Deland, that owns the smoke-houses?" I put in. "What was he doing +there? I always thought he was a decent man." + +"So he is. He says," she returned with her drollest smile, "he was just +passing by and couldn't help hearing. I dare say you couldn't have +helped hearing if you'd been passing by." + +"I should have passed pretty quickly then; but what did Tom Webbe do?" + +She went on to say that Tom had come upon this disgraceful scene, and +found the crowd made up of all the lowest fellows in town. The men were +shouting with laughter, and the old woman was shrieking with rage and +intoxication. + +"John Deland says as soon as Tom saw what was going on and who the woman +was, he broke through the crowd, and took her by the arm, and told her +to come home. She cursed him, and said she wouldn't go; and then she +cried, and they had a dreadful time. Then somebody in the crowd--John +says he thinks it was one of the Bagley boys that burnt Micah Sprague's +barn. You remember about that, don't you? They live somewhere down +beyond the old shipyard"-- + +"I remember that the Spragues' barn was burned," answered I; "but what +did the Bagley boy do last night?" + +"He called out to Tom Webbe to get out of the way, and not spoil the +fun. Then Tom turned on the crowd, and I guess he gave it to them hot +and heavy." + +"I'm sure I hope he did!" I said fervently. + +"He said he thought they might be in better business than tormenting an +old drunken woman like that, and called them cowards to their faces. +They got mad, and wanted to know what business it was of his, anyway. +Then he blazed out again, and said"-- + +I do not know whether the pause Aunt Naomi made was intentionally +designed to rouse me still further, or whether she hesitated +unconsciously; but I was too excited to care. + +"What did he say?" I asked breathlessly. + +"He told them she was his mother-in-law." + +"Tom Webbe said that? To that crowd?" cried I, and I felt the tears +spring into my eyes. It was chiefly excitement, of course, but the pluck +of it and the hurt to Tom came over me in a flash. "What did they do?" + +"They just muttered, and got out of the way. John Deland said it wasn't +two minutes before Tom was left alone with the old woman, and then he +took her home. It's a pity she wouldn't drink herself to death." + +"I think it is, Aunt Naomi," was my answer; though I wished to add that +the sentiment was rather a queer one to come from anybody who believes +as she does. + +I do not know what else Aunt Naomi said. Indeed when she had told her +tale she seemed in something of a hurry to leave, and I suspect her of +going on to repeat it somewhere else. Tom's sin has left a trail of +consequences behind it which he could never have dreamed of. I cannot +tell whether I pity him more for this or honor him for the courage with +which he stood up. Poor Tom! + + +October 24. An odd thing has happened to the Westons. A man came in the +storm last night and dropped insensible on the doorstep. He might have +lain there all night, and very likely would have died before morning, +but George, when he started for bed, chanced to open the door to look at +the weather. He found the tramp wet and covered with sleet, and at first +thought that he was either dead or drunk. When he had got him in and +thawed out by the kitchen fire, the man proved to be ill. George sent +for Dr. Wentworth, and had a bed made up in the shed-chamber, but when +he told me this morning he said it seemed rather doubtful if the tramp +could live. + +"What did Mrs. Weston say?" I asked. + +I do not know how I came to ask such a question, and I meant nothing by +it. George, however, stiffened in a moment as if he suspected me of +something unkind. + +"Mrs. Weston didn't like my taking him into the house," he said. "She +thought I ought to have sent him off to the poor-farm." + +"You could hardly do that last night," I returned, wondering how I could +have offended him. "I am afraid the tramp's looks set her against him." + +"She hasn't seen him. She'd gone to bed before I found him last night, +and this morning he is pretty sick. Dr. Wentworth says he can't be moved +now. He's in a high fever, and keeps talking all the time." + +It is so very seldom we hear of tramps in Tuskamuck that it is strange +to have one appear like this, and it is odd he chose George's house to +tumble down at, as it is a little out of the road. Tramps have a law of +their own, however, and never do what one would expect of them. I hope +his illness will not be serious. I offered to do what I could, but +George said they could take care of the man for the present. Then he +hesitated, and flushed a little as if confused. + +"I am sorry," he said, "it should happen just now, for Gertrude ought +not to be troubled when--when she isn't well." + +It is a pity, and I hope no harm will come of it, but if Mrs. Weston has +not seen the tramp and has not been startled, I do not see why any +should. + + +October 26. If I could be superstitious, I think I should be now; but of +course the whole thing is nonsense. People are talking--in forty-eight +hours! How gossip does spring and spread!--as if there were something +peculiar about that tramp. There is nothing definite to say except that +he came to George's house, which is a little off from the main street, +and that in his delirium he keeps calling for some person he says he +knows is there, and he will surely find, no matter how she hides. The +idea of the sick in a delirium is always painful, and the talk about +this man makes it doubly so. I am afraid the fact that Mrs. Weston's +servants do not like her has something to do with the whispers in the +air. Dislike will create suspicion on the slightest excuse, and there +can be nothing to connect her with this dying tramp. What could there +be? I wish Aunt Naomi would not repeat such unpleasant things. + + +October 27. I have been with Tom hanging the pictures in the new +reading-room, and everything is ready for the opening when the magazines +and the books come. Next Wednesday is the first of the month, and then +we will have it opened. Tom has already a list of over twenty men and +boys who have joined, and lame Peter Tobey is to be janitor. It is +delightful to see how proud and pleased he is. He can help his mother +now, and the poor boy was pathetic in the way he spoke of that. He only +mentioned it, but his tone touched me to the quick. + +Tom and I had a delightful afternoon, hanging pictures, arranging the +furniture, and seeing that everything was right. Mr. Turner and Deacon +Richards came in just as we finished, and the three men were so simple +in their interest, and so hearty about it, that I feel as if everything +was going forward in just the right spirit. Mr. Turner saw where a +bracket was needed for one of the lamps, and said at once he would make +one to-morrow. It was charming to see how pleased he was to find there +was something he could furnish, and which nobody else at hand could have +supplied. We are always pleased to find we are not only needed, but we +are needed in some particular way which marks our personal fitness for +the thing to be done. Deacon Daniel brought a big braided rug that an +old woman at the Rim had made by his orders. He was in good spirits +because he had helped the old woman and the reading-room at the same +time. Tom was happy because he was at work, and in an atmosphere that +was friendly; and I was happy because I could not help it. And so when +we locked the room, and came home in the early twilight, I felt at peace +with all the world. + +Tom came in and had a frolic with Tomine, and when he went he held my +hand a moment, looking into my face as if to impress me with what he +said. + +"Thank you, Ruth," were the words; "I think you'll succeed in making me +human again. Good-night." + +If I am helping him to be reconciled with the world and himself I am +more glad than I can tell. + + +October 28. The earthquake always finds us unprepared, and to-night it +has come. I feel dazed and queer, as if life had been shaken to its +foundations, and as if it were trembling about me. + +George came in suddenly--My hand trembles so that I am writing like an +old woman. If the chief object of keeping a journal is to help myself to +be sane and rational, I must have better control over my nerves. + +About seven o'clock, as I sat sewing, I heard Hannah open the front door +to somebody. I half expected a deacon, as it generally is a deacon in +the evening, but the door opened, and George came rushing in. His hurry +and his excited manner made me see at once that something unusual had +happened. His face was pale, his eyes wild, and somehow his whole air +was terrifying. + +"What is the matter?" I cried, jumping up to meet him. + +He tried to speak, but only gave a sort of choking gasp. + +"Has anything happened?" I asked him. "Your wife"-- + +"I haven't any wife," he interrupted. + +The shock was terrible, for I thought at once she must be dead, and I +made some sort of a horrified exclamation. Then we stared at each other +a minute. I supposed something had happened to her, and that he had from +the force of old habit come to me in hope of comfort. + +"I never had a wife," he went on, almost angrily, and as if I had +disputed him. + +I do not know what we said then or how we said it. It was a long time +before I could understand, and even now it seems like a bad dream. +Somehow he made me understand that the tramp who was sick at their house +had kept calling out in his delirium for Gertrude and declaring he had +found her, that she need not hide, for he would surely find her wherever +she hid. The servants talked of it, and George knew it a day or two ago. +I do not know whether he suspected anything or not. Very likely he could +hardly tell himself. Finally one of the girls told Mrs. Weston, and she +acted very strangely. She wanted to have a description of the man, and +at last she insisted on going herself to peep at him, to see what he was +like. George happened to come home just at the time Mrs. Weston had +crept up to the door of the shed-chamber. Some exclamation of hers when +she saw her husband roused the sick man, who sat up in bed and screamed +that he knew his wife's voice, and he would see her. George caught her +by the arm, pushed the door wide open with his foot, and led her into +the chamber. She held back, and cried out, and the tramp, half wild with +delirium, sprang out of bed, shouting to George: "Take your hands off of +my wife!" + +George declares that even then he should not have believed the tramp was +really speaking the truth if Gertrude hadn't confirmed it. He thought +the man was out of his head, and the worst of his suspicion was that the +stranger had known Mrs. Weston somewhere. As soon as the tramp spoke, +however, she fell down on her knees and caught George's hand, crying +over and over: "I thought he was dead! I thought he was dead!" It must +have been a fearful thing for both of them; and then Gertrude fainted +dead away at George's feet. The girl who had been taking care of the +tramp was out of the room at the moment, but she heard George calling, +and came in time to take her mistress away; while George got the tramp +back to bed, and soothed him into some sort of quiet. Then he rushed +over here. I urged him to go back at once, telling him his wife would +want him, and that it might after all be a mistake. + +"I don't want ever to set eyes on her again," he declared doggedly. +"She's cheated me. She told me I was the first man she ever cared for, +and I never had a hint she'd been married. She made a fool of me, but +thank God I'm out of that mess." + +"What do you mean?" I asked him. "You are talking about your wife." + +"She isn't my wife, I tell you," persisted he. "I'll never live with her +again." + +He must have seen how he shocked me, and at last he was persuaded to go +home. I know I must see him to-morrow, and I have a cowardly desire to +run away. I have a hateful feeling of repulsion against him, but that is +something to be overcome. At any rate both he and his poor wife need a +friend if they ever did, and I must do the best I can. + +I cannot wonder George should be deeply hurt by finding that Mrs. Weston +had a husband before and did not tell him. She can hardly have loved +him or she must have been honest with him. It may have been through her +love and fear of losing him that she did not dare to tell; though from +what I have seen of her I haven't thought her much given to sentiment. +How dreadful it must be to live a life resting on concealment. I have +very likely been uncharitable in judging her, for she must always have +been uneasy and of course could not be her true self. + + +October 29. Some rumor of the truth has flown about the town, as I was +sure when I saw Aunt Naomi coming up the walk this forenoon. Sometimes I +think she sees written on walls and fences the things which have +happened or been said in the houses which they surround. She has almost +a second sight; and if I wished to do anything secret I would not +venture to be in the same county with her. + +She seated herself comfortably in a patch of sunshine, and looked with +the greatest interest at the mahonia in bloom on the flower-stand by the +south window. She spoke of the weather and of Peter's silliness, told me +where the sewing-circle was to be next week, and approached the real +object of her call with the deliberation of a cat who is creeping up +behind a mouse. When she did speak, she startled me. + +"I suppose you know that tramp over to the Westons' died this morning," +she remarked, so carelessly it might have seemed an accident if her eye +had not fairly gleamed with eagerness. + +"Died!" I echoed. + +"Yes, he's dead," she went on. "He had some sort of excitement +yesterday, they say, and it seems to have been the end of him." + +She watched me as if to see whether I would give any sign of knowing +more of the matter than she did, but for once I hope I baffled her +penetration. I made some ordinary comment, which could not have told her +much. + +"It's very queer a tramp should go to that particular house to die," +observed Aunt Naomi, as if she were stating an abstract truth in which +she had no especial interest. + +I asked what there was especially odd about it. + +"Well, for one thing," she answered, "he asked the way there +particularly." + +I inquired how she knew. + +"Al Demmons met him on the Rim road," she continued, not choosing, +apparently, to answer my question directly, "and this man wanted to know +where a man named Weston lived who'd married a woman from the West +called something Al Demmons couldn't remember. Al Demmons said that +George Weston was the only Weston in town, and that he had married a +girl named West. Then the man said something about 'that used to be her +name.' It's all pretty queer, I think." + +To this I did not respond. I would not get into a discussion which would +give Aunt Naomi more material for talk. After a moment of silence, she +said:-- + +"Well, the man's dead now, and I suppose that's the end of him. I don't +suppose Mrs. Weston's likely to tell much about him." + +"Aunt Naomi," I returned, feeling that even if all the traditions of +respect for my elders were broken I must speak, "doesn't it seem to you +harm might come of talking about this tramp as if he were some +mysterious person connected with Mrs. Weston's life before she came to +Tuskamuck? It isn't strange that somebody should have known her, and +when once a tramp has had help from a person he hangs on." + +She regarded me with a shrewd look. + +"You wouldn't take up cudgels for her that way if you didn't know +something," she observed. + +After that there was nothing for me to say. I simply dropped the +subject, and refused to talk about the affairs of the Westons at all. I +am so sorry, however, that gossip has got hold of a suspicion. It was to +be expected, I suppose, and indeed it has been in the air ever since the +man came. I am sorry for the Westons. + + +October 30. After the earthquake a fire,--I wonder whether after the +fire will come the still, small voice! It is curious that out of all +this excitement the feeling of which I am most conscious after my dismay +and my pity is one of irritation. I am ashamed to find in my thought so +much anger against George. He had perhaps a right to think as he did +about my affection for him, though it is inconceivable any gentleman +should say the things he said to me last night. Even if he were crazy +enough to suppose I could still love him, how could he forget his wife; +how could he be glad of an excuse to be freed from her; how could he +forget the little child that is coming? Oh, I am like Jonah when he was +so sure he did well to be angry! I am convinced I can have no just +perception of character at all, for this George Weston is showing +himself so weak, so ungenerous, so cruel, that he has either been +changed vitally or I did not really know him. I was utterly deceived in +him. No; I will not believe that. We have all of us possibilities in +different directions. I wish I could remember the passage where Browning +says a man has two sides, one for the world and one to show a woman when +he loves her. Perhaps one side is as true as the other; and what I knew +was a possible George, I am sure. + +He came in yesterday afternoon with a look of hard determination. He +greeted me almost curtly, and added in the same breath:-- + +"The man is dead. She's confessed it all. He was her husband, and she +was never my wife legally at all. She says she thought he was dead." + +"Then there's only one thing to do," I answered. "You can get Mr. +Saychase to marry you to-day. Of course it can be arranged if you tell +him how the mistake arose, and he won't speak of it." + +He laughed sneeringly. + +"I haven't any intention of marrying her," he said. + +"No intention of marrying her?" I repeated, not understanding him. "If +the first ceremony wasn't legal, another is necessary, of course." + +"She cheated me," he declared, his manner becoming more excited. "Do you +suppose after that I'd have her for my wife? Besides, you don't see. She +was another man's wife when she came to live with me, and"-- + +I stared at him without speaking, and he began to look confused. + +"No man wants to marry a woman that's been living with him," he blurted +out defiantly. "I suppose that isn't a nice thing to say to you, but any +man would understand." + +I was silent at first, in mere amazement and indignation. The thing +seemed so monstrous, so indelicate, so cruel to the woman. She had +deceived him and hidden the fact that she had been married, but there +was no justice in this horrible way of looking at it, as if her +ignorance had been a crime. I could hardly believe he realized what he +was saying. Before I could think what to say, he went on. + +"Very likely you think I'm hard, Ruth; and perhaps I shouldn't feel so +if it hadn't come about through her own fault. If she'd told me the +truth"-- + +"George!" I burst out. "You don't know what you are saying! You didn't +take her as your wife for a week or a month, but for all her life." + +"She never was my wife," he persisted stubbornly. + +I looked at him with a feeling of despair,--not unmixed, I must confess, +with anger. Most of all, however, I wanted to reach him; to make him see +things as they were; and I wanted to save the poor woman. I leaned +forward, and laid my fingers on his arm. My eyes were smarting, but I +would not cry. + +"But if there were no question of her at all," I pleaded, "you must do +what is right for your own sake. You have made her pledges, and you +can't in common honesty give them up." + +"She set me free from all that when she lied to me. I made pledges to a +girl, not to another man's wife." + +"But she didn't know. She thought she was free to marry you. She +believed she was honestly your wife." + +"She never was, she never was." + +He repeated it stubbornly as if the fact settled everything. + +"She was!" I broke out hotly. "She was your wife; and she is your wife! +When a man and a woman honestly love each other and marry without +knowing of any reason why they may not, I say they are man and wife, no +matter what the law is." + +"Suppose the husband had lived?" he demanded, with a hateful smile. "The +law really settles it." + +"Do you believe that?" I asked him. "Or do you only wish to believe it?" + +He looked at me half angrily, and the blood sprang into his cheeks. Then +he took a step forward. + +"She came between us!" he said, lowering his voice, but speaking with a +new fierceness. + +I felt as if he had struck me, and I shrank back. Then I straightened +up, and looked him in the eye. + +"You don't dare to say that aloud," I retorted. "You left me of your own +accord. You insult me to come here and say such a thing, and I will not +hear it. If you mean to talk in that strain, you may leave the house." + +He was naturally a good deal taken aback by this, and perhaps I should +not--Yes, I should; I am glad I did say it. He stammered something about +begging my pardon. + +"Let that go," interrupted I, feeling as if I had endured about all that +I could hear. "The question is whether you are not going to be just to +your wife." + +"You fight mighty well for her," responded George, "but if you knew how +she"-- + +"Never mind," I broke in. "Can't you see I am fighting for you? I am +trying to make you see you owe it to yourself to be right in this; and +moreover you owe it to me." + +"To you?" he asked, with a touch in his voice which should have warned +me, but did not, I was so wrapped up in my own view of the situation. + +"Yes, to me. I am your oldest friend, don't you see, and you owe it to +me not to fail now." + +He sprang forward impulsively, holding out both his hands. + +"Ruth," he cried out, "what's the use of all this talk? You know it's +you I love, and you I mean to marry." + +I know now how a man feels when he strikes another full in the face for +insulting him. I felt myself growing hot and then cold again; and I was +literally speechless from indignation. + +"I went crazy a while for a fool with a pretty face," he went rushing +on; "but all that"-- + +"She is your wife, George Weston!" I broke in. "How dare you talk so to +me!" + +He was evidently astonished, but he persisted. + +"We ought to be honest with each other now, Ruth," he said. "There's too +much at stake for us to beat about the bush. I know I've behaved like a +fool and a brute. I've hurt you and--and cheated you, and you've had +every reason to throw me over like a sick dog; but when you made up the +money I'd lost and didn't let Mr. Longworthy suspect, I knew you cared +for me just the same!" + +"Cared for you!" I blazed out. "Do you think I could have ruined any +man's life for that? I love you no more than I love any other man with a +wife of his own!" + +"That's just it," he broke in eagerly. "Of course I knew you couldn't +own you cared while she"-- + +The egotism of it, the vulgarity of it made me frantic. I was ashamed of +myself, I was ashamed of him, and I felt as if nothing would make him +see the truth. Never in my whole life have I spoken to any human being +as I did to him. I felt like a raging termagant, but he would not see. + +"Stop!" I cried out. "If you had never had a wife, I couldn't care for +you. I thought I loved you, and perhaps I did; but all that is over, and +over forever." + +"You've said you'd love me always," he retorted. + +Some outer layer of courtesy seemed to have cracked and fallen from him, +and to have left an ugly and vulgar nature bare. The pathos of it came +over me. The pity that a man should be capable of so exposing his baser +self struck me in the midst of all my indignation. I could not help a +feeling, moreover, that he had somehow a right to reproach me with +having changed. Thinking of it now in cooler blood I cannot see that +since he has left me to marry another woman he has any ground for +reproaching me; but somehow at the moment I felt guilty. + +"George," I answered, "I thought I was telling the truth; I didn't +understand myself." + +The change in his face showed me that this way of putting it had done +more to convince him than any direct denial. His whole manner altered. + +"You don't mean," he pleaded piteously, "you've stopped caring for me?" + +I could only tell him that certainly I had stopped caring for him in the +old way, and I begged him to go back to his wife. He said little more, +and I was at last released from this horrible scene. All night I thought +of it miserably or I dreamed of it more miserably still. That poor +woman! What can I do for her? I hope I have not lost the power of +influencing George, for I might use it to help her. + + + + +XI + +NOVEMBER + + +November 3. How odd are the turns that fate plays us. Sometimes it seems +as if an unseen power were amusing himself tangling the threads of human +lives just as Peter has been snarling up my worsted for pure fun. Only a +power mighty enough to be able to do this must be too great to be so +heartless. I suppose, too, that the pity of things is often more in the +way in which we look at them than it is in the turn which fate or +fortune has given to affairs. The point of view changes values so. + +All this is commonplace, of course; but it is certainly curious that +George's wife should be in my house, almost turned out of her husband's. +When I found her on the steps the other night, wet with the rain, afraid +to ring, afraid of me, and terrified at what had come upon her, I had no +time to think of the strange perversity of events which had brought this +about. She had left George's house, she said, because she was afraid of +him and because he had said she was to go as soon as she was able. He +had called her a horrible name, she added, and he had told her he was +done with her; that she must in the future take care of herself and not +expect to live with him. I know, after seeing the cruel self George +showed the other day, that he could be terrible, and he would have less +restraint with his wife than with me. In the evening, as soon as it was +really dark, in the midst of the storm, she came to me. She said she +knew how I must hate her, that she had said horrid things about me, but +she had nowhere else to go, and she implored I would take her in. She is +asleep now in the south chamber. She is ill, and I cannot tell what the +effects of her exposure will be. Dr. Wentworth looks grave, but he does +not say what he thinks. + +What I ought to do is the question. She has been here two days, and her +husband must have found out by this time what I suppose everybody in +town knows,--where she is. I cannot fold my hands and let things go. I +must send for George, much as I shrink from seeing him. How can I run +the risk of having another scene like the one on Friday? and yet I must +do something. She can do nothing for herself. It should be a man to talk +with George; but I cannot ask Tom. He and George do not like each other, +and he could not persuade George to do right to Gertrude. Perhaps Deacon +Richards might effect something. + + +November 5. After all my difficulty in persuading Deacon Richards to +interfere, his efforts have come to nothing. George was rude to him, and +told him to mind his own affairs. I suppose dear old Deacon Daniel had +not much tact. + +"I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself," the Deacon said +indignantly, "and that he was a disgrace to the town; but it didn't seem +to move him any." + +"I hope he treated you well," I answered dolefully. "I am sorry I +persuaded you to go." + +"He was plain enough," Deacon Daniel responded grimly. "He didn't mince +words any to speak of." + +I must see him myself. I wish I dared consult Tom, but it could not do +any good. I must work it out alone; but what can I say? + + +November 6. Fortunately, I did not have to send for George. He appeared +this afternoon on a singular errand. He wanted to pay me board for his +wife until she was well enough to go away. I assured him he need not be +troubled about board, because I was glad to do what I could for his +wife; and I could not help adding that I did not keep a lodging-house. + +"I'm willing to be as kind to her while she's here as I can," he assured +me awkwardly, "and of course I shall not let her go away empty-handed." + +"She is not likely to," I retorted, feeling my cheeks get hot. "Dr. +Wentworth says she cannot be moved until after the baby comes." + +He flushed in his turn, and looked out of the window. + +"I don't think, Ruth," was his reply, "we can discuss that. It isn't a +pleasant subject." + +There are women, I know, who can meet obstinacy with guile. I begin to +understand how it may be a woman will stoop to flatter and seem to +yield, simply through despair of carrying her end by any other means. +The hardness of this man almost bred in me a purpose to try and soften +him, to try to bewitch him, somehow to fool and ensnare him for his own +good; to hide how I raged inwardly at his injustice and cruelty, and to +pretend to be acquiescent until I had accomplished my end. I cannot lie, +however, even in acts, and all that sort of thing is beyond my power as +well as my will. I realized how hopeless it was for me to try to do +anything with him, and I rose. + +"Very likely you are right," I said. "It is evidently useless for us to +discuss anything. Now I can only say good-by; but I forbid you to come +into my house again until you bring Mr. Saychase with you to remarry you +to Gertrude." + +He had risen also, and we stood face to face. + +"Do you suppose," he asked doggedly, "now I am free I'd consent to marry +any woman but you? I'll make you marry me yet, Ruth Privet, for I know +perfectly well you love me. Think how long we were engaged." + +I remembered the question he asked me when he came back from Franklin +after he had seen her: "How long have we been engaged?" + +"I shall keep your wife," was all I said, "until she is well and chooses +to go. George, I beg of you not to let her baby be born fatherless." + +A hateful look came into his eyes. + +"I thought you were fond of fatherless babies," he sneered. + +"Go," I said, hardly controlling myself, "and don't come here again +without Mr. Saychase." + +"If I bring him it will be to marry you, Ruth." + +Something in me rose up and spoke without my volition. I did not know +what I was saying until the words were half said. I crossed the room and +rang the bell for Rosa, and as I did it I said:-- + +"I see I must have a husband to protect me from your insults, and I will +marry Tom Webbe." + +Before he could answer, Rosa appeared. + +"Rosa," I said, and all my calmness had come back, "will you show Mr. +Weston to the door. I am not at home to him again until he comes with +Mr. Saychase." + +She restrained her surprise and amusement better than I expected, but +before she had had time to do more than toss her head George had rushed +away without ceremony. By this time, I suppose, every man, woman, and +child in town knows that I have turned him out of my house. + + +November 7. "And after the fire a still, small voice!" I have been +saying this over and over to myself; and remembering, not irreverently, +that God was in the voice. + +I have had a talk with Tom which has moved me more than all the trouble +with George. The very fact that George so outraged all my feelings and +made me so angry kept me from being touched as I might have been +otherwise; but this explanation with Tom has left me shaken and tired +out. It is emotion and not physical work that wears humanity to shreds. + +Tom came to discuss the reading-room. He is delighted that it has +started so well and is going on so swimmingly; and he is full of plans +for increasing the interest. I was, I confess, so preoccupied with what +I had made up my mind to say to him I could hardly follow what he was +saying. I felt as if something were grasping me by the throat. He looked +at me strangely, but he went on talking as if he did not notice my +uneasiness. + +"Tom," I broke out at last, when I could endure it no longer, "did you +know that Mrs. Weston is here, very ill?" + +"Yes," was all he answered. + +"And, Tom," I hurried on, "George won't remarry her." + +"Won't remarry her?" he echoed. "The cur!" + +"He was here yesterday," I went on desperately, "and he said he is +determined to marry me." + +Tom started forward with hot face and clenched fist. + +"The blackguard! I wish I'd been here to kick him out of the house! What +did you say to him?" + +"I told him he had insulted me, and forbade him to come here again +without Mr. Saychase to remarry them," I said. Then before Tom's +searching look I became so confused he could not help seeing there was +more. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +He was almost peremptory, although he was courteous. Men have such a way +in a crisis of instinctively taking the lead that a woman yields to it +almost of necessity. + +"Tom," I answered, more and more confused, "I must tell you, but I hope +you'll understand. I had a frightful time with him. I was ashamed of him +and ashamed of myself, and very angry; and when he said he'd make me +marry him sometime, I told him"-- + +"Well?" demanded Tom, his voice much lower than before, but even more +compelling. + +"I told him," said I, the blood fairly throbbing in my cheeks, "that I +should marry you. You've asked me, you know!" + +He grew fairly white, but for a moment he did not move. His eyes had a +look in them I had never seen, and which made me tremble. It seemed to +me that he was fighting down what he wanted to say, and to get control +of himself. + +"Ruth," he asked me at last, with an odd hoarseness in his voice, "do +you want George Weston to marry that woman?" + +"Of course I do," I cried, so surprised and relieved that the question +was not more personal the tears started to my eyes. "I want it more than +anything else in the world." + +Again he was still for a moment, his eyes looking into mine as if he +meant to drag out my most secret thought. These silences were too much +for me to bear, and I broke this one. I asked him if he were vexed at +what I had said to George, and told him the words had seemed to say +themselves without any will of mine. + +"I could only be sorry at anything you said, Ruth," he returned, "never +vexed. I only think it a pity for you to link your name with mine." + +I tried to speak, but he went on. + +"I've loved you ever since I was old enough to love anything. I've told +you that often enough, and I don't think you doubt it. I had you as my +ambition all the time I was growing up. I came home from college, and +you were engaged, and all the good was taken out of life for me. I've +never cared much since what happened. But if I've asked you to love me, +Ruth, I never gave you the right to think I'd be base enough to be +willing you should marry me without loving me." + +Again I tried to speak, though I cannot tell what I wished to say. I +only choked and could not get out a word. + +"Don't talk about it. I can't stand it," he broke in, his voice husky. +"You needn't marry me to make George Weston come up to the mark. I'll +take care of that." + +I suppose I looked up with a dread of what might happen if he saw +George, and of course Tom could not understand that my concern was for +him and not for George. He smiled a bitter sort of smile. + +"You needn't be afraid," he said. "I'll treat him tenderly for your +sake." + +I was too confused to speak, and I could only sit there dazed and silent +while he went away. It was not what he was saying that filled me with a +tumult till my thoughts seemed beating in my head like wild birds in a +net. Suddenly while he was speaking, while his dear, honest eyes full of +pain were looking into mine, the still, small voice had spoken, and I +knew that I cared for Tom as he cared for me. + + +November 8. I realize now that from the morning when Tom and I first +stood with baby in my arms between us I have felt differently toward +him. It was at the moment almost as if I were his wife, and though I +never owned it to myself, even in my most secret thought, I have somehow +belonged to him ever since. I see now that something very deep within +has known and has from time to time tried to tell me; but I put my hands +to the ears of my mind. Miss Fleming used to try to teach us things at +school about the difference between the consciousness and the will, and +other dark mysteries which to me were, and are, and always will be +utterly incomprehensible, and I suppose some kind of a consciousness +knew what the will wouldn't recognize. That sounds like nonsense now it +is on paper, but it seemed extremely wise when I began to write it. No +matter; the facts I know well enough. It is wonderful how a woman will +hide a thing from herself, a thing she knows really, but keeps from +being conscious she knows by refusing to let her thoughts put it into +words. + +To myself I seem shamefully fickle,--and yet it seems also as if I had +never changed at all, but that it was always Tom I have been fond of, +even when I fully believed it was George. Of course this is only a weak +excuse; but at least I have been fond of Tom as a friend from my +childhood. He has always commanded me, too, in a way. He has done what I +wished and what I thought best; but I have always known he could be +influenced only so far, and that if I wanted what he did not believe in +he could be as stubborn as a rock. The hardness of his mother shows +itself in him as the stanch foundation for the gentleness he gets from +his father. + +Miss Charlotte came in for a moment to-day, and by instinct she knew +that something had made me happy. She was full of sympathy for a moment, +and then, I think, some suspicion came into her dear old head which she +would not have there. + +"Ruth, my dear," she said in her rough way, "you look too cheerful for +the head of a foundling asylum and a house of refuge. I hope you've made +George Weston promise to marry his own wife,--though if I made the laws +it wouldn't be necessary for a man to marry a woman more than once. I've +no idea of weddings that have to come round once in so often like +house-cleaning." + +She was watching me so keenly as she spoke that I smiled in spite of +myself. + +"No," I told her, "I haven't been able to make him; but Tom Webbe has +undertaken to bring him round, so I believe it will be all right." + +Whether she understood or not I cannot tell, but from the loving way in +which she leaned over and kissed me I suspect she had some inkling of +it. + + +November 9. They are married. Just after dusk to-night I heard the +doorbell, and Rosa came in with a queer look on her face to say that Mr. +Saychase and Mr. Weston were in the hall. I went out to them at once, +and tried to act as if everything had been arranged between us. George +was pale and stern. He would not look at me, and I did not exchange a +word directly with him while he was in the house, except to say +good-evening and good-by. I kept them waiting just a moment or two while +I prepared Gertrude, and then I called them upstairs. She behaved very +well, acting as if she were a little frightened, but accepting +everything without a word. I suspect she is too ill really to care for +anything very much. The ceremony was over quickly, and then George went +away without noticing his wife further except to say good-night. + +Tom came in for a moment, later, to see that everything was well, and of +course I asked him how he had brought George to consent. He smiled +rather grimly. + +"I did it simply enough," he said. "I tried easy words first, and +appealed to him as a gentleman,--though of course I knew it was no use. +If such a plea would have done any good, I shouldn't have been there. +Then I said he wouldn't be tolerated in Tuskamuck if he didn't make it +right for his wife. He said he guessed he could fix that, and if other +people would mind their own business he could attend to his. Then I +opened the door and called in Cy Turner. I had him waiting outside +because I knew Weston would understand he meant business. I asked him to +say what we'd agreed; and he told Weston that if he didn't marry the +woman before midnight we'd have him ridden out of town on a rail. He +weakened at that. He knew we'd do it." + +I could not say anything to this. It was a man's way of treating the +situation, and it accomplished its end; but it did affect me a good +deal. I shivered at the very idea of a mob, and of what might have +happened if George had not yielded. Tom saw how I felt, I suppose. + +"You think I'm a brute, Ruth," he said, "but I knew he'd give in. He +isn't very plucky. I always knew that." + +He hurried away to go to the reading-room, where he had to see to +something or other, and we said nothing about our personal relations. I +wonder if I fancied that he watched me very closely to see how I took +his account, or if he really thought I might resent his having +browbeaten George. He need not have feared. I was troubled by the idea +of the mob, but I was proud of Tom, and I could not help contrasting his +clear, straightforward look with the way George avoided my eyes. + + +November 12. Now there are two babies in the house, and Cousin Mehitable +might think her prediction that I would set up an orphan asylum was +coming true in earnest. In spite of Mrs. Weston's exposure everything is +going well, and we hope for the best. I sent George a note last night to +tell him, and he came over for a minute. He behaved very well. He had +none of the bravado which has made him so different and so dreadful, and +he was more like his old self. He was let into his wife's chamber just +long enough to kiss her, but that was all. I suppose to be the father of +a son must sober any man. + + +November 20. Tom never comes any more to see me or baby. When I +discovered I cared for him I felt that of course everything was at last +straightened out; and here is Tom, who only knows that he cares for me, +so the case is about as it was before except that now he will never +speak. I must do something; but what can I do? When I thought only of +getting out of the way of George's marriage it was bad enough to speak +to Tom, and now it seems impossible. I can't, I can't, I can't speak to +him again! + + +November 23. Cousin Mehitable and her telegram arrived this time +together, for the boy who drove her from the station brought the +message, and gave it to her to bring into the house. She was full of +indignation and amazement at what she found, and insisted upon going +back to Boston by the afternoon train. + +"I never know what you will do, Ruth," she said, "so of course I ought +not to be surprised; but of all the wild notions you could take into +your head, I must say to have Mrs. Weston come here to have her baby is +the most incredible." + +"You advised me to have more babies, as long as I had one," I +interposed. + +"I've a great mind to shake you," was her response. "This is a pretty +reception when I haven't seen you since I came home. To think I should +be cousin to a foundling hospital, and that all the family I have left!" + +I suggested that if I really did set up a foundling hospital, she would +soon have as large a family as anybody could want, and she briskly +retorted that she had more than she wanted now. She had come down to +persuade me to go to Boston for the winter, to make up, she said, for +my not going abroad with her, and she brought me a wonderful piece of +embroidered crêpe for a party dress. She was as breezy and emphatic as +ever, and she denounced me and my doings in good round terms. + +"I suppose if you did come to Boston," she said, "you'd be mixed up in +all the dreadful charities there, and I should never see you." + +"But you know, Cousin Mehitable," I protested, "you belong to two or +three charitable societies yourself." + +"But those are parish societies," was her reply. "That is quite +different. Of course I do my part in whatever the church is concerned +in; but you just do things on your own hook, and without even believing +anything. I think it's wicked myself." + +I could only laugh at her, and it was easy to see that her indignation +was not with any charitable work I did, but only with the fact I would +not promise to leave everything and go home with her. + +Before she went home I told her I had a confession to make. She +commented, not very encouragingly, that she supposed it was something +worse than anything had come yet, but that as she was prepared for +anything I might as well get it out. + +"If you've decided to be some sort of a Mormon wife to that horrid Mr. +Weston," she added, "I shouldn't be in the least surprised. Perhaps +you'll take him in with the rest of his family." + +I said I did indeed think of being married, but not to him. + +"Let me know the worst at once, Ruth," she broke out, rather fiercely. +"At my age I can't stand suspense as I could once. What tramp or beggar +or clodhopper have you picked out? I know you too well to suppose it's +anybody respectable." + +When I named Tom, she at first pretended not to know him, although she +has seen him a dozen times in her visits here, and once condescended to +say that for a countryman he was really almost handsome. + +"I know it's the same name as that baby's father's," she ended, her +voice getting icier and icier, "but of course no respectable woman would +think of marrying him." + +"Then I'm not a respectable woman," I retorted, feeling the blood rise +into my face, "for I'm thinking of it." + +We looked for a moment into each other's eyes, and I felt, however I +appeared, as if I were defying anything she could say. + +"So he has taken advantage of your mothering his baby, has he?" she +brought out at last. + +I responded that he did not even suspect I meant to marry him. She +stared, and demanded how he was to find out. I answered that I could +think of no way except for me to tell him. She threw up her hands in +pretended horror. + +"I dare say," she burst out, "he only got you to take the baby so that +you'd feel bound to him. I should think when he'd disgraced himself you +might have self-respect enough to let him alone. Oh, what would Cousin +Horace say!" + +Then she saw she was really hurting me, and her eyes softened somewhat. + +"I shan't congratulate you, Ruth, if that's what you expect; but since +you will be a fool in your own obstinate way, I hope it'll make you +happy." + +I took both her hands in mine. + +"Cousin Mehitable," I pleaded, "don't be hard on me. I know he's done +wrong, and it hurts me more than I can tell you. I am so sorry for him +and I really, really love him. I'm all alone now except for baby, and I +am sure if Father were alive he would see how I feel, and approve of +what I mean to do." + +The tears came into her eyes as I had never seen them. She drew her +hands away, but first she pressed mine. + +"Ruth," she said, "never mind my tongue. If you've only baby, I've +nobody but you, and you won't come near me. Besides, you are going to +have him. I can't pretend I like it, Ruth; but I do like you, and I do +dearly hope you'll be happy. You deserve to be, my dear; and I'm a +selfish, worldly old woman, with a train to catch. Now don't say another +word about it, or I'll disinherit you in my will." + +So we kissed each other, and she went away with my secret. + + +November 25. Kathie has come home for her Thanksgiving vacation, and I +never saw a creature so transformed. She is so interested in her school, +her studies, her companions, that she seems to have forgotten that +anybody ever frightened her about her soul; and she is just a merry, +happy girl, bright-eyed and rather high-strung, but not in the least +morbid. She hugged me, and kissed Tomine, and the nonsense of her +jealousy, as of her having committed the unpardonable sin, was forgotten +entirely. It is an unspeakable comfort to me that the experiment of +sending her away has turned out so well. + +Miss Charlotte came in while Kathie was here, and watched her with +shrewd, keen eyes as she rattled on about the things she is studying, +the games she plays, and the friends she has made. When she had gone, +Miss Charlotte looked at me with one of her friendly regards. + +"She's made over, like the boy's jackknife that had a new blade and a +new handle," was her comment. "I think, my dear, you've saved her soul +alive." + +I was delighted that she thought Kathie so much improved, though of +course I realized I had not done it. + + +November 26. I have invited George to Thanksgiving dinner. I do hope +Gertrude will be able to come downstairs; if she is not I shall have to +get through as best I can without her. Miss Charlotte will come, and +that will prevent the awkwardness of our being by ourselves. + +George comes every day to see his wife, and I think his real feelings, +his better side, have been called out by her illness. She is the mother +of his son, and she is so extremely pretty and pathetic as she lies +there, that I should not think any man could resist her. She is so +softened by what she has gone through, and so grateful for kindness, she +seems a different person from the over-dressed woman we have known +without liking very much. + +She told me yesterday a good deal about her former life. She has been an +orphan from her early girlhood, largely dependent upon an aunt who +wanted to be rid of her. It was partly by the contrivance of her aunt, +and partly because she longed to escape from a position of dependence, +that she married her first husband. She did not stop, I think, to +consider what she was doing, and she found her case a pretty hard one. +Her husband abused her, and before they had been married a year he ran +away to escape a charge of embezzlement. Word was sent to her soon after +that he was drowned. She took again her maiden name, and came East to +escape all shadow of the disgrace of her married life. She earned her +living as a typewriter, until she saw George at Franklin, where she was +employed in the bank. She confessed that she came here to secure him, +and she wept in begging my pardon for taking him away from me. + +If she can keep to her resolutions and if George will only be still fond +of her, things may yet go well with them. Aunt Naomi dryly observed +yesterday that what has happened will be likely to prevent Mrs. Weston +for a long time to come from trying to make a display, and so it may be +the best thing that could have befallen her. So much depends upon +George, though! + + +November 30. The dinner went off much better than I could have hoped. +Dr. Wentworth allowed Gertrude to leave her room for the first time, and +George brought her down to dinner in his arms. She was given only a +quarter of an hour, but this served for the topic of talk, and George +was so tender with his wife that Miss Charlotte was quite warmed to him. + +The two babies of course had to be produced, but it was rather painful +to see how thin and spindling the little Weston baby looked beside my +bonny Thomasine. Tomine has grown really to know me. She will come +scrambling like a little crab across the floor toward me if I appear in +the nursery. Hannah and Rosa are both jealous of me, and I triumph over +them in a fashion little less than inhuman. + +I am glad Thanksgiving is over, for in spite of all any of us might do +to seem perfectly at ease, some sense of constraint and +uncomfortableness was always in the background. On the whole, however, +we did very well; and Miss Charlotte sat with me far into the twilight, +talking of Mother. + + + + +XII + +DECEMBER + + +December 1. I dreamed last night a dream which affected me so strongly +that I can hardly write of it without shivering. I dreamed that George +came with Mr. Saychase to remarry, as I thought, Gertrude. When we all +stood by the side of her bed, however, George seized my hand, and +announced that he had come to marry me, and was resolved to have no +other wife. Gertrude fell back on her pillow in a faint. I struggled to +pull away the hand George had taken, but I was powerless. I tried to +scream, but that horrible paralysis which sometimes affects us in dreams +left me speechless. I felt myself helpless while Mr. Saychase went on +marrying me to George before the eyes of his own wife, in spite of +anything I could do to prevent it. The determination to be free of this +bond struggled in me so strongly against the helplessness which held me +that I sprang up in bed at last, awake and bursting into hysterical +crying. + +The strange thing about it all is that I seem to have broken more than +the sleep of the body. It is as if all these years I had been in a +drowse in my mind, and had suddenly sprung up throbbingly awake. I am as +aghast at myself as if I should discover I had unconsciously been +walking in the dark on the edge of a ghastly precipice,--yes, a +precipice on the edge of a valley full of writhing snakes! My very +flesh creeps at the thought that I could by any possibility be made the +wife of any man but Tom. I look back to-day over the long years I was +engaged, and understand all in a flash how completely George spoke the +truth when he used to complain I was an iceberg and did not know what it +was to be in love. He was absolutely right; and he was right to leave +me. I can only wonder that through those years when I endured his bodily +presence because I thought I loved his mental being, he could endure me +at all. He could not have borne it, I see now, if he had been really in +love with me himself. I am wise with a strange new wisdom; but whence it +comes, or why it has opened to me in a single night, from a painful +dream, is more than I can say. I understand that George never loved me +any more than I did him. He will go back to Gertrude,--indeed I do not +believe he has ever ceased to be fond of her, even when he declared he +was tired of her and wanted me to take him back. He was angry with her, +and no human being understands himself when he is angry. + +Last night after I waked I could not reason about things much. I was too +panic-stricken. I lay there in the dark actually trembling from the +horror of my dream, and realized that from my very childhood Tom has +stood between me and every other man. Now at last I, who have been all +these years in a dull doze, am awake. I might almost say, without being +in the least extravagant, that I am alive who was dead; I, who have +thought of love and marriage as I might have thought about a trip +abroad, know what love means. My foolish dream has changed me like a +vision which changes a mere man into a prophet or a seer. + +I cannot bear that Tom should go on suffering. I must somehow let him +know. December 2. Fortune was kind to me this morning, and Tom knows. I +had to go to take some flannel to old Peggy Cole, and as I crossed the +Foot-bridge Tom came out of Deacon Daniel's mill. He flushed a little +when he saw me, and half hesitated, as if he were almost inclined to +turn back. I did not mean to let him escape, however, and stood still, +waiting for him. We shook hands, and I at once told him I had wanted to +see him, so that if he were not in a hurry I should be glad if he would +walk on with me. + +He assented, not very willingly I thought, and we went on over the +bridge together. The sun was shining until the snow-edges glistened like +live coals, and everywhere one looked the air fairly shimmered with +light. The tide was coming up in the river, and the cakes of ice, +yellowed in patches by the salt water until they were like unshorn +fleeces, were driven against the long sluice-piers, jostling and pushing +like sheep frightened into a corner. The piers themselves, and every +spar or rock that showed above the water, were as white as snow could +make them. It was one of those days when the air is a tonic, so that +every breath is a joy; and as Tom and I walked on together I could have +laughed aloud just for joy of the beautiful winter day. + +"How cold the water looks," Tom said, turning his face away from me and +toward the Rim. "It is fairly black with cold." + +"Even the ice-cakes seem to be trying to climb out of it," I returned, +laughing from nothing but pure delight. "I suppose that is the way you +feel about me, Tom. You haven't been near Tomine or me for ten days, and +you know you wanted to get away from me this morning." + +He did not answer for a minute. Then he said in a strained voice:-- + +"It's no use, Ruth; I shall have to go away. I can't stand it here. It +was bad enough before, but now I simply cannot bear it." + +"You mean," I returned, full of fun and mischief, "that the idea of my +offering myself to you was too horrible? You had a chance to refuse, +Tom; and you took it. I should think I was the one to feel as if it +wasn't to be borne." + +He stopped in the street and turned to face me. + +"Don't, Ruth," he protested in a voice which went straight to my heart. +"If you knew how it hurts me you wouldn't joke about it." + +I wanted to put my arms about his neck and kiss him as I used to do when +we were babies; but that was manifestly not to be thought of, at least +not in the street in plain sight of the blacksmith shop. + +"It isn't any joke," said I. "Just walk along so the whole town need not +talk about us, please." + +He walked on, and I tried to think of a sentence which would tell him +that I really cared for him, yet which I could say to him there in the +open day, with the sun making a peeping eye of every icy crystal on +fence or tree-twig. + +"Well?" he cried after a moment. + +"O Tom," I asked in despair, "why don't you help me? I can't say it. I +can't tell you I"-- + +I did not dare to look at him, and I came to a stop in my speech because +I could feel that he was pressing eagerly to my side. + +"You what, Ruth?" he demanded, his voice quivering. "Be careful!" + +Perhaps his agitation helped me to master mine. Certain it is for the +moment I thought only that he must not be kept in suspense, and so I +burst out abruptly:-- + +"Tom, you are horrid! I've offered myself to you once, and now you want +me to protest in the open street that I can't live without you! Well, +then; I can't!" + +"Ruth!" + +It was all he said; just my name, which he has said hundreds and +hundreds of times ever since he could say anything; but I think I can +never hear my name again without remembering the love he put into it. I +trembled with happiness, but I would not look at him. I walked on with +my eyes fixed on the snowy hills beyond the town, and tried to believe I +was acting as if I had said nothing and felt nothing unusual. I remember +our words up to this time, but after that it is all a joyful blur. I +know Tom walked about and waited for me while I did my errand with Peggy +Cole; the droll old creature scolded me because the flannel was not +thicker, and I beamed on her as if she were expressing gratitude; then +he walked home with me, and couldn't come in because as we turned the +corner we saw Aunt Naomi walk into the house. + +One thing I do remember of our talk on the way home. Tom said suddenly, +and with a solemnity of manner that made me grave at once:-- + +"There is one thing more, Ruth, we must be frank about now or we shall +always have it between us. Can you forgive me for being baby's father?" + +He had found just the phrase for that dreadful thing which made it most +easy for me to answer. + +"Tom, dear," I answered, "it isn't for me to forgive or not to forgive. +It is in the past, and I want to help you to forget utterly what cannot +now be helped." + +"But baby," he began, "she"-- + +"Baby is ours," I interrupted. "All the rest may go." + +He promised to come in to-night, and then I had to face Aunt Naomi. She +looked me through and through with eyes that seemed determined to have +the very deepest secrets of my soul. Whether I concealed anything from +her or not I cannot tell; but after all why should I care? The day has +been lived through, and it is time for Tom to come. + + +December 3. If I could write--But I cannot, I cannot! Ever since Rosa +rushed in last night, crying out that Tom was drowned, I have seen +nothing but the water black with cold, and the flocks of ice cakes +grinding--Oh, why should I torment myself with putting it down? + + +December 5. We buried him to-day. Cousin Mehitable sent a wreath of ivy. +Nobody else knows our secret. If he remembers, it is sweet for him to +know. + + +December 13. The stars are so beautiful to-night they make me remember +how Tom and I in our childhood used to play at choosing stars we would +visit when we could fly. To-night he may be exploring them, but for me +they shine and shine, and my tears blur them, and make them dance and +double. + + +December 19. I have been talking with Deacon Richards and Mr. Turner. +They both think I can take Tom's place on the reading-room committee +without coming forward too much. Nothing need be said about it, only so +I can do most of Tom's work. Of course I cannot go to the room evenings +as he did; but Mr. Turner will do that. Tom was so interested in this +that I feel as if I were continuing his work and carrying out his plans. +I remember all he had told me, and it almost seems like doing it with +him. Almost! + + +December 20. Now I know all about Tom's death that anybody knows. I +could not talk about it before. Aunt Naomi and dear Miss Charlotte both +tried to tell me, but I would not let them. To-night Mr. Turner came to +talk about the library, and before he went away we spoke about Tom. He +was so homely in his speech, so honest, so kindly, that I kept on, and +could listen to him even when he told how Tom died. + +That night Tom had been down on the other side of the river, and was +coming up--coming to me--past the Flatiron wharf. Mrs. Brownrig was on +the wharf, crazy with drink, and threatening to throw herself overboard. +Two or three of the people who live near there, men and women, were +trying to get her away, and when Tom appeared they asked him to see what +he could do. As he came near her the old woman shrieked out that he had +killed her daughter and would murder her; and before they realized what +she was doing she had jumped into the water. Tom ran to the edge, +unfastening his overcoat as he went, and just paused to tear it off +before he leaped in after her. The tide was running out, and the water +was full of ice. He had a great bruise on his forehead where he had +evidently been struck by a block. Mrs. Brownrig pinioned his arms too, +so he had no chance anyway. It was a mercy that the bodies were +recovered before the tide drifted them out. + +"Tom was an awful good fellow," the blacksmith concluded, "an awful good +fellow." + +I could not answer him. + + +December 23. Deacon Webbe has been here to-day. He was so bowed and bent +and broken I could hardly talk to him without sobbing; and I had to tell +him I was to have been his daughter, and that if he would let me, I +would be so still. He was greatly touched, and he will keep our secret. + + +December 24. More than the death of Father, more, even, than that of +Mother who had been my care and comfort so long, the death of Tom seems +to leave me alone in a wide, empty universe. I cannot conceive of a +future without him; I cannot believe the bonds which bound us are +broken. I have his child, and I cannot take baby in my arms without +feeling I am coming closer to Tom. All my friends have been very dear. I +do not think any one of them, except perhaps Miss Charlotte, suspects +how much the loss of Tom means to me, but they at least realize that we +were life-long comrades, and that I must feel the death of the father of +baby very keenly. However much or little they suspect, no one has +betrayed any intimation that Tom and I were more than close friends. +Even Aunt Naomi has said nothing to make me shrink. People are so kind +in this world, no matter what pessimists may say. + + +December 31. I have been very busy with all the Christmas work for my +poor people, the things Tom wanted done for the reading-room, and the +numberless trifles which need to be attended to. To-night I think I am +writing in my diary for the last time. The year has been full of +wonderful things, some of them terrible to bear, and yet, now I look +back, I see it has brought me more than it has taken away. Tom is mine +always, everywhere, as long as we two have any existence in all the wide +spaces between the stars we used to choose to fly to; and his baby is +left to comfort me and to hearten me for the work I have all around me +to do. I cannot keep the tears back always, and heartache is not to be +cured by any sort of reasoning that I know; yet as long as I have his +love, the memory of Father and Mother, and dear baby, I have no right to +complain. Just to be in one's place and working, to go on +growing,--dying when the time comes,--what a priceless, blessed thing +life is! + + + Transcriber's Note. + + Phrases in italics are indicated by _italics_. + + Phrases in bold are indicated by =bold=. + + Words in the text which were in small-caps were + converted to normal case. + + Double-word "a" removed on page 228: + "Yours truly and with a a sad and loving" + + Typos corrected: + page 35: + "fastastic" --> "fantastic" + (fantastic bunches of snow in the willows) + page 119: + "be" --> "he" + (clergyman with whom he) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Diary of a Saint, by Arlo Bates + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41801 *** |