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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6028.txt b/6028.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9da15eb --- /dev/null +++ b/6028.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15336 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Opening a Chestnut Burr, by E. P. Roe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Opening a Chestnut Burr + +Author: E. P. Roe + +Posting Date: September 8, 2012 [EBook #6028] +Release Date: July, 2004 +First Posted: December 10, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "LET ME OPEN THE BURR FOR YOU." Chestnut Burr. +_Frontispiece._] + +The Works of E. P. Roe + +VOLUME FOUR + + +OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + +ILLUSTRATED + + + + + +THIS BOOK + +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MY WIFE + + + + +PREFACE + + + +In sending this, my fourth venture, out upon the uncertain waters of +public opinion, I shall say but few words of preface. In the past I +have received considerable well-deserved criticism from the gentlemen +of the caustic pen, but so far from having any hard feeling toward +them, I have rather wondered that they found so much to say that was +favorable. How they will judge this simple October story (if they think +it worth while to judge it at all) I leave to the future, and turn to +those for whom the book was really written. + +In fancy I see them around the glowing hearth in quiet homes, such as I +have tried to describe in the following pages, and hope that this +new-comer will be welcomed for the sake of those that preceded it. +Possibly it may make friends of its own. + +From widely separated parts of the country, and from almost every +class, I have received many and cordial assurances that my former books +were sources not only of pleasure, but also of help and benefit, and I +am deeply grateful for the privilege of unobtrusively entering so many +households, and saying words on that subject which is inseparable from +happiness in both worlds. + +I think the purpose of the book will become apparent to the reader. The +incidents and characters are mainly imaginary. + +Observation has shown me that there are many in the world, like my +hero, whose condition can be illustrated by the following lines: + + + Were some great ship all out of stores, + When half-way o'er the sea, + Fit emblem of too many lives, + Such vessel doomed would be. + +Must there not be something fatally wrong in that scheme of life which +finds an heir of eternity weary, listless, discouraged, while yet in +the dawning of existence? It is not in perishing _things_, merely, to +give back the lost zest. But a glad zest and hopefulness might be +inspired even in the most jaded and _ennui_-cursed, were there in our +homes such simple, truthful natures as that of my heroine; and in the +sphere of quiet homes--not elsewhere--I believe that woman can best +rule and save the world. + +Highland Falls, N.Y., September, 1874. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER I A HERO BUT NOT HEROIC + +CHAPTER II OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + +CHAPTER III MORBID BROODING + +CHAPTER IV HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE + +CHAPTER V WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? + +CHAPTER VI UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS + +CHAPTER VII A CONSPIRACY + +CHAPTER VIII WITCHCRAFT + +CHAPTER IX MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY + +CHAPTER X A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON + +CHAPTER XI A DRINKING SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING + +CHAPTER XII FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION + +CHAPTER XIII INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS + +CHAPTER XIV A WELL-MEANIN' MAN + +CHAPTER XV MISS WALTON'S DREAM + +CHAPTER XVI AN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS + +CHAPTER XVII PROMISE OR DIE + +CHAPTER XVIII IN THE DEPTHS + +CHAPTER XIX MISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS + +CHAPTER XX MISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY + +CHAPTER XXI PASSION AND PENITENCE + +CHAPTER XXII NOT A HEROINE BUT A WOMAN + +CHAPTER XXIII GREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION + +CHAPTER XXIV THE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST + +CHAPTER XXV THE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF + +CHAPTER XXVI CHANGES IN GREGORY + +CHAPTER XXVII PLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE + +CHAPTER XXVIII WHAT A LOVER COULD DO + +CHAPTER XXIX DEEPENING SHADOWS + +CHAPTER XXX KEPT FROM THE EVIL + +CHAPTER XXXI LIVE! LIVE! ANNIE'S APPEAL + +CHAPTER XXXII AT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER + +CHAPTER XXXIII A COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO + +CHAPTER XXXIV UNMASKED + +CHAPTER XXXV A CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC + + + +"Shall I ever be strong in mind or body again?" said Walter Gregory, +with irritation, as he entered a crowded Broadway omnibus. + +The person thus querying so despairingly with himself was a man not far +from thirty years of age, but the lines of care were furrowed so deeply +on his handsome face, that dismal, lowering morning, the first of +October, that he seemed much older. Having wedged himself in between +two burly forms that suggested thrift down town and good cheer on the +avenue, he appears meagre and shrunken in contrast. He is tall and +thin. His face is white and drawn, instead of being ruddy with health's +rich, warm blood. There is scarcely anything remaining to remind one of +the period of youth, so recently vanished; neither is there the +dignity, nor the consciousness of strength, that should come with +maturer years. His heavy, light-colored mustache and pallid face gave +him the aspect of a _blase_ man of the world who had exhausted himself +and life at an age when wisely directed manhood should be just entering +on its richest pleasures. + +And such an opinion of him, with some hopeful exceptions and +indications, would be correct. The expression of irritation and +self-disgust still remaining on his face as the stage rumbles down town +is a hopeful sign. His soul at least is not surrounded by a Chinese +wall of conceit. However perverted his nature may be, it is not a +shallow one, and he evidently has a painful sense of the wrongs +committed against it. Though his square jaw and the curve of his lip +indicate firmness, one could not look upon his contracted brow and +half-despairing expression, as he sits oblivious of all surroundings, +without thinking of a ship drifting helplessly and in distress. There +are encouraging possibilities in the fact that from those windows of +the soul, his eyes, a troubled rather than an evil spirit looks out. A +close observer would see at a glance that he was not a good man, but he +might also note that he was not content with being a bad one. There was +little of the rigid pride and sinister hardness or the conceit often +seen on the faces of men of the world who have spent years in spoiling +their manhood; and the sensual phase of coarse dissipation was quite +wanting. + +You will find in artificial metropolitan society many men so +emasculated that they are quite vain of being blase--fools that with +conscious superiority smile disdainfully at those still possessing +simple, wholesome tastes for things which they in their indescribable +accent characterize as a "bore." + +But Walter Gregory looked like one who had early found the dregs of +evil life very bitter, and his face was like that of nature when +smitten with untimely frosts. + +He reached his office at last, and wearily sat down to the routine work +at his desk. Instead of the intent and interested look with which a +young and healthy man would naturally enter on his business, he showed +rather a dogged resolution to work whether he felt like it or not, and +with harsh disregard of his physical weakness. + +The world will never cease witnessing the wrongs that men commit +against each other; but perhaps if the wrongs and cruelties that people +inflict on themselves could be summed up the painful aggregate would be +much larger. + +As Gregory sat bending over his writing, rather from weakness than from +a stooping habit, his senior partner came in, and was evidently struck +by the appearance of feebleness on the part of the young man. The +unpleasant impression haunted him, for having looked over his letters +he came out of his private office and again glanced uneasily at the +colorless face, which gave evidence that only sheer force of will was +spurring a failing hand and brain to their tasks. + +At last Mr. Burnett came and laid his hand on his junior partner's +shoulder, saying, kindly, "Come, Gregory, drop your work. You are ill. +The strain upon you has been too long and severe. The worst is over +now, and we are going to pull through better than I expected. Don't +take the matter so bitterly to heart. I admit myself that the operation +promised well at first. You were misled, and so were we all, by +downright deception. That the swindle was imposed on us through you was +more your misfortune than your fault, and it will make you a keener +business man in the future. You have worked like a galley-slave all +summer to retrieve matters, and have taken no vacation at all. You must +take one now immediately, or you will break down altogether. Go off to +the woods; fish, hunt, follow your fancies; and the bracing October air +will make a new man of you." + +"I thank you very much," Gregory began. "I suppose I do need rest. In a +few days, however, I can leave better--" + +"No," interrupted Mr. Burnett, with hearty emphasis; "drop everything. +As soon as you finish that letter, be off. Don't show your face here +again till November." + +"I thank you for your interest in me," said Gregory, rising. "Indeed, I +believe it would be good economy, for if I don't feel better soon I +shall be of no use here or anywhere else." + +"That's it," said old Mr. Burnett, kindly. "Sick and blue, they go +together. Now be off to the woods, and send me some game. I won't +inquire too sharply whether you brought it down with lead or silver." + +Gregory soon left the office, and made his arrangements to start on his +trip early the next morning. His purpose was to make a brief visit to +the home of his boyhood and then to go wherever a vagrant fancy might +lead. + +The ancestral place was no longer in his family, though he was spared +the pain of seeing it in the hands of strangers. It had been purchased +a few years since by an old and very dear friend of his deceased +father--a gentleman named Walton. It had so happened that Gregory had +rarely met his father's friend, who had been engaged in business at the +West, and of his family he knew little more than that there were two +daughters--one who had married a Southern gentleman, and the other, +much younger, living with her father. Gregory had been much abroad as +the European agent of his house, and it was during such absence that +Mr. Walton had retired from business and purchased the old Gregory +homestead. The young man felt sure, however, that though a comparative +stranger himself, he would, for his father's sake, be a welcome visitor +at the home of his childhood. At any rate he determined to test the +matter, for the moment he found himself at liberty he felt a strange +and an eager longing to revisit the scenes of the happiest portion of +his life. He had meant to pay such a visit in the previous spring, soon +after his arrival from Europe, when his elation at being made partner +in the house which he so long had served as clerk reached almost the +point of happiness. + +Among those who had welcomed him back was a man a little older than +himself, who, in his absence, had become known as a successful operator +in Wall Street. They had been intimate before Gregory went abroad, and +the friendship was renewed at once. Gregory prided himself on his +knowledge of the world, and was not by nature inclined to trust +hastily; and yet he did place implicit confidence in Mr. Hunting, +regarding him as a better man than himself. Hunting was an active +member of a church, and his name figured on several charities, while +Gregory had almost ceased to attend any place of worship, and spent his +money selfishly upon himself, or foolishly upon others, giving only as +prompted by impulse. Indeed, his friend had occasionally ventured to +remonstrate with him against his tendencies to dissipation, saying that +a young man of his prospects should not damage them for the sake of +passing gratification. Gregory felt the force of these words, for he +was exceedingly ambitious, and bent upon accumulating wealth and at the +same time making a brilliant figure in business circles. + +In addition to the ordinary motives which would naturally lead him to +desire such success he was incited by a secret one more powerful than +all the others combined. + +Before going abroad, when but a clerk, he had been the favored suitor +of a beautiful and accomplished girl. Indeed the understanding between +them almost amounted to an engagement, and he revelled in a passionate, +romantic attachment at an age when the blood is hot, the heart +enthusiastic, and when not a particle of worldly cynicism and adverse +experience had taught him to moderate his rose-hued anticipations. She +seemed the embodiment of goodness, as well as beauty and grace, for did +she not repress his tendencies to be a little fast? Did she not, with +more than sisterly solicitude, counsel him to shun certain florid youth +whose premature blossoming indicated that they might early run to seed? +and did he not, in consequence, cut Guy Bonner, the jolliest fellow he +had ever known? Indeed, more than all, had she not ventured to talk +religion to him, so that for a time he had regarded himself as in a +very "hopeful frame of mind," and had been inclined to take a +mission-class in the same school with herself? How lovely and angelic +she had once appeared, stooping in elegant costume from her social +height to the little ragamuffins of the street that sat gaping around +her! As he gazed adoringly, while waiting to be her resort home, his +young heart had swelled with the impulse to be good and noble also. + +But one day she caused him to drop out of his roseate clouds. With much +sweetness and resignation, and with appropriate sighs, she said that +"it was her painful duty to tell him that their intimacy must +cease--that she had received an offer from Mr. Grobb, and that her +parents, and indeed all her friends, had urged her to accept him. She +had been led to feel that they with their riper experience and +knowledge of life knew what was best for her, and therefore she had +yielded to their wishes and accepted the offer." She was beginning to +add, in a sentimental tone, that "had she only followed the impulses of +her heart"--when Gregory, at first too stunned and bewildered to speak, +recovered his senses and interrupted with, "Please don't speak of your +heart, Miss Bently. Why mention so small a matter? Go on with your +little transaction by all means. I am a business man myself, and can +readily understand your motives;" and he turned on his heel and strode +from the room, leaving Miss Bently ill at ease. + +The young man's first expression of having received, as it were, a +staggering blow, and then his bitter satire, made an impression on her +cotton-and-wool nature, and for a time her proceedings with Mr. Grobb +did not wear the aspect in which they had been presented by her +friends. But her little world so confidently and continually reiterated +the statement that she was making a "splendid match" that her qualms +vanished, and she felt that what all asserted must be true, and so +entered on the gorgeous preparations as if the wedding were all and the +man nothing. + +It is the custom to satirize or bitterly denounce such girls, but +perhaps they are rather to be pitied. They are the natural products of +artificial society, wherein wealth, show, and the social eminence which +is based on dress and establishment are held out as the prizes of a +woman's existence. The only wonder is that so much heart and truth +assert themselves among those who all their life have seen wealth +practically worshipped, and worth, ungilded, generally ignored. From +ultra-fashionable circles a girl is often seen developing into the +noblest womanhood; while narrow, mercenary natures are often found +where far better things might have been expected. If such girls as Miss +Bently could only be kept in quiet obscurity, like a bale of +merchandise, till wanted, it would not be so bad; but some of them are +such brilliant belles and incorrigible coquettes that they are like +certain Wall Street speculators who threaten to "break the street" in +making their own fortunes. + +Some natures can receive a fair lady's refusal with a good-natured +shrug, as merely the result of a bad venture, and hope for better luck +next time; but to a greater number this is impossible, especially if +they are played with and deceived. Walter Gregory pre-eminently +belonged to the latter class. In early life he had breathed the very +atmosphere of truth, and his tendency to sincerity ever remained the +best element of his character. His was one of those fine-fibred natures +most susceptible to injury. Up to this time his indiscretions had only +been those of foolish, thoughtless youth, while aiming at the standard +of manliness and style in vogue among his city companions. +High-spirited young fellows, not early braced by principle, must pass +through this phase as in babyhood they cut their teeth. If there is +true mettle in them, and they are not perverted by exceptionally bad +influences, they outgrow the idea that to be fast and foolish is to be +men as naturally as they do their roundabouts. + +What a man does is often not so important as the state of the heart +that prompts the act. In common parlance, Walter was as good-hearted a +fellow as ever breathed. Indeed, he was really inclined to noble +enthusiasms. + +If Miss Bently had been what he imagined her, she might have led him +swiftly and surely into true manhood; but she was only an adept at +pretty seeming with him, and when Mr. Grobb offered her his vast +wealth, with himself as the only incumbrance, she acted promptly and +characteristically. + +But perhaps it can be safely said that in no den of iniquity in the +city could Walter Gregory have received such moral injury as poisoned +his very soul when, in Mr. Bently's elegant and respectable parlor, the +"angel" he worshipped "explained how she was situated," and from a +"sense of duty" stated her purpose to yield to the wishes of her +friends. Gregory had often seen Mr. Grobb, but had given him no +thought, supposing him some elderly relative of the family. That this +was the accepted suitor of the girl who had, with tender, meaning +glances, sung for him sentimental ballads, who had sweetly talked to +him of religion and mission work, seemed a monstrous perversion. Call +it unjust, unreasonable, if you will, yet it was the most natural thing +in the world for one possessing his sensitive, intense nature to pass +into harsh, bitter cynicism, and to regard Miss Bently as a typical +girl of the period. + +A young man is far on the road to evil when he loses faith in woman. +During the formative period of character she is, of earthly influences, +the most potent in making or marring him. A kind refusal, where no +false encouragement has been given, often does a man good, and leaves +his faith intact; but an experience similar to that of young Gregory is +like putting into a fountain that which may stain and embitter the +waters of the stream in all its length. + +At the early age of twenty-two he became what is usually understood by +the phrase "a man of the world." Still his moral nature could not sink +into the depths without many a bitter outcry against its wrongs. It was +with no slight effort that he drowned the memory of his early home and +its good influences. During the first two or three years he +occasionally had periods of passionate remorse, and made spasmodic +efforts toward better things. But they were made in human strength, and +in view of the penalties of evil, rather than because he was enamored +of the right. Some special temptation would soon sweep him away into +the old life, and thus, because of his broken promises and repeated +failures, he at last lost faith in himself also, and lacked that +self-respect without which no man can cope successfully with his evil +nature and an evil world. + +Living in a boarding-house, with none of the restraints and purifying +influences of a good home, he formed intimacies with brilliant but +unscrupulous young men. The theatre became his church, and at last the +code of his fast, fashionable set was that which governed his life. He +avoided gross, vulgar dissipation, both because his nature revolted at +it, and also on account of his purpose to permit nothing to interfere +with his prospects of advancement in business. He meant to show Miss +Bently that she had made a bad business speculation after all. Thus +ambition became the controlling element in his character; and he might +have had a worse one. Moreover, in all his moral debasement he never +lost a decided tendency toward truthfulness and honesty. He would have +starved rather than touch anything that did not belong to him, nor +would he allow himself to deceive in matters of business, and it was +upon these points that he specially prided himself. + +Gregory's unusual business ability, coupled with his knowledge of +French and German, led to his being sent abroad as agent of his firm. +Five years of life in the materialistic and sceptical atmosphere of +continental cities confirmed the evil tendencies which were only too +well developed before he left his own land. He became what so many +appear to be in our day, a practical materialist and atheist. Present +life and surroundings, present profit and pleasure, were all in all. He +ceased to recognize the existence of a soul within himself having +distinct needs and interests. His thoughts centred wholly in the +comfort and pleasures of the day and in that which would advance his +ambitious schemes. His scepticism was not intellectual and in reference +to the Bible and its teachings, but practical and in reference to +humanity itself. He believed that with few exceptions men and women +lived for their own profit and pleasure, and that religion and creeds +were matters of custom and fashion, or an accident of birth. Only the +reverence in which religion had been held in his early home kept him +from sharing fully in the contempt which the gentlemen he met abroad +seemed to have for it. He could not altogether despise his mother's +faith, but he regarded her as a gentle enthusiast haunted by sacred +traditions. The companionships which he had formed led him to believe +that unless influenced by some interested motive a liberal-minded man +of the world must of necessity outgrow these things. With the +self-deception of his kind, he thought he was broad and liberal in his +views, when in reality he had lost all distinction between truth and +error, and was narrowing his mind down to things only. Jew or Gentile, +Christian or Pagan, it was becoming all one to him. Men changed their +creeds and religions with other fashions, but all looked after what +they believed to be the main chance, and he proposed to do the same. + +As time passed on, however, he began to admit to himself that it was +strange that in making all things bend to his pleasure he did not +secure more. He wearied of certain things. Stronger excitements were +needed to spur his jaded senses. His bets, his stakes at cards grew +heavier, his pleasures more gross, till a delicate organization so +revolted at its wrongs and so chastised him for excess that he was +deterred from self-gratification in that direction. + +Some men's bodies are a "means of grace" to them. Coarse dissipation is +a physical impossibility, or swift suicide in a very painful form. +Young Gregory found that only in the excitements of the mind could he +hope to find continued enjoyment. His ambition to accumulate wealth and +become a brilliant business man most accorded with his tastes and +training, and on these objects he gradually concentrated all his +energies, seeking only in club-rooms and places of fashionable resort +recreation from the strain of business. + +He recognized that the best way to advance his own interests was to +serve his employers well; and this he did so effectually that at last +he was made a partner in the business, and, with a sense of something +more like pleasure than he had known for a long time, returned to New +York and entered upon his new duties. + +As we have said, among those who warmly greeted and congratulated him, +was Mr. Hunting. They gradually came to spend much time together, and +business and money-getting were their favorite themes. Gregory saw that +his friend was as keen on the track of fortune as himself, and that he +had apparently been much more successful. Mr. Hunting intimated that +after one reached the charmed inner circle Wall Street was a perfect +Eldorado, and seemed to take pains to drop occasional suggestions as to +how an investment shrewdly made by one with his favored point of +observation often secured in a day a larger return than a year of +plodding business. + +These remarks were not lost on Gregory, and the wish became very strong +that he might share in some of the splendid "hits" by which his friend +was accumulating so rapidly. + +Usually Mr. Hunting was very quiet and self-possessed, but one evening +in May he came into Gregory's rooms in a manner indicating not a little +excitement and elation. + +"Gregory!" he exclaimed, "I am going to make my fortune." + +"Make your fortune! You are as rich as Croesus now." + +"The past will be as nothing. I've struck a mine rather than a vein." + +"It's a pity some of your friends could not share in your luck." + +"Well, a few can. This is so large, and such a good thing, that I have +concluded to let a few intimates go in with me. Only all must keep very +quiet about it;" and he proposed an operation that seemed certain of +success as he explained it. + +Gregory concluded to put into it nearly all he had independent of his +investment in the firm, and also obtained permission to interest his +partners, and to procure an interview between them and Mr. Hunting. + +The scheme looked so very plausible that they were drawn into it also; +but Mr. Burnett took Gregory aside and said: "After all, we must place +a great deal of confidence in Mr. Hunting's word in this matter. Are +you satisfied that we can safely do so?" + +"I would stake my life on his word in this case," said Gregory, +eagerly, "and I pledge all I have put in the firm on his truth." + +This was the last flicker of his old enthusiasm and trust in anybody or +anything, including himself. With almost the skill of genius Mr. +Hunting adroitly, within the limits of the law, swindled them all, and +made a vast profit out of their losses. The transaction was not +generally known, but even some of the hardened gamblers of the street +said "it was too bad." + +But the bank-officers with whom Burnett & Co. did business knew about +it, and if it had not been for their lenience and aid the firm would +have failed. As it was, it required a struggle of months to regain the +solid ground of safety. + +At first the firm was suspicious of Gregory, and disposed to blame him +very much. But when he proved to them that he had lost his private +means by Hunting's treachery, and insisted on making over to them all +his right and title to the property he had invested with them, they saw +that he was no confederate of the swindler, but that he had suffered +more than any of them. + +He had, indeed. He had lost his ambition. The large sum of money that +was to be the basis of the immense fortune he had hoped to amass was +gone. He had greatly prided himself on his business ability, but had +signalized his entrance on his new and responsible position by being +overreached and swindled in a transaction that had impoverished himself +and almost ruined his partners. He grew very misanthropic, and was +quite as bitter against himself as against others. In his estimation +people were either cloaking their evil or had not been tempted, and he +felt after Hunting dropped the mask that he would never trust any one +again. + +It may be said, all this is very unreasonable. Yes, it is; but then +people will judge the world by their own experience of it, and some +natures are more easily warped by wrong than others. No logic can cope +with feeling and prejudice. Because of his own misguided life and the +wrong he had received from others, Walter Gregory was no more able to +form a correct estimate of society than one color-blind is to judge of +the tints of flowers. And yet he belonged to that class who claim +pre-eminently to know the world. Because he thought he knew it so well +he hated and despised it, and himself as part of it. + +The months that followed his great and sudden downfall dragged their +slow length along. He worked early and late, without thought of sparing +himself. If he could only see what the firm had lost through him made +good, he did not care what became of himself. Why should he? There was +little in the present to interest him, and the future looked, in his +depressed, morbid state, as monotonous and barren as the sands of a +desert. Seemingly, he had exhausted life, and it had lost all zest for +him. + +But while his power to enjoy had gone, not so his power to suffer. His +conscience was uneasy, and told him in a vague way that something was +wrong. Reason, or, more correctly speaking, instinct, condemned his +life as a wretched blunder. He had lived for his own enjoyment, and +now, when but half through life, what was there for him to enjoy? + +As in increasing weakness he dragged himself to the office on a sultry +September day, the thought occurred to him that the end was nearer than +he expected. + +"Let it come," he said, bitterly. "Why should I live?" + +The thought of his early home recurred to him with increasing +frequency, and he had a growing desire to visit it before his strength +failed utterly. Therefore it was with a certain melancholy pleasure +that he found himself at liberty, through the kindness of his partners, +to make this visit, and at the season, too, when his boyish memories of +the place, like the foliage, would be most varied and vivid. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + + + +If the reader could imagine a man visiting his own grave, he might +obtain some idea of Walter Gregory's feelings as he took the boat which +would land him not far from his early home. And yet, so different was +he from the boy who had left that home fifteen years before, that it +was almost the same as if he were visiting the grave of a brother who +had died in youth. + +Though the day was mild, a fresh bracing wind blew from the west. +Shielding himself from this on the after-deck, he half reclined, on +account of his weakness, in a position from which he could see the +shores and passing vessels upon the river. The swift gliding motion, +the beautiful and familiar scenery, the sense of freedom from routine +work, and the crisp, pure air, that seemed like a delicate wine, all +combined to form a mystic lever that began to lift his heart out of the +depths of despondency. + +A storm had passed away, leaving not a trace. The October sun shone in +undimmed splendor, and all nature appeared to rejoice in its light. The +waves with their silver crests seemed chasing one another in mad glee. +The sailing vessels, as they tacked to and fro across the river under +the stiff western breeze, made the water foam about their blunt prows, +and the white-winged gulls wheeled in graceful circles overhead. There +was a sense of movement and life that was contagious. Gregory's dull +eyes kindled with something like interest, and then he thought: "The +storm lowered over these sunny shores yesterday. The gloom of night +rested upon these waters but a few hours since. Why is it that nature +can smile and be glad the moment the shadow passes and I cannot? Is +there no sunlight for the soul? I seem as if entering a cave, that +grows colder and darker at every step, and no gleam shines at the +further end, indicating that I may pass through it and out into the +light again." + +Thus letting his fancy wander at will, at times half-dreaming and +half-waking, he passed the hours that elapsed before the boat touched +at a point in the Highlands of the Hudson, his destination. Making a +better dinner than he had enjoyed for a long time, and feeling stronger +than for weeks before, he started for the place that now, of all the +world, had for him the greatest attraction. + +There was no marked change in the foliage as yet, but only a deepening +of color, like a flush on the cheek of beauty. As he was driving along +the familiar road, farm-house and grove, and even tree, rock, and +thicket, began to greet him as with the faces of old friends. At last +he saw, nestling in a wild, picturesque valley, the quaint outline of +his former home. His heart yearned toward it, and he felt that next to +his mother's face no other object could be so welcome. + +"Slower, please," he said to the driver. + +Though his eyes were moist, and at times dim with tears, not a feature +in the scene escaped him. When near the gateway he sprung out with a +lightness that he would not have believed possible the day before, and +said, "Come for me at five." + +For a little time he stood leaning on the gate. Two children were +playing on the lawn, and it almost seemed to him that the elder, a boy +of about ten years, might be himself, and he a passing stranger, who +had merely stopped to look at the pretty scene. + +"Oh that I were a boy like that one there! Oh that I were here again as +of old!" he sighed. "How unchanged it all is, and I so changed! It +seems as if the past were mocking me. That must be I there playing with +my little sister. Mother must be sewing in her cheery south room, and +father surely is taking his after-dinner nap in the library. Can it be +that they are all dead save me? and that this is but a beautiful +mirage?" + +He felt that he could not meet any one until he became more composed, +and so passed on up the valley. Before turning away he noticed that a +lady come out at the front door. The children joined her, and they +started for a walk. + +Looking wistfully on either side, Gregory soon came to a point where +the orchard extended to the road. A well-remembered fall pippin tree +hung its laden boughs over the fence, and the fruit looked so ripe and +golden in the slanting rays of October sunlight that he determined to +try one of the apples and see if it tasted as of old. As he climbed +upon the wall a loose stone fell clattering down and rolled into the +road. He did not notice this, but an old man dozing in the porch of a +little house opposite did. As Gregory reached up his cane to detach +from its spray a great, yellow-cheeked fellow, his hand was arrested, +and he was almost startled off his perch by such a volley of oaths as +shocked even his hardened ears. Turning gingerly around so as not to +lose his footing, he faced this masked battery that had opened so +unexpectedly upon him, and saw a white-haired old man balancing himself +on one crutch and brandishing the other at him. + +"Stop knockin' down that wall and fillin! the road with stuns, you--," +shouted the venerable man, in tones that indicated anything but the +calmness of age. "Let John Walton's apples alone, you--thief. What do +you mean by robbin' in broad daylight, right under a man's nose?" + +Gregory saw that he had a character to deal with, and, to divert his +mind from thoughts that were growing too painful, determined to draw +the old man out; so he said, "Is not taking things so openly a rather +honest way of robbing?" + +"Git down, I tell yer," cried the guardian of the orchard. + +"Suppose 'tis, it's robbin' arter all. So now move on, and none of yer +cussed impudence." + +"But you call them John Walton's apples," said Gregory, eating one with +provoking coolness. "What have you got to do with them? and why should +you care?" + +"Now look here, stranger, you're an infernal mean cuss to ask such +questions. Ain't John Walton my neighbor? and a good neighbor, too? +D'ye suppose a well-meanin' man like myself would stand by and see a +neighbor robbed? and of all others, John Walton? Don't you know that +robbin' a good man brings bad luck, you thunderin' fool?" + +"But I've always had bad luck, so I needn't stop on that account," +retorted Gregory, from the fence. + +"I believe it, and you allers will," vociferated the old man, "and I'll +tell yer why. I know from the cut of yer jib that yer've allers been +eatin' forbidden fruit. If yer lived now a good square life like +'Squire Walton and me, you'd have no reason to complain of yer luck. If +I could get a clip at yer with this crutch I'd give yer suthin' else to +complain of. If yer had any decency yer wouldn't stand there a jibin' +at a lame old man." + +Gregory took off his hat with a polite bow and said: "I beg your +pardon; I was under the impression that you were doing the 'cussing.' I +shall come and see you soon, for somehow it does me good to have you +swear at me. I only wish I had as good a friend in the world as Mr. +Walton has in you." With these words he sprung from the fence on the +orchard side, and made his way to the hill behind the Walton residence, +leaving the old man mumbling and muttering in a very profane manner. + +"Like enough it was somebody visitin' at the Walton's, and I've made +a--fool of myself after all. What's worse, that poor little Miss Eulie +will hear I've been swearin' agin, and there'll be another awful +prayin' time. What a cussed old fool I be, to promise to quit swearin'! +I know I can't. What's the good o' stoppin'? It's inside, and might as +well come out. The Lord knows I don't mean no disrespect to Him. It's +only one of my ways. He knows well enough that I'm a good neighbor, and +what's the harm in a little cussin'?" and so the strange old man talked +on to himself in the intervals between long pulls at his pipe. + +By the time Gregory reached the top of the hill his strength was quite +exhausted, and, panting, he sat down on the sunny side of a thicket of +cedars, for the late afternoon was growing chilly. Beneath him lay the +one oasis in a desert world. + +With an indescribable blending of pleasure and pain, he found himself +tracing with his eye every well-remembered path, and marking every +familiar object. + +Not a breath of air was stirring, and it would seem that Nature was +seeking to impart to his perturbed spirit, full of the restless +movement of city life and the inevitable disquiet of sin, something of +her own calmness and peace. The only sounds he heard seemed a part of +nature's silence,--the tinkle of cowbells, the slumberous monotone of +water as it fell over the dam, the grating notes of a katydid, rendered +hoarse by recent cool nights, in a shady ravine near by, and a black +cricket chirping at the edge of the rock on which he sat--these were +all. And yet the sounds, though not heard for years, seemed as familiar +as the mother's lullaby that puts a child to sleep, and a delicious +sense of restfulness stole into his heart. The world in which he had so +greatly sinned and suffered might be another planet, it seemed so far +away. Could it be that in a few short hours he had escaped out of the +hurry and grind of New York into this sheltered nook? Why had he not +come before? Here was the remedy for soul and body, if any existed. + +Not a person was visible on the place, and it seemed that it might thus +have been awaiting him in all his absence, and that now he had only to +go and take possession. + +"So our home in heaven awaits us, mother used to say," he thought, +"while we are such willing exiles from it. I would give all the world +to believe as she did." + +He found that the place so inseparably associated with his mother +brought back her teachings, which he had so often tried to forget. + +"I wish I might bury myself here, away from the world," he muttered, +"for it has only cheated and lied to me from first to last. Everything +deceived me, and turned out differently from what I expected. These +loved old scenes are true and unchanged, and smile upon me now as when +I was here a happy boy. Would to heaven I might never leave them again!" + +He was startled out of his revery by the sharp bark of a squirrel that +ran chattering and whisking its tail in great excitement from limb to +limb in a clump of chestnuts near. The crackling of a twig betrayed to +Gregory the cause of its alarm, for through an opening in the thicket +he saw the lady who had started out for a walk with the children while +he was leaning on the front gate. + +Shrinking further behind the cedars he proposed to reconnoitre a little +before making himself known. He observed that she was attired in a +dark, close-fitting costume suitable for rambling among the hills. At +first he thought that she was pretty, and then that she was not. His +quick, critical eye detected that her features were not regular, that +her profile was not classic. It was only the rich glow of exercise and +the jaunty gypsy hat that had given the first impression of something +like beauty. In her right hand, which was ungloved, she daintily held, +by its short stem, a chestnut burr which the squirrel in its alarm had +dropped, and now, in its own shrill vernacular, was scolding about so +vociferously. She was glancing around for some means to break it open, +and Gregory had scarcely time to notice her fine dark eyes, when, as if +remembering the rock on which he had been sitting, she advanced toward +him with a step so quick and elastic that he envied her vigor. + +Further concealment was now impossible. Therefore with easy politeness +he stepped forward and said: "Let me open the burr for you, Miss +Walton." + +She started violently at the sound of his voice, and for a moment +reminded him of a frightened bird on the eve of flight. + +"Pardon me for so alarming you," he hastened to say, "and also pardon a +seeming stranger for addressing you informally. My name may not be +unknown to you, although I am in person. It is Walter Gregory." + +She had been so startled that she could not immediately recover +herself, and still stood regarding him doubtfully, although with manner +more assured. + +"Come," said he, smiling and advancing toward her with the quiet +assurance of a society man. "Let me open the burr for you, and you +shall take its contents in confirmation of what I say. If I find sound +chestnuts in it, let them be a token that I am not misrepresenting +myself. If my test fails, then you may justly ask for better +credentials." + +Half smiling, and quite satisfied from his words and appearance in +advance, she extended the burr toward him. But as she did so it parted +from the stem, and would have fallen to the ground had he not, with his +ungloved hand, caught the prickly thing. His hand was as white and soft +as hers, and the sharp spines stung him sorely, yet he permitted no +sign of pain to appear upon his face. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Miss Walton, "I fear it hurt you." + +He looked up humorously and said, "An augury is a solemn affair, and no +disrespect must be allowed to nature's oracle, which in this case is a +chestnut burr;" and he speedily opened it. + +"There!" he said, triumphantly, "what more could you ask? Here are two +solid, plump chestnuts, with only a false, empty form of shell between +them. And here, like the solid nuts, are two people entitled to each +other's acquaintance, with only the false formality of an introduction, +like the empty shell, keeping them apart. Since no mutual friend is +present to introduce us, has not Nature taken upon herself the office +through this chestnut burr? But perhaps I should further Nature's +efforts by giving you my card." + +As Miss Walton regained composure, she soon proved to Gregory that she +was not merely a shy country girl. At the close of his rather long and +fanciful speech she said, genially, extending her hand: "My love for +Nature is unbounded, Mr. Gregory, and the introduction you have so +happily obtained from her weighs more with me than any other that you +could have had. Let me welcome you to your own home, as it were. But +see, your hand is bleeding, where the burr pricked you. Is this an +omen, also? If our first meeting brings bloody wounds, I fear you will +shun further acquaintance." + +There was a spice of bitterness in Gregory's laugh, as he said: "People +don't often die of such wounds. But it is a little odd that in taking +your hand I should stain it with my blood. I am inclined to drop the +burr after all, and base all my claims on my practical visiting card. +You may come to look upon the burr as a warning, rather than an +introduction, and order me off the premises." + +"It was an omen of your choice," replied Miss Walton, laughing. "You +have more to fear from it than I. If you will venture to stay you shall +be most welcome. Indeed, it almost seems that you have a better right +here than we, and your name has been so often heard that you are no +stranger. I know father will be very glad to see you, for he often +speaks of you, and wonders if you are like his old friend, the dearest +one, I think, he ever had. How long have you been here?" + +"Well, I have been wandering about the place much of the afternoon." + +"I need not ask you why you did not come in at once," she said, gently. +"Seeing your old home after so long an absence is like meeting some +dear friend. One naturally wishes to be alone for a time. But now I +hope you will go home with me." + +He was surprised at her delicate appreciation of his feelings, and gave +her a quick pleased look, saying: "Nature has taught you to be a good +interpreter, Miss Walton. You are right. The memories of the old place +were a little too much for me at first, and I did not know that those +whom I met would appreciate my feelings so delicately." + +The two children now appeared, running around the brow of the hill, the +boy calling in great excitement: "Aunt Annie, oh! Aunt Annie, we've +found a squirrel-hole. We chased him into it. Can't Susie sit by the +hole and keep him in, while I go for a spade to dig him out?" + +Then they saw the unlooked-for stranger, who at once rivalled the +squirrel-hole in interest, and with slower steps, and curious glances, +they approached. + +"These are my sister's children," said Miss Walton, simply. + +Gregory kindly took the boy by the hand, and kissed the little girl, +who looked half-frightened and half-pleased, as a very little maiden +should, while she rubbed the cheek that his mustache had tickled. + +"Do you think we can get the squirrel, Aunt Annie?" again asked the boy. + +"Do you think it would be right, Johnny, if you could?" she asked. +"Suppose you were the squirrel in the hole, and one big monster, like +Susie here, should sit by the door, and you heard another big monster +say, 'Wait till I get something to tear open his house with.' How would +you feel?" + +"I won't keep the poor little squirrel in his hole," said sympathetic +Susie. + +But the boy's brow contracted, and he said, sternly: "Squirrels are +nothing but robbers, and their holes are robbers' dens. They take half +our nuts every year." + +Miss Walton looked significantly at Gregory, and laughed, saying, +"There it is, you see, man and woman." + +A momentary shadow crossed his face, and he said, abruptly, "I hope +Susie will be as kindly in coming years." + +Miss Walton looked at him curiously as they began to descend the hill +to the house. She evidently did not understand his remark, coupled with +his manner. + +As they approached the barn there was great excitement among the +poultry. Passing round its angle, Walter saw coming toward them a +quaint-looking old woman, in what appeared to be a white scalloped +nightcap. She had a pan of corn in her hand, and was attended by a +retinue that would have rejoiced an epicure's heart. Chickens, ducks, +geese, turkeys, and Guinea fowls thronged around and after her with an +intentness on the grain and a disregard of one another's rights and +feelings that reminded one unpleasantly of political aspirants just +after a Presidential election. Johnny made a dive for an old gobbler, +and the great red-wattled bird dropped his wings and seemed inclined to +show fight, but a reluctant armistice was brought about between them by +the old woman screaming: "Maister Johnny, an' ye let not the fowls +alone ye'll ha' na apples roast the night." + +Susie clung timidly to her aunty's side as they passed through these +clamorous candidates for holiday honors, and the young lady said, +kindly, "You have a large family to look after, Zibbie, but I'm afraid +we'll lessen it every day now." + +"Indeed, an' ye will, and it goes agin the grain to wring the necks of +them that I've nursed from the shell," said the old woman, rather +sharply. + +"It must be a great trial to your feelings," said Miss Walton, +laughing; "but what would you have us do with them, Zibbie? You don't +need them all for pets." + +Before Zibbie could answer, an old gentleman in a low buggy drove into +the large door-yard, and the children bounded toward him, screaming, +"Grandpa." + +A colored man took the horse, and Mr. Walton, with a briskness that one +would not expect at his advanced age, came toward them. + +He was a noble-looking old man, with hair and beard as white as snow, +and with the stately manners of the old school. When he learned who +Gregory was he greeted him with a cordiality that was so genuine as to +compel the cynical man of the world to feel its truth. + +Mr. Walton's eyes were turned so often and wistfully on his face that +Gregory was embarrassed. + +"I was looking for my friend," said the old gentleman, in a husky +voice, turning hastily away to hide his feeling. "You strongly remind +me of him; and yet--" But he never finished the sentence. + +Gregory well understood the "and yet," and in bitterness of soul +remembered that his father had been a good man, but that the impress of +goodness could not rest on his face. + +He had now grown very weary, and gave evidence of it. + +"Mr. Gregory, you look ill," said Miss Walton, hastily. + +"I am not well," he said, "and have not been for a long time. Perhaps I +am going beyond my strength to-day." + +In a moment they were all solicitude. The driver, who then appeared +according to his instructions, was posted back to the hotel for Mr. +Gregory's luggage, Mr. Walton saying, with hearty emphasis that removed +every scruple, "This must be your home, sir, as long as you can remain +with us, as truly as ever it was." + +A little later he found himself in the "spare room," on whose state he +had rarely intruded when a boy. Jeff, the colored man, had kindled a +cheery wood fire on the ample hearth, and, too exhausted even to think, +Gregory sank back in a great easy-chair with the blessed sense of the +storm-tossed on reaching a quiet haven. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MORBID BROODING + + + +To the millions who are suffering in mind or body there certainly come +in this world moments of repose, when pain ceases; and the respite +seems so delicious in contrast that it may well suggest the "rest that +remaineth." Thinking of neither the past nor the future, Gregory for a +little time gave himself up to the sense of present and luxurious +comfort. With closed eyes and mind almost as quiet as his motionless +body, he let the moments pass, feeling dimly that he would ask no +better heaven than the eternal continuance of this painless, +half-dreaming lethargy. + +He was soon aroused, however, by a knocking at the door, and a +middle-aged servant placed before him a tempting plate of Albert +biscuit and a glass of home-made currant wine of indefinite age. The +quaint and dainty little lunch caught his appetite as exactly as if +manna had fallen adapted to his need; but it soon stimulated him out of +his condition of partial non-existence. With returning consciousness of +the necessity of living and acting came the strong desire to spend as +much of his vacation as possible in his old home, and he determined to +avail himself of Mr. Walton's invitation to the utmost limit that +etiquette would permit. + +His awakened mind gave but little thought to his entertainers, and he +did not anticipate much pleasure from their society. He was satisfied +that they were refined, cultivated people, with whom he could be as +much at ease as would be possible in any companionship, but he hoped +and proposed to spend the most of his time alone in wandering amid old +scenes and brooding over the past. The morbid mind is ever full of +unnatural contradictions, and he found a melancholy pleasure in +shutting his eyes to the future and recalling the time when he had been +happy and hopeful. In his egotism he found more that interested him in +his past and vanished self than in the surrounding world. Evil and +ill-health had so enfeebled his body, narrowed his mind, and blurred +the future, that his best solace seemed a vain and sentimental +recalling of the crude yet comparatively happy period of childhood. + +This is sorry progress. A man must indeed have lived radically wrong +when he looks backward for the best of his life. Gray-haired Mr. Walton +was looking forward. Gregory's habit of self-pleasing--of acting +according to his mood--was too deeply seated to permit even the thought +of returning the hospitality he hoped to enjoy by a cordial effort on +his part to prove himself an agreeable guest. Polite he ever would be, +for he had the instincts and training of a gentleman, in society's +interpretation of the word, but he had lost the power to feel a +generous solicitude for the feelings and happiness of others. Indeed, +he rather took a cynical pleasure in discovering defects in the +character of those around him, and in learning that their seeming +enjoyment of life was but hollow and partial. Conscious of being evil +himself, he liked to think others were not much better, or would not be +if tempted. Therefore, with a gloomy scepticism, he questioned all the +seeming happiness and goodness he saw. "It is either unreal or +untried," he was wont to say bitterly. + +About seven o'clock, Hannah, the waitress, again appeared, saying: +"Supper is ready, but the ladies beg you will not come down unless you +feel able. I can bring up your tea if you wish." + +Thinking first and only of self, he at once decided not to go down. He +felt sufficiently rested and revived, but was in no mood for +commonplace talk to comparative strangers. His cosey chair, glowing +fire, and listless ease were much better than noisy children, +inquisitive ladies, and the unconscious reproach of Mr. Walton's face, +as he would look in vain for the lineaments of his lost friend. +Therefore he said, suavely: "Please say to the ladies that I am so +wearied that I should make but a dull companion, and so for their +sakes, as well as my own, had better not leave my room this evening." + +It is the perfection of art in selfishness to make it appear as if you +were thinking only of others. This was the design of Walter's polite +message. Soon a bit of tender steak, a roast potato, tea, and toast +were smoking appetizingly beside him, and he congratulated himself that +he had escaped the bore of company for one evening. + +Notwithstanding his misanthropy and cherished desolation the supper was +so inviting that he was tempted to partake of it heartily. Then +incasing himself in his ample dressing-gown he placed his slippered +feet on the fender before a cheery fire, lighted a choice Havana, and +proceeded to be miserable after the fashion that indulged misery often +affects. + +Hannah quietly removed the tea-tray, and Mr. Walton came up and +courteously inquired if there was anything that would add to his +guest's comfort. + +"After a few hours of rest and quiet I hope I shall be able to make a +better return for your hospitality," Gregory rejoined, with equal +politeness. + +"Oh, do not feel under any obligation to exert yourself," said kind Mr. +Walton. "In order to derive full benefit from your vacation, you must +simply rest and follow your moods." + +This view of the case suited Gregory exactly, and the prospect of a +visit at his old home grew still more inviting. When he was left alone, +he gave himself up wholly to the memories of the past. + +At first it was with a pleasurable pain that he recalled his former +life. With an imagination naturally strong he lived it all over again, +from the date of his first recollections. In the curling flames and +glowing coals on the hearth a panorama passed before him. He saw a +joyous child, a light-hearted boy, and a sanguine youth, with the +shifting and familiar scenery of well-remembered experience. Time +softened the pictures, and the harsh, rough outlines which exist in +every truthful portraiture of life were lost in the haze of distance. +The gentle but steady light of mother love, and through her a pale, +half-recognized reflection of the love of God, illumined all those +years; and his father's strong, quiet affection made a background +anything but dark. He had been naturally what is termed a very good +boy, full of generous impulses. There had been no lack of ordinary +waywardness or of the faults of youth, but they showed a tendency to +yield readily to the correcting influence of love. Good impulses, +however, are not principles, and may give way to stronger impulses of +evil. If the influences of his early home had alone followed him, he +would not now be moodily recalling the past as the exiled convict might +watch the shores of his native land recede. + +And then, as in his prolonged revery the fire burned low, and the ruddy +coals turned to ashes, the past faded into distance, and his present +life, dull and leaden, rose before him, and from regretful memories +that were not wholly painful he passed to that bitterness of feeling +which ever comes when hope is giving place to despair. + +The fire flickered out and died, his head drooped lower and lower, +while the brooding frown upon his brow darkened almost into a scowl. +Outwardly he made a sad picture for a young man in the prime of life, +but to Him who looks at the attitude of the soul, what but unutterable +love kept him from appearing absolutely revolting? + +Suddenly, like light breaking into a vault a few notes of prelude were +struck upon the piano in the parlor below, and a sweet voice, softened +by distance sung: + + "Rock of ages, cleft for me, + let me hide myself in thee," + +How often he had heard the familiar words and music in that same home! +They seemed to crown and complete all the memories of the place, but +they reminded him more clearly than ever before that its most +inseparable associations were holy, hopeful, and suggestive of a faith +that he seemed to have lost as utterly as if it had been a gem dropped +into the ocean. + +He had lived in foreign lands far from his birthplace, but the purpose +to return ever dwelt pleasurably in his mind. But how could he cross +the gulf that yawned between him and the faith of his childhood? Was +there really anything beyond that gulf save what the credulous +imagination had created? Instinctively he felt that there was, for he +was honest enough with himself to remember that his scepticism was the +result of an evil life and the influence of an unbelieving world, +rather than the outcome of patient investigation. The wish was father +to the thought. + +Yet sweet, unfaltering, and clear as the voice of faith ever should be, +the hymn went forward in the room below, his memory supplying the +well-known words that were lost from remoteness:-- + + "When mine eyelids close in death, + When I soar to worlds unknown." + +"Oh, when!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "What shall be my experience then? +If I continue to fail in health as I have of late I shall know cursedly +soon. That must be Miss Walton singing. Though she does not realize it, +to me this is almost as cruel mockery as if an angel sang at the gates +of hell." + +The music ceased, and the monotone of one reading followed. + +"Family prayers as of old," he muttered. "How everything conspires +to-day to bring my home-life back again! and yet there is a fatal lack +of something that is harder to endure than the absence of my own +kindred and vanished youth. I doubt whether I can stay here long after +all. Will not the mocking fable of Tantalus be repeated constantly, as +I see others drinking daily at a fountain which though apparently so +near is ever beyond my reach?" + +Shivering with the chill of the night and the deeper chill at heart, he +retired to troubled sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE + + + +Rest, and the sunny light and bracing air of the following morning, +banished much of Gregory's moodiness, and he descended the stairs +proposing to dismiss painful thoughts and get what comfort and +semblance of enjoyment he could out of the passing hours. Mr. Walton +met him cordially--indeed with almost fatherly solicitude--and led him +at once to the dining-room, where an inviting breakfast awaited them. +Miss Walton also was genial, and introduced Miss Eulalia Morton, a +maiden sister of her mother. Miss Eulie, as she was familiarly called, +was a pale, delicate little lady, with a face sweetened rather than +hardened and imbittered by time. If, as some believe, the flesh and the +spirit, the soul and the body, are ever at variance, she gave the +impression at first glance that the body was getting the worst of the +conflict. But in truth the faintest thoughts of strife seemed to have +no association with her whatever. She appeared so light and aerial that +one could imagine her flying over the rough places of life, and +vanishing when any one opposed her. + +Miss Walton reversed all this, for she was decidedly substantial. She +was of only medium height, but a fine figure made her appear taller +than she was. She immediately gave the impression of power and reserve +force. You felt this in her quick, elastic step, saw it in her decided +though not abrupt movements, and heard it in her tone. Even the +nonchalant Mr. Gregory could not ignore her in his customary polite +manner, though quiet refinement and peculiar unobtrusiveness seemed her +characteristics. She won attention, not because she sought it, nor on +the ground of eccentricities, but because of her intense vitality. From +her dark eyes a close observer might catch glimpses of a quick, active +mind, an eager spirit, and--well, perhaps a passionate temper. Though +chastened and subdued, she ever gave the impression of power to those +who came to know her well. In certain ways, as they interpreted her, +people acknowledged this force of character. Some spoke of her as very +lively, others as exceedingly energetic and willing to enter on any +good work. Some thought her ambitious, else why was she so prominent in +church matters, and so ready to visit the sick and poor? They could +explain this in but one way. And some looked knowingly at each other +and said: "I wonder if she is always as smiling and sweet as when in +society;" and then followed shaking of heads which intimated, "Look out +for sudden gusts." + +Again, as in simple morning wrapper she turned to greet Gregory, she +gave him the impression of something like beauty. But his taste, +rendered critical by much observation both at home and abroad, at once +told him that he was mistaken. + +"The expression is well enough," he thought, "but she has not a single +perfect feature--not one that an artist would copy, except perhaps the +eyes, and even they are not soft and Madonna-like." + +He had a sybarite's eye for beauty, and an intense admiration for it. +At the same time he was too intellectual to be satisfied with the mere +sensuous type. And yet, when he decided that a woman was not pretty, +she ceased to interest him. His exacting taste required no small degree +of outward perfection crowned by ready wit and society polish. With +those so endowed he had frequently amused himself in New York and Paris +by a passing flirtation since the politic Miss Bently had made him a +sceptic in regard to women. All his intercourse with society had +confirmed his cynicism. The most beautiful and brilliant in the +drawing-rooms were seldom the best. He flattered them to their faces +and sneered at them in his heart. Therefore his attentions were merely +of a nature to excite their vanity, stimulated by much incense from +other sources. He saw this plainly manifested trait, which he +contributed to develop, and despised it. He also saw that many were as +eager for a good match as ever the adored Miss Bently had been, and +that, while they liked his compliments, they cared not for him. Why +should they? Insincere and selfish himself, why should he expect to +awaken better feelings on the part of those who were anything but +unsophisticated, and from knowledge of the world could gauge him at his +true worth? Not even a sentimental girl would show her heart to such a +man. And yet with the blind egotism of selfishness he smiled grimly at +their apparent heartlessness and said, "Such is woman." + +At the same time it must in justice be said that he despised men in +general quite as sincerely. "Human nature is wretched stuff," had come +to be the first article in his creed. + +In regard to Miss Walton he concluded: "She is a goodish girl, more of +a lady than the average, pious and orthodox, an excellent housekeeper, +and a great comfort to her father, no doubt. She is safe from her very +plainness, though confident, of course, that she could resist +temptation and be a saint under all circumstances;" and he dismissed +her from his mind with a sort of inward groan and protest against the +necessity of making himself agreeable to her during his visit. + +He did not think it worth while to disguise his face as he made these +brief critical observations, and quick-witted Annie gathered something +of the drift of his thoughts, as she stole a few glances at him from +behind the coffee-urn. It piqued her pride a little, and she was +disappointed in him, for she had hoped for a pleasant addition to their +society for a time. But she was so supremely indifferent to him, and +had so much to fill her thoughts and days, that his slight promise to +prove an agreeable visitor caused but momentary annoyance. Yet the +glimmer of a smile flitted across her face as she thought: "He may find +himself slightly mistaken in me, after all. His face seems to say, 'No +doubt she is a good young woman, and well enough for this slow country +place, but she has no beauty, no style.' I think I can manage to +disturb the even current of his vanity, if his visit is long enough, +and he shall learn at least that I shall not gape admiringly at his +artificial metropolitan airs." + +Her manner toward Gregory remained full of kindness and grace, but she +made no effort to secure his attention and engage him in conversation, +as he had feared she would do. She acted as if she were accustomed to +see such persons as himself at her father's breakfast-table every +morning; and, though habitually wrapped up in his own personality, he +soon became dimly conscious that her course toward him was not what he +had expected. + +Miss Eulie was all solicitude in view of his character of invalid; and +the children looked at him with curious eyes and growing +disapprobation. There was nothing in him to secure their instinctive +friendship, and he made no effort to win their sympathies. + +The morning meal began with a reverent looking to heaven for God's +blessing on the gifts which were acknowledged as coming from Him; and +even Gregory was compelled to admit that the brief rite did not appear +like a careless signing of the cross, or a shrivelled form from which +spirit and meaning had departed, but a sincere expression of loving +trust and gratitude. + +During the greater part of the meal, Mr. Walton dwelt on the +circumstances that had led to his friendship with Gregory's father, but +at last the conversation flagged a little, since the young man made so +slight effort to maintain it. + +Suddenly Mr. Walton turned to his daughter and said, "By the way, +Annie, you have not told me where you found Mr. Gregory, for my +impression is that you brought him down from the hills." + +"I was about to say that I found him in a chestnut burr," replied +Annie, with a twinkle in her eye. "At least I found a stranger by the +cedar thicket, and he proved from a chestnut burr who he was, and his +right to acquaintance, with a better logic than I supposed him capable +of." + +"Indeed?" asked Gregory, quickly, feeling the prick of her last words; +"on what grounds were you led to estimate my logic so slightingly?" + +"On merely general grounds; but you see I am open to all evidence in +your favor. City life no doubt has great advantages, but it also has +greater drawbacks." + +"What are they?" + +"I cannot think of them all now. Suffice it to say that if you had +always lived in the city you could not have interpreted a chestnut burr +so gracefully. Many there seem to forget Nature's lore." + +"But may they not learn other things more valuable?" + +Miss Walton shook her head, and said, with a laugh: "An ignorant +exhorter once stated to his little schoolhouse audience that Paul was +brought up at the foot of the hill Gamaliel. I almost wish he were +right, for I should have had more confidence in the teachings of the +hill than in those of the narrow-minded Jewish Rabbi." + +"And yet you regard Paul as the very chief of the apostles." + +"He became such after he was taught of Him who teaches through the +hills and nature generally." + +"My daughter is an enthusiast for nature," remarked Mr. Walton. + +"If the people are the same as when I was here a boy, the hills have +not taught the majority very much," said Gregory, with a French shrug. + +"Many of them have a better wisdom than you think," answered Annie, +quietly. + +"In what does it consist?" + +"Well, for one thing they know how to enjoy life and add to the +enjoyment of others." + +Gregory looked at her keenly for a moment, but saw nothing to lead him +to think that she was speaking on other than general principles; but he +said, a little moodily, as they rose from the table, "That certainly is +a better wisdom than is usually attained in either city or country." + +"It is not our custom to make company of our friends," said Mr. Walton, +cordially. "We hope you will feel completely at home, and come and go +as you like, and do just what you find agreeable. We dine at two, and +have an early supper on account of the children. There are one or two +fair saddle horses on the place, but if you do not feel strong enough +to ride, Annie can drive you out, and I assure you she is at home in +the management of a horse." + +"Yes, indeed," echoed the little boy. "Aunt Annie can manage anything +or anybody." + +"That is a remarkable power," said Gregory, with an amused look and a +side glance at the young girl. "How does she do it?" + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the boy; "she makes them love her, and then +they want to do as she says." + +A momentary wrathful gleam shot from Annie's eyes at her indiscreet +little champion, but with heightened color she joined in the laugh that +followed. + +Gregory had the ill grace to say with a sort of mocking gallantry, as +he bowed himself out, "It must be delightful to be managed on such +terms." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? + + + +Putting on a light overcoat, for the morning air was sharp and bracing, +Gregory soon found himself in the old square garden. Though its glory +was decidedly on the wane, it was as yet unnipped by the frost It had a +neatness and an order of its own that were quite unlike those where +nature is in entire subordination to art. Indeed it looked very much as +he remembered it in the past, and he welcomed its unchanged aspect. He +strolled to many other remembered boyish haunts, and it seemed that the +very lichens and mosses grew in the same places as of old, and that +nature had stood still and awaited his return. + +And yet every familiar object chided him for being so changed, and he +began to find more of pain than pleasure as this contrast between what +he had been and what he might have been was constantly forced upon him. + +"Oh that I had never left this place!" he exclaimed, bitterly: "It +would have been better to stay here and drudge as a day laborer. What +has that career out in the world to which I looked forward so ardently +amounted to? The present is disappointment and self-disgust, the future +an indefinite region of fears and forebodings, and even the happy past +is becoming a bitter mockery by reminding me of what can never be +again." + +Wearied and despondent, he moodily returned to the house and threw +himself on a lounge in the parlor. A smouldering wood fire upon the +hearth softened the air to summer temperature. The heat was grateful to +his chilled, bloodless body, and gave him a luxurious sense of physical +comfort, and he muttered: "I had about resolved to leave this place +with its memories that are growing into torment, but I suppose it would +be the same anywhere else. I am too weak and ill to face new scenes and +discomfort. A little animal enjoyment and bodily respite from pain seem +about all that is left to me of existence, and I think I can find these +here better than elsewhere. If I am expected, however, to fall under +the management of the daughter of the house on the terms blurted out by +that fidgety nephew of hers, I will fly for my life. A plague on him! +His restlessness makes me nervous! If I could endure a child at all, +the blue-eyed little girl would make a pretty toy." + +Sounds from the sitting-room behind the parlor now caught his +attention, and listening he soon became aware that Miss Walton was +teaching the children. "She has just the voice for a 'schoolmarm,'" he +thought--"quick, clear-cut, and decided." + +If he had not given way to unreasonable prejudice he might also have +noted that there was nothing harsh or querulous in it. + +"With her management and love of nature, she doubtless thinks herself +the personification of goodness. I suppose I shall be well lectured +before I get away. I had a foretaste of it this morning. 'Drawbacks of +city life,' forsooth! She no doubt regards me as a result of these +disadvantages. But if she should come to deem it her mission to convert +or reform me, then will be lost my small remnant of peace and comfort." + +But weakness and weariness soon inclined him to sleep. Miss Walton's +voice sounded far away. Then it passed into his dream as that of Miss +Bently chiding him affectedly for his wayward tendencies; again it was +explaining that conscientious young lady's "sense of duty" in view of +Mr. Grobb's offer, and even in his sleep his face darkened with pain +and wrath. + +Just then, school hours being over, Miss Walton came into the parlor. +For a moment, as she stood by the fire, she did not notice its +unconscious occupant. Then, seeing him, she was about to leave the room +noiselessly, when the expression of his face arrested her steps. + +If Annie Walton's eyes suggested the probability of "sudden gusts," +they also at times announced a warm, kind heart, for as she looked at +him now her face instantly softened to pity. + +"Good he is not," she thought, "but he evidently suffers in his evil. +Something is blighting his life, and what can blight a life save evil? +Perhaps I had better change my proposed crusade against his vanity and +cynicism to a kind, sisterly effort toward making him a better and +therefore a happier man. It will soon come out in conversation that I +have long been the same as engaged to another, and this will relieve me +of absurd suspicions of designs upon him. If I could win a friendly +confidence on his part, I'm sure I could tell him some wholesome +truths, for even an enemy could scarcely look on that face without +relenting." + +There was nothing slow or cumbrous about Annie. These thoughts had +flashed through her mind during the brief moment in which her eyes +softened from surprise into sympathy as they caught the expression of +Gregory's face. Then, fearing to disturb him, with silent tread she +passed out to her wonted morning duties. + +How seemingly accidental was that visit to the parlor! Its motive +indefinite and forgotten. Apparently it was but a trivial episode of an +uneventful day, involving no greater catastrophe than the momentary +rousing of a sleeper who would doze again. But what day can we with +certainty call uneventful? and what episode trivial? Those +half-aimless, purposeless steps of Annie Walton into the quiet parlor +might lead to results that would radically change the endless future of +several lives. + +In her womanly, pitying nature, had not God sent His angel? If a +viewless "ministering spirit," as the sinful man's appointed guardian, +was present, as many believe is the case with every one, how truly he +must have welcomed this unselfish human companionship in his loving +labor to save life; for only they who rescue from sin truly save life. + +And yet the sleeper, even in his dreams, was evidently at war with +himself, the world, and God. He was an example of the truth that good +comes from without and not from within us. It is heaven stooping to +men; heaven's messengers sent to us; truth quickened in our minds by +heavenly influence, even as sunlight and rain awaken into beautiful +life the seeds hidden in the soil; and, above all, impulses direct from +God, that steal into our hearts as the south wind penetrates ice-bound +gardens in spring. + +But, alas! multitudes like Walter Gregory blind their eyes and steel +their hearts against such influences. God and those allied to Him +longed to bring the healing of faith and love to his wounded spirit. He +scowled back his answer, and, as he then felt, would shrink with morbid +sensitiveness and dislike from the kindest and most delicate +presentation of the transforming truth. But the divine love is ever +seeking to win our attention by messengers innumerable; now by the +appalling storm, again by a summer sunset; now by an awful providence, +again by a great joy; at times by stern prophets and teachers, but more +often by the gentle human agencies of which Annie was the type, as with +pitying face she bent over the worn and jaded man of the world and +hoped and prayed that she might be able to act the part of a true +sister toward him. Thorny and guarded was every avenue to his heart; +and yet her feminine tact, combined with the softening and purifying +influence of his old home, might gain her words acceptance, where the +wisest and most eloquent would plead in vain. + +After dinner he again hastened forth for a walk, his purpose being to +avoid company, for he was so moody and morbid, so weak, nervous, and +irritable, that the thought of meeting and decorously conversing with +those whose lives and character were a continual reproach to him was +intolerable. Then he had the impression that the "keen-eyed, +plain-featured Miss Walton," as he characterized her in his mind, would +surely commence discoursing on moral and religious subjects if he gave +her a chance; and he feared that if she did, he would say or do +something very rude, and confirm the bad impression that he was sure of +having already made. If he could have strolled into his club, and among +groups engaged with cards, papers, and city gossip, he would have felt +quite at home. Ties formed at such a place are not very strong as a +usual thing, and the manner of the world can isolate the members and +their real life completely, even when the rooms are thronged. As +Gregory grew worn and thin and his pallor increased, as he smoked and +brooded more and more apart, his companions would shrug their shoulders +significantly and whisper, "It looks as if Gregory would go under soon. +Something's the matter with him." + +At first good-natured men would say, "Come, Gregory, take a hand with +us," but when he complied it was with such a listless manner that they +were sorry they had asked him. At last, beyond mere passing courtesies, +they had come to leave him very much alone; and in his unnatural and +perverted state this was just what he most desired. His whole being had +become a diseased, sensitive nerve, shrinking most from any effort +toward his improvement, even as a finger pointed at a festering wound +causes anticipatory agonies. + +At the club he would be let alone, but these good people would "take an +interest in him," and might even "talk religion," and probe with +questions and surmises. If they did, he knew, from what he had already +seen of them, that they would try to do it delicately and kindly, but +he felt that the most considerate efforts would be like the surgical +instruments of the dark ages. He needed good, decisive, heroic +treatment. But who would have the courage and skill to give it? Who +cared enough for him to take the trouble? + +Not merely had Annie Walton looked with eyes of human pity upon his +sin-marred visage that morning. The Divine personality, enthroned in +the depths of her soul and permeating her life, looked commiseratingly +forth also. Could demons glare from human eyes and God not smile from +them? + +As Annie thought much of him after her stolen glance in the morning, +she longed to do that which he dreaded she would try to do--attempt his +reformation. Not that she cared for him personally, or that she had +grown sentimentally interested in his Byronic style of wretchedness. So +far from it, her happy and healthful nature was repelled by his +diseased and morbid one. She found him what girls call a "disagreeable +man." But she yearned toward a sinning, suffering soul, found in any +guise. It was not in her woman's heart to pass by on the other side. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS + + + +Gregory's afternoon walk was not very prolonged, for a shivering sense +of discomfort soon drove him back to the house. Although the morning +had been cool, the sun had shone bright and warm, but now the +fore-shadowing of a storm was evident. A haze had spread over the sky, +increasing in leaden hue toward the west. The chilly wind moaned +fitfully through the trees, and the landscape darkened like a face +shadowed by coming trouble. + +Walter dreaded a storm, fearing it would shut him up with the family +without escape; but at last the sun so enshrouded itself in gloom that +he was compelled to return. He went to his room, for a book, hoping +that when they saw him engaged they would leave him more to himself. +But to his agreeable surprise he found a cheerful fire blazing on the +hearth, and an ample supply of wood in a box near. The easy-chair was +wheeled forward, and a plate of grapes and the latest magazine were +placed invitingly on the table. Even his cynicism was not proof against +this, delicate thoughtfulness, and he exclaimed, "Ah, this is better +than I expected, and a hundred-fold better than I deserve. I make but +poor return for their kindness. This cosey room seems to say, 'We won't +force ourselves on you. You can be alone as much as you like,' for I +suppose they must have noticed my disinclination for society. But they +are wise after all, for I am cursed poor company for myself and worse +than none at all for others." + +Eating from time to time a purple grape, he so lost himself in the +fresh thoughts of the magazine that the tea-bell rang ere he was aware. + +"In the name of decency I must try to make myself agreeable for a +little while this evening," he muttered, as he descended to the +cheerful supper-room. + +To their solicitude for his health and their regret that the +approaching storm had driven him so early to the house, he replied, "I +found in my room a better substitute for the sunlight I had lost; +though as a votary of nature, Miss Walton, I suppose you will regard +this assertion as rank heresy." + +"Not at all, for your firelight is the result of sunlight." answered +Annie, smiling. + +"How is that?" + +"It required many summers to ripen the wood that blazed on your hearth. +Indeed, good dry wood is but concentrated sunshine put by for cold, +gloomy days and chilly nights." + +"That is an odd fancy. I wish there were other ways of storing up +sunshine for future use." + +"There are," said Miss Walton, cheerfully; and she looked up as if she +would like to say more, but he instantly changed the subject in his +instinctive wish to avoid the faintest approach to moralizing. Still, +conversation continued brisk till Mr. Walton asked suddenly, "By the +way, Mr. Gregory, have you ever met Mr. Hunting of Wall Street?" + +There was no immediate answer, and they all looked inquiringly at him. +To their surprise his face was darkened by the heaviest frown. After a +moment he said, with peculiar emphasis, "Yes; I know him well." + +A chill seemed to fall on them after that; and he, glancing up, saw +that Annie looked flushed and indignant, Miss Eulie pained, and Mr. +Walton very grave. Even the little boy shot vindictive glances at him. +He at once surmised that Hunting was related to the family, and was +oppressed with the thought that he was fast losing the welcome given +him on his father's account. But in a few moments Annie rallied and +made unwonted efforts to banish the general embarrassment, and with +partial success, for Gregory had tact and good conversational powers if +he chose to exert them. When, soon after, they adjourned to the parlor, +outward serenity reigned. + +On either side of the ample hearth, on which blazed a hickory fire, a +table was drawn up. An easy-chair stood invitingly by each, with a +little carpet bench on which to rest the feet. + +"Take one of these," said Mr. Walton, cordially, "and join me with a +cigar. The ladies of my household are indulgent to my small vices." + +"And I will send for your magazine," said Annie, "and then you can read +and chat according to your mood. You gee that we do not intend to make +a stranger of you." + +"For which I am very glad. You treat me far better than I deserve." + +Instead of some deprecatory remark, Annie gave him a quick, +half-comical look which he did not fully understand. + +"There is more in her than I at first imagined," he thought. + +Seated with the magazine, Gregory found himself in the enjoyment of +every element of comfort. That he might be under no constraint to talk, +Annie commenced speaking to her father and Miss Eulie of some +neighborhood affairs, of which he knew nothing. The children and a +large greyhound were dividing the rug between them. The former were +chatting in low tones and roasting the first chestnuts of the season on +a broad shovel that was placed on the glowing coals. The dog was +sleepily watching them lest in their quick movements his tail should +come to grief. + +Gregory had something of an artist's eye, and he could not help +glancing up from his reading occasionally, and thinking what a pretty +picture the roomy parlor made. + +"Annie," said Mr. Walton, after a little while, "I can't get through +this article with my old eyes. Won't you finish it for me? Shall we +disturb you, Mr. Gregory?" + +"Not at all." + +Gregory soon forgot to read himself in listening to her. Not that he +heard the subject-matter with any interest, but her sweet, natural +tones and simplicity arrested and retained his attention. Even the +statistics and the prose of political economy seemed to fall from her +lips in musical cadence, and yet there was no apparent effort and not a +thought of effect. Walter mused as he listened. + +"I should like to hear some quiet, genial book read in that style, +though it is evident that Miss Walton is no tragedy queen." + +Having finished the reading, Annie started briskly up and said, "Come, +little people, your chestnuts are roasted and eaten. It's bedtime. The +turkeys and squirrels will be at the nut-trees long before you +to-morrow unless you scamper off at once." + +"O, Aunt Annie," chimed their voices, "you must sing us the chestnut +song first; you promised to." + +"With your permission, Mr. Gregory, I suppose I must make my promise +good," said Annie. + +"I join the children in asking for the song," he replied, glad to get +them out of the way on such easy conditions, though he expected a +nursery ditty or a juvenile hymn from some Sabbath-school collection, +wherein healthy, growing boys are made to sing, "I want to be an +angel." "Moreover," he added, "I have read that one must always keep +one's word to a child." + +"Which is a very important truth: do you not think so?" + +"Since you are using the word 'truth' so prominently, Miss Walton, I +must say that I have not thought much about it. But I certainly would +have you keep your word on this occasion." + +"Aunt Annie always keeps her word," said Johnny, rather bluntly. By +some childish instinct he divined that Gregory did not appreciate Aunt +Annie sufficiently, and this added to his prejudice. + +"You have a stout little champion there," Gregory remarked. + +"I cannot complain of his zeal," she answered significantly, at the +same time giving the boy a caress. "Mr. Gregory, this is a rude country +ballad, and we are going to sing it in our accustomed way, even though +it shock your city ears. Johnny and Susie, you can join in the chorus;" +and she sang the following simple October glee: + + Katydid, your throat is sore, + You can chirp this fall no more; + Robin red-breast, summer's past, + Did you think 'twould always last? + Fly away to sunny climes, + Lands of oranges and limes; + With the squirrels we shall stay + And put our store of nuts away. +O the spiny chestnut burrs! O the prickly chestnut burrs! + Harsh without, but lined with down, + And full of chestnuts, plump and brown. + + Sorry are we for the flowers; + We shall miss our summer bowers; + Still we welcome frosty Jack, + Stealing now from Greenland back. + And the burrs will welcome him; + When he knocks, they'll let him in. + They don't know what Jack's about; + Soon he'll turn the chestnuts out. +O the spiny, etc.-- + + Turkey gobbler, with your train, + You shall scratch the leaves in vain; + Squirrel, with your whisking tail, + Your sharp eyes shall not avail; + In the crisp and early dawn, + Scampering across the lawn. + We will beat you to the trees, + Come you then whene'er you please. +O the spiny, etc.-- + +Gregory's expression as she played a simple prelude was one of +endurance, but when she began to sing the changes of his face were +rapid. First he turned toward her with a look of interest, then of +surprise. Miss Eulie could not help watching him, for, though she was +well on in life, just such a character had never risen above her +horizon. Too gentle to censure, she felt that she had much cause for +regret. + +At first she was pleased to see that he found the ditty far more to his +taste than he had expected. But the rapid alternation from pleased +surprise and enjoyment to something like a scowl of despair and almost +hate she could not understand. Following his eyes she saw them resting +on the boy, who was now eagerly joining in the chorus of the last +verse. She was not sufficiently skilled to know that to Gregory's +diseased moral nature things most simple and wholesome in themselves +were most repugnant. She could not understand that the tripping little +song, with its wild-wood life and movement--that the boy singing with +the delight of a pure, fresh heart--told him, beyond the power of +labored language, how hackneyed and blase he had become, how far and +hopelessly he had drifted from the same true childhood. + +And Miss Walton, turning suddenly toward him, saw the same dark +expression, full of suffering and impotent revolt at his destiny, as he +regarded it, and she too was puzzled. + +"You do not like our foolish little song," she said. + +"I envy that boy, Miss Walton," was his reply. + +Then she began to understand him, and said, gently, "You have no +occasion to." + +"I wish you, or any one, could find the logic to prove that." + +"The proof is not in logic but in nature, that is ever young. They who +draw their life from nature do not fall into the only age we need +dread." + +"Do you not expect to grow old?" + +She shook her head half humorously and said, "But these children will +before I get them to bed." + +He ostensibly resumed his magazine, but did not turn any leaves. + +His first mental query was, "Have I rightly gauged Miss Walton? I half +believe she understands me better than I do her. I estimated her as a +goodish, fairly educated country girl, of the church-going sort, one +that would be dreadfully shocked at finding me out, and deem it at once +her mission to pluck me as a brand from the burning. I know all about +the goodness of such girls. They are ignorant of the world; they have +never been tempted, and they have a brood of little feminine weaknesses +that of course are not paraded in public. + +"And no doubt all this is true of Miss Walton, and yet, for some +reason, she interests me a little this evening. She is refined, but +nowhere in the world will you meet drearier monotony and barrenness +than among refined people. Having no real originality, their little +oddities are polished away. In Miss Walton I'm beginning to catch +glimpses of vistas unexplored, though perhaps I am a fool for thinking +so. + +"What a peculiar voice she has! She would make a poor figure, no doubt, +in an opera; and yet she might render a simple aria very well. But for +songs of nature and ballads I have never heard so sympathetic a voice. +It suggests a power of making music a sweet home language instead of a +difficult, high art, attainable by few. Really Miss Walton is worth +investigation, for no one with such a voice can be utterly commonplace. +Strange as it is, I cannot ignore her. Though she makes no effort to +attract my attention, I am ever conscious of her presence." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CONSPIRACY + + + +When Miss Walton returned to the parlor her father said, "Annie, I am +going to trespass on your patience again." + +She answered with a little piquant gesture, and was soon reading in +natural, easy tones, without much stumbling, what must have been Greek +to her. + +Gregory watched her with increasing interest, and another question than +the one of finance involved in the article was rising in his mind. + +"Is this real? Is this seeming goodness a fact?" It was the very +essence of his perverted nature to doubt it. Now that his eyes were +opened, and he closely observed Miss Walton, he saw that his prejudices +against her were groundless. Although not a stylish, pretty woman, she +was evidently far removed from the goodish, commonplace character that +he could regard as part of the furniture of the house, useful in its +place, but of no more interest than a needful piece of cabinet work. +Nor did she assert herself as do those aggressive, lecturing females +who deem it their mission to set everybody right within their sphere. + +And yet she did assert herself; but he was compelled to admit that it +was like the summer breeze or the perfume of a rose. He had resolved +that very day to avoid and ignore her as far as possible, and yet, +before the first evening in her presence was half over, he had left a +magazine story unfinished; he was watching her, thinking and surmising +about her, and listening, as she read, to what he did not care a straw +about. Although she had not made the slightest effort, some influence +from her had stolen upon him like a cool breeze on a sultry day, and +wooed him as gently as the perfume of a flower that is sweet to all. He +said to himself, "She is not pretty," and yet found pleasure in +watching her red lips drop figures and financial terms as musically as +a little rill murmurs over a mossy rock. + +From behind his magazine he studied the group at the opposite table, +but it was with the pain which a despairing swimmer, swept seaward by a +resistless current, might feel in seeing the safe and happy on the +shore. + +Gray Mr. Walton leaned back in his chair, the embodiment of peace and +placid content. + +The subject to which he was listening and kindred topics had so far +receded that his interest was that of a calm, philosophic observer, and +Gregory thought, with a glimmer of a smile, "He is not dabbling in +stocks or he could not maintain that quiet mien." + +His habits of thought as a business man merely made it a pleasure to +keep up with the times. In fact he was in that serene border-land +between the two worlds where the questions of earth are growing vague +and distant and those of the "better country" more real and engrossing, +for Gregory observed, later in the evening, that he took the family +Bible with more zest than he had bestowed on the motive power of the +world. It was evident where his most valued treasures were stored. With +a bitter sigh, Gregory thought, "I would take his gray hairs if I could +have his peace and faith." + +Miss Eulie, to whom he gave a passing glance, seemed even less earthly +in her nature. Indeed, it appeared as if she had never more than half +belonged to the material creation. Slight, ethereal, with untroubled +blue eyes, and little puff curls too light to show their change to +gray, she struck Gregory unpleasantly, as if she were a connecting link +between gross humanity and spiritual existence, and his eyes reverted +to Miss Walton, and dwelt with increasing interest on her. There at +least were youth, health, and something else--what was it in the girl +that had so strongly and suddenly gained his attention? At any rate +there was nothing about her uncanny and spirit-like. + +He did not understand her. Was it possible that a young girl, not much +beyond twenty, was happy in the care of orphan children, in the quiet +humdrum duties of housekeeping, and in reading stupid articles through +the long, quiet evenings, with few excitements beyond church-going, +rural tea-drinkings, and country walks and rides? With a grim smile he +thought how soon the belles he had admired would expire under such a +regimen. Could this be good acting because a guest was present? If so +it was perfect, for it seemed, her daily life. + +"I will watch her," he thought. "I will solve this little feminine +enigma. It will divert my mind, and I've nothing else to do." + +"My daughter spoils me, you see, Mr. Gregory," said Mr. Walton, +starting up as Annie finished a theory that would make every one rich +by the printing-press process, + +"Don't plume yourself, papa," replied Annie, archly; "I shall make you +do something for me to pay for all this." + +With a humorous look he replied, "No matter, I have the best of the +bargain, for I should have to do the 'something' anyway. But what do +you think of this theory, sir?" And he explained, not knowing that +Walter had been listening. + +The gentlemen were soon deep in the mysteries of currency and finance, +topics on which both could talk well. Annie listened with polite +attention for a short time--indeed Gregory was exerting himself more +for her sake than for Mr. Walton's--and she was satisfied from her +father's face that his guest was interesting him; but as the subject +was mainly unintelligible to her she soon turned with real zest to Miss +Eulie's fancy-work, and there was an earnest whispered discussion in +regard to the right number of stitches. Walter noted this and +sneeringly thought, with a masculine phase of justice often seen, +"That's like a woman. She drops one of the deepest and most important +subjects of the day" (and he might have added, "As explained by +me")--"and gives her whole soul to a bit of thread lace;" and he soon +let Mr. Walton have the discussion all his own way. + +In furtherance of his purpose to draw Annie out he said, rather +banteringly, "Miss Walton, I am astonished that so good a man as your +father should have as an ardent friend the profane and disreputable +character that I found living in the cottage opposite on the day of my +arrival." + +"Profane, I admit he is," she replied, "but not disreputable. Indeed, +as the world goes, I think old Daddy Tuggar, as he is called in this +vicinity, is a good man." + +"O, Annie!" said Miss Eulie. "How can you think so? You have broader +charity than I. He is breaking his poor wife's heart." + +"Indeed?" said Annie, dryly; "I was not aware of it." + +"I too am astonished," said Walter, in mock solemnity. "How is it that +a refined and orthodox young lady, a pillar of the church, too, I +gather, can regard with other than unmixed disapprobation a man who +breaks the third commandment and all the rules of Lindley Murray at +every breath?" + +"I imagine the latter offence is the more heinous sin in your eyes, Mr. +Gregory," she said, scanning his face with a quick look. + +"Oh, you become aggressive. I was under the impression that I was +making the attack and that you were on the defensive. But I can readily +explain the opinion which you, perhaps not unjustly, impute to me. You +and I judge this venerable sinner from different standpoints." + +"You explain your judgment, but do not justify it," replied Annie, +quietly. + +"Annie, I don't see on what grounds you call Daddy Tuggar a good man," +said Miss Eulie, emphatically. + +"Please understand me, aunty," said Annie, earnestly. "I did not say he +was a Christian man, but merely a good man as the world goes; and I +know I shall shock you when I say that I have more faith in him than in +his praying and Scripture-quoting wife. There, I knew I should," she +added, as she saw Miss Eulie's look of pained surprise. + +Mr. Walton was listening with an amused smile. He evidently understood +his quaint old friend and shared Annie's opinion of him. + +Gregory was growing decidedly interested, and said, "Really, Miss +Walton, I must side with your aunt in this matter. I shall overwhelm +you with an awful word. I think you are latitudinarian in your +tendencies." + +"Which Daddy Tuggar would call a new-fangled way of swearing at me," +retorted Annie, with her frank laugh that was so genuinely mirthful +that even Aunt Eulie joined in it. + +"I half think," continued Annie, "that the churchmen in the ages of +controversy did a good deal of worse swearing than our old neighbor is +guilty of when they hurled at each other with such bitter zest the +epithets Antinomian, Socinian, Pelagian, Calvinistic, etc." + +"Those terms have an awful sound. They smite my ear with all the power +that vagueness imparts, and surely must have caused stout hearts to +tremble in their day," he remarked. + +"We are no longer on the ground of currency and finance," said Annie, +archly, "and I shall leave you to imagine that I know all about the +ideas represented by the polysyllabic terms of churchmen's warfare." + +He looked at her a moment in comic dismay. Really this country girl was +growing too much for him in his game of banter. + +"Miss Walton, I shall not dispute or question your knowledge of the +Socin--cin--(you know the rest) heresy--" + +"Alas!" put in Annie, quietly, "I do know all about the 'sin heresy.' I +can say that honestly." + +"I am somewhat inclined to doubt that," he said, quickly; then added, +in sudden and mock severity, "Miss Walton, if I were a judge upon the +bench I should charge that you were evading the question and befogging +the case. The point at issue is, How can you regard Daddy Tuggar as a +good man? As evidence against him I can affirm that I do not remember +to have had such a good square cursing in my life, and I have received +several." + +This last expression caused Miss Eulie to open her eyes at him. + +"Not for your sake, sir," said Annie, with a keen yet humorous glance +at him, "who as judge on the bench have in your pocket a written +verdict, I fear, but for Aunt Eulie's I will give the reasons for my +estimate. I regard her in the light of an honest jury. In the first +place the term you used, 'square,' applies to him. I do not think he +could be tempted to do a dishonest thing; and that, as the world goes, +is certainly a good point." + +"And as the church goes, too," he added, cynically. + +"He is a good neighbor, and considerate of the rights of others. He can +feel, and is not afraid to show a sincere indignation when seeing a +wrong done to another." + +"I can vouch for that. I shall steal no more of your apples, Mr. +Walton." + +"There is not a particle of hypocrisy about him. I wish I could think +the same of his wife. For some reason she always gives me the +impression of insincerity. If I were as good as you are, aunty, perhaps +I should not be so suspicious. One thing more, and my eulogy of +Daddy--the only one he will ever receive, I fear--is over. He is +capable of sincere friendship, and that is more than you can say of a +great many." + +"It is indeed," said Gregory, with bitter emphasis. "I should be +willing to take my chances with Daddy Tuggar in this or any other +world." + +"You had better not," she answered, now thoroughly in earnest. + +"Why so?" + +"I should think memories of this place would make my meaning clear," +she replied, gently. + +Gregory's face darkened, and he admitted to himself that most +unexpectedly she had sent an arrow home, and yet he could take no +exception. + +His indifference toward her had vanished now. So far from regarding her +as a dull, good, country girl with a narrow horizon of little feminine +and commonplace interests, he began to doubt whether he should be able +to cope with her in the tilt of thought. He saw that she was quick, +original, and did her own thinking, that in repartee she hit back +unexpectedly, in flashes, as the lightning strikes from the clouds. He +could not keep pace with her quick intuition. + +Moreover, in her delicate reference to his parents' faith she had +suggested an argument for Christianity that he had never been able to +answer. For a little time she had caused him to forget his wretched +self, but her last remark had thrown him back on his old doubts, fears, +and memories. As we have said, his cynical, despondent expression +returned, and he silently lowered at the fire. + +Annie had too much tact to add a word. "He must be hurt--well probed +indeed--before he can be well," she thought. + +Country bedtime had now come, and Mr. Walton said, "Mr. Gregory, I +trust you will not find our custom of family prayers distasteful." + +"The absence of such a custom would seem strange to me in this place," +he replied, but he did not say whether it would be agreeable or +distasteful. + +Annie went to the piano as if it were a habit, and after a moment chose +the tender hymn-- + + "Come, ye disconsolate." + +At first, in his morbid sensitiveness, he was inclined to resent this +selection as aimed at him, but soon he was under the spell of the music +and the sentiment, which he thought had never before been so +exquisitely blended. + +Miss Walton was not very finished or artistic in anything. She would +not be regarded as a scholar, even among the girls of her own age and +station, and her knowledge of classical music was limited. But she was +gifted in a peculiar degree with tact, a quick perception, and the +power of interpreting the language of nature and of the heart. She read +and estimated character rapidly. Almost intuitively she saw people's +needs and weaknesses, but so far was she from making them the ground of +satire and contempt that they awakened her pity and desire to help. In +other words, she was one of those Christians who in some degree catch +the very essence of Christ's character, who lived and died to save. She +did not think of condemning the guilty and disconsolate man that +brooded at her fireside, but she did long to help him. + +"I may never be able to say such words to him directly," she thought, +"but I can sing them, and if he leaves our home to-morrow he shall hear +the truth once more." + +And she did sing with tenderness and feeling. In rendering something +that required simplicity, nature, and pathos, no prima donna could +surpass her, for while her voice was not powerful, and had no unusual +compass, it was as sweet as that of a thrush in May. + +Only deaf ears and a stony heart could have remained insensible, and +Gregory was touched. A reviving breath from Paradise seemed to blow +upon him and gently urge, "Arise, struggle, make one more effort, and +you may yet cross the burning sands of the desert. It is not a mirage +that is mocking you now." + +As the last words trembled from the singer's lips he shaded his eyes +with the hand on which his head was leaning, but Miss Eulie saw a tear +fall with momentary glitter, and she exulted over it as his good angel +might have done. + +If penitent tears could be crystallized they would be the only gems of +earth that angels would covet, and perhaps God's co-workers here will +find those that they caused to flow on earth, set as gems in their +"crown of glory that fadeth not away." + +Mr. Walton, in reverential tones, read the fifty-third chapter of +Isaiah, which, with greater beauty and tenderness, carried forward the +thought of the hymn; and then he knelt and offered a prayer that was so +simple and child-like, so free from form and cant, and so direct from +the heart, that Gregory was deeply moved. The associations of his early +home were now most vividly revealed and crowned by the sacred hour of +family worship, the memory of which, like a reproachful face, had +followed him in all his evil life. + +When he arose from his knees he again shaded his face with his hand to +hide his wet eyes and twitching muscles. After a few moments he bade +the family an abrupt goodnight, and retired to his room. + +At first they merely exchanged significant glances. Then Miss Eulie +told of the tear as if it were a bit of dust from a mine that might +enrich them all. For a while Annie sat thoughtfully gazing into the +fire, but at last she said, "It must be plain to us that Mr. Gregory +has wandered further from his old home in spirit than he has in body; +but it seems equally evident that he is not happy and content. He seems +suffering and out of health in soul and body. Perhaps God has sent him +to us and to his childhood's home for healing. Let us, therefore, be +very careful, very tender and considerate. He is naturally proud and +sensitive, and is morbidly so now." + +"I think he is near the Kingdom," said Miss Eulie, with a little sigh +of satisfaction. + +"Perhaps all are nearer than we think," said Annie, in a musing tone. +"God is not far from any one of us. But it is the curse of sin to +blind. He has, no doubt, been long in reaching his present unhappy +condition, and he may be long in escaping from it." + +"Well, the Lord reigns," said Mr. Walton, sententiously, as if that +settled the question. + +"Dear old father!" said Annie, smiling fondly at him, "that's your +favorite saying. You have a comfortable habit of putting all perplexing +questions into the Lord's hand and borrowing no further trouble. +Perhaps that is the wisest way after all, only one is a long time +learning it." + +"I've been a long time learning it, my child," said her father. "Let us +agree to carry his case often to the throne of mercy, and in His good +time and way our prayers will be answered." + +Thus in quaint old scriptural style they conspired for the life of +their unconscious guest. This was in truth a "holy alliance." How many +dark conspiracies there have been, resulting in blood, wrong, and +outrage, that some unworthy brow might wear for a little time a petty, +perishing crown of earth! Oh, that there were more conspiracies like +that in Mr. Walton's parlor for the purpose of rendering the unworthy +fit to wear the crown immortal! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WITCHCRAFT + + + +Miss Eulie was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late to +breakfast the following morning with not a trace of his softened +feelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose to +seem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbelief +could not pass away so easily. + +Even in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the frost's +icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong to +spring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time. +But such days may end in a northeast snowstorm and the birds perish. + +The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in the +table-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom of +the early morning rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he made an +indifferent breakfast and did not appear well. + +After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said, she +remarked to her father when alone with him: + +"I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner when you spoke of Mr. +Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. What +could have occurred between them?" + +"Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps," said Mr. Walton, +musingly. + +"I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some of +his fast ways," Annie continued, emphatically, "and they have had hot +words. Men have so little discretion in their zeal." + +"Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foibles unless +they threaten their pockets," her father replied. "It is more probable +that Gregory has borrowed money of Hunting, and been compelled to pay +it against his will; and yet I have no right to surmise anything of the +kind." + +"But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent on +doing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution. +But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr. +Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed in any +face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, and that +we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here. Oh, +dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead of this +moody, wayward stranger." + +"I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little of +my old friend, his father. But remember what you said last night. It +may be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him become +what his father was." + +"I will do my best; but I do not look forward to his society with much +pleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, I +should feel repaid a thousand-fold." + +Gregory finished his letters and then paced restlessly up and down his +room. + +"That this country girl should have so moved me!" he muttered. "What +does it mean? What is there about her that takes hold of my attention +and awakens my interest? I wish to go downstairs now, and talk to her, +and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do. +Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her. + +"Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind, +beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert her +power to the utmost and make herself useful? Yes, but she will try to +do more than amuse. Well, suppose she does; one can coolly foil such +efforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could, but +one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. I suppose +I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, and they +thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or on the +eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seem a +relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsive girl, +even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem to have +fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which I can +only doubt, suffer, and chafe. + +"I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her character. I doubt +whether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girls +exist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I will +solve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a day +or two she will become an old story and life resume its normal +monotony;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out his purpose. + +The children were just coming from the sitting-room where they had +their school, exclaiming, "Oh, aunty, what shall we do this awful rainy +day?" + +"Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read you +a fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until +dinner-time." + +"May I listen to the fairy story also?" asked Walter. + +Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be +half-desperate from your imprisonment to accept of such solace. But if +you can wait till I have kept my word to the children I will read +something more to your taste." + +"I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once again +after all these years." + +"As Shakespeare may sound to us some time in the future," she replied, +smiling. + +"I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shakespeare," he said. + +"I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet I +am only growing up to Shakespeare." + +"You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand." + +"And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add," she +answered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen +department. "You men have a general faith that there will be dinner at +two o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass, +and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitude +enough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate the +kitchen divinity." + +"There!" he said, "I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and she +has stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. She +is a witch." + +After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children called +for a story, and both clamored for their favorites. + +"Johnny," said Miss Walton, "it is manly to yield to the least and +weakest, especially if she be a little woman." + +The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption of +dignity said, "You may read Susie's story first, aunty." + +"Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time;" +which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace which +accompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has triumphed. + +"Now, little miniature man and woman, listen!" and their round eyes +were ready for the world of wonders. + +And this child of nature was at the same time showing Gregory a world +as new and strange--a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy, +but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the children away into +fairy-land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth, and +genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart. + +"Well, what do you think of the fairy story?" she asked after she had +finished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at the +happy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince and +princess were married: + +"I did not hear it," he said. + +"That's complimentary. But you appeared listening very closely." + +"You have heard of people reading a different meaning between the +lines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning." + +"And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale?" she +asked with interest. + +"It would be difficult for me to explain--something too vague and +indefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else I +will listen to the text itself." + +"Come, children, scamper off to the garret," said Annie, "and remember +you are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle to +each other." + +"You will fill those youngsters' heads with beautiful superstitions." + +"Superstition and faith are not so very far apart, though so unlike." + +"Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins." + +"Is it?" + +"Isn't it?" + +"I don't like to contradict you, sir." + +"You have contradicted me, and I suppose it is manly to yield to a +lady.'" + +"Not in matters of principle and honest conviction." + +"Alas! if one has not very much of either!" + +"It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault." + +"I have no doubt it is a misfortune, Miss Walton, but you are not +reading." + +"Well, make your choice." + +"I leave it entirely to you." + +"You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light and +cheerful from Dickens." + +"Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to make +one laugh." + +"Then here is Irving. His style flows like a meadowbrook." + +"No, he is too sentimental." + +"Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium." + +"No, he wearies one with explanations and history." + +"Some of Tennyson's dainty idylls will suit your fastidious taste." + +"I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to-day." + +"Shakespeare, then; you regard him as perfect." + +"No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to." + +"Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazine, and some new novels." + +"Modern rubbish--a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchen fires +instead of thought." + +"Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring? +There is Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical Ancient History'; that has a solid, +venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's 'Elegy.' +That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writing it. +But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your mood +exactly, Tupper's 'Proverbial Philosophy.'" + +"You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainly +that I am as full of whims as a--" + +"Woman, would you like to say?" + +"Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day, and +the most faultless style and theme in our language would weary me. I am +possessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and disgust at myself +and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you know of any +spell that can exorcise these demons?" + +"Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my power +and obey?" + +"I am your slave." + +Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. "You +must take a horizontal position in order that my spell may work." + +"Pshaw! you are prescribing an ordinary nap." + +"I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. But +permit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you have nothing +to do in this matter but to obey." + +"Very well;" and he threw himself on the sofa. + +"The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you;" and +she did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful when +one is indisposed. + +Her manner both soothed and pleased him. + +He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since he had +experienced woman's gentle care and ministry; and Annie Walton had a +power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly he +said, "I wish I had a sister like you." + +"My creed, you know," she replied, "makes all mankind kindred." + +"Nonsense!" said Gregory, irritably; "deliver me from your church +sisters." + +"Take care!" she answered, with a warning nod, "I'm a church sister; so +don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep." + +"I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister." + +"You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush; +you must not talk." + +"How would you treat me after I had been anathematized?" + +"If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush; not +another word. I am going to sing." + +A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himself to +listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fall +asleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden clouds +driven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the angles +of the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemed +emblematic of himself. But now he had a brief but blessed sense of +shelter from both the storm and himself. The fire blazed cheerily on +the hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmosphere. +Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has found +something to suit her, or rather him, and is singing. + +"What an unusual voice she has!" he thought "Truly the spirit of +David's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. I +wonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under the +stress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not show +herself a true daughter of Eve? I must find out, for it is about the +only remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest of +us--if she is a female Hunting--then good-by to all hope. I shall not +live to find anybody or anything to trust. If she is what she seems, +it's barely possible that she might help me out of this horrible +'slough of despond,' if she would take the trouble. I wish that she +were my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just like her." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY + + + +To Gregory's surprise he waked and then admitted to himself that, +contrary to his expectation and purpose, he had been asleep. His last +remembered consciousness was that of sweet, low music; and how long ago +was that? He looked at his watch; it was nearly two, and he must have +slept several hours. He glanced around and saw that he was alone, but +the fire still blazed on the hearth, and the afghan infolded him with +its genial warmth as before, and it seemed that although by himself he +was still cared for. + +"She is a witch," he muttered. "Her spells are no jokes. But I will +investigate her case like an old-time Salem inquisitor. With more than +Yankee curiosity, which was at the bottom of their superstitious +questionings, I will pry into her power. But she will find that she has +a wary sceptic to convince. I have seen too many saints and sinners to +be again deceived by fair seeming." + +A broad ray of sunlight shot across the room. "By my soul! it's +clearing off. Is this her work also? Has she swept away the clouds with +her broomstick? And there goes the dinner-bell, too;" and he went to +his room two steps at a time, as he had done when a boy. + +Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said: +"He must be better." + +At the table she asked, "How do you find yourself now?" + +"Much given to appetite." Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said, +abruptly, "Do you believe in witchcraft?" + +"Well, no, sir," said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback. + +"I do!" continued he, emphatically. + +"When and where have you had experience of the black art?" + +"This morning, and in your house, sir." + +"You seem none the worse for it," said his host, smiling. + +"Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer if +I am practiced upon any more." + +"Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witchery this exceeds," +said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appetite comes of it." + +"It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result," replied +Gregory. "What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salem +witches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything like mine." + +"You must remember that the question of what was agreeable or otherwise +scarcely entered into a Puritan's motives." + +"I am not so sure of that," he answered, quickly. "It has ever seemed +to me that the good people of other days went into persecution with a +zeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will have their +excitements, and a good rousing persecution used to stir things like +the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day." + +"Granting," said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor--and +these must be mainly charged to the age--still you must admit that +among them were earnest men who did from good motives what appears very +wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principles were +embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evil through +the suffering and death of these poor creatures." + +"And then consider the simplicity and ease of the persecutor's method," +continued Gregory, mockingly. "A man's head has become full of supposed +doctrinal errors. To refute and banish these would require much study +and argument on the part of the opponent. It was so much easier to take +an obstinate heretic's head off than to argue with him! I think it was +the simplicity of the persecutor's method that kept it in favor so +long." + +"But it never convinced any one," said Annie, "and the man killed +merely goes into another world of the same opinion still." + +"And there probably learns, poor fellow, that both were wrong, and that +he had better have been content with good dinners and a quiet life, and +let theology alone." + +"The world would move but slowly, if all men were content with 'good +dinners and a quiet life,'" said Annie, satirically. "But you have not +answered my question. Could not good, earnest men have been very cruel, +believing that everything depended on their uprooting some evil of +their day?" + +"To tell the truth, Miss Walton," he replied, a little nettled, "I have +no sympathy with that style of men. To me they are very repulsive and +ridiculous. They remind me of the breathless, perspiring politicians of +our time, who button-hole you and assert that the world will come to an +end unless John Smith is elected. To me, the desperate earnestness of +people who imagine it their mission to set the world right is +excessively tiresome. For one man or a thousand to proclaim that they +speak for God and embody truth, and that the race should listen and +obey, is the absurdity of arrogance." + +"If we were to agree with you, should we not have to say that the +prophets should have kept their visions to themselves, and that Luther +should have remained in his cell, and Columbus have coasted alongshore +and not insisted on what was to all the world an absurdity?" + +"Come, Miss Walton," said Gregory, with a vexed laugh as they rose from +the table, "you are a witch. I am willing to argue with flesh and +blood, but I would rather hear you sing. Still, since you have swept +away these clouds so I can have my ramble, I will forgive you for +unhorsing me in our recent tilt." + +"If you would mount some good honest hobby and ride it hard, I doubt +whether any one could unhorse you," she replied in a low tone, as she +accompanied him to the parlor. + +"Men with hobbies are my detestation, Miss Walton." + +"Nevertheless, they are the true knights-errant of our age. Of course +it depends upon what kind of hobbies they ride, or whether they can +manage their steeds." + +"Miss Walton, your figure suggests a half-idiot, with a narrow forehead +and one idea, banging back and forth on a wooden horse, but making no +progress--in other words, a fussy, bustling man who can do and talk but +one thing." + +"Your understanding of the popular phrase is narrow and literal, and +while it may have such a meaning, it can also have a very different +one. Suppose that, instead of looking with languid eyes alike upon all +things, a man finds some question of vital import, or a pursuit that +promises good to himself and to others and that enlists his interest. +He comes at last to give it his best energies and thought. The whole +current of his life is setting in that direction. Of course he must +ever be under the restraints of good sense and refinement. A man's life +without a hobby is a weak and wavering line of battle indefinitely +long. One's life with a hobby is a concentrated charge." + +There was in Miss Walton's face and manner, as she uttered these words, +that which caused him to regard her with involuntary admiration. +Suddenly he asked, "Have you a hobby?" + +Her manner changed instantly, and with an arch look she said, "If you +detest a man with a hobby, what a monster a woman with one would be in +your eyes!" + +"I have admitted that you are a witch." + +"Oh, I am a monster already, and so have no character to lose. But +where is your penetration? If a man with a hobby is idiotic, +narrow-browed, fussy and bustling, excessively obtrusive with his one +idea, a woman must be like him with all these things exaggerated. Has +it not occurred to you that I have a hobby of the most wooden and +clumsy order?" + +"But that was my idea of a hobby. You have spiritualized my wooden +block into a Pegasus--the symbol of inspiration. Have you such a hobby?" + +"I have." + +"What is it?" + +She went out of the room, saying smilingly over her shoulder, "You must +find that out for yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON + + + +Gregory was soon off for his ramble. The storm had cleared away, +leaving the air so warm and genial as to suggest spring rather than +fall; but he was quite oblivious of the outer world, and familiar +scenes had not the power to awaken either pleasant or painful +associations. He was trying to account for the influence that Annie +Walton had suddenly gained over him, but it was beyond his philosophy. +This provoked him. His cool, worldly nature doubted everything and +especially everybody. He believed in the inherent weakness of humanity, +and that if people were exceptionally good it was because they had been +exceptionally fortunate in escaping temptation. He also had a cynical +pleasure in seeing such people tripping and stumbling, so that he might +say in self-excusing, "We are all alike." + +And yet he was compelled to admit that if Annie's goodness was seeming +it was higher art than he had known before. There was also an +unconscious assertion of superiority in her manner that he did not +like. True, things had turned out far better than he had expected. +There was no cant about her. She did not lecture him or "talk religion" +in what he regarded as the stereotyped way, and he was sure she would +not, even if they became better acquainted. But there is that in +genuine goodness and nobility of character that always humiliates the +bad and makes them feel their degradation. A real pity and sympathy for +him tinged her manner, but these qualities are not agreeable to pride. +And it must be admitted that she had a little self-righteous +satisfaction that she was so much better than this sadly robbed and +wounded man suddenly appearing at the wayside of her life. In human +strength there is generally a trace of arrogance. Only divine strength +and purity can say with perfect love and full allowance for all +weakness and adverse influences, "Neither do I condemn thee; go, and +sin no more." + +Gregory had now reached a rustic bridge across a little stream that, +swollen from the recent rain, came gurgling and clamoring down from the +hills. Leaning upon the rail he seemed to watch the foaming water glide +under his feet; but the outward vision made no impression on his mind. + +At last in the consciousness of solitude he said: "She told me I must +find her out. I will. I will know whether she is as free from human +frailty as she seems. I have little doubt that before many days I can +cause her to show all the inherent weaknesses of her sex; and I should +think New York and Paris had taught me what they are. She has never +been tempted. She has never been subjected to the delicate flattery of +an accomplished man of the world. I am no gross libertine. I could not +be in this place. I could not so wrong hospitality and the household of +my father's friend. But I should like to prove to that girl her +delusion, and show her that she is a weak woman like the rest; that she +is a pretty painted ship that has never been in a storm, and therefore +need not sail so confidently. We all start on the voyage of life as +little skiffs and pleasure boats might cross the ocean. If any get +safely over, it is because they were lucky enough not to meet dangerous +currents or rough weather. I should like her better with her piquant +ways if she were more like myself. Saints and Madonnas are well enough +in pictures, but such as I would find them very uncomfortable society." + +With sudden power the thought flashed upon him, "Why not let her make +you as she is?" Where did the thought come from? Tell me not that the +Divine Father forgets His children. He is speaking to them continually, +only they will not hear. There was a brief passionate wish on the part +of this bad man that she might be what she seemed and that he could +become like her. As the turbulent, muddy Jordan divided that God's +people might pass through, so this thought from heaven found passage +through his heart, and then the current of sinful impulse and habit +flowed on as before. With the stupidity of evil he was breaking the +clew that God had dropped into his hand even when desperately weary of +his lost state. He is wrecked and helpless on the wide ocean; a ship is +coming to his rescue; and his first effort is that this vessel also may +be wrecked or greatly injured in the attempt. + +There is no insanity like that of a perverted heart. The adversary of +souls has so many human victims doing his work that he can fold his +hands in idleness. And yet according to the world's practice, and we +might almost say its code, Gregory purposed nothing that would be +severely condemned--nothing more than an ordinary flirtation, as common +in society as idleness, love of excitement, and that power over others +which ministers to vanity. He had no wish to be able to say anything +worse of her than that under temptation she would be as vain and +heartless a coquette as many others that he knew in what is regarded as +good society. He would have cut off his right hand, as he then felt, +rather than have sought to lead her into gross sin. + +And yet what did Gregory purpose in regard to Annie but to take the +heavenly bloom and beauty from her character? As if they can be lovely +to either God or man of whom it can be said only, They commit no overt +crime. What is the form of a rose without its beauty and fragrance? +They who tempt to evil are the real iconoclasts. They destroy God's +image. + +But the supreme question of the selfish heart is, "What do I want +_now?_" + +Gregory wished to satisfy himself and Miss Walton that she had no +grounds for claiming any special superiority over him, and he turned on +his heel and went back to the house to carry out his purpose. Nature, +purified and beautiful by reason of its recent baptism from heaven, had +no attractions for him. Gems of moisture sparkled unseen. He was +planning and scheming to turn her head with vanity, make her quiet life +of ministry to others odious, and draw her into a fashionable +flirtation. + +Annie did not appear until the supper-bell summoned her, and then said, +"Mr. Gregory, I hope you will not think it rude if father and I leave +you to your books and Aunt Eulie's care this evening. It is our church +prayer-meeting night, and father never likes to be absent." + +"I shall miss you beyond measure. The evening will seem an age." + +Something in his tone caused her to give him a quick glance, but she +only said, with a smile, "You are very polite to say so, but I imagine +the last magazine will be a good substitute." + +"I doubt whether there is a substitute for you, Miss Walton. I am +coming to believe that your absence would make that vacuum which nature +so dreads. You shall see how good I will be this evening, and you shall +read me everything you please, even to that 'Ancient Ecclesiastical +History.' If you will only stay I will be your slave; and you shall +rule me with a rod of iron or draw me with the silken cords of +kindness, according to your mood." + +"It is not well to have too many moods, Mr. Gregory," said Annie, +quietly. "In reply to all your alluring reasons for staying at home I +have only to say that I have promised father to go with him; besides, I +think it is my duty to go." + +"'Duty' is a harsh, troublesome word to be always quoting. It is a kind +of strait-jacket which we poor moral lunatics are compelled to wear." + +"'Duty' seems to me a good solid road on which one may travel safely. +One never knows where the side paths lead: into the brambles or a +morass like enough." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, such austerity is not becoming to your youth and +beauty." + +"What am I to think of your sincerity when you speak of my beauty, Mr. +Gregory?" + +"Beauty is a question of taste," answered Gregory, gallantly. "It is +settled by no rigid rules or principles, but by the eyes of the +observer." + +"Oh! I understand now. My beauty this evening is the result of your bad +taste." + +"Calling it 'bad' does not make it so. Well, since you will not remain +at home with me, will you not let me go with you to the prayer-meeting? +If I'm ever to join your church, it is time I entered on the initiating +mysteries." + +"I think a book will do you more good in your present mood." + +"What a low estimate you make of the 'means of grace'! Why, certain of +your own poets have said, 'And fools who came to scoff remained to +pray.'" + +"The quotation does not apply to you, Mr. Gregory. For, even if you can +doubt the power and truth of Christianity, the memory of your childhood +will prevent you from scoffing at it." + +A sudden shadow came across his face, but after a moment he said, in +his old tones: + +"Will you not let me go to the prayer-meeting?" + +"Father will be glad to have you go with us, if you think it prudent to +venture out in the night air." + +"Prudence to the dogs! What is the use of living if we cannot do as we +please? But will _you_ be glad to have me go?" + +"That depends upon your motives." + +"If I should confess you wouldn't let me go," he replied with a bow. +"But I will try to be as good as possible, just to reward your +kindness." + +The rest of the family now joined them in the supper-room, and during +the meal Walter exerted himself to show how entertaining he could be if +he chose. Anecdotes, incidents of travel, graphic sketches of society, +and sallies of wit, made an hour pass before any one was aware. + +Even the children listened with wondering eyes, and Mr. Walton and Miss +Eulie were delighted with the vivacity of their guest. Annie apparently +had no reason to complain of him, for his whole manner toward her +during the hour was that of delicately sustained compliment. When she +spoke he listened with deference, and her words usually had point and +meaning. He also gave to her remarks the best interpretation of which +they were capable, and by skilfully drawing her out made her surpass +even herself, so that Miss Eulie said, "Why, Annie, there surely is +some witchcraft about. You and Mr. Gregory are as brilliant as +fireworks." + +"It's all Miss Walton's work, I assure you," said Gregory. "As Pat +declared, 'I'm not meself any more,' and shall surprise you, sir, by +asking if I may go to the prayer-meeting. Miss Walton says I can if I +will behave myself. The last time I went to the old place I made faces +at the girls. I suppose that would be wrong." + +"That is the sin of our age--making faces," said Annie. "Many have two, +and some can make for themselves even more." + +"Now that was a barbed arrow," said Gregory, looking at her keenly. +"Did you let it fly at a venture?" + +"Bless me!" said Mr. Walton, rising hastily, "we should have been on +the road a quarter of an hour ago. You mustn't be so entertaining +another prayer-meeting night, Mr. Gregory. Of course we shall be glad +to have you accompany us if you feel well enough. I give you both but +five minutes before joining me at the wagon." + +Walter again mounted the stairs with something of his old buoyancy, and +Annie followed, looking curiously after him. + +It was not in human nature to be indifferent to that most skilful +flattery which can be addressed to woman--the recognition of her +cleverness, and the enhancing of it by adroit and suggestive +questions--and yet all his manner was tinged by a certain insincere +gallantry, rather than by a manly, honest respect. She vaguely felt +this, though she could not distinctly point it out. He puzzled her. +What did he mean, and at what was he aiming? + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A DRINKING-SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING + + + +Having failed in his attempt to induce Annie to remain at home, Gregory +resolved that the prayer-meeting should not be one of quiet devotion. +Mr. Walton made him, as an invalid, take the back seat with Annie, +while he sat with the driver, and Gregory, after a faint show of +resistance, gladly complied. + +"It's chilly. Won't you give me half of your shawl?" he said to her. + +"You may have it all," she replied, about to take it off. + +"No, I'll freeze first. Do the brethren and sisters sit together?" + +"No," she answered, laughing, "we have got in the queer way of dividing +the room between us, and the few men who attend sit on one side and we +on the other." + +"Oh, it's almost a female prayer-meeting then. Do the sisters pray?" + +"Mr. Gregory, you are not a stranger here that you need pretend to such +ignorance. I think the meeting is conducted very much as when you were +a boy." + +"With this most interesting difference, that you will be there and will +sing, I hope. Miss Walton, where did you learn to sing?" + +"Mainly at home." + +"I should think so. Your voice is as unlike that of a public singer as +you are unlike the singer herself." + +"It must seem very tame to you." + +"It seems very different. We have an artificial-flower department in +our store. There is no lack of color and form there, I assure you, but +after all I would prefer your rose garden in June." + +"But you would probably prefer your artificial-flower department the +rest of the year," said Annie, laughing. + +"Why so?" + +"Our roses are annuals and are only prosaic briers after their bloom." + +"Imagine them hybrid perpetuals and monthlies and you have my meaning. +But your resemblance to a rose extends even to its thorns. Your words +are a little sharp sometimes." + +"In the thorns the resemblance begins and ends, Mr. Gregory. I assure +you I am a veritable Scotch brier. But here we are at our destination. +I wonder if you will see many old, remembered faces." + +"I shall be content in seeing yours," he replied in a low tone, +pressing her hand as he assisted her to alight. + +If he could have seen the expression of her face in the darkness it +would have satisfied him that she did not receive that style of +compliment like many of the belles of his acquaintance, who would take +the small change of flattery with the smiling complacency of a public +door-keeper. + +They were late. The good old pastor was absent, and one of the brethren +was reading a chapter in the Bible. Gregory took a seat where he could +see Annie plainly, and she sat with her side face toward him. + +He watched her keenly, in order to see if she showed any consciousness +of his presence. The only evidence in his favor was a slight flush and +a firmness about the lips, as if her will was asserting itself. But +soon her face had the peaceful and serious expression becoming the +place and hour, and he saw that she had no thoughts for him whatever. +He was determined to distract her attention, and by restlessness, by +looking fixedly at her, sought her eye, but only secured the notice of +some young girls who thought him "badly smitten with Miss Walton." + +The long chapter having been read, a hymn was given out. The gentleman +who usually led the music was also absent, and there was an ominous +pause, in which the good brother's eye wandered appealingly around the +room and at last rested hopefully on Annie. She did not fail him, but, +with heightened color and voice that trembled slightly at first, +"started the tune." It was a sweet, familiar air, and she soon had the +support of other voices. One after another they joined her in widely +varying degrees of melody, even as the example of a noble life will +gradually secure a number of more or less successful imitators. + +Gregory had seen the appeal to her with an amused, half-comical look, +but her sincere and ready performance of the duty that had unexpectedly +revealed itself rapidly changed the expression of his face to one of +respect and admiration. Distinct, and yet blending with the others, her +voice seemed both to key up and hide the little roughnesses and +discords of some who perhaps had more melody in their hearts than in +their tones. + +Again a divine impulse, like a flower-laden breeze sweeping into a dark +and grated vault at Greenwood, stirred Gregory's evil nature. + +"Let her teach you the harmony of noble, unselfish living. Follow her +in thought, feeling, and action, as those stammering, untuned tongues +do in melody, and the blight of evil will pass from your life. Seek not +to muddy and poison this clear little rill that is watering a bit of +God's world. Grant that her goodness is not real, established, and +thoroughly tested--that it is only a pretty surface picture. Seek not +to blur that picture." + +But the evil heart is like Sodom. Good angel-thoughts may come to it, +but they are treated with violence and driven out. His habit of cynical +doubt soon returned, and his purpose to show Miss Walton that she was a +weak, vain woman after all became stronger than ever. + +It seemed to have come to this, that his salvation depended on, not +what Miss Walton could say or do directly in his behalf, but upon her +maintenance of a character that even a sceptical world must acknowledge +as inspired by heaven, and this, too, against a tempter of unusual +skill and tact. She might sing with resistless pathos, and argue and +plead with Paul's logic and eloquence. His nature might be stirred for +a moment as a stagnant pool is agitated by the winds of heaven, and, +like the pool, he would soon settle back into his old apathy. But if +she could be made to show weakness, to stumble and fall, it would +confirm him in his belief that goodness, if it really existed, was +accidental; that those whose lives were apparently free from stain +deserved no credit, because untempted; and that those who fell should +be pitied rather than blamed, since they were unfortunate rather than +guilty. Anything that would quiet and satisfy his conscience in its +stern arraignment of his evil life would be welcome. The more he saw of +Miss Walton the more he felt that she would be a fair subject upon whom +to test his favorite theory. Therefore, by the time one of the brethren +present had finished his homely exhortation he was wholly bent upon +carrying out his plan. + +But Miss Walton sat near, as innocently oblivious of this plot against +her as Eve of the serpent's guile before the tempter and temptation +came into fatal conjunction. + +What thoughts for and against each other may dwell utterly hidden and +unknown in the hearts of those so near that their hands may touch! +Conspiracies to compass the death that is remediless may lurk just +behind eyes that smile upon us. Of course Gregory desired no such fatal +result to follow his little experiment. Few who for their own pleasure, +profit, or caprice tempt others wish the evil to work on to the bitter +end. They merely want a sufficient letting down of principle and virtue +for the accomplishment of their purpose, and then would prefer that the +downward tendency should cease or be reversed. The merchant who +requires dishonorable practices of his clerk wishes him to stop at a +point which, in the world's estimation, is safe. And those who, like +Gregory, would take the bloom from woman's purity and holiness in +thought and action, that they may enjoy a questionable flirtation, +would be horrified to see that woman drop into the foul gulf of vice. +With the blind egotism of selfishness, they wish merely to gratify +their present inclinations, ignoring the consequences. They are like +children who think it would be sport to see a little cataract falling +over a Holland dike. Therefore, when the tide is in they open a small +channel, but are soon aghast to find that the deep sea is overwhelming +the land. + +Gregory, as is usual with his kind, thought only of his own desires. +When he had accomplished these Miss Walton must take care of herself. +When from seeming a sweet, pure woman she had, by a little temptation, +proved to be capable of becoming a vain flirt, he would go back to +business and dismiss her from his thoughts with the grim chuckle, "She +is like the rest of us." + +And thus Annie was destined to meet her mother Eve's experience; and +with the energy and promptness of evil Gregory was keenly on the alert +for anything to further his purpose. + +It would seem that the satanic ally in such schemes does not permit +opportunity to be wanting long. The leader of the meeting again +selected a hymn, but of a peculiar metre. He read only two lines, and +then looked expectantly toward Annie, who could not at the moment think +of a tune that would answer; and while with knit brows she was bending +over her book, to her unbounded surprise she heard the hymn started by +a clear, mellow tenor voice. Looking up she saw Gregory singing as +gravely as a deacon. She was sufficiently a musician to know that the +air did not belong to sacred music, though she had never heard it +before. + +In his watchfulness he had noted her hesitation, and glancing at the +metre saw instantly that the measure of a drinking-song he knew well +would fit the words. This fell out better than he had hoped, and with +the thought, "I will jostle her out of her dignity now," he began +singing without any embarrassment, though every eye was upon him. He +had been out in the world long enough for that. + +As Annie turned with a shocked and half-frightened expression toward +him his eyes met hers with a sudden gleam of drollery which was +irresistible, and he had the satisfaction of seeing her drop her head +to conceal a smile. But he noticed, a moment later, that her face +became grave with disapprobation. + +Having sung a stanza he looked around with an injured air, as if +reproaching the others for not joining in with him. + +"The tune is not exactly familiar to us," said the good man leading the +meeting, "but if the brother will continue singing we will soon catch +the air; or perhaps the brother or some one else (with a glance at +Annie) will start one better known." + +Gregory deliberately turned over the leaves, and to the tune of Old +Hundred started a hymn commencing: + + "Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb, + Take this new treasure to thy trust, + And give these sacred relics room + To slumber in the silent dust." + +Annie had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the transition from what +he had been singing to the funereal and most inappropriate words was +almost too much for her. To her impotent anger and self-disgust she +felt a hysterical desire to laugh, and only controlled herself by +keeping her head down and her lips firmly pressed together during the +remainder of the brief service. + +Even others who did not know Gregory could not prevent a broad smile at +the incongruous hymn he had chosen, but they unitedly wailed it +through, for he persisted in singing it all in the most dirge-like +manner. They gave him credit for doing the best he could, and supposed +his unhappy choice resulted from haste and embarrassment. In the +spontaneity of social meetings people become accustomed to much that is +not harmonious. + +Mr. Walton was puzzled. His guest was certainly appearing in an +unexpected role, and he feared that all was not right. + +After the meeting the brethren gathered round Gregory and thanked him +for his assistance, and he shook hands with them and the elderly ladies +present with the manner of one who might have been a "pillar in the +temple." Many of them remembered his father and mother and supposed +their mantle had fallen on him. + +An ancient "mother in Israel" thanked him that he had "started a tune +that they all could sing, instead of the new-fangled ones the young +people are always getting up nowadays. But," said she, "I wish you +could learn us that pretty one you first sang, for it took my fancy +amazingly. I think I must have heard it before somewhere." + +Gregory gave Annie another of his suggestive glances, that sent her out +hastily into the darkness, and a moment later he joined her at the +carriage steps. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION + + + +Gregory lifted Miss Walton very tenderly into the carriage and took his +place by her side, while her father was detained by some little matter +of business. + +"I am not an invalid," said Annie, rather curtly. + +"Indeed you are not, Miss Walton; from your super-abundance you are +even giving life to me." + +"I thought from your manner you feared I was about to faint," she +answered, dryly. + +Mr. Walton joined them and they started homeward. + +"Come, Miss Annie," said Gregory (addressing her thus for the first +time); "why so distant? Was I not called a brother in the meeting? If I +am a brother you are a sister. I told you I would secure this +relationship." + +She did not answer him. + +"I think it was too bad," he continued, "that you did not second my +efforts better. You would not help me sing either of the tunes I +started." + +"Mr. Gregory," said Annie, emphatically, "I will never go to a +prayer-meeting with you again." + +"What a rash resolve! But I confess that I preferred to have you stay +at home with me." + +"You have spoiled the whole evening for me." + +"And you spoiled mine. So we are quits," he replied, laughingly. + +"No, we are not. How can you turn sacred things into a jest?" + +"I was possessed to see a smile light up the awful gravity of your +face, and I feel amply repaid in that I succeeded. It was a delicious +bit of sunshine on a cloudy day." + +"And I am provoked at myself beyond measure, that I could have laughed +like a silly child." + +"But did you not like the first tune I sang? 'Old Hundred' was selected +in deference to the wishes of the meeting." + +"No, I did not like it. It was not suitable to the place and words. +Though I never heard it before, its somewhat slow movement did not +prevent it from smacking of something very foreign to a prayer-meeting." + +"A most happy and inspired expression. Many a time I have smacked my +lips when it was being sung over the best of wine." + +"Was it a drinking-song, then?" she asked, quickly. + +"What will you do with me if I say it was?" + +"Mr. Gregory, I would not have thought this even of you." + +"Even of me! That is complimentary. I now learn what a low estimate you +have of me. But see how unjust you are. The musical commissaries of the +church militant are ever saying, 'It's a pity the devil should have all +the good music,' and so half the Sunday-school tunes, and many sung in +churches, have had a lower origin than my drinking-song. I assure you +that the words are as fine as the air. Why have I not as good a right +to steal a tune from the devil as the rest of them?" + +"It's the motive that makes all the difference," said Annie. "But I +fear that in this case the devil suffered no loss." + +"I'm sure my motive was not bad. I only wished to see a bonny smile +light up your face." + +Before she could reply the carriage stopped at Mr. Walton's door, and +with Mr. Gregory she passed into the cosey parlor. Her father did not +immediately join them. + +As Gregory looked at her while she took off her wraps, he thought, "By +Jove! she's handsome if she is not pretty." + +In fact Annie's face at that time would have attracted attention +anywhere. The crisp air had given her a fine color. Her eyes glowed +with suppressed excitement and anger, while the firm lines about the +mouth indicated that when she spoke it would be decidedly. In spite of +herself the audacity, cleverness, and wickedness of this stranger had +affected her greatly. As he threw off his moodiness, as he revealed +himself by word and action, she saw that he was no ordinary character, +but a thorough man of the world, and with some strange caprices. The +suspicion crossed her mind that he might be not only in peril himself +but also a source of danger. She had determined during the ride home +that even though he meant no slur upon sacred things he should carry +his mocking spirit no more into them. Therefore, after a moment's +thought, she turned toward him with a manner of mingled frankness and +dignity, and said, "Mr. Gregory, I regret what has occurred this +evening. I have a painful sense of the ludicrous, and you have taken +unfair advantage of it. I am usually better and happier for going to +our simple little meeting, but now I can think of the whole hour only +with pain. I think I am as mirth-loving as the majority of my age, and +perhaps more so. I say truly that my heart is very light and happy. +But, Mr. Gregory, we look at certain things very differently from you. +While I would not for a moment have you think that religion brings into +my life gloom and restraint--quite the reverse--still it gives me great +pain when anything connected with my faith is made a matter of jest. +These things are sacred to us, and I know my father would feel deeply +grieved if he understood you this evening. Do you not see? It appears +to us differently from what it does to you and perhaps to the world at +large. These things are to us what your mother's memory is to you. I +would sooner cut off my right hand than trifle with that." + +Gregory had been able to maintain his quizzical look of mischief till +she named his mother; then his face changed instantly. A flush of shame +crossed it, and after a moment, with an expression something like true +manhood, he stepped forward and took Annie's hand, saying, "Miss +Walton, I sincerely ask your pardon. I did not know--I could not +believe that you felt as you do. I will give you no further reason to +complain of me on this ground. I hope you will forgive me." + +She at once relented, and said: + + "'Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is not of heaven nor earth.' + +There is an apt quotation from your favorite Shakespeare." + +"You seem a delightful mixture of both, Miss Walton." + +"If you were a better judge, sir, you would know that the earthly +ingredient is too great. But that is in your favor, for I am +sufficiently human to make allowance for human folly." + +"I shall tax your charity to the utmost." + +As Gregory sat in his arm-chair recalling the events of the day before +retiring, he thought: "Well, my attempt has failed signally. While by +her involuntary smile she showed that she was human, she has also +managed this evening to prove that she is perfectly sincere in her +religion, and to render it impossible for me to assail her in that +direction again. As the old hymn goes, I must 'let her religious hours +alone.' But how far her religion or superstition will control her +action is another question. I have learned both at home and abroad that +people can be very religious and very sincere in matters of faith and +ceremony, and jealous of any hand stretched out to touch their sacred +ark, but when through with the holy business they can live the life of +very ordinary mortals. This may be true of Miss Walton. At any rate I +have made a mistake in showing my hand somewhat at a prayer-meeting, +for women are so tenacious on religious matters. Deference, personal +attention, and compliments--these are the irresistible weapons. These +inflate pride and vanity to such a degree that a miserable collapse is +necessary. And yet I must be careful, for she is not like some belles I +know, who have the swallow of a whale for flattery. She is too +intelligent, too refined, to take compliments as large and glaring as a +sunflower. Something in the way of a moss-rose bud will accomplish +more. I will appear as if falling under her power; as if bewitched by +her charms. Nothing pleases your plain girls more than to be thought +beautiful. I shall have her head turned in a week. I am more bent than +ever on teaching this little Puritan that she and I live upon the same +level." + +Saturday morning dawned clear and bracing, and the grass was white with +hoar-frost. The children came in to breakfast with glowing cheeks and +hair awry, crying excitedly in the same breath that they "had been to +the chestnut trees and that Jack had opened the burrs all night." + +In answer to their clamorous petitions a one-o'clock dinner was +promised, and Aunt Annie was to accompany them on a nutting expedition +with Jeff as pioneer to thresh and club the trees. + +"Can I go too?" Gregory asked of the children. + +"I suppose so," said Johnny, rather coldly; "if Aunt Annie is willing." + +"You can go with me," said kind-hearted little Susie. + +"Now I can go whether Aunt Annie is willing or not," said Gregory, with +mock defiance at the boy. + +He glanced at his aunt's face to gather how he should take this, but +she settled the matter satisfactorily to him by saying, "You shall be +my beau, and Mr. Gregory will be Susie's." + +"Good, good!" exclaimed Susie. "I've got a beau already;" and she +beamed upon Gregory in a way that made them all laugh. + +"'Coming events cast their shadows before,' you perceive, Miss Walton," +said he, meaningly. + +"Sometimes the events themselves are but shadows," she replied, dryly. + +"Now that is severe upon the beaux. How about the belles?" he asked, +quickly. + +"I have nothing to say against my own sex, sir." + +"That is not fair. Of course I can say nothing adverse." + +"If you should say what you think, I fear we should be little inclined +to cry with Shylock, 'A Daniel come to judgment!'" + +"You have a dreadful opinion of me, Miss Walton. I wish you would teach +me how I can change it." + +"You discovered so much in a chestnut burr the day you came I should +not be surprised if you could find anything else there that you wish to +know." + +"I shall not look in burrs for chestnuts this afternoon, but for +something else far more important." + +Gregory spent the forenoon quietly in his own room reading, in order +that he might have all the vigor possible for the ramble. And to Annie, +as housekeeper, Saturday morning brought many duties. + +By two o'clock the nutting expedition was organized, and with Jeff in +advance, carrying a short ladder and a long limber pole, the party +started for the hills. At first Johnny, oppressed with his dignity as +Aunt Annie's "beau," stalked soberly at her side, and Susie also +claimed Gregory according to agreement, and insisted on keeping hold of +his hand. + +He submitted with such grace as he could muster, for children were +tiresome to him, and he wanted to talk to Miss Walton, without "little +pitchers with large ears" around. + +Annie smiled to herself at his half-concealed annoyance and his wooden +gallantry to Susie, but she understood child life well enough to know +that the present arrangement would not last very long. And she was +right. They had hardly entered the shady lane leading to the trees +before a chipmonk, with its shrill note of exclamation at unexpected +company, started out from some leaves near and ran for its hole. + +Away went Aunt Annie's beau after it, and Susie also, quite oblivious +of her first possession in that line, joined in the pursuit. There was +an excited consultation above the squirrel's retreat, and then Johnny +took out his knife and cut a flexible rod with which to investigate the +"robber's den." + +Gregory at once joined Annie, saying, "Since the beau of your choice +has deserted you, will you accept of another?" + +"Yes, till he proves alike inconstant." + +"I will see to that. A burr shall be my emblem." + +"Or I do," she added, laughing. + +"Now the future is beyond my power." + +"Perhaps it is anyway. Johnny was bent upon being a true knight. You +may see something that will be to you what the chipmonk was to him." + +"And such is your opinion of man's constancy? Miss Walton, you are more +of a cynic than I am." + +"Indeed! Do women dwell in your fancy as fixed stars?" + +"Fixed stars are all suns, are they not? I know of one with wonderful +powers of attraction," said he, with a significant glance. + +"Does she live in New York?" quietly asked Annie. + +"You know well she does not. She is a votaress of nature, and, as I +said, I shall search in every burr for the hidden clew to her favor." + +"You had better look for chestnuts, sir." + +"Chestnuts! Fit food for children and chipmonks. I am in quest of the +only manna that ever fell from heaven. Have you read Longfellow's +'Golden Legend,' Miss Walton?" + +"Yes," she replied, with a slight contraction of the brow as if the +suggestion were not pleasing. + +The children now came running toward them and wished to resume their +old places. "No, sir," said Walter, decisively. "You deserted your +lady's side and your place is filled; and Susie-- + + "'Thou fair, false one,' + +--you renounced me for a chipmonk. My wounded heart has found solace in +another." + +Johnny received this charge against his gallantry with a red face and +eyes that began to dilate with anger, while Susie looked at Gregory +poutingly and said, "I don't like big beaux. I think chipmonks are ever +so much nicer." + +The laugh that followed broke the force of the storm that was brewing; +and Annie, by saying, "See, children, Jeff is climbing the tree on top +of the hill; I wonder who will get the first nuts," caused the wind to +veer round from the threatening quarter, and away they scampered with +grievances all forgotten. + +"If grown-up children could only forget their troubles as easily!" +sighed Gregory. "Miss Walton, you are gifted with admirable tact. Your +witchery has cleared up another storm." + +"They have not forgotten," said Annie, ignoring the compliment--"they +have only been diverted from their trouble. Children can do by nature +what we should from intelligent choice--turn away the mind from painful +subjects to those that are pleasing. You don't catch me brooding over +trouble when there are a thousand pleasant things to think of." + +"That is easier said than done, Miss Walton. I read on your smooth brow +that you have had few serious troubles, and, as you say, '_you_ have a +thousand pleasant things to think of.' But with others it may be very +different. Some troubles have a terrible magnetism that draws the mind +back to them as if by a malign spell, and there are no 'pleasant things +to think of.'" + +"No 'pleasant things'? Why, Mr. Gregory! The universe is very wide." + +"Present company excepted," replied he gallantly. "But what do I care +for the universe? As you say, it is 'very wide'--a big, uncomfortable +place, in which one is afraid of getting lost." + +"I am not," said Annie, gently. + +"How so?" + +"It's all my Father's house. I am never for a moment lost sight of. +Wherever I am, I am like a little child playing outside the door while +its mother, unseen, is watching it from the window." + +He looked at her keenly to see if she were perfectly sincere. Her face +had the expression of a child, and the thought flashed across him, "If +she is so watched and guarded, how vain are my attempts!" + +But he only said with a shrug, "It would be a pity to dissipate your +happy superstition, Miss Walton, but after what I have seen and +experienced in the world it would seem more generally true that the +mother forgot her charge, left the window, and the child was run over +by the butcher's cart." + +"Do you think it vain confidence," said Annie, earnestly, "when I say +that you could not dissipate what you term my 'superstition,' any more +than you could argue me out of my belief in my good old father's love?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS + + + +The conversation had taken a turn that Gregory wished to avoid, so he +said: "Miss Walton, you regard me as wretched authority on theology, +and therefore my opinions will go for nothing. Suppose we join the +children on the hill, for I am most anxious to commence the search for +the clew to your favor. Give me your hand, that as your attendant I may +at least appear to assist you in climbing, though I suppose you justly +think you could help me more than I can you." + +"And if I can, why should I not?" asked Annie, kindly. + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I would crawl up first. But thanks to your +reviving influences, I am not so far gone as that." + +"Then you would not permit a woman to reach out a helping hand to you? +Talk not against Turks and Arabs. How do Christian men regard us?" + +"But you look upon me as a 'heathen.'" + +"Beg your pardon, I do not." + +"Miss Walton, give your honest opinion of me--just what you think." + +"Will you do the same of me?" + +"Oh, certainly!" + +"No, do not answer in that tone. On your honor." + +Gregory was now caught. If he agreed he must state his doubts of her +real goodness; his low estimate of women in general which led to his +purpose to tempt her. This would not only arm her against his efforts, +but place him in a very unpleasant light. "I beat a retreat, Miss +Walton. I am satisfied that your opinion would discourage me utterly." + +"You need have no fears of that kind," she said; "although my opinion +would not be flattering it would be most encouraging." + +"No, Miss Walton, I am not to be caught. My every glance and word +reveal my opinion of you, while yours of me amounts to what I used to +hear years ago: 'You are a bad boy now, but may become a good one.' +Come, give me your hand." + +As she complied she gave him a quick, keen look. Her intuition told her +of something hidden, and he puzzled her. + +Her hand was ungloved, and he thought, "When have I clasped such a hand +before? It could help a Hercules. At any rate he would like to hold it, +for it is alive." + +There is as much diversity of character in hands as in faces. Some are +very white and shapely, and a diamond flashes prettily upon them, but +having said this you have said all. Others suggest honest work and +plenty of it, and for such the sensible will ever have a genuine +respect. There are some hands that make you think of creatures whose +blood is cold. A lady's hand in society often suggests feebleness, lack +of vitality. It is a thing to touch decorously, and if feeling betray +you into giving a hearty grasp and pressure, you find that you are only +causing pain and reducing the member to a confused jumble of bones and +sinews. There are hands that suggest fancy-work, light crochet needles, +and neuralgia. + +Annie's hand was not one that a sculptor would care to copy, though he +would find no great fault with it; but a sculptor would certainly take +pleasure in shaking hands with her--the pleasure that is the opposite +of our shrinking from taking the hand of the dead. It was soft and +delicate to the pressure, and yet firm. It reminded one of silk drawn +over steel, and was all electric and throbbing with life. You felt that +it could give you the true grasp of friendship--that it had power to do +more than barely cling to something--that it could both help and +sustain, yet its touch would be gentleness itself beside the couch of +suffering. + +When they had reached the brow of the hill he was much more exhausted +than she, and sat down panting. + +"Miss Walton," he asked, "do you not despise a feeble man?" + +"What kind of feebleness do you mean?" + +"The weakness that makes me sit pale and panting here, while you stand +there glowing with life and vigor, a veritable Hebe." + +"All your compliments cannot balance that imputation against me. Such +weakness awakens my pity, sympathy, and wish to help." + +"Ah! the emotions you would bestow on a beggar--very agreeable to a +_man_. Well, what kind of feebleness do you despise?" + +"I think I should despise a feeble, vacillating Hercules most of all--a +burly, assuming sort of person, who could be made a tool of, and led to +do what he knew to be mean and wrong." + +"You must despise a great many people then." + +"No, I do not. Honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no right to despise any +one. I was only giving the reverse of my ideal man. But I assure you I +share too deeply in humanity's faults to be very critical." + +"I am delighted to hear, Miss Walton, that you share in our fallen +humanity, for I was beginning to doubt it, and you can well understand +that I should be dreadfully uncomfortable in the presence of +perfection." + +"If you could escape all other sources of discomfort as surely as this +one, you would be most happy," replied Annie, with heightened color. "I +shall ever think you are satirical when you speak in such style." + +"A truce, Miss Walton; only, in mercy to my poor mortality, be as human +as you can. Though you seem to suspect me of a low estimate of your +sex, I much prefer women to saints and Madonnas. I am going to look for +the burr." + +This was adroitness itself on the part of Gregory, for, of all things, +sensible Annie, conscious of faults and many struggles, did not wish to +give the impression that she thought herself approaching perfection. +And yet he had managed to make her sensitive on that point, and given +her a strong motive to relax strict rules of duty, and act "like other +people," as he would say. + +Jeff's limber pole was now doing effective service. With many a soft +thud upon the sward and leaves the burrs rained around, while the +detached chestnuts rattled down like hail. The children were careering +about this little tempest of Jeff's manufacture in a state of wild +glee, dodging the random burrs, and snatching what nuts they could in +safety on the outskirts of the prickly shower. At last the tree was +well thrashed, and bad the appearance of a school-boy bully who, after +bristling with threats and boasts for a long time, suddenly meets his +master and is left in a very meek and plucked condition. + +But the moment Jeff's pole ceased its sturdy strokes there was a rush +for the spoils, the children awakening the echoes with their +exclamations of delight as they found the ground covered with what was +more precious to them than gold. Even Gregory's sluggish pulses tingled +and quickened at the well-remembered scene, and he felt a little of +their excitement. For the moment he determined to be a boy again, and +running into the charmed circle, picked away as fast as any of them +till his physical weakness painfully reminded him that his old tireless +activity had passed away, perhaps forever. + +He leaned against the trunk of the tree and noted with something of an +artist's eye the pretty picture. The valley beneath was beginning to +glow with the richest October tints, in the midst of which was his old +home, that to his affection seemed like a gem set in gold, ruby, and +emerald. The stream appeared white and silvery as seen through openings +of the bordering trees, and in the distance the purple haze and +mountains blended together, leaving it uncertain where the granite +began, as in Gregory's mind fact and fancy were confusedly mingling in +regard to Miss Walton. + +And he soon turned from even that loved and beautiful landscape to her +as an object of piquant interest, and the pleasure of analyzing and +testing her character, and--well, some hidden fascination of her own, +caused a faint stir of excitement at his heart, even as the October air +and exercise had just tinged his pale cheeks. + +But Miss Walton reminded him of a young sugar maple that he had +noticed, all aflame, from his window that morning, so rich and high was +her color, as, still intent upon the thickly scattered nuts, she +followed the old unspent childish impulse to gather now as she had done +when of Susie's age. With a half-wondering smile Gregory watched her +intent expression, so like that of the other children, and thought, +"Well, she is the freshest and most unhackneyed girl I have ever met +for one who knows so much. It seems true, as she said, that she draws +her life from nature and will never grow old. Now she is a child with +those children, looking and acting like them. A moment later she will +be a self-possessed young lady, with a quick, trained intellect that I +can scarcely cope with. And yet in each and every character she seems +so real and vital that even I, in spite of myself, feel compelled to +admit her truth. Her life is like a glad, musical mountain stream, +while I am a stagnant pool that she passes and leaves behind. I wonder +if it is possible for one life to be awakened and quickened by another. +I wonder if her vital force would be strong enough to drag another on +who had almost lost the power to follow. It is said that young fresh +blood can be infused directly into the veins of the old and feeble. Can +the same be true of moral forces, and a glad zest and interest in life +be breathed into the jaded, cloyed, ennui-cursed spirit of one who +regards existence with dull eye, sluggish pulse, and heart of lead? It +seems to me that if any one could have such power it would be that girl +there with her intense vitality and subtle connection with nature, +which, as she says, is ever young and vigorous. And yet I propose to +reveal her to herself as a weak, vain creature, whose fair seeming like +a pasteboard castle falls before the breath of flattery. By Jove, I +half hope I shan't succeed, and yet to satisfy myself I shall carry the +test to the utmost limit." + +In her absorbed search for nuts, Annie had approached the trunk of the +tree, and was stooping almost at Gregory's feet without noticing him. +Suddenly she turned up a burr whose appearance so interested her that +she stood up to examine it, and then became conscious of his intent +gaze. + +"There you stand," she said, "cool and superior, criticising and +laughing at me as a great overgrown child." + +"If you had looked more closely you would have seen anything rather +than cool criticism in my face. I wish you could tell me your secret, +Miss Walton. What is your hidden connection with Nature, that her +strong, beautiful life flows so freely into yours?" + +"You would not believe me if I told you." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I should be inclined to believe anything you told +me, you seem so real. But, pardon me, you have in your hand the very +burr I have been looking vainly for. Perhaps in it I may find the +coveted clew to your favor. It may winningly suggest to you my meaning, +while plain, bald words would only repel. If I could only interpret +Nature as you breathe her spirit I might find that the autumn leaves +were like illuminated pages, and every object--even such an +insignificant one as this burr--an inspired illustration. When men come +to read Nature's open book, publishers may despair. _If_ I wished to +tell you how I would dwell in your thoughts, what poet has written +anything equal to this half-open burr? It portrays our past, it gives +our present relations, and suggests the future; only, like all +parables, it must not be pressed too far, and too much prominence must +not be given to some mere detail. These prickly outward pointing spines +represent the reserve and formality which keep comparative strangers +apart. But now the burr is half-open, revealing its heart of silk and +down. So if one could get past the barriers which you, alike with all, +turn toward an indifferent or unfriendly world, a kindliness would be +found that would surround a cherished friend as these silken sides +envelop this sole and favored chestnut. Again, note that the burr is +half-open, indicating, I hope, the progress we have made toward such +friendship. I have no true friend in the wide world that I can trust, +and I would like to believe that your regard, like this burr, is +opening toward me. The final suggestion that I should draw may seem +selfish, and yet is it not natural? This chestnut dwells alone in the +very centre of the burr. We do not like to share a supreme friendship. +There are some in whose esteem we would be first." + +When Gregory finished he was half-frightened at his words, for in +developing his fanciful parallel in the bold style of gallantry he had +learned to employ toward the belles of the ball-room, and from a +certain unaccountable fascination that Annie herself had for him, he +had said more than he meant. + +"Good heavens!" he thought, "if she should take this for a declaration +and accept me on the spot, I should then be in the worst scrape of my +sorry life." + +Miss Walton's manner rather puzzled him. Her heightened color and +quickened breathing were alarming, while the contraction of her brow +and the firmness of her lips, together with an intent look on the +chestnut in the centre of the burr, rather than a languishing look at +him or at nothing, were more assuring. She perplexed him still more +when, as her only response to all this sentiment, she asked, "Mr. +Gregory, will you lend me your penknife?" + +Without a word he handed it to her, and she at the same time took the +burr from his hand, and daintily plucking out the chestnut tossed the +burr rather contemptuously away. "Mr. Gregory, if I understand your +rather far-fetched and forced interpretation of this little 'parable of +nature,' you chose to represent yourself by this great lonely chestnut +occupying the space where three might have grown. On observing this +emblematic nut closely I detect something that may also have a place in +your 'parable';" and she pushed aside the little quirl at the small end +of the nut, which partially concealed a worm-hole, and cutting through +the shell showed the destroyer in the very heart of the kernel. + +There was nothing far-fetched in this suggestion of nature, and he +saw--and he understood that Miss Walton saw--evil enthroned in the very +depths of his soul. The revelation of the hateful truth was so sudden +and sharp that his face darkened with involuntary pain and anger. It +seemed to him that, by the simple act of showing him the worm-infested +chestnut, she had rejected anything approaching even friendship, and +had also given him a good but humiliating reason why. He lost his +self-possession and forgot that he deserved a stinging rebuke for his +insincerity. He would have turned away in coldness and resentment. His +visit might have come to an abrupt termination, had not Annie, with +that delicate, womanly tact which was one of her most marked +characteristics, interrupted him as he was about to say something to +the effect, "Miss Walton, since you are so much holier than I, it were +better that I should contaminate the air you breathe no longer." + +She looked into his clouded face with an open smile, and said, "Mr. +Gregory, you have been unfortunate in the choice of a burr. Now let me +choose for you;" and she began looking around for one suited to her +taste and purpose. + +This gave him time to recover himself and to realize the folly of +quarrelling or showing any special feeling in the matter. After a +moment he was only desirous of some pretext for laughing it off, but +how to manage it he did not know, and was inwardly cursing himself as a +blundering fool, and no match for this child of nature. + +Annie soon came toward him, saying, "Perhaps this burr will suggest +better meanings. You see it is wide open. That means perfect frankness. +There are three chestnuts here instead of one. We must be willing to +share the regard of others. One of these nuts has the central place. As +we come to know people well, we usually find some one occupying the +supreme place in their esteem, and though we may approach closely we +should not wish to usurp what belongs to another. Under Jeff's vigorous +blows the burr and its contents have had a tremendous downfall, but +they have not parted company. True friends should stick together in +adversity. What do you think of my interpretation?" + +"I think you are a witch, beyond doubt, and if you had lived a few +centuries ago, you would have been sent to heaven in a chariot of fire." + +"Really, Mr. Gregory, you give me a _hot_ answer, but it is with such a +smiling face that I will take no exception. Let us slowly follow Jeff +and the children along the brow of the hill to the next tree. The fact +is I am a little tired." + +What controversy could a man have with a pretty and wearied girl? +Gregory felt like a boy who had received a deserved whipping and yet +was compelled and somewhat inclined to act very amiably toward the +donor. But he was fast coming to the conclusion that this unassuming +country girl was a difficult subject on which to perform his +experiment. He was learning to have a wholesome respect for her that +was slightly tinged with fear, and doubts of success in his plot +against her grew stronger every moment. And yet the element of +persistence was large in his character, and he could not readily give +over his purpose, though his cynical confidence had vanished. He now +determined to observe her closely and discover if possible her weak +points. He still held to the theory that flattery was the most +available weapon, though he saw he could employ it no longer in the +form of fulsome and outspoken compliment. The innate refinement and +truthfulness of Annie's nature revolted at broad gallantry and +adulation. He believed that he must reverse the tactics he usually +employed in society, but not the principles. Therefore he resolved that +his flattery should be delicate, subtle, manifested in manner rather +than in words. He would seem submissive; he would humbly wear the air +of a conquered one. He would delicately maintain the +"I-am-at-your-mercy" attitude. + +These thoughts flashed through his mind as they passed along the brow +of the hill, which at every turn gave them a new and beautiful +landscape. But vales in Eden would not have held his attention then. To +his perplexity this new acquaintance had secured his undivided +interest. He felt that he ought to be angry at her and yet was not. He +felt that a man who had seen as much of the world as he should be able +to play with this little country girl as with a child; but he was +becoming convinced that, with all his art, he was no match for her +artlessness. + +In the interpretation of the burr of her own choice, Annie had +suggested that the central and supreme place in her heart was already +occupied, and his thoughts recurred frequently to that fact with +uneasiness. The slightest trace of jealousy, even as the merest twinge +of pain is often precursor of serious disease, indicated the power Miss +Walton might gain over one who thought himself proof against all such +influence. But he tried to satisfy himself by thinking, "It is her +father who occupies the first place in her affections." + +Then a moment later with a mental protest at his folly, "What do I care +who has the first place? It's well I do not, for she would not permit +such a reprobate as I, with evil in my heart like that cursed worm in +the chestnut, to have any place worth naming--unless I can introduce a +little canker of evil in her heart also. I wish I could. That would +bring us nearer together and upon the same level." Annie saw the +landscapes. She looked away from the man by her side and for a few +moments forgot him. The scenes upon which she was gazing were +associated with another, and she ardently wished that that other and +more favored one could exchange places with Gregory. Her eyes grew +dreamy and tender as she recalled words spoken in days gone by, when, +her heart thrilling with a young girl's first dream of love, she had +leaned upon Charles Hunting's arm, and listened to that sweetest music +of earth, all the more enchanting when broken and incoherent; and +Hunting, with all his coolness and precision in Wall Street, had been +excessively nervous and unhappy in his phraseology upon one occasion, +and tremblingly glad to get any terms from the girl who seemed a child +beside him. Annie would not permit an engagement to take place. Hunting +was a distant relative. She had always liked him very much, but was not +sure she loved him. She was extremely reluctant to leave her father, +and was not ready for a speedy marriage; so she frankly told him that +he had no rival, nor was there a prospect of any, but she would not +bind him, or permit herself to be bound at that time. If they were +fated for each other the way would eventually be made perfectly clear. + +He was quite content, especially as Mr. Walton gave his hearty approval +to the match, and he regarded the understanding as a virtual +engagement. He wanted Annie to wear the significant ring, saying that +it should not be regarded as binding, but she declined to do so. + +Nearly two years had passed, and, while she put him off, she satisfied +him that he was steadily gaining the place that he wished to possess in +her affections. He was gifted with much tact and did not press his +suit, but quietly acted as if the matter were really settled, and it +were only a question of time. Annie had also come to feel in the same +way. She did not see a very great deal of him, though he wrote +regularly, and his letters were admirable. He became her ideal man and +dwelt in her imagination as a demi-god. To the practical mind of this +American girl his successes in the vast and complicated transactions of +business were as grand as the achievements of any hero. Her father had +been a merchant, and she inherited a respect for the calling. Her +father also often assured her that her lover bade fair to lead in +commercial circles. + +"Hunting has both nerve and prudence," he was wont to say; and to +impetuous Annie these qualities, combined with Christian principles, +formed her very ideal man. + +Her lover took great pains not to undeceive her as to his character, +and indeed, with the infatuation of his class, hoped that, when he had +amassed the fortune that glittered ever just before him, he could +assume, in some princely mansion, the princely, knightly soul with +which she had endowed him. + +So he did not press matters. Indeed in his rapid accumulation of money +he scarcely wished any interruption, and Annie thought all the more of +him that he was not dawdling around making love half the time. There +was also less danger of disenchanting her by his presence, for woman's +perception is quick. + +But now she inwardly contrasted her strong, masterful knight, "_sans +peur et sans reproche_," as she believed, with the enfeebled, shrunken +man at her side. Gregory suffered dreadfully by the comparison. The +worm-eaten chestnut seemed truly emblematic, and in spite of herself +her face lighted up with exultation and joy that the man of her choice +was a _man_, and not one upon whom she could not lean for even physical +support. + +Gregory caught her expression and said, quickly: "Your face is full of +sudden gleams. Tell me what you are thinking about." + +She blushed deeply in the consciousness of her thoughts, but after a +moment said, "I do not believe in the confessional." + +He looked at her keenly, saying, "I wish you did and that I were your +father confessor." + +She replied, laughing, "You are neither old nor good enough. If I were +of that faith I should require one a great deal older and better than +myself. But here we are at our second tree, which Jeff has just +finished. I am going to be a child again and gather nuts as before. I +hope you will follow suit, and not stand leaning against the tree +laughing at me." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"A WELL-MEANIN' MAN" + + + +The western horizon vied with the autumn foliage as at last they turned +homeward. Their path led out upon the main road some distance above the +house, and, laden with the spoils that would greatly diminish the +squirrels' hoard for the coming winter, they sauntered along slowly, +from a sense of both weariness and leisure. + +They soon reached the cottage of the lame old man who had fired such a +broadside of lurid words at Gregory, as he stood on the fence opposite. +With a crutch under one arm and leaning on his gate, Daddy Tuggar +seemed awaiting them, and secured their attention by the laconic +salutation, "Evenin'!" + +"Why, Daddy," exclaimed Annie, coming quickly toward him. "I am real +glad to see you so spry and well. It seems to me that you are getting +young again;" and she shook the old man's hand heartily. + +"Now don't praise my old graveyard of a body, Miss Annie. My sperit is +pert enough, but it's all buried up in this old clumsy, half-dead +carcass. The worms will close their mortgage on it purty soon." + +"But they haven't a mortgage on your soul," said Annie, in a low tone. +"You remember what I said to you a few days ago." + +"Now bless you, Miss Annie, but it takes you to put in a 'word in +season.' The Lord knows I'm a well-meanin' man, but I can't seem to get +much furder. I've had an awful 'fall from grace,' my wife says. I did +try to stop swearin', but that chap there--" + +"Oh, excuse me," interrupted Annie. "Mr. Gregory, this is our friend +and neighbor Mr. Tuggar. I was under the impression that you were +acquainted," she added, with a mischievous look at her companion. + +"We are. I have met this gentleman before," he replied, with a wry +face. "Pardon the interruption, Mr. Tuggar, and please go on with your +explanation." + +"Mr. Gregory, I owe you a 'pology. I'm a well-meanin' man, and if I do +any one a wrong I'm willin' to own it up and do the square thing. But I +meant right by you and I meant right by John Walton when I thought you +was stealin' his apples. I couldn't hit yer with a stun and knock yer +off the fence, as I might a dozen years ago, so I took the next hardest +thing I could lay hands on. If I'd known that you was kinder one of the +family my words would have been rolls of butter." + +"Well, Mr. Tuggar, it has turned out very well, for _I_ would rather +you had fired what you did than either stones or butter." + +"Now my wife would say that that speech showed you was 'totally +depraved.' And this brings me back to my 'fall from grace.' Now, yer +see, to please my wife some and Miss Eulie more, I was tryin' cussed +hard to stop swearin'--" + +"Didn't you try a little for my sake, too?" interrupted Annie. + +"Lord bless you, child; I don't have to try when you're around, for I +don't think swearin'. Most folks rile me, and I get a-thinkin' +swearin', and then 'fore I know it busts right out. _You_ could take +the wickedest cuss livin' to heaven in spite of himself if you would +stay right by him all the time." + +"I should 'rile' you, too, if I were with you long, for I get 'riled' +myself sometimes." + +"Do you, now?" asked Mr. Tuggar, looking at her admiringly. "Well, I'm +mighty glad to hear it." + +"O Daddy! glad to hear that I do wrong?" + +"Can't help it, Miss Annie. I kinder like to know you're a little bit +of a sinner. 'Tain't often I meet with a sinner, and I kind o' like +'em. My wife says she's a 'great sinner,' but she means she's a great +saint. 'Twouldn't do for me to tell her she's a 'sinner.' Then Miss +Eulie says she's a 'great sinner,' and between you and me that's the +only fib I ever caught Miss Eulie in. Good Lord! there's no more sin in +Miss Eulie's heart than there is specks of dirt on the little white +ruff she wears about her neck that looks like the snow we had last +April around the white hyacinths. She's kind of a half-sperit anyhow. +Now your goodness, Miss Annie, is another kind. Your cheeks are so red, +and eyes so black, and arms so round and fat--I've seen 'em when you +was over here a-beatin' up good things for the old man--that you make +me think of red and pink posies. I kinder think you might be a little +bit of a sinner--just enough, you know, to make you understand how I +and him there can be mighty big ones, and not be too hard on us for it." + +"Mr. Tuggar, you are the man of all others to plead my cause." + +"Now look here, young gentleman, you must do yer own pleadin'. It would +be a 'sinful waste of time' though, as my wife would say--eh, Miss +Annie? I never had no luck at pleadin' but once, and that was the worst +luck of all." + +Annie's face might well suggest "red posies" during the last remarks, +and its expression was divided between a frown and a laugh. + +"But I want you to understand," continued Daddy Tuggar, straightening +himself up with dignity, and addressing Gregory, "that I'm not a mean +cuss. All who know me know I'm a well-meanin' man. I try to do as I'd +be done by. If I'm going through a man's field and find his bars down, +so the cattle would get in the corn, I'd put 'em up--" + +"Yes, Daddy, that is what you always say," interrupted Annie; "but you +can't go through the fields any more and put up bars. You should try to +do the duties that belong to your present state." + +"But I've got the sperit to put up a man's bars, and it's all the same +as if I did put 'em up," answered the old man, with some irritation. +"Miss Eulie and the rest of yer is allers sayin' we must have the +sperit of willingness to give up the hull world and suffer martyrdom on +what looks in the picture like a big gridiron. She says we must have +the sperit of them who was cold and hungry and the lions eat up and was +sawn in two pieces and had an awful time generally for the sake of the +Lord, and that's the way the Christians manage it nowadays. My wife +gets all the money she can and keeps it, but she says she has the +sperit to give up the hull world. I wish she'd give up enough of it to +keep me in good terbacker. Mighty few nice bits would the old man git +wasn't it for you and Miss Eulie. Then I watch the good people goin' to +church. 'Mazin' few out wet Sundays. But no doubt they've all got the +'sperit' to go. They would jist as lief be sawn in two pieces 'in +sperit' as not, if they can only sleep late in the mornin' and have a +good dinner and save their Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes from gettin' +wet. It must be so, for the Lord gets mighty little worship out of the +church on rainy Sundays. If it wasn't for you and Miss Eulie I don't +know what would become of the old man and all the rest of the sick and +feeble foiks around here. I ask my wife why she doesn't go to see 'em +sometimes. She says she has the 'sperit to go,' but she hasn't time and +strength. So I have the 'sperit' to put up a man's bars while I sit +here and smoke, and what's more, Miss Annie, I did it as long as I was +able." + +"You did indeed, Daddy, and, though unintentionally, you have given me +a good lesson. We little deserve to be mentioned with those Christians +who in olden times suffered the loss of all things, and life itself." + +"Lord bless you, child, I didn't mean you. Whether you've got the +sperit to do a thing or not yer allers do it, and in a sweet, natteral +way, as if you couldn't help it. When my wife enters on a good work it +makes me think of a funeral. I'm 'mazin' glad you didn't live in old +times, 'cause the lions would have got you sure 'nuff. Though, if it +had to be, I would kinder liked to have been the lion:" and the old +man's eyes twinkled humorously, while Gregory laughed heartily. + +"Oh, Daddy Tuggar!" exclaimed Annie, "that is the most awful compliment +I ever received. If you, with your spirit, were the only lion I had to +deal with, I should never become a martyr. You shall have some jelly +instead, and now I must go home in order to have it made before Sunday." + +"Wait a moment," said Gregory. "You were about to tell us how I caused +you to 'fall from grace.'" + +"So I was, so I was, and I've been goin' round Robin Hood's barn ever +since. Well, I'd been holdin' in on my swearin' a long time, 'cause I +promised Miss Eulie I'd stop if I could. My wife said I was in quite a +'hopeful state,' while I felt all the time as if I was sort of bottled +up and the cork might fly out any minute. Miss Eulie, she came and +rejoiced over me that mornin', and my wife she looked so solemn (she +allers does when she says she feels glad) that somehow I got nervous, +and then my wife went to the store and didn't get the kind of terbacker +I sent for, and I knew the cork was going to fly out. I was smokin' and +in a sort of a doze, when the first thing I knowed a big stun rolled +into the road, and there I saw a strange chap, as I thought, a stealin' +John Walton's apples and knockin' down the fence. If they'd a been my +apples I might have held in a little longer, but John Walton's--it was +like a dam givin' way." + +"It was, indeed," said Gregory, significantly. "It was like several." + +"I knowed my wife heard me, and if she'd come right out and said, +'You've made a cussed old fool of yourself,' I think I would have felt +better. I knowed she was goin' to speak about it and lament over it, +and I wanted her to do it right away; but she put it off, and kept me +on pins and needles for ever so long. At last she said with solemn joy, +'Thomas Tuggar, I told Miss Eulie I feared you was still in a state of +natur, and, alas! I am right; but how she'll mourn, how great will be +her disappointment, when she hears'; and then I fell into a 'state of +natur' agin. Now, Miss Annie, if the Lord, Miss Eulie, and you all +could only see I'm a well-meanin' man, and that I don't mean no +disrespect to anybody; that it's only one of my old, rough ways that I +learned from my father--and mother too, for that matter, I'm sorry to +say--and have followed so long that it's bred in the bone, it would +save a heap of worry. One must have some way of lettin' off steam. Now +my wife she purses up her mouth so tight you couldn't stick a pin in it +when she's riled. I often say to her, 'Do explode. Open your mouth and +let it all out at once.' But she says it is not becoming for such as +her ter 'explode.' But it will come out all the same, only it's like +one of yer cold northeast, drizzlin', fizzlin' rain-storms. And now +I've made a clean breast of it, I hope you'll kinder smooth matters +over with Miss Eulie; and I hope you, sir, will just think of what I +said as spoken to a stranger and not a friend of the family." + +"Give me your hand, Mr. Tuggar. I hope we shall be the best of friends. +I am coming over to have a smoke with you, and see if I can't fill your +pipe with some tobacco that is like us both, 'in a state of natur.'" + +A white-faced woman appeared at the door, and courtesying low to Miss +Walton, called, "Husband, it's too late for you to be out; I fear your +health will suffer." + +"She's bound up in me, you see," said the old man, with a curious +grimace. "Nothing but the reading of my will will ever comfort her when +I die." + +"Daddy, Daddy," said Annie, reproachfully, "have charity. Good-night; I +will send you something nice for to-morrow." + +An amused smile lingered on Gregory's face as they pursued their way +homeward, now in the early twilight; but Annie's aspect was almost one +of sadness. After a little he said, "Well, he is one of the oddest +specimens of humanity I ever met." + +She did not immediately reply, and he, looking at her, caught her +expression. + +"Why is your face so clouded, Miss Annie?" he asked. "You are not given +to Mrs. Tuggar's style of 'solemn joy'?" + +"What a perplexing mystery life is after all!" she replied, absently. +"I really think poor old Daddy Tuggar speaks truly. He is a +'well-meaning' man, but he and many others remind me of one not having +the slightest ear for music trying to catch a difficult harmony." + +"Why is the harmony so difficult?" asked Gregory, bitterly. + +"Perhaps it were better to ask, Why has humanity so disabled itself?" + +"I do not think it matters much how you put the case. It amounts to the +same thing. Something is required of us beyond our strength. The idea +of punishing that old man for being what he is, when in the first place +he inherited evil from his parents, and then was taught it by precept +and example. I think he deserves more credit than blame." + +"The trouble is, Mr. Gregory, evil carries its own punishment along +with it every day. But I admit that we are surrounded by mystery on +every side. Humanity, left to itself, is a hopeless problem. But one +thing is certain: we are not responsible for questions beyond our ken. +Moreover, many things that were complete mysteries to me as a child are +now plain, and I ever hope to be taught something new every day. You +and I at least have much to be grateful for in the fact that we neither +inherited evil nor were taught it in any such degree as our poor +neighbor." + +"And you quietly prove, Miss Walton, by your last remark, that I am +much more worthy of blame than your poor old neighbor." + +"Then I said more than I meant," she answered, eagerly. "It is not for +me to judge or condemn any one. The thought in my mind was how favored +we have been in our parentage--our start in existence, as it were." + +"But suppose one loses that vantage-ground?" + +"I do not wish to suppose anything of the kind." + +"But one can lose it utterly." + +"I fear some can and do. But why dwell on a subject so unutterably sad +and painful? You have not lost it, and, as I said before to-day, I will +not dwell upon the disagreeable any more than I can help." + +"Your opinion of me is poor enough already, Miss Walton, so I, too, +will drop the subject." + +They had now reached the house, and did ample justice to the supper +awaiting them. + +Between meals people can be very sentimental, morbid, and tragical. +They can stare at life's deep mysteries and shudder or scoff, sigh or +rejoice, according to their moral conditions. They can even grow cold +with dread, as did Gregory, realizing that he had "lost his +vantage-ground," his good start in the endless career. "She is steering +across unknown seas to a peaceful, happy shore. I am drifting on those +same mysterious waters I know not whither," he thought. But a few +minutes after entering the cheerfully lighted dining-room he was giving +his whole soul to muffins. + +These homely and ever-recurring duties and pleasures of life have no +doubt saved multitudes from madness. It would almost seem that they +have also been the innocent cause of the destruction of many. There are +times when the mind is almost evenly balanced between good and evil. +Some powerful appeal or startling providence has aroused the sleeping +spirit, or some vivifying truth has pierced the armor of indifference +or prejudice, and quivered like an arrow in the soul, and the man +remembers that he is a man, and not a brute that perishes. But just +then the dinner-bell sounds. After the several courses, any physician +can predict how the powers of that human organization must of necessity +be employed the next few hours, and the partially awakened soul is like +one who starts out of a doze and sleeps again. If the spiritual nature +had only become sufficiently aroused to realize the situation, _life_ +might have been secured. Thought and feeling in some emergencies will +do more than the grandest pulpit eloquence quenched by a Sunday dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISS WALTON'S DREAM + + + +The hickory fire burned cheerily in the parlor after tea, and all drew +gladly around its welcome blaze. But even the delights of roasting +chestnuts from the abundant spoils of the afternoon could not keep the +heads of the children from drooping early. + +Gregory was greatly fatigued, and soon went to his room also. + +Sabbath morning dawned dim and uncertain, and by the time they had +gathered at the breakfast-table, a northeast rain-storm had set in with +a driving gale. + +"I suppose you will go to church 'in sperit' this morning, as Mr. +Tuggar would say," said Gregory, addressing Annie. + +"If I were on the sick list I should, but I have no such excuse." + +"You seriously do not mean to ride two miles in such a storm as this?" + +"No, not seriously, but very cheerfully and gladly." + +"I do not think it is required of you, Miss Walton. Even your Bible +states, 'I will have mercy and not sacrifice.'" + +"The 'sacrifice' in my case would be in staying at home. I like to be +out in a storm, and have plenty of warm blood to resist its chilling +effects. But even were it otherwise, what hardship is there in my +wrapping myself up in a waterproof and riding a few miles to a +comfortable church? I shall come back with a grand appetite and a +double zest for the wood fire." + +"But it is not fair on the poor horses. They have no waterproofs or +wood fires." + +"I think I am not indifferent to the comfort of dumb animals, and +though I drive a good deal, father can tell you I am not a 'whip.' Of +all shams the most transparent is this tenderness for one's self and +the horses on Sunday. I am often out in stormy weather during the week, +and meet plenty of people on the road. The farmers drive to the village +on rainy days because they can neither plow, sow, nor reap. But on even +a cloudy Sabbath, with the faintest prospect of rain, there is but one +text in the Bible for them: 'A righteous man regardeth the life of his +beast.' People attend parties, the opera, and places of amusement no +matter how bad the night. It is a miserable pretence to say that the +weather keeps the majority at home from church. It is only an excuse. I +should have a great deal more respect for them if they would say +frankly, 'We would rather sleep, read a novel, dawdle around _en +deshabille_, and gossip.' Half the time when they say it's too stormy +to venture out (oh, the heroism of our Christian age!), they should go +and thank God for the rain that is providing food for them and theirs. + +"And granting that our Christian duties do involve some risk and +hardship, does not the Bible ever speak of life as a warfare, a +struggle, an agonizing for success? Do not armies often fight and march +in the rain, and dumb beasts share their exposure? There is more at +stake in this battle. In ancient times God commanded the bloody +sacrifice of innumerable animals for the sake of moral and religious +effect. Moral and religious effect is worth just as much now. Nothing +can excuse wanton cruelty; but the soldier who spurs his horse against +the enemy, and the sentinel who keeps his out in a winter storm, are +not cruel. But many farmers about here will overwork and underfeed all +the week, and on Sunday talk about being 'merciful to their beasts.' +There won't be over twenty-five out to-day, and the Christian heroes, +the sturdy yeomanry of the church, will be dozing and grumbling in +chimney-corners. The languid half-heartedness of the church discourages +me more than all the evil in the world." + +Miss Walton stated her views in a quiet undertone of indignation, and +not so much in answer to Gregory as in protest against a style of +action utterly repugnant to her earnest, whole-souled nature. As he saw +the young girl's face light up with the will and purpose to be loyal to +a noble cause, his own aimless, self-pleasing life seemed petty and +contemptible indeed, and again he had that painful sense of humiliation +which Miss Walton unwittingly caused him; but, as was often his way, he +laughed the matter off by saying, "There is no need of my going to-day, +for I have had my sermon, and a better one than you will hear. Still, +such is the effect of your homily that I am inclined to ask you to take +me with you." + +Annie's manner changed instantly, and she smilingly answered, "You will +find an arm-chair before a blazing fire in your room upstairs, and an +arm-chair before a blazing fire in the parlor, and you can vacillate +between them at your pleasure." + +"As a vacillating man should, perhaps you might add." + +"I add nothing of the kind." + +"Will you never let me go to church with you again?" + +"Certainly, after what you said, any pleasant day." + +"Why can't I have the privilege of being a martyr as well as yourself?" + +"I am not a martyr. I would far rather go out to-day than stay at home." + +"It will be very lonely without you." + +"Oh, you are the martyr then, after all. I hope you will have +sufficient fortitude to endure, and doze comfortably during the two +hours of my absence." + +"Now you are satirical on Sunday, Miss Walton. Let that burden your +conscience. I'm going to ask your father if I may go." + +"Of course you will act at your pleasure," said Mr. Walton, "but I +think, in your present state of health, Annie has suggested the wiser +and safer thing to do." + +"I should probably be ill on your hands if I went, so I submit; but I +wish you to take note, Miss Walton, that I have the 'sperit to go.'" + +The arm-chairs were cosey and comfortable, and the hickory wood turned, +as is its wont, into glowing and fragrant coals, but the house grew +chill and empty the moment that Annie left. Though Mr. Walton and Miss +Eulie accompanied her, their absence was rather welcome, but he felt +sure that Annie could have beguiled the heavy-footed hours. + +"She has some unexplained power of making me forget my miserable self," +he muttered. + +And yet, left to himself, he had now nothing to do but think, and a +fearful time he had of it, lowering at the fire, in the arm-chair, from +which he scarcely stirred. + +"I have lost my vantage-ground," he groaned--"lost it utterly. I am not +even a 'well-meaning man.' I purpose evil against this freshest, purest +spirit I have ever known since in this house I looked into my mother's +eyes. I am worse than the wild Arab of the desert. I have eaten salt +with them; I have partaken of their generous hospitality, given so +cordially for the sake of one that is dead, and in return have wounded +their most sacred feelings, and now propose to prove the daughter a +creature that I can go away and despise. Instead of being glad that +there is one in the world noble and good, even though by +accident--instead of noting with pleasure that every sweet flower has +not become a weed--I wish to drag her down to my own wretched level, or +else I would have her exhibit sufficient weakness to show that she +would go as far as she was tempted to go. A decent devil could hardly +wish her worse. I would like to see her show the same spirit that +animates Miss Belle St. Glair of New York, or Mrs. Grobb, my former +adored Miss Bently--creatures that I despise as I do myself, and what +more could I say? If I could only cause her to show some of their +characteristics the reproach of her life would pass away, and I should +be confirmed in my belief that humanity's unutterable degradation is +its misfortune, and the blame should rest elsewhere than on us. How +absurd to blame water for running down hill! Give man or woman half a +chance, that is, before habits are fixed, and they plunge faster down +the inclined moral plane. And the plague of it is, this seeming axiom +does not satisfy me. What business has my conscience, with a lash of +scorpion stings, to punish me this and every day that I permit myself +to think? Did I not try for years to be better? Did I not resist the +infernal gravitation? and yet I am falling still. I never did anything +so mean and low before as I am doing now. If it is my nature to do +evil, why should I not do it without compunction? And as I look +downward--there is no looking forward for me--there seems no evil thing +that I could not do if so inclined. Here in this home of my childhood, +this sacred atmosphere that my mother breathed, I would besmirch the +character of one who as yet is pure and good, with a nature like a +white hyacinth in spring. I see the vileness of the act, I loathe it, +and yet it fascinates me, and I have no power to resist. Why should a +stern, condemning voice declare in recesses of my soul, 'You could and +should resist'? For years I have been daily yielding to temptation, and +conscience as often pronounces sentence against me. When will the +hateful farce cease? Multitudes appear to sin without thought or +remorse. Why cannot I? It's my mother's doings, I suppose. A plague +upon the early memories of this place. Will they keep me upon the rack +forever?" + +He rose, strode up and down the parlor, and clenched his hands in +passionate protest against himself, his destiny, and the God who made +him. + +A chillness, resulting partly from dread and partly from the wild storm +raging without, caused him to heap up the hearth with wood. It speedily +leaped into flame, and, covering his face with his hands, he sat +cowering before it. A vain but frequent thought recurred to him with +double power. + +"Oh that I could cease to exist, and lose this miserable consciousness! +Oh that, like this wood, I could be aflame with intense, passionate +life, and then lose identity, memory, and everything that makes _me_, +and pass into other forms. Nay, more, if I had my wish, I would become +nothing here and now." + +The crackling of flames and the rush of wind and rain against the +windows had caused the sound of wheels, and a light step in the room, +to be unheard. + +He was aroused by Miss Walton, who asked, "Mr. Gregory, are you ill?" + +He raised his woe-begone face to hers, and said, almost irritably, +"Yes--no--or at least I am as well as I ever expect to be, and perhaps +better." Then with a sudden impulse he asked, "Does annihilation seem +such a dreadful thing to you?" + +"What! the losing of an eternity of keen enjoyment? Could anything be +more dreadful! Really, Mr. Gregory, brooding here alone has not been +good for you. Why do you not think of pleasant things?" + +"For the same reason that a man with a raging toothache does not have +pleasant sensations," he answered, with a grim smile. + +"I admit the force of your reply, though I do not think the case +exactly parallel. The mind is not as helpless as the body. Still, I +believe it is true that when the body is suffering the mind is apt to +become the prey of all sorts of morbid fancies, and you do look really +ill. I wish I could give you some of my rampant health and spirits +to-day. Facing the October storm has done me good every way, and I am +ravenous for dinner." + +He looked at her enviously as she stood before him, with her +waterproof, still covered with rain-drops, partially thrown back and +revealing the outline of a form which, though not stout, was suggestive +of health and strength. She seemed, with her warm, high color, like a +hardy flower covered with spray. Instead of shrinking feebly and +delicately from the harsher moods of nature, and coming in pinched and +shivering, she had felt the blood in her veins and all the wheels of +life quickened by the gale. + +"Miss Walton," he said, with a glimmer of a smile, "do you know that +you are very different from most young ladies? You and nature evidently +have some deep secrets between you. I half believe you never will grow +old, but are one of the perennials. I am glad you have come home, for +you seem to bring a little of yesterday's sunshine into the dreary +house." + +As they returned to the parlor after dinner, Gregory remarked, "Miss +Walton, what can you do to interest me this afternoon, for I am +devoured with ennui?" + +She turned upon him rather quickly and said, "A young man like you has +no business to be 'devoured with ennui.' Why not engage in some +pursuit, or take up some subject that will interest you and stir your +pulse?" + +With a touch of his old mock gallantry he bowed and said, "In you I see +just the subject, and am delighted to think I'm going to have you all +to myself this rainy afternoon." + +With a half-vexed laugh and somewhat heightened color she answered, "I +imagine you won't have me all to yourself long." + +She had hardly spoken the words before the children bounded in, +exclaiming, "Now, Aunt Annie, for our stories." + +"You see, Mr. Gregory, here are previous and counter-claims already." + +"I wish I knew of some way of successfully disputing them." + +"It would be difficult to find. Well, come, little people, we will go +into the sitting-room and not disturb Mr. Gregory." + +"Now, I protest against that," he said. "You might at least let me be +one of the children." + +"But the trouble is, you won't be one, but will sit by criticising and +laughing at our infantile talk." + +"Now you do me wrong. I will be as good as I can, and if you knew how +long and dreary the day has been you would not refuse." + +She looked at him keenly for a moment, and then said, a little +doubtfully, "Well, I will try for once. Run and get your favorite +Sunday books, children." + +When they were alone he asked, "How can you permit these youngsters to +be such a burden?" + +"They are not a burden," she answered. + +"But a nurse could take care of them and keep them quiet." + +"If their father and mother were living they would not think 'keeping +them quiet' all their duty toward them, nor do I, to whom they were +left as a sacred trust." + +"That awful word 'duty' rules you, Miss Walton, with a rod of iron." + +"Do I seem like a harshly driven slave?" she asked, smilingly. + +"No, and I cannot understand you." + +"That is because your philosophy of life is wrong. You still belong to +that old school who would have it that sun, moon, and stars revolve +around the earth. But here are the books, and if you are to be one of +the children you must do as I bid you--be still and listen." + +It was strange to Gregory how content he was to obey. He was surprised +at his interest in the old Bible stories told in childish language, and +as Annie stopped to explain a point or answer a question, he found +himself listening as did the eager little boy sitting on the floor at +her feet. The hackneyed man of the world could not understand how the +true, simple language of nature, like the little brown blossoms of +lichens, has a beauty of its own. + +At the same time he had a growing consciousness that perhaps there was +something in the reader also which mainly held his interest. It was +pleasant to listen to the low, musical voice. It was pleasant to see +the red lips drop the words so easily yet so distinctly, and chief of +all was the consciousness of a vitalized presence that made the room +seem full when she was in it, and empty when she was absent, though all +others remained. + +He truly shared the children's regret when at last she said, "Now I am +tired, and must go upstairs and rest awhile before supper, after which +we will have some music. You can go into the sitting-room and look at +the pictures till the tea-bell rings. Mr. Gregory, will my excuse to +the children answer for you also?" + +"I suppose it must, though I have no pictures to look at." + +She suddenly appeared to change her mind, and said, briskly, "Come, +sir, what you need is work for others. I have read to you, and you +ought to be willing to read to me. If you please, I will rest in the +arm-chair here instead of in my room." + +"I will take your medicine," he said, eagerly, "without a wry face, +though an indifferent reader, while I think you are a remarkably good +one; and let me tell you it is one of the rarest accomplishments we +find. You shall also choose the book." + +"What unaccountable amiableness!" she replied, laughing. "I fear I +shall reward you by going to sleep." + +"Very well, anything so I am not left alone again. I am wretched +company for myself." + +"Oh, it is not for my sake you are so good, after all!" + +"You think me a selfish wretch, Miss Walton." + +"I think you are like myself, capable of much improvement. But I wish +to rest, and you must not talk, but read. There is the 'Schonberg-Cotta +Family.' I have been over it two or three times, so if I lose the +thread of the story it does not matter." + +He wheeled the arm-chair up to the fire for her, and for a while she +listened with interest; but at last her lids drooped and soon closed, +and her regular breathing showed that she was sleeping. His voice sank +in lower and lower monotone lest his sudden stopping should awaken her, +then he laid down his book and read a different story in the pure young +face turned toward him. + +"It is not beautiful," he thought, "but it is a real, good face. I +should not be attracted toward it in a thronged and brilliant +drawing-room. I might not notice it on Fifth Avenue, but if I were ill +and in deep trouble, it is just such a face as I should like to see +bending over me. Am I not ill and in deep trouble? I have lost my +health and lost my manhood. What worse disasters this side death can I +experience? Be careful, Walter Gregory, you may be breaking the one +clew that can lead you out of the labyrinth. You may be seeking to +palsy the one hand that can help you. Mother believed in a special +Providence. Is it her suggestion that now flashes in my mind that God +in mercy has brought me to this place of sacred memories, and given me +the companionship of this good woman, that the bitter waters of my life +may be sweetened? I do not know from whom else it can come. + +"And yet the infernal fascination of evil! I cannot--I will not give up +my purpose toward her. Vain dreams! Miss Walton or an angel of light +could not reclaim me. My impetus downward is too great. + +"Oh, the rest and peace of that face! Physical rest and a quiet, happy +spirit dwell in every line. She sleeps there like a child, little +dreaming that a demon is watching her. But she says that she is +guarded. Perhaps she is. A strong viewless one with a flaming sword may +stand between her and me. + +"Weak fool! Enough of this. I shall carry out my experiment fully, and +when I have succeeded or failed, I can come to some conclusion on +matters now in doubt. + +"I should like to kiss those red parted lips. I wonder what she would +do if I did?" Annie's brow darkened into a frown. Suddenly she started +up and looked at him, but seemed satisfied from his distance and +motionless aspect. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothing. I had a dream," she said, with a slight flush. + +"Please tell it," he said, though he feared her answer. + +"You will not like it. Besides, it's too absurd." + +"You pique my curiosity. Tell it by all means." + +"Well, then, you mustn't be angry; and remember, I have no faith in +sleeping vagaries. I dreamed that you were transformed into a large +tiger, and came stealthily to bite me." + +He was startled as he recalled his thought at the moment of her +awaking, but had the presence of mind to say, "Let me interpret the +dream." + +"Well." + +"You know, I suppose, that dreams go by contraries. Suppose a true +friend wished to steal a kiss in your unconsciousness." + +"True friends do not steal from us," she replied, laughing. "I don't +know whether it was safe to let you read me to sleep?" + +"It's not wrong to be tempted, is it? One can't help that. As Mr. +Tuggar says, I might have the 'sperit to do it,' and yet remain quietly +in my chair, as I have." + +"You make an admission in your explanation. Well, it was queer," she +added, absently. + +Gregory thought so too, and was annoyed at her unexpected clairvoyant +powers. But he said, as if a little piqued, "If you think me a tiger +you had better not sleep within my reach, or you may find your face +sadly mutilated on awaking." + +"Nonsense," she said. "Mr. Gregory, you are a gentleman. We are talking +like foolish children." + +The tea-bell now rang, and Gregory obeyed its summons in a very +perplexed state. His manner was rather absent during the meal, but +Annie seemed to take pains to be kind and reassuring. The day, so far +from being a restraint, appeared one of habitual cheerfulness, which +even the dreary storm without could not dampen. + +"We shall have a grand sing to-night with the assistance of your voice, +I hope, Mr. Gregory," said Mr. Walton, as they all adjourned to the +parlor. + +"I do not sing by note," he replied. "When I can I will join you, +though I much prefer listening to Miss Walton." + +"Miss Walton prefers nothing of the kind, and we shall sing only what +you know," she said, with a smiling glance at him over her shoulder, as +she was making selections from the music-stand. + +Soon they were all standing round the piano, save Mr. Walton, who sat +near in his arm-chair, his face the picture of placid enjoyment as he +looked on the little group so dear to him. They began with the +children's favorites from the Sabbath-school books, the little boy +dutifully finding the place for his grandfather. Many of them were the +same that Gregory had sung long years before, standing in the same +place, a child like Johnny, and the vivid memories thus recalled made +his voice a little husky occasionally. Annie once gave him a quick look +of sympathy, not curious but appreciative. + +"She seems to know what is passing in my soul," he thought; "I never +knew a woman with such intuitions." + +The combined result of their voices was true home music, in which were +blended the tones of childhood and age. Annie, with her sweet soprano, +led, and gave time and key to them all, very much as by the force and +loveliness of her character she influenced the daily harmony of their +lives. The children, with their imitative faculty, seemed to gather +from her lips how to follow with fair correctness, and they chirped +through the tunes like two intelligent robins. Miss Eulie sang a sweet +though rather faint alto that was like a low minor key in a happy life. +Mr. Walton's melody was rather that of the heart, for his voice was +returning to the weakness of childhood, and his ear was scarcely quick +enough for the rapid changes of the air, and yet, unless "grandpa" +joined with them, all felt that the circle was incomplete. + +Gregory was a foreign element in the little group, almost a stranger to +its personnel, and more estranged from the sacred meanings and feeling +of the hour; yet such was the power of example, so strong were the +sweet home-spells of this Christian family, that to his surprise he +found himself entering with zest into a scene that on the Sabbath +before he would have regarded as an unmitigated bore. The thought +flashed across him, "How some of my club acquaintances would laugh to +see me standing between two children singing Sabbath-school hymns!" + +It was also a sad truth that he could go away from all present +influences to spend the next Sabbath at his club in the ordinary style. + +When the children's hour had passed and they had been tucked away to +peaceful spring-time dreams, though a storm, the precursor of winter, +raged without, Annie returned to the parlor and said, "Now, Mr. +Gregory, we can have some singing more to your taste." + +"I have been one of the children to-day," he replied, "so you must let +me off with them from any further singing myself." + +"If you insist on playing the children's role you must go to bed. I +have some grand old hymns that I've been wishing to try with you." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I am but half a man. At the risk of your contempt +I must say in frankness that my whole physical nature yearns for my +arm-chair. But please do not call my weakness laziness. If you will +sing to me just what you please, according to your mood, I for one will +be grateful." + +"Even a dragon could not resist such an appeal," said Annie, laughing. +She sat down to her piano and soon partially forgot her audience, in an +old Sabbath evening habit, well known to natural musicians, of +expressing her deeper and more sacred feelings in words and notes that +harmonized with them. Gregory sat and listened as the young girl +unwittingly revealed a new element in her nature. + +In her every-day life she appeared to him full of force and power, +practical and resolute. To one of his sporting tastes she suggested a +mettled steed whose high spirit was kept in check by thorough training. +Her conversation was piquant, at times a little brusque, and utterly +devoid of sentimentality. But now her choice of poetic thought and her +tones revealed a wealth of womanly tenderness, and he was compelled to +feel that her religion was not legal and cold, a system of duties, +beliefs, and restraints, but something that seemed to stir the depths +of her soul with mystic longings, and overflow her heart with love. She +was not adoring the Creator, nor paying homage to a king; but, as the +perfume rises from a flower, so her voice and manner seemed the natural +expression of a true, strong affection for God Himself, not afar off, +but known as a near and dear friend. In her sweet tones there was not +the faintest suggestion of the effect or style that a professional +singer would aim at. She thought no more of these than would a thrush +swaying on its spray in the twilight of a June evening. As unaffectedly +as the bird she sang according to the inward promptings of a nature +purified and made lovely by the grace of God. + +No one not utterly given over to evil could have listened unmoved, +still less Gregory, with his sensitive, beauty-loving, though perverted +nature. The spirit of David's harp again breathed its divine peace on +his sin-disquieted soul. The words of old Daddy Tuggar flashed across +him, and he muttered: + +"Yes, she could take even me to heaven, 'if she stayed right by me.'" + +When finally, with heartfelt sincerity, she sang the following simple +words to an air that seemed a part of them, he envied her from the +depths of his soul, and felt that he would readily barter away any +earthly possession and life itself for a like faith: + + Nearer, nearer, ever nearer, + Come I gladly unto Thee; + And the days are growing brighter + With Thy presence nearer me. + + Though a pilgrim, not a stranger; + This Thy land, and I Thine own; + At Thy side, thus free from danger, + Find I paths with flowers strown. + + Voices varied, nature speaking, + Call to me on every side; + Friends and kindred give their greeting, + In Thy sunshine I abide. + + Though my way were flinty, thorny, + Were I sure it led to Thee, + Could I pass one day forlornly, + Home and rest so near to me? + +Then she brought the old family Bible, indicating that after that hour +she was in no mood for commonplace conversation. In the hush that +followed, the good old man reverently read a favorite passage, which +seemed not to consist of cold, printed words, but to be a part of a +loving letter sent by the Divine Father to His absent children. + +As such it was received by all save Gregory. He sat among them as a +stranger and an alien, cut off by his own acts from those ties which +make one household of earth and heaven. But such was the influence of +the evening upon him that he realized as never before his loss and +loneliness. He longed intensely to share in their feelings, and to +appropriate the words of love and promise that Mr. Walton read. + +The prayer that followed was so tender, so full of heart-felt interest +in his guest, that Gregory's feelings were deeply touched. He arose +from his knees, and again shaded his face to hide the traces of his +emotion. + +When at last he looked up, Mr. Walton was quietly reading, and the +ladies had retired. He rose and bade Mr. Walton good-night with a +strong but silent grasp of the hand. + +The thought flashed across him as he went to his room, that after this +evening and the grasp as of friendship he had just given the father, he +could not in the faintest degree meditate evil against the daughter. +But so conscious was he of moral weakness, so self-distrustful in view +of many broken resolutions, that he dared resolve on nothing. He at +last fell into a troubled sleep with the vain, regretful thought, "Oh +that I had not lost my vantage-ground! Oh that I could live my life +over again!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS + + + +In view of her recent stormy mood, Nature seemed full of regretful +relentings on Monday, and, as if to make amends for her harshness, +assumed something of a summer softness. The sun had not the glaring +brightness that dazzles, and the atmosphere, purified by the recent +rain, revealed through its crystal depths objects with unusual +distinctness. + +"It is a splendid day for a mountain ramble," said Annie, with +vivacity, at the breakfast-table. + +"Why don't you take old Dolly and the mountain wagon, and show Mr. +Gregory some of our fine views this afternoon?" asked Mr. Walton. + +"Nothing would please me more," said his daughter, cordially; "that is, +if Mr. Gregory feels equal to the fatigue." + +"I'd be at my last gasp if I refused such an offer," said Gregory, +eagerly. "It would do me good, for I feel much stronger than when I +first came, and Miss Walton's society is the best tonic I know of." + +"Very well," said she, laughing. "You shall take me this afternoon as a +continuation of the tonic treatment under which you say you are +improving." + +"To carry on the medical figure," he replied, "I fear that I am to you +the embodiment of the depletive system." + +"From my feelings this bright morning you have very little effect. I +prescribe for you a quiet forenoon, as our mountain roads will give you +an awful jolting. You, if not your medicine, will be well shaken +to-day." + +"You are my medicine, as I understand it, so I shall take it according +to the old orthodox couplet." + +"No, the mountain is your medicine, and I anticipate no earthquakes." + +"It is settled then," said Mr. Walton, smiling, "that you adopt +Mahomet's compromise and go to the mountain. I will tell Jeff to fit +you out in suitable style." + +Gregory, in excellent spirits, retired to his room for a quiet morning. +The prospect for the afternoon pleased him greatly, and a long +tete-a-tete with Annie among the grand and beautiful solitudes of +nature had for him an attraction that he could scarcely understand. + +"She is just the one for a companion on such an expedition," he said to +himself. "She seems a part of the scenes we shall look upon. The free, +strong mountain spirit breathes in her every word and act. Old Greek +mythology would certainly make her a nymph of the hills." + +After dinner they started, Gregory's interest centring mainly in his +companion, but Annie regarding him as a mere accessory to a sort of +half-holiday in her busy life, and expecting more enjoyment from the +scenery and the exhilarating air than from his best efforts to +entertain her. And yet in this respect she was agreeably disappointed. +Gregory was in a mood that he scarcely understood himself. If Annie had +been somewhat vain and shallow, though possessing many other good +traits, with the practiced skill of a society man he would have made +the most of these weaknesses, amused himself with a piquant flirtation, +and soon have been ready for his departure for New York with a +contemptuous French shrug at the whole affair. But her weaknesses did +not lie in that direction. Her naturally truthful and earnest nature, +deepened and strengthened by Christian principle, from the first had +foiled his unworthy purposes, and disturbed his contemptuous cynicism. +Then as he was compelled to believe in her reality, her truth and +nobleness, all that was in his own nature responsive to these traits +began to assert itself. Even while he clung to it and felt that he had +no power to escape it, the evil of his life grew more hateful to him, +and he condemned himself with increasing bitterness. When good +influences are felt in a man's soul, evil seems to become specially +active. The kingdom of darkness disputes every inch of its ill-gotten +power. Winter passes away in March storms. It is the still cold of +indifference that is nearest akin to death. + +The visit to his old home, and the influence of Annie Walton, were +creating March weather in Walter Gregory's soul. There were a few +genial moods like gleams of early spring sunshine. There were sudden +relentings and passionate longings for better life, as at times gentle, +frost-relaxing showers soften the flinty ground. There were fierce +spiritual conflicts, wild questionings, doubts, fears, and forebodings, +and sometimes despair, as in this gusty month nature often seems +resolving itself back to primeval chaos. But too often his mood was +that of cold hard scepticism, the frost of midwinter. The impetus of +his evil life would evidently be long in spending itself. + +And yet the quiet influence of the hallowed Sabbath evening, and Annie +Walton's hymns of faith and love, could not readily be lost. The +father's prayer still echoed in his soul, and even to him it seemed +that the heavens could not be deaf to such entreaty. These things +affected him as no direct appeals possibly could. They were like the +gentle but irresistible south wind. + +He was now simply drifting. He had not definitely abandoned his purpose +of tempting Annie, nor did he consciously thrust it from him. Quite +convinced that she was what she seemed, and doubting greatly whether +during his brief visit there would be time to affect her mind seriously +by any evil influences he could bring to bear, and won unwittingly by +her pure spirit to better things himself, he let the new and unexpected +influence have full play. + +He was like a man who finds himself in the current above Niagara, and +gives up in despair, allowing his boat to glide onward to the fatal +plunge. A breeze springs up and blows against the current. He spreads a +sail and finds his downward progress checked. If the wind increases and +blows steadily, he may stem the rushing tide and reach smooth, safe +waters. + +A faint glimmering of hope began to dawn in his heart. An unexpected +gale from heaven, blowing against the current of evil, made it seem +possible that he too might gain the still waters of a peaceful faith. +But the hope dwelt in his mind more as a passing thought, a +possibility, than an expectation. + +In his wavering state the turn of the scales would depend mainly upon +the mood of his companion. If she had been trifling and inclined to +flirt, full of frivolous nonsense, bent upon having a good time in the +frequent acceptation of the phrase, little recking the consequences of +words or acts, as is often the case with girls in the main good-hearted +and well-meaning, Gregory would have fallen in with such a mood and +pushed it to the extreme. + +But Annie was simply herself, bright and exhilarating as the October +sunshine, but as pure and strong. She was ready for jest and repartee. +She showed almost a childish delight in every odd and pretty thing that +met her eye, but never for a moment permitted her companion to lose +respect for her. + +Her cheeks were like the crimson maple-leaves which overhung them. Her +eyes were like the dark sparkle of the little brook as it emerged from +the causeway over which they drove. Her brown hair, tossed by the wind, +escaped somewhat from its restraints and enhanced the whiteness of her +neck, and the thought occurred to Gregory more than once, "If she is +not pretty, I never saw a face more pleasant to look at." + +The wish to gain her esteem and friendship grew stronger every moment, +and he exerted himself to the utmost to please her. Abandoning utterly +his gallantry, his morbid cynicism, he came out into the honest +sunlight of truth, where Annie's mind dwelt, and directed the +conversation to subjects concerning which, as an educated and travelled +man, he could speak frankly and intelligently. Annie had strong social +tastes and the fondness for companionship natural to the young, and she +was surprised to find how he stimulated and interested her mind, and +how much they had in common. He appeared to understand her immediately, +and to lead her thoughts to new and exciting flights. + +It was their purpose to cross a spur of the main mountain range. After +a long and toilsome climb, stopping to give Dolly many a breathing +spell, they at last reached the brow of the wooded height, and turned +to look at the autumn landscape glimmering in the bright October +sunshine. It is impossible by either pen or brush to give a true +picture of wide reaches of broken and beautiful country, as seen from +some of the more favored points of outlook among the Highlands on the +Hudson. The loveliness of a pretty bit of scenery or of a landscape may +be enhanced by art, but the impressive grandeur of nature, when the +feature of vast and varied expanse predominates, cannot be adequately +expressed. The mind itself is oppressed by the extensiveness of the +scene, and tends to select some definite object, as a village, hamlet, +or tree-embowered farmhouse, on which to dwell. These accord more with +the finite nature of the beholder. Spires and curling wreaths of smoke +suggested to Annie and Gregory many a simple altar and quiet hearth, +around which gathered the homely, contented life, spiritual and +domestic, of those who occupied their own little niche in the great +world, and were all unburdened with thought or care for the indefinite +regions that stretched away beyond their narrow circle of daily +acquaintance. Only God can give to the whole of His creation the +all-seeing gaze that we bestow upon some familiar scene. His glance +around the globe is like that of a mother around her nursery, with her +little children grouped at her feet. + +The laden orchards, with men climbing long ladders, and boys in the +topmost branches looking in the distance like huge squirrels, were +pleasant objects to the mountain ramblers. Huskers could be discerned +in the nearer cornfields, and the great yellow ears glistened +momentarily in the light, as they were tossed into golden heaps. There +was no hum of industry as from a manufacturing village, or roar of +turbulent life as from a city, but only the quiet evidence to the eye +of a life kindred to that which nature so silently and beautifully +elaborates. + +"How insignificant we are!" said Gregory, gloomily; "how the great +world goes right on without us! It is the same when one dies and leaves +it, as we left it by climbing this mountain. In the main we are unknown +and uncared for, and even to those who know us it is soon the same as +if we had never been." + +"But the world cannot go on without God. Though forgotten, He never +forgets! His friends need never have the sense of being lost or +lonely--any more than a child travelling with his father in a foreign +land among indifferent strangers. God does not look at us, His +creatures, as we do at the foliage of these forests, seeing only the +general effect. He sees each one as directly as I now look at you." + +"I wish I could believe He looked as kindly." + +"I wish you could, Mr. Gregory. It is sad to me that people can't +believe what is so true. The fondest look your mother ever gave you was +cold compared with the yearning, loving face God turns toward every one +of us, even as we go away from Him." + +He looked at her earnestly for a moment and saw that sincerity was +written on her face. He shook his head sadly, and then said, rather +abruptly, "Those lengthening shadows remind us that we must be on our +way"; and then their thoughts dwelt on lighter subjects as they +ascended another lofty mountain terrace, and paused again to scan the +wider prospect that made the sense of daily life in the valleys below +as remote as the world seems to the hermit in his devotional seclusion. +Then they began to descend the sloping plateau which inclined toward +the brow of the hill overlooking the region of the Walton residence. + +After one or two hours of broken but very agreeable conversation Annie +suddenly sighed deeply. + +"Now, Miss Walton," said Gregory, "that sigh came from the depths. What +hidden sorrow could have caused it?" + +With a slight flush and laugh, she said, "It was caused by a mere +passing thought, like that cloud there sailing over the mountain slope." + +"Your simile is so pretty that I should like to know the thought." + +"I hardly know whether to tell it to you. It might have the same effect +as if that cloud should expand and cover the sky." + +"Might not the telling also have the same effect as if the cloud were +dissipated altogether?" + +She looked at him quickly and said, "How apt your answer is! Yes, it +might if you would be sensible. I do not know you so very well yet. Are +you not a little ready to take offence?" + +"You do not look as if about to say anything I should resent very +deeply. But I promise that the cloud shall vanish." + +"I am not so sure about that. The cloud represents my thought; and yet +I hope it may eventually vanish utterly. The thought occurred to me +after the pleasant hours of this afternoon what congenial friends we +_might_ be." + +"And that caused you to sigh so deeply?" + +"I laid emphasis on the word _might_." + +"And why should you, Miss Annie? Why need you?" he asked, eagerly. + +"You have shown a great deal of tact and consideration this afternoon, +Mr. Gregory, in choosing topics on which we could agree, or about which +it is as nice to differ a little. I wish it were the same in regard to +those things that make up one's life, as it were;" and she looked at +him closely to see how he would take this. + +After a moment he said, a little bitterly, "In order to be your friend, +must one look at everything through the same colored glass that you +employ?" + +"Oh, no," she replied, earnestly; "it is not fair to say that. But you +seem almost hostile to all that I love best and think most of, and my +sigh was rather an earnest and oft-recurring wish that it were +otherwise." + +Again he was silent for a short time, then said, with sudden vehemence, +"And I also wish it were otherwise"; adding more quietly, "but it is +not, Miss Walton. You know me too well, even if I wished to deceive +you. And yet I would give a great deal for such a friendship as you +could bestow. Why can you not give it as it is? The Founder of your +faith was a friend of publicans and sinners." + +"He was indeed their friend, and has been ever since," she answered. +"But was it not natural that He found more that was attractive and +congenial in that little group of disciples who were learning to know +and believe in Him?" + +"I understand you, Miss Walton. I was unfortunate in my illustration, +and you have turned it against me. You can be my friend, as the +missionary is the friend of the heathen." + +"You go to extremes, Mr. Gregory, and are hardly fair. I am not a +missionary, nor are you a heathen. I make my meaning clear when I echo +your thought of a moment ago, and wish that just such a friendship +might exist between us as that between your father and mine." + +"I am what I am," he said, with genuine sadness. + +"I wish you had my faith in the possibilities of the future," she +replied, turning brightly toward him. + +But he shook his head, saying, "I have about lost all faith in +everything as far as I am concerned. Still I feel that if any one could +do me any good, you might, but I fear it is a hopeless task." Then he +changed the subject in such a way as to show that it was painful, and +that he preferred it should be dropped. + +After all, the cloud had overcast the sky. The inevitable separation +between those guided by divine principles and those controlled by +earthly influences began to dawn upon him. He caught a glimpse of the +"great gulf," that is ever "fixed" between the good and evil in their +deepest consciousness. The "loneliness of guilt" chilled and oppressed +him, even with the cheery, sympathetic companion at his side. But he +hid his feelings under a forced gayety, in which Annie joined somewhat, +though it gave her a vague shiver of pain. She felt they had been _en +rapport_ for a little while, but now a change had come, even as the +damp and chill of approaching night were taking the place of genial +sunshine. + +Suddenly she said, as they were riding along on the comparatively level +plateau among thick copse-wood and overshadowing trees that already +created a premature twilight, "It is strange we do not come out on the +brow of the mountain overlooking our home. This road does not seem +familiar either, though it is two or three years since I have been over +it, and then Jeff drove. I thought I knew the way well. Can it be +possible we have taken the wrong turning?" + +"I ought to be familiar with these roads, Miss Walton, but I am sorry +to say I too am confused. I hunted over these hills to some extent when +a boy, but did not pay much heed to the roads, as I took my own courses +through the woods." + +"I think I must be right," said Annie, after a little time; "the brow +of the hill must be near;" and they hastened the old horse along as +fast as possible under the circumstances. But the road continually grew +rougher and gave evidence of very little travel, and the evening +deepened rapidly. At last they resolved to turn round at the first +place that would permit of it, but this was not readily found, there +being only a single wheel-track, which now stretched away before them +like a narrow cut between banks of foliage, that looked solid in the +increasing darkness; the road also was full of rocks, loose stones, and +deep ruts, over which the wagon jolted painfully. With a less +sure-footed horse than Dolly they would soon have come to grief. +Gregory was becoming greatly fatigued, though he strove to hide it, and +both were filled with genuine uneasiness at the prospect before them. +To make matters seemingly desperate, as they were descending a little +hill a fore-wheel caught between two stones and was wrenched sharply +off. Quick, agile Annie sprang as she felt the wagon giving, but Walter +was thrown out among the brushwood by the roadside. Though scratched +and bruised, he was not seriously hurt, and as quickly as possible came +to the assistance of his companion. He found her standing by Dolly's +head, holding and soothing the startled beast. Apparently she was +unhurt. They looked searchingly at the dusky forest, their broken +vehicle, and then at each other. Words were unnecessary to explain the +awkwardness of their situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"PROMISE OR DIE" + + + +While they were thus standing irresolute after the accident, suddenly a +light glimmered upon them. It appeared to come from a house standing a +little off from the road. "Shall I leave you here and go for +assistance?" asked Walter. + +"I think I would rather go with you. Dolly will stand, and I do not +wish to be left alone." + +They soon found a grassy path leading to a small house, from which the +light shone but faintly through closely curtained windows. They met no +one, nor were their footsteps heard till they knocked at the door. A +gruff voice said, "Come in," and a huge bull-dog started up from near +the fire with a savage growl. + +They entered. A middle-aged man with his coat off sat at work with his +back toward them. He rose hastily and stared at them with a strangely +blended look of consternation and anger. + +"Call off your dog," said Gregory, sharply. + +"Down, Bull," said the man, harshly, and the dog slunk growling into a +corner, but with a watchful, ugly gleam in his eyes. + +The man's expression was quite as sinister and threatening. + +"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, sternly. + +"We want help," said Gregory, with a quickened and apprehensive glance +around, which at once revealed to him why their visit was so unwelcome. +The man had been counterfeiting money, and the evidences of his guilt +were only too apparent. "We have lost our way, and our wagon is broken. +I hope you have sufficient humanity to act the part of a neighbor." + +"Humanity to the devil!" said the man, brutally, "I am neighbor to no +one. You have come here to pry into what is none of your business." + +"We have not," said Gregory, eagerly. "You will find our broken wagon +in the road but a little way from here." + +The man's eye was cold, hard, and now had a snake-like glitter as he +looked at them askance with a gloomy scowl. He seemed thinking over the +situation in which he found himself. + +Gregory, in his weak, exhausted state, and shaken somewhat by his fall, +was nervous and apprehensive. Annie, though pale, stood firmly and +quietly by. + +Slowly and hesitatingly, as if deliberating as to the best course, the +man reached up to the shelf and took down a revolver, saying, with an +evil-boding look at them, "If I thought you had come as detectives, you +would have no chance to use your knowledge. You, sir, I do not know, +but I think this lady is Squire Walton's daughter. As it is, you must +both solemnly promise me before God that you will never reveal what you +have seen here. Otherwise I have but one method of self-protection," +and he cocked his pistol. "Let me tell you," he added, in a +blood-curdling tone, "you are not the first ones I have silenced. And +mark this--if you go away and break this promise, I have confederates +who will take vengeance on you and yours." + +"No need of any further threats," said Gregory, with a shrug. "I +promise. As you say, it is none of my business how much of the 'queer' +you make." + +Though naturally not a coward, Gregory, in his habit of self-pleasing +and of shunning all sources of annoyance, would not have gone out of +his way under any circumstances to bring a criminal to justice, and the +thought of risking anything in this case did not occur to him. Why +should they peril their lives for the good of the commonwealth? If he +had been alone and escaped without further trouble, he would have +thought of the matter afterward as of a crime recorded in the morning +paper, with which he had no concern, except perhaps to scrutinize more +sharply the currency he received. + +But with conscientious Annie it was very different. Her father was a +magistrate of the right kind, who sincerely sought to do justice and +protect the people in their rights. From almost daily conversation her +mind had been impressed with the sacredness of the law. When she was +inclined to induce her father to give a lighter sentence than he +believed right he had explained how the well-being and indeed the very +existence of society depended upon the righteous enforcement of the +law, and how true mercy lay in such enforcement. She had been made to +feel that the responsibility for good order and morals rested on every +one, and that to conceal a known crime was to share deeply in the +guilt. She also was not skilled in that casuistry which would enable +her to promise anything with mental reservations. The shock of their +savage and threatening reception had been severe, but she was not at +all inclined to be hysterical; and though her heart seemed to stand +still with a chill of dread which deepened every moment as she realized +what would be exacted of her, she seemed more self-possessed than +Gregory. Indeed, in the sudden and awful emergencies of life, woman's +fortitude is often superior to man's, and Annie's faith was no decorous +and conventional profession for Sabbath uses, but a constant and living +reality. She was like the maidens of martyr days, who tremblingly but +unhesitatingly died for conscience' sake. While there was no wavering +of purpose, there was an agony of fear and sorrow, as, after the +momentary confusion of mind caused by the suddenness of the occurrence, +the terrible nature of the ordeal before her became evident. + +Through her father she had heard a vague rumor of this man before. +Though he lived so secluded and was so reticent, his somewhat +mysterious movements had awakened suspicion. But his fierce dog and his +own manner had kept all obtrusive curiosity at a distance. Now she saw +her father's worst fears and surmises realized. + +But the counterfeiter at first gave all his attention to her companion, +thinking that he would have little trouble with a timid girl; and after +Gregory's ready promise, looked searchingly at him for a moment, and +then said, with a coarse, scornful laugh, "No fear of you. You will +keep your skin whole. You are a city chap, and know enough of me and my +tribe to be sure I can strike you there as well as here. I can trust to +your fears, and don't wish to shed blood when it is unnecessary. And +now this girl must make the same promise. Her father is a magistrate, +and I intend to have no posse of men up here after me to-morrow." + +"I can make no such promise," said Annie, in a low tone. + +"What?" exclaimed the man, harshly, and a savage growl from the dog +made a kindred echo to his tone. + +Deathly pale, but with firm bearing, Annie said, "I cannot promise to +shield crime by silence. I should be a partaker in your guilty secrets." + +"Oh, for God's sake, promise!" cried Gregory, in an agony of fear, but +in justice it must be said that it was more for her than for himself. + +"For God's sake I cannot promise." + +The man stepped menacingly toward her, and the great dog also advanced +unchecked out of his corner. + +"Young woman," he hissed in her ear, "you must promise or die. I have +sworn never to go to prison again if I wade knee-deep in blood." + +There came a rush of tears to Annie's eyes. Her bosom heaved +convulsively a moment, and then she said, in a tone of agony, "It is +dreadful to die in such a way, but I cannot make the promise you ask. +It would burden my conscience and blight my life. I will trust to God's +mercy and do right. But think twice before you shed my innocent blood." + +Gregory covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud. + +The man hesitated. He had evidently hoped by his threats to frighten +her into compliance, and her unexpected refusal, while it half frenzied +him with fear and anger, made his course difficult to determine upon. +He was not quite hardened enough to slay the defenceless girl as she +stood so bravely before him, and the killing of her would also involve +the putting of Gregory out of the way, making a double murder that +would be hard to conceal. He looked at the dog, and the thought +occurred that by turning them out of doors and leaving them to the +brute's tender mercies their silence might be effectually secured. + +It is hard to say what he would have done, left to his own fears and +evil passions; but a moment after Annie had spoken, the doors opened +and a woman entered with a pail of water, which she had just brought +from a spring at some little distance from the house. + +"What does this mean?" she asked, with a quick, startled glance around. + +"It means mischief to all concerned," said the man, sullenly. + +"This is Miss Walton," said the woman, advancing. + +"Yes," exclaimed Annie, and she rushed forward and sobbed out, "save me +from your husband; he threatened to take my life." + +"'My husband!'" said the woman, with intense bitterness, turning toward +the man. "Do you hear that, Vight? Quiet your fears, young lady. Do you +remember the sick, weary woman that you found one hot day last summer +by the roadside? I was faint, and it seemed to me that I was dying. I +often wish to, but when it comes to the point and I look over into the +black gulf, I'm afraid--" + +"But, woman--" interrupted the man, harshly. + +"Be still," she said, imperiously waving her hand. + +"Don't rouse a devil you can't control." Then turning to Annie, she +continued, "I was afraid then; I was in an agony of terror. I was so +weak that I could scarcely do more than look appealingly to you and +stretch out my hands. Most ladies would have said, 'She's drunk,' and +passed contemptuously on. But you got out of your wagon and took my +cold hand. I whispered, 'I'm sick; for God's sake help me.' And you +believed me and said, 'I will help you, for God's sake and your own.' +Then you went to the carriage, and got some cordial which you said was +for another sick person, and gave me some; and when I revived, you half +carried me and half lifted me into your nice covered little wagon, that +kept the burning sun off my head, and you took me miles out of your way +to a little house which I falsely told you was my home. I heard that +you afterward came to see me. You spoke kindly. When I could speak I +said that I was not fit for you to touch, and you answered that Jesus +Christ was glad to help touch any human creature, and that you were not +better than He! Then you told me a little about Him, but I was too sick +to listen much. God knows I've got down about as low as any woman can. +I dare not pray for myself, but since that day I've prayed for you. And +mark what I say, Vight," she added, her sad, weird manner changing to +sudden fierceness, "not a hair of this lady's head shall be hurt." + +"But these two will go and blab on us," said the man, angrily. "At +least the girl will. She won't promise to keep her secret. I have no +fears for the man; I can keep him quiet." + +"Why won't you promise?" asked the woman, gently, but with surprise. + +"Because I cannot," said Annie, earnestly, though her voice was still +broken by sobs. "When we hide crime, we take part in it." + +"And would you rather die than do what you thought wrong?" + +"It were better," said Annie. + +"Oh that I had had such a spirit in the fatal past!" groaned the woman. + +"But won't you protect me still?" exclaimed Annie, seizing her hand. +"It would kill my poor old father too, if I should die. I cannot burden +my soul with your secrets, but save me--oh, save me, from so dreadful a +death!" + +"I have said it, Miss Walton. Not a hair of your head shall be hurt." + +"What do you advise then, madam?" asked the man, satirically. "Shall we +invite Mr. Walton and the sheriff up to-morrow to take a look at the +room as it now stands?" + +"I advise nothing," said the woman, harshly. "I only say, in a way you +understand, not a hair of this girl's head shall be hurt." + +"Thank God, oh, thank God," murmured Annie, with a feeling of +confidence and inexpressible relief, for there was that in the woman's +bearing and tone which gave evidence of unusual power over her +associate in crime. + +Then Annie added, still clinging to a hand unsanctified by the +significant plain ring, "I hope you will keep my companion safe from +harm also." + +During the scene between Annie and her strange protector, who was +evidently a sad wreck of a beautiful and gifted woman, Gregory had sunk +into a chair through weakness and shame, and covered his face with his +hands. + +The woman turned toward him with instinctive antipathy, and asked, "How +is it, sir, you have left a young girl to meet this danger alone?" + +Gregory's white, drawn face turned scarlet as he answered, "Because I +am like you and this man here, and not like Miss Walton, who is an +angel of truth and goodness." + +"'Like _us_,' indeed!" said she, disdainfully. "I don't know that you +have proved us _cowards_ yet. And could you be bad and mean enough to +see this brave maiden slain before your eyes, and go away in silence to +save your own miserable self?" + +"For aught I know I could," answered he, savagely. "I would like to see +what mean, horrible, loathsome thing, this hateful, hated thing I call +myself could not do." + +Gregory showed, in a way fearful to witness, what intense hostility and +loathing a spirit naturally noble can feel toward itself when action +and conscience are at war. + +"Ah," said the woman, bitterly, "now you speak a language I know well. +Why should I fear the judgment-day?" she added, with a gloomy light in +her eyes, as if communing with herself. "Nothing worse can be said of +me than I will say now. But," she sneered, turning sharply to Gregory, +"I do not think I have fallen so low as you." + +"Probably not," he replied, with a grim laugh, and a significant shrug +which he had learned abroad. "I will not dispute my bad pre-eminence. +Come, Vight, or whatever your name is," he continued, rising, "make up +your mind quickly what you are going to do. I am a weak man, morally +and physically. If you intend to shoot me, or let your dog make a meal +of me, let us have it over as soon as possible. Since Miss Walton is +safe, I am as well prepared now as I ever shall be." + +"I entreat you," pleaded Annie, still clinging to the woman, "don't let +any harm come to him." + +"What is the use of touching him?" said the man, gruffly. Then turning +to Gregory he asked, "Do you still promise not to use your knowledge +against me? You might do me more harm in New York than here." + +"I have promised once, and that is enough," said Gregory, irritably. "I +keep my word for good or evil, though you can't know that, and are +fools for trusting me." + +"I'll trust neither of you," said the man, with an oath. "Here, Dencie, +I must talk with you alone. I'm willing to do anything that's +reasonable, but I'm not going to prison again alive, mark" that (with a +still more fearful imprecation). "Don't leave this room or I won't +answer for the consequences," he said, sternly to Gregory and Annie, at +the same time looking significantly at the dog. + +Then he and the woman went into the back room, and there was an earnest +and somewhat angry consultation. + +Gregory sat down and leaned his head on the table in a manner that +showed he had passed beyond despondency and fear into despairing +indifference as to what became of him. He felt that henceforth he must +be simply odious to Miss Walton, that she would only tolerate his +presence as long as it was necessary, veiling her contempt by more +politeness. In his shame and weakness he would almost rather die than +meet her true, honest eyes again. + +Annie had the courage of principle and firm resolve, rather than that +which is natural and physical. The thought of sudden and violent death +appalled her. If her impulsive nature were excited, like that of a +soldier in battle, she could forget danger. If in her bed at home she +were wasting with disease, she would soon submit to the Divine will +with childlike trust. But her whole being shrunk inexpressibly from +violent and unnatural death. Never before did life seem so sweet. Never +before was there so much to live for. She could have been a martyr in +any age and in any horrible form for conscience' sake, but she would +have met her fate tremblingly, shrinkingly, and with intense longings +for life. And yet with all this instinctive dread, her trust in God and +His promises would not fail. But instead of standing calmly erect on +her faith, and confronting destiny, it was her nature, in such terrible +emergencies, to cling in loving and utter dependence, and obey. + +She therefore in no respect shared Gregory's indifference, but was +keenly alive to the situation. + +At first, with her hand upon her heart to still its wild throbbings, +she listened intently, and tried to catch the drift of the fateful +conference within. This being vain, her eyes wandered hurriedly around +the room. Standing thus, she unconsciously completed a strange picture +in that incongruous place, with her dejected companion on one side, and +the great dog, eying her savagely, on the other. Gregory's despairing +attitude impressed her deeply. In a sudden rash of pity she felt that +he was not as cowardly as he had seemed. A woman with difficulty +forgives this sin. His harsh condemnation and evident detestation of +himself impelled her generous nature instinctively to take the part of +his weak and wronged spirit. She had early been taught to pity rather +than to condemn those whom evil is destroying. In all his depravity he +did not repel her, for, though proud, he had no petty, shallow vanity; +and the evident fact that he suffered so deeply disarmed her. + +Moreover, companionship in trouble which she felt was partly her fault, +drew her toward him, and, stepping to his side, she laid her hand on +his shoulder and said, gently, "Cheer up, my friend; I understand you +better than you do yourself. God will bring us safely through." + +He shrunk from her hand, and said, drearily, "With better reason than +younder woman I can say, 'I am not fit for you to touch.' As for God, +He has nothing to do with me." + +She answered, kindly, "I do not think that either of those things is +true. But, Mr. Gregory, what will they do with us? They will not dare--" + +She was interrupted by the entrance of the strangely assorted couple +into whose crime-stained hands they had so unexpectedly fallen. Both +felt that but little trust could be placed in such perverted and +passion-swept natures--that they would be guided by their fears, +impulses, and interests. Annie's main hope was in the hold she had on +the woman's sympathies; but the latter, as she entered, wore a sullen +and disappointed look, as if she had not been given her own way. Annie +at once stepped to her side and again took her hand, as if she were her +best hope of safety. It was evident that her confidence and unshrinking +touch affected the poor creature deeply, and her hand closed over +Annie's in a way that was reassuring. + +"I suppose you would scarcely like to trust yourselves to me or my +dog," said the man, with a grim laugh. "What's more, I've no time to +bother with you. Since my companion here feels she owes you something, +Miss Walton, she can now repay you a hundred-fold. But follow her +directions closely, as you value your lives;" and he left the house +with the dog. Soon after, they heard in the forest what seemed the note +of the whippoorwill repeated three times, but it was so near and +importunate that Annie was startled, and the woman's manner indicated +that she was not listening to a bird. After a few moments she said, +gloomily: "Miss Walton, I promised you should receive no harm, and I +will keep my word. I hoped I could send you directly home to-night, but +that's impossible. I can do much with Vight, but not everything. He has +sworn never to go to prison again alive, and none of our lives would be +worth much if they stood in the way of his escape. We meant to leave +this region before many months, for troublesome stories are getting +around, and now we must go at once. I will take you to a place of +safety, from which you can return home to-morrow. Come." + +"But father will be wild with anxiety," cried Annie, wringing her hands. + +"It is the best I can do," said the woman, sadly. "Come, we have no +time to lose." + +She put on a woollen hood, and taking a long, slender staff, led the +way out into the darkness. + +They felt that there was nothing to do but follow, which they did in +silence. They did not go back toward their broken wagon, but continued +down the wheel-track whereon their accident had occurred. Suddenly the +woman left this, taking a path through the woods, and after proceeding +with difficulty some distance, stopped, and lighted a small lantern she +had carried under her shawl. Even with the aid of this their progress +was painful and precarious in the steeply descending rocky path, which +had so many intricate windings that both Annie and Gregory felt that +they were indeed being led into a _terra incognita_. Annie was consumed +with anxiety as to the issue of their strange adventure, but believed +confidence in her guide to be the wisest course. Gregory was too weary +and indifferent to care for himself, and stumbled on mechanically. + +At last he said, sullenly, "Madam, I can go no further. I may as well +die here as anywhere." + +"You _must_ go," she said, sharply; "for my sake and Miss Walton's, if +not for your own. Besides, it's not much further. What I do to-night +must be done rightly." + +"Well, then, while there is breath left, Miss Walton shall have the +benefit of it." + +"May we not rest a few minutes?" asked Annie. "I too am very tired." + +"Yes, before long at the place where you must pass the night." + +The path soon came out in another wheel-track, which seemed to lead +down a deep ravine. Descending this a little way, they reached an +opening in which was the dusky outline of a small house. + +"Here we part," said their guide, taking Annie's hand, while Gregory +sank exhausted on a rock near. "The old woman and her son who live in +that house will give you shelter, and to-morrow you must find your best +way home. This seems poor return for your kindness, but it's in keeping +with my miserable life, which is as dark and wild as the unknown flinty +path we came. After all, things have turned out far better than they +might have done. Vight was expecting some one, and so had the dog +within doors. He would have torn you to pieces had he been without as +usual." + +"Lead this life no longer. Stay with us, and I will help you to better +things," said Annie, earnestly. + +The look of intense longing on the woman's face as the light of the +flickering lantern fell on it would haunt Annie to her dying day. + +"Oh that I might!" she groaned. "Oh that I might! A more fearful +bondage never cursed a human soul!" + +"And why can you not?" pleaded Annie, putting her hand on the trembling +woman's shoulder. "You have seen better days. You were meant for a good +and noble life. You can't sin unfeelingly. Then why sin at all? Break +these chains, and by and by peace in this life and heaven in the life +to come will reward you." + +The woman sat down by the roadside, and for a moment her whole frame +seemed convulsed with sobs. At last she said, brokenly, "You plead as +my good angel did before it left me--but it's no use--it's too late. I +have indeed seen better days, pure, happy days; and so has he. We once +stood high in the respect of all. But he fell, and I fell in ways I +can't explain. You cannot understand, that as love binds with silken +cords, so crime may bind with iron chains. No more--say no more. You +only torment me," she broke in, harshly, as Annie was about to speak +again. "You cannot understand. How could you? We love, hate, and fear +each other at the same time, and death only can part us. But that may +soon--that may soon;" and she clenched her hands with a dark look. + +"But enough of this. I have too much to do to tire myself this way. You +must go to that house; I cannot. Old Mrs. Tompkins and her son will +give you shelter. I don't wish them to get into trouble. There will be +a close investigation into all this. I know what your father's +disposition is. And now farewell. The only good thing about me is, I +shall still pray for you, the only one who has ever treated me like a +woman since--since--since I fell into hell," she said in a low, hoarse +tone, and printing a passionate kiss on Annie's hand, she blew out her +light, and vanished in the darkness. + +It seemed to swallow her up, and become a type of the mystery and fate +that enshrouded the forlorn creature. Beyond the bare fact that she +took the train the following morning with the man she called "Vight," +Annie never heard of her again. Still there was hope for the wretched +wanderer. However dark and hidden her paths, the eyes of a merciful God +ever followed her, and to that God Annie prayed often in her behalf. + +NOTE--This chapter has some historic basis. The man called "Vight" is +not altogether an imaginary character, for a desperate and successful +counterfeiter dwelt for a time among the mountains on the Hudson, +plying his nefarious trade. It is said that he took life more than once +to escape detection. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN THE DEPTHS + + + +After the departure of their strange guide, who had befriended them as +best she could, Gregory at once went to the house and knocked. There +was a movement within, and a quavering voice asked, "Who's there?" + +"Friends who have lost their way, and need shelter." + +"I don't know about lettin' strangers in this time o' night," answered +the voice. + +"There are only two of us," said Annie. "Perhaps you know who Miss +Walton is. I entreat you to let us in." + +"Miss Walton, Miss Walton, sartin, I know who she is. But I can't +believe she's here." + +"Our wagon broke down this afternoon, and we have lost our way," +explained Gregory. + +Again there was a stir inside, and soon a glimmer of light. After a few +moments the door was opened slightly, and a woman's voice asked, +apprehensively, "Be you sure it's Miss Walton?" + +"Yes," said Annie, "you need have no fears. Hold the light, and see for +yourself." + +This the woman did, and, apparently satisfied, gave them admittance at +once. + +She seemed quite aged, and a few gray locks straggled out from under +her dingy cap, which suggested anything but a halo around her wrinkled, +withered face. A ragged calico wrapper incased her tall, gaunt form, +and altogether she did not make a promising hostess. + +Before she could ask her unexpected guests any further questions, the +cry of a whippoorwill was again heard three times. She listened with a +startled, frightened manner. The sounds were repeated, and she seemed +satisfied: + +"Isn't it rather late in the season for whippoorwills?" asked Annie, +uneasily, for this bird's note, now heard again, seemed like a signal. + +"I dunno nothin' about whippoorwills," said the woman, stolidly. "The +pesky bird kind o' started me at first. Don't like to hear 'em round. +They bring bad luck. I can't do much for you, Miss Walton, in this poor +place. But such as 'tis you're welcome to stay. My son has been off +haulin' wood; guess he won't be back now afore to-morrow." + +"When do you think he will come?" asked Annie, anxiously. + +"Well, not much afore night, I guess." + +"What will my poor father do?" moaned Annie. "He will be out all night +looking for us." + +"Sure now, will he though?" said the woman, showing some traces of +anxiety herself. "Well, miss, you'll have to stay till my son gits +back, for it's a long way round through the valley to your house." + +There was nothing to do but wait patiently till morning. The woman +showed Gregory up into a loft over the one room of the house, saying, +"Here's where my son sleeps. It's the best I can do, though I s'pose +you ain't used to such beds." + +He threw his exhausted form on the wretched couch, and soon found +respite in troubled sleep. + +Annie dozed away the night in a creaky old rocking-chair, the nearest +approach to a thing of comfort that the hovel contained. The old woman +had evidently been so "started" that she needed the sedative of a short +clay pipe, highly colored indeed, still a connoisseur in meerschaums +would scarcely covet it. This she would remove from her mouth now and +then, as she crouched on a low stool in the chimney-corner, to shake +her head ominously. Perhaps she knew more about whippoorwills than she +admitted. At last it seemed that the fumes, which half strangled Annie, +had their wonted effect, and she hobbled to her bed and was soon giving +discordant evidence of her peace. Annie then noiselessly opened a +window, that she too might breathe. + +When Gregory waked next morning, it was broad day. He felt so stiff and +ill he could scarcely move, and with difficulty made his way to the +room below. The old woman was at the stove, frying some sputtering +pork, and its rank odor was most repulsive to the fastidious habitue of +metropolitan clubs. + +"Where is Miss Walton?" he asked, in quick alarm. + +"Only gone to the spring after water," replied the woman, shortly. "Why +didn't you git up and git it for her?" + +"I would if I had known," he muttered, and he escaped from the +intolerable air of the room to the door, where he met Annie, fresh and +rosy from her morning walk and her toilet at the brook that brawled +down the ravine. + +"Mr. Gregory, you are certainly ill," she exclaimed. "I am so sorry it +has all happened!" + +He looked at her wonderingly, and then said, "You appear as if nothing +had happened. I am ill, Miss Walton, and I wish I were dead. You can +not feel toward me half the contempt I have for myself." + +"Now, honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no contempt for you at all." + +He turned away and shook his head dejectedly. + +"But I mean what I say," she continued, earnestly. + +"Then it is your goodness, and not my desert." + +"As I told you last night, so again I sincerely say, I think I +understand you better than you do yourself." + +"You are mistaken," he answered, with gloomy emphasis. "Your intuitions +are quick, I admit. I have never known your equal in that respect. But +there are some things I am glad to think you never can understand. You +can never know what a proud man suffers when he has utterly lost hope +and self-respect. Though I acted so mean a part myself, I can still +appreciate your nobleness, courage, and fidelity to conscience. I +thought such heroism belonged only to the past." + +"Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make you understand me," said Annie, with +real distress in her tone. "I am not brave; I was more afraid than you. +Indeed, I was in an agony of fear. I refused that man's demand because +I was compelled to. If you looked at things as I do, you would have +done the same." + +"Please say no more, Miss Walton," said he, his face distorted by an +expression of intense self-loathing. "Do not try to palliate my course. +I would much rather you would call my cowardly selfishness and lack of +principle by their right names. The best thing I can do for the world +is to get out of it, and from present feelings, this 'good-riddance' +will soon occur. Will you excuse me if I sit down?" and he sank upon +the door-step in utter weakness. + +Annie had placed her pail of water on the door-step and forgotten it in +her wish to cheer and help this bitterly wounded spirit. + +"Mr. Gregory," she said, earnestly, "you are indeed ill in body and +mind, and you take a wrong and morbid view of everything. My heart +aches to show you how complete and perfect a remedy there is for all +this. It almost seems as if you were dying from thirst with that brook +yonder running--" + +"There is no remedy for me," interrupted he, almost harshly. Then he +added in a weary tone, pressing his hand on his throbbing brow, +"Forgive me, Miss Walton; you see what I am. Please waste no more +thought on me." + +"If yer want any breakfast to-day, yer better bring that water," called +the old woman from within. + +Annie gave him a troubled, anxious look, and then silently carried in +the pail. + +"Have you any tea?" she asked, not liking the odor of the coffee. + +"Mighty little," was the short answer. + +"Please let me have some, and I will send you a pound of our best in +its place," said Annie. + +"I hain't such a fool as to lose that bargain," and the old woman +hobbled with alacrity to a cupboard; but to Annie's dismay the hidden +treasure had been hoarded too near the even more prized tobacco, and +seemed redolent of the rank odor of some unsavory preparation of that +remarkable weed which is conjured into so many and such diverse forms. +But she brewed a little as best she could before eating any breakfast +herself, and brought it to Gregory as he still sat on the step, leaning +against the door-post. + +"Please swallow this as medicine," she said. + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I cannot," he replied. + +"Please do," she urged, "as a favor to me. I made it myself; and I +can't eat any breakfast till I have seen you take this." + +He at once complied, though with a wry face. + +"There," said she, with a touch of playfulness, "I have seldom received +a stronger compliment. After this compliance I think I could venture to +ask anything of you." + +"The tea is like myself," he answered. "You brought to it skilled hands +and pure spring water, and yet, from the nature of the thing itself, it +was a villanous compound. Please don't ask me to take any more. Perhaps +you have heard an old saying, 'Like dislikes like.'" + +She determined that he should not yield to this morbid despondency, but +had too much tact to argue with him; therefore she said, kindly, "We +never did agree very well, Mr. Gregory, and don't now. But before many +hours I hope I can give you a cup of tea and something with it more to +your taste. I must admit that I am ready even for this dreadful +breakfast, that threatens to destroy my powers of digestion in one +fatal hour. You see what a poor subject I am for romance;" and she +smilingly turned away to a meal that gave her a glimpse of how the +"other half of the world lives." + +Before she had finished, the sound of wheels and horses' hoofs coming +rapidly up the glen brought her to the door, and with joy she +recognized a near neighbor of her father's, a sturdy, kind-hearted +farmer, who had joined in the search for the missing ones the moment he +learned, in the dawn of that morning, that they had not returned. + +He gave a glad shout as he saw Annie's form in the doorway, and to her +his broad, honest face was like that of an angel. All are beautiful to +those they help. + +"Your father is in a dreadful state, Miss Annie," said Farmer Jones; +"but I told him if he would only stay at home and wait, I, and a few +other neighbors, would soon find you. He was up at the foot of the +mountain ever since twelve o'clock last night. Then he came home to see +if you hadn't returned some other way. I'm usually out as soon as it's +light, so I hailed him as he passed and asked what on earth he was up +for at that time of day. He told me his trouble, so I hitched up my +light wagon and got to your house as soon as he did. When he found you +hadn't come yet, he was for starting right for the mountains, but I saw +he wasn't fit, so I says, 'Mr. Walton, you'll just miss 'em. They've +taken a wrong road, or the wagon has broken down, but they'll be home +before ten o'clock. Now send Jeff up the road you expected them on. +I'll send Mr. Harris, who lives just beyond me, out on the road they +took first. My horse is fast, and I'll go round up this valley, and in +this way we'll soon scour every road;' and so with much coaxing I got +him to promise to stay till I returned. So jump in quick, and I'll have +you home in little over an hour." + +"But we can't leave Mr. Gregory here. Let him go first. He is ill, and +needs attention immediately." + +"Miss Walton, please return at once to your father," said Gregory, +quickly. "It is your duty. I can wait." + +"No, Mr. Gregory, it would not be right to leave you here, feeling as +you do. As soon as father knows I am safe his mind will be at rest. I +am perfectly well, and you have no idea how ill you look." + +"Miss Walton," said Gregory, in a tone that was almost harsh in its +decisiveness, "I will not return now." + +"I am real sorry," said Mr. Jones, "that my wagon is not larger, but I +took the best thing that I had for fast driving over rough roads. Come, +Miss Walton, your friend has settled it, and if he is sick he had +better come more slowly in an easier carriage." + +After cordially thanking the old woman for such rude hospitality as she +had bestowed, and renewing her promise to send ample recompense, she +turned with gentle courtesy to Gregory and assured him that he would +not have long to wait. + +He gave her a quick, searching look, and said, "Miss Walton, I do not +understand how you can speak to me in this way. But go at once. Do not +keep your father in suspense any longer." + +"I hope we shall find you better when we come for you," she said, +kindly. + +"It were better if you found me dead," he said, in sudden harshness, +but it was toward himself, not her. + +So she understood it, and waving her hand encouragingly, was rapidly +driven away. + +As they rode along she related to Mr. Jones the events already known to +the reader, but carefully shielded Gregory from blame. She also +satisfied her companion's evident curiosity about the young man by +stating so frankly all it was proper for him to know that he had no +suspicion of anything concealed. She explained his last and unusual +expression by dwelling with truth on the fact that Gregory appeared +seriously ill and was deeply depressed in spirits. + +Mr. Walton received his daughter with a joy beyond words. She was the +idol of his heart--the one object on earth that almost rivalled his +"treasures in heaven." His mind had dwelt in agonized suspense on a +thousand possibilities of evil during the prolonged hours of her +absence, and now that he clasped her again, and was assured of her +safety, he lifted his eyes heavenward with overflowing gratitude in his +heart. + +But Annie's success in keeping up before him was brief. The strain had +been a little too severe. She soon gave way to nervous prostration and +headache, and was compelled to retire to her room instead of returning +for Gregory as she had intended. But he was promptly sent for, Miss +Eulie going in her place, and taking every appliance possible for his +comfort. + +She found him in Mrs. Tompkins's hovel, sitting in the creaky arm-chair +that Annie had occupied the night before, and enduring with a white, +grim face the increasing suffering of his illness. He seemed to have +reached the depths of despair, and, believing the end near, determined +to meet it with more than Indian stoicism. + +Many, in their suicidal blindness and remorse, pass sentence upon +themselves, and weakly deliver their souls into the keeping of that +inexorable jailer, Despair, forgetting the possibilities--nay, +certainties--of good that ever dwell in God. If man had no better +friend than himself, his prospects would be sombre indeed. Many a one +has condemned himself and sunk into the apathy of death, but He who +came to seek and to save the lost has lifted him with the arms of +forgiving love, and helped him back to the safety and happiness of the +fold. Satan only, _never the Saviour_, bids the sinner despair. But +poor Gregory was taking advice from his enemy and not from his Friend. +During the long hours of pain and almost mortal weakness of that dreary +morning, he acknowledged himself vanquished--utterly defeated in the +battle of life. As old monkish legends teach, the devil might have +carried him off bodily and he would not have resisted. In his +prostrated nature, but one element of strength was apparent--a +perverted pride that rose like a shattered, blackened shaft, the one +prominent relic of seemingly utter ruin. + +At first he coldly declined the cordial and nourishment Miss Eulie +brought, and said, with a quietness that did not comport with the +meaning of his words, that she had better leave him to himself, for he +would not make trouble for any one much longer. + +Miss Eulie was shocked, finding in these words and in his general +appearance proof that he was more seriously ill than she had +anticipated. + +He was indeed; but his malady was rather that of a morbid mind +depressing an enfeebled body than actual disease. But mental distress +could speedily kill a man like Gregory. + +Miss Eulie soon brought him to terms by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you see I +am alone. Mr. Walton was too exhausted to accompany me, and Annie did +not send any of the neighbors, as she thought the presence of strangers +would be irksome to you." + +"She said she would come herself, but she has had time to think and +judge me rightly," muttered he, interrupting her. + +"No, Mr. Gregory," Miss Eulie hastened to say; "you do her wrong. She +was too ill to come, as she intended and wished to do, and so with many +anxious charges sent me in her place. I am but a woman, and dependent +on your courtesy. I cannot compel you to go with me. But I am sure you +will not wrong my brother's hospitality, and make Miss Walton's passing +indisposition serious, by refusing to come with me. If you did she +would rise from her sick bed and come herself." + +Gregory at once rose and said, "I can make no excuse for myself. I seem +fated to do and say the worst things possible under the circumstances." + +"You are ill," said Miss Eulie, kindly, as if that explained everything. + +Declining aid, he tottered to the carriage, into which Jeff, with some +curious surmises, helped him. + +Miss Eulie made good Annie's promises to Mrs. Tompkins fourfold, and +left the shrivelled dame with a large supply of one of the elements of +her heaven--tea, and with the means of purchasing the other--tobacco, +besides more substantial additions to the old woman's meagre larder. + +Gregory was averse to conversation during the long, slow ride. The +jolting, even of the easy cushioned carriage, was exceedingly painful, +and by the time they reached home he was quite exhausted. Leaning on +Mr. Walton's arm he at once went to his room, and at their urgent +entreaties forced himself to take a little of the dainty supper that +was forthcoming. But their kindly solicitude was courteously but coldly +repelled. Acting reluctantly upon his plainly manifested wish, they +soon left him to himself, as after his first eager inquiry concerning +Miss Walton it seemed a source of pain to him to see or speak to any +one. + +At first his arm-chair and the cheery wood-fire formed a pale +reflection of something like comfort, but every bone in his body ached +from the recent cold he had taken. He had just fever enough to increase +the distortion of the images of his morbid and excited mind. Hour after +hour he sat with grim white face and fixed stare, scourging himself +with the triple scorpion-whip of remorse, vain regret, and +self-disgust. But an old and terrible enemy was stealing on him to +change the nature of his torment--neuralgic headache; and before +morning he was walking the floor in agony, a sad type, while the world +slept and nature rested, of that large class, all whose relations, +physical and moral, are a jangling discord. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS + + + +Simple remedies and prolonged rest were sufficient to restore Annie +after the serious shock and strain she had sustained. She rose even +earlier than usual, and hastily dressed that she might resume her +wonted place as mistress of her father's household. In view of her +recent peril and the remediless loss he might have suffered, she was +doubly grateful for the privilege of ministering to his wants and +filling his declining years with cheer and comfort. + +She had not been awake long before Gregory's irregular steps in the +adjoining room aroused her attention and caused anxious surmises. But +she was inclined to think that his restlessness resulted from mental +distress rather than physical. Still she did not pity him less, but +rather more. Though so young, she knew that the "wounded spirit" often +inflicts the keener agony. Her strong womanly nature was deeply moved +in his behalf. As we have seen, it was her disposition to be helpful +and sustaining, rather than clinging and dependent. She had a heart "at +leisure from itself, to soothe and sympathize." From the depths of her +soul she pitied Gregory and wished to help him out of a state which the +psalmist with quaint force describes as "a horrible pit and the miry +clay." + +She was a very practical reformer, and determined that a dainty +breakfast should minister to the outer man before she sought to apply a +subtler balm to the inner. Trusting not even to Zibbie's established +skill, she prepared with her own hands some inviting delicacies, and +soon that which might have tempted the most exacting of epicures was +ready. + +Mr. Walton shared the delight of the children at seeing Annie bustling +round again as the good genius of their home, and Miss Eulie's little +sighs of content were as frequent as the ripples on the shore. Miss +Eulie could sigh and wipe a tear from the corner of her eye in the most +cheerful and hope-inspiring way, for somehow her face shone with an +inward radiance, and, even in the midst of sorrow and when wet with +tears, reminded one of a lantern on a stormy night, which, covered with +rain-drops, still gives light and comfort. + +Breakfast was ready, but Gregory did not appear. Hannah, the waitress, +was sent to his room, and in response to her quiet knock he said, +sharply, "Well?" + +"Breakfast is waiting." + +"I do not wish any," was the answer, in a tone that seemed resentful, +but was only an expression of the intolerable pain he was suffering. +Hannah came down with a scared look and said she "guessed something was +amiss with Mr. Gregory." + +Annie looked significantly at her father, who immediately ascended to +his guest's door. + +"Mr. Gregory, may I come in?" he asked. + +"Do not trouble yourself. I shall be better soon," was the response. + +The door was unlocked, and Mr. Walton entered, and saw at once that a +gentle but strong will must control the sufferer for his own good. +Mental and nervous excitement had driven him close to the line where +reason and his own will wavered in their decisions, and his irregular, +tottering steps became the type of the whole man. His eyes were wild +and bloodshot. A ghastly pallor gave his haggard face the look of +death. A damp dullness pervaded the heavy air of the room, which in his +unrest he had greatly disordered. The fire had died out, and he had not +even tried to kindle it again. His broodings had been so deep and +painful during the earlier part of the night that he had been oblivious +of his surroundings, and then physical anguish became so sharp that all +small elements of discomfort were unnoted. + +With fatherly solicitude Mr. Waiton stepped up to his guest, who stood +staring at him as if he were an intruder, and taking his cold hand, +said, "Mr. Gregory, you must come with me." + +"Where?" + +"To the sitting-room, where we can take care of you and relieve you. +Come, I'm your physician for the time being, and doctors must be +obeyed." + +Gregory had not undressed the night before, and, wrapped in his rich +dressing-gown and with dishevelled hair, he mechanically followed his +host to the room below and was placed on the lounge. + +"Annie has prepared you a nice little breakfast. Won't you let me bring +it to you?" said Mr. Waiton, cheerily. + +"No," said Gregory, abruptly, and pressing his hands upon his throbbing +temples, "the very thought of eating is horrible. Please leave me. +Indeed I cannot endure even your kindly presence." + +Mr. Walton looked perplexed and scarcely knew what to do, but after a +moment said, "Really, Mr. Gregory, you are very ill. I think I had +better send for our physician at once." + +"I insist that you do not," said his guest, starting up. "What could a +stupid country doctor do for me, with his owl-like examination of my +tongue and clammy fingering of my pulse, but drive me mad? I must be +alone." + +"Father," said Annie, in a firm and quiet voice, "I will be both nurse +and physician to Mr. Gregory this morning. If I fail, you may send for +a doctor." + +Unperceived she had entered, and from Gregory's manner and words +understood his condition. + +"Miss Waiton," said Gregory, hastily, "I give you warning. I am not +even the poor weak self you have known before, and I beg you leave me +till this nervous headache passes off, if it ever does. I can't control +myself at such times, and this is the worst attack I ever had. I am low +enough in your esteem. Do not add to my pain by being present now at +the time of my greatest weakness." + +"Mr. Gregory," she replied, "you may speak and act your worst, but you +shall not escape me this morning. It's woman's place to remove pain, +not fly from it. So you must submit with the best grace you can. If +after I have done all in my power you prefer the doctor and another +nurse, I will give way, but now you have no choice." + +Gregory fell back on the sofa with a groan and a muttered oath. At a +sign from his daughter, Mr. Walton reluctantly and doubtfully passed +through the open door into the parlor, where he was joined by Miss +Eulie. + +Annie quietly stepped to the hearth and stirred the fire to a cheerful +blaze. She then went to the parlor and brought the afghan, and without +so much as saying, "by your leave," spread it over his chilled form. + +Gregory felt himself helpless, but there was something soothing in this +assertion of her strong will, and like a sick child he was better the +moment he ceased to chafe and struggle. + +She left the room a few moments, and even between the surges of pain he +was curious as to what she would do next. He soon learned with a thrill +of hope that he was to experience the magnetism of her touch, and to +know the power of the hand that had seemed alive in his grasp on the +day of their chestnutting expedition. Annie returned with a quaint +little bottle of German cologne, and, taking a seat quietly by his +side, began bathing his aching temples. + +"You treat me like a child," he said, petulantly. + +"I hope for a while you will be content to act like one," she replied. + +"I may, like a very bad one." + +"No matter," she said, with a laugh that was the very antidote of +morbidness; "I am accustomed to manage children." + +But in a very brief time he had no disposition to shrink from her touch +or presence. Her hand upon his brow seemed to communicate her own +strong, restful life; his temples throbbed less and less violently. +Silent and wondering he lay very still, conscious that by some subtle +power she was exorcising the demons of pain. His hurried breathing +became regular; his hands unclinched; his form, which had been tense +and rigid, relaxed into a position of comfort. He felt that he was +under some beneficent spell, and for an hour scarcely moved lest he +should break it and his torment return. Annie was equally silent, but +with a smile saw the effects of her ministry. At last she looked into +his face, and said, with an arch smile, "Shall I send for Doctor +Bludgeon and Sairy Gamp to take my place?" + +He was very weak and unstrung, and while a tremulous smile hovered +about his mouth, his eyes so moistened that he turned toward the wall. +After a moment he said, "Miss Walton, I am not worthy of your kindness." + +"Nor are you unworthy. But kindness is not a matter of business--so +much for so much." + +"Why do you waste your time on me?" + +"That is a childish question. What a monster I should be if I +heedlessly left you to suffer! The farmers' wives around would mob me." + +"I am very grateful for the relief you are giving me, even though mere +humanity is the motive." + +"Mere humanity is not my motive. You are our guest, the son of my +father's dearest friend, and for your own sake I am deeply interested +in you." + +"Miss Walton, I know in the depths of your soul you are disgusted with +me. You seek to apply those words to my spirit as you do cologne to my +head." + +"I beg your pardon. It is not the cologne only that relieves your +headache." + +"I know that well. It is your touch, which seems magical." + +"Well then, you should know from my touch that I am not sitting here +telling fibs. If I should bathe your head with a wooden hand, wouldn't +you know it?" + +"What an odd simile! I cannot understand you." "It is not necessary +that you should, but do not wrong me by doubting me again." + +"I have done nothing but wrong you, Miss Walton." + +"I'm not conscious of it, so you needn't worry, and I assure you I find +it a pleasure to do you good." + +"Miss Walton, you are the essence of goodness." + +"Oh, no, no; why say of a creature what is only true of God? Mr. +Gregory, you are very extravagant in your language." + +A scowl darkened his face, and he said, moodily, "God seems to me the +essence of cruelty." + +"'Seems, seems!' An hour since I seemed a torment, and you were driving +me away." + +"Yes, but you soon proved yourself a kind, helpful, pitiful friend. I +once thought my cheek would flame with anger even if I were dying, +should I be regarded as an object of pity. But you, better than any +one, know that I am one." + +"I, better than any one, know that you are not, in the sense you mean." + +"Come, Miss Walton, you cannot be sincere now. Do you think I can ever +forget the miserable scene of Monday evening, when you placed yourself +beside the martyrs and I sank down among the cowards of any age? I +reached the bottom of the only perdition I believe in. I have lost my +self-respect." + +"Which I trust God will help you regain by showing you the only sure +and safe ground on which self-respect can be maintained. Much that is +called self-respect is nothing but pride. But, Mr. Gregory, injustice +to one's self is as wrong as injustice to another. Answer me honestly +this question. Did you act that evening only from fear--because you +have it not in you to face danger? or did you promise secrecy because +you felt the man's crime was none of your business, and supposed I +would take the same view?" + +Gregory started up and looked at her with a face all aglow with honest, +grateful feeling, and said, "God knows the latter is the truth." + +"And I know it too. I knew it then." + +"But the world could never be made to see it in that light." + +"Now pride speaks. Self-respect does not depend upon the opinion of the +world. The world has nothing to do with the matter. You certainly do +not expect I am going to misrepresent you before it." + +He bent a look upon her such as she had never sustained before. It was +the look of a man who had discovered something divine and precious +beyond words. It was a feeling such as might thrill one who was +struggling in darkness, and, as he supposed, sinking in the deep sea, +but whose feet touched something which seemed to sustain him. The +thought, "I can trust her--she is true," came to him at that time with +such a blessed power to inspire hope and give relief that for a moment +he could not speak. Then he began, "Miss Walton, I cannot find words--" + +"Do not find them," she interrupted, laughingly. "See, your temples are +beginning to throb again, and I am a sorry nurse, a true disciple of +Mrs. Gamp, to let you excite yourself. Lie down, sir, at once, and let +your thoughts dwell the next half-hour on your breakfast. You have much +reason for regret that the dainty little tidbits that I first prepared +are spoiled by this time. I doubt whether I can do so well again." + +"I do not wish any breakfast. Please do not leave me yet." + +"It makes no difference what you wish. The idea of an orthodox +physician consulting the wishes of his patient! My practical skill sees +your need of breakfast." + +"Have you had any yourself?" he asked, again starting up, and looking +searchingly at her. + +"Well, I have had a cup of coffee," she replied, coloring a little. + +"What a brute I am!" he groaned. + +"In that charge upon yourself you strongly assert the possession of an +animal nature, and therefore of course the need of a breakfast." + +"May I be choked by the first mouthful if I touch anything before I +know you have had your own." + +"What an awful abjuration! How can you swear so before a lady, Mr. +Gregory?" + +"No, it is a solemn vow." + +"Then I must take my breakfast with you, for with your disposition to +doubt I don't see how you can 'know' anything about it otherwise." + +"That is better than I hoped. I will eat anything you bring on those +conditions, if it does choke me--and I know it will." + +"A fine compliment to my cooking," she retorted and laughingly left the +room. + +Gregory could not believe himself the haggard wretch that Mr. Walton +had found two hours since. Then he was ready to welcome death as a +deliverer. Insane man! As if death ever delivered any from evil but the +good! But so potent had been the sweet wine of Annie's ministry that +his chilled and benumbed heart was beginning to glow with a faint +warmth of hope and comfort. Morbidness could no more exist in her +presence than shadows on the sunny side of trees. With her full +knowledge of the immediate cause of his suffering, and with her unusual +tact, she had applied balm to body and spirit at the same time. The +sharp, cutting agony in his head had been charmed away. The paroxysm +had passed, and the dull ache that remained seemed nothing in +comparison--merely the heavy swell of the departed storm. + +He forgot himself, the source of all his trouble, in thinking about +Miss Walton. The plain girl, as he had at first regarded her, with a +weak, untried character that he had expected to topple over by the +breath of a little flattery, now seemed divinely beautiful and strong. +She reminded him of the graceful, symmetrical elm, which, though +bending to the tempest, is rarely broken or uprooted. + +He hardly hoped that she would give him credit for the real state of +his mind which had led to his ready promise of secrecy. To the +counterfeiter's wretched companion he had seemed the weakest and +meanest of cowards, and if the story were generally known he would +appear in the same light to the world. To his intensely proud nature +this would be intolerable. And why should it not be known? If Miss +Walton chose to regard his choice as one of cowardice, how could he +prove, even to her, that it was not? + +Moreover, his low estimate of human nature led him to believe that even +Annie would use him as a dark background for her heroism; and he well +knew that when such a story is once started, society's strongest +tendency is to exaggerate man's pusillanimity and woman's courage. He +shuddered as he saw himself growing blacker and meaner in every +fireside and street corner narration of the strange tale, till at last +his infamy should pass into one of the traditions of the place. A man +like Gregory could not long have endured such a prospect. He would have +died, either by every physical power speedily giving way under mental +anguish, or by his own hand; or, if he had lived, reason would have +dropped its sceptre and become the sport of wild thoughts and fancies. + +Little wonder that Annie appeared an angel of light when she stood +between him and such a future. The ugliest hag would have been +glorified and loved in the same position. But when she did this with +her own peculiar grace and tact, as a matter of justice, his gratitude +and admiration knew no bounds. He was in a fair way to become an +idolater and worship the country girl he had once sneered at, as no +pictured Madonna was ever revered even in superstitious Italy. Besides +placing him under personal obligation, she had, by tests certain and +terrible, proved herself true and strong in a world that he believed to +be, in the main, utterly false at heart. It is one of our most natural +instincts to trust and lean upon something, and Annie Walton seemed one +whose friendship he could value above life. + +He did not even then realize, in his glad sense of relief, that in +escaping the charge of cowardice he fell upon the other horn of the +dilemma, namely, lack of principle--that the best explanation of his +conduct admitted that he was indifferent to right and wrong, and even +to the most serious crime against society, so long as he was not +personally and immediately injured. He had acted on the selfish creed +that a man is a fool who puts himself to serious trouble to serve the +public. The fact that he did not even dream that Annie would make the +noble stand she did proves how far selfishness can take a man out of +his true course when he throws overboard compass and chart and lets +himself drift. + +But in the world's code (which was his) cowardice is the one deadly +sin. His lack of anything like Christian principle was a familiar fact +to him, and did not hurt him among those with whom he associated. + +Even Annie, woman-like, could more readily forgive all his faults than +a display of that weakness which is most despised in a man. But she too +was sufficiently familiar with the world not to be repelled or shocked +by a life which, compared with all true, noble standards, was sadly +lacking. And yet she was the very last one to be dazzled by a fast, +brilliant man of the world. She had been too well educated for that, +and had been early taught to distinguish between solid worth and mere +tinsel. Her native powers of observation were strong, and her father, +and mother also before she died, had given her opportunities for +exercising them. Instead of mere assertions as to what was right and +wrong and general lecturing on the subject, they had aimed to show her +right and wrong embodied in human lives. They made her feel that God +wanted her to do right for the same reason that they did, because He +loved her. First in Bible narrative told in bedtime stories, then in +history and biography, and finally in the experience of those around +them, she had been shown the happy contrast of good, God-pleasing life +with that which is selfish and wicked. So thorough and practical had +been the teaching in this respect, and so impressed was she by the +lesson, that she would as soon have planted in her flower-bed the seeds +of tender annuals on the eve of autumn frosts, and expected bloom in +chill December, as to enter upon a course that God frowns upon, and +look for happiness. Her father often said, "A human being opposing +God's will is like a ship beating against wind and tide to certain +wreck." + +An evil life appeared therefore to her a moral madness, under the +malign influence of which people were like the mentally deranged who +with strange perversity hate their best friends and cunningly watch for +chances of self-destruction. While on one hand she shrunk from them +with something of the repulsion which many feel toward the unsound in +mind, on the other she cherished the deepest pity for them. Knowing how +full a remedy ever exists in Him whose word and touch removed +humanity's most desperate ills, it was her constant wish and effort to +lead as many as possible to this Divine Friend. If she had been like +many sincere but selfish religionists, she would have said of Gregory, +"He is not congenial. We have nothing in common," and, wrapped in her +own spiritual pleasures and pursuits, would have shunned, ignored, and +forgotten him. But she chiefly saw his pressing need of help, and said +to herself, "If I would be like my Master, I must help him." + +Gregory at first had looked upon himself as immeasurably superior to +the plain country girl. He little imagined that she at the same time +had a profound pity for him, and that this fact would become his best +chance for life. She had not forgotten the merciful conspiracy entered +into the second evening after his arrival, but was earnestly seeking to +carry out its purposes. In order to do this, she was anxious to gain +his good-will and confidence, and now saw with gratitude that their +adventure on the mountain, that had threatened to end in death, might +be the beginning of a new and happy life. She exulted over the hold she +had gained upon him, not as the selfish gloat over one within their +power, whom they can use for personal ends--not as the coquette smiles +when another human victim is laid upon the altar of her vanity, but as +the angels of heaven rejoice when there is even a chance of one +sinner's repentance. + +And yet Annie had no intention of "talking religion" to him in any +formal way, save as the subject came up naturally; but she hoped to +live it, and suggest it to him in such an attractive form that he would +desire it for his own sake. + +But her chief hope was in the fact that she prayed for him; and she no +more expected to be unheard and unanswered than that her kind father +would listen with a stony face to some earnest request of hers. + +But Annie was not one to go solemnly to work to compass an event that +would cause joy in heaven. She would ask one to be a Christian as she +would invite a captive to leave his dungeon, or tell the sick how to be +well. She saw that morbid gloom had become almost a disease with +Gregory, and she proposed to cure him with sunshine. + +And sunshine embodied she seemed to him as she returned, her face +glowing with exercise and close acquaintance with the kitchen-range. In +each hand she carried a dish, while Hannah followed with a tray on +which smoked the most appetizing of breakfasts. + +"Your rash vow," she said, "has caused you long waiting. I'm none of +your ethereal heroines, but have a craving for solids served in +quantity and variety. And while I could have soon got your breakfast it +was no bagatelle to get mine." + +How fresh and bright she looked saying all this! and he ejaculated, +"Deliver me from the ghastly creatures you call 'ethereal heroines.'" + +"Indeed, sir," she retorted, "if you can't deliver yourself from them +you shall have no help from me. But let us at once enter upon the +solemnities, and as you have a spark of gallantry, see to it that you +pay my cookery proper compliment." + +"Your 'cookery,' forsooth!" said he, with something of her own light +tone. "That I should find Miss Walton stealing Zibbie's laurels!" + +"Chuckle when you find her doing it. Hannah, who prepared this +breakfast?" + +"Yourself, miss," answered the woman, with an admiring grin. + +"That will do, Hannah; we will wait upon ourselves. Shame on you, sir! +You are no connoisseur, since you cannot tell a lady's work from a +kitchen-maid's. Moreover, you have shown that wretched doubting +disposition again." + +Now that they were alone, Gregory said, earnestly, "I shall never doubt +you again." + +"I hope you never will doubt that I wish to do you good, Mr. Gregory," +she replied, passing him a cup of tea. + +"You have done me more good in a few brief hours than I ever hoped to +receive. Miss Walton, how can I repay you?" + +"By being a better friend to yourself. Commence by eating this." + +He did not find it very difficult to comply. After a little time he +said, "But my conscience condemns me for caring too much for myself." +"And no doubt your conscience is right. The idea of being a friend to +yourself and going against your conscience!" + +"Then I have ever been my own worst enemy." + +"I can believe that, and so you'll continue to be if you don't take +another piece of toast." + +"And yet there has always seemed a fatal necessity for me to do wrong +and go wrong. Miss Walton, you are made of different clay from me and +most people that I know. It is your nature to be good and noble." + +"Nonsense!" said Annie, with a positive frown. "Different clay indeed! +I imagine you do wrong for the same reason that I do, because you wish +to; and you fail in doing right because you have nothing but your weak +human will to keep you up." + +"And what keeps you up, pray?" + +"Can you even suppose that I or any one can be a Christian without +Christ?" + +He gave one of his incredulous shrugs. + +"Now what may that mean?" she asked. + +"Pardon me if I say that I think yours is a pretty and harmless +superstition. This world is one of inexorable law and necessity down to +the minutest thing. A weed is always a weed. A rose is always a rose. +It's my misfortune to be a weed. It's your good fortune to be a rose." + +Annie looked as if she might become a briery one at that moment, for +this direct style of compliment, though honest, was not agreeable. +Conscious of many struggles with evil, it was even painful, for it did +her injustice in two aspects of the case. So she said, dryly, "What an +automaton you make me out to be!" + +"How so?" "If I merely do right as the rose grows, I deserve no credit. +I'm but little better than a machine." + +"Not at all. I compared you to something that has a beautiful life of +its own. But I would willingly be a machine, and a very angular, +uncouth one too, if some outside power would only work me right and to +some purpose." + +"Such talk seems to me idle, Mr. Gregory. I know that I have to try +very hard to do right, and I often fail. I do not believe that our very +existence begins in a lie, as it were, for from earliest years +conscience tells us that we needn't do wrong and ought not to. Honestly +now, isn't this true of your conscience?" + +"But my reason concludes otherwise, and reason is above +conscience--above everything, and one must abide by its decisions." + +For a moment Annie did not know how to answer. She was not versed in +theology and metaphysics, but she knew he was wrong. Therefore she +covered her confusion by quietly pouring him out another cup of tea, +and then said, "Even my slight knowledge of the past has taught me how +many absurd and monstrous things can be done and said in the name of +reason. Religion is a matter of revelation and experience. But it is +not contrary to reason, certainly not to mine. If your reason should +conclude that this tea is not hot, what difference would that make to +me? My religion is a matter of fact, of vivid consciousness." + +"Of course it is. It's your life, your nature, just as in my nature +there is nothing akin to it. That is why I say you are made of +different clay from myself; and I am very glad of it," he added with an +air of pleasantry which she saw veiled genuine earnestness, "for I wish +you the best of everything now and always." + +Annie felt that she could not argue him out of his folly; and while she +was annoyed, she could not be angry with him for expressions that were +not meant as flattery, but were rather the strong language of his +gratitude. "Time will cure him of his delusions," she thought, and she +said, lightly, "Mr. Gregory, from certain knowledge of myself which you +cannot have I disclaim all your absurd ideas in regard to the +new-fangled clay of my composition. I know very well that I am ordinary +flesh and blood, a fact that you will soon find out for yourself. As +your physician, I pronounce that such wild fancies and extravagant +language prove that you are out of your head, and that you need +quieting sleep. I am going to read you the dullest book in the library +as a sedative." + +"No, please, sing rather." + +"What! after such a breakfast! Do you suppose that I would ruin the +reputation of my voice in one fell moment? Now what kind of clay led to +this remark? Do as your doctor says. Recline on the lounge. Close your +eyes. Here is a treatise on the Nebular Hypothesis that looks +unintelligible enough for our purpose." + +"Nebular Hypothesis! Another heavenly experience such as you are ever +giving me." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory, punning is a very bad symptom. You must go to sleep +at once." And soon her mellow voice was finding its way into a +labyrinth of hard scientific terms, as a mountain brook might murmur +among the stones. After a little time she asked of Gregory, whose eyes +remained wide open, "How does it sound?" + +"Like the multiplication table set to music." + +"Why don't you go to sleep?" + +"I'm trying to solve a little nebular hypothesis of my own. I was +computing how many million belles such as I know, and how many ages, +would be required to condense them into a woman like yourself." + +Annie shut the book with a slam, and with an abrupt, half-vexed +"good-by," left the room. For a brief time Gregory lay repenting of his +disastrous levity, and then slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY + + + +When Gregory awoke, the sun had sunk behind the mountains that he could +not even look toward now without a shudder, and the landscape, as seen +from the window, was growing obscure in the early dusk of an autumn +evening. But had the window opened on a vista in Paradise he would not +have looked without, for the one object of all the world most +attractive to him was present. Annie sat near the hearth with some +light crochet-work in her hands. She had evidently been out for a walk, +for she was drying her feet on the fender. How trim and cunning they +looked, peeping from under the white edge of her skirt, and what a +pretty picture she made sitting there in the firelight! The outline of +her figure surely did not suggest the "ethereal heroine," but rather +the presiding genius in a happy home, in which the element of comfort +abounded. She looked as if she would be a sweet-tempered, helpful +companion, in the every-day cares and duties of a busy life: + + "A creature not too bright or good + For human nature's daily food." + +"How dark and lustrous her eyes are in the firelight!" Gregory thought. +"It seems as if another and more genial fire were burning in them. What +can she be thinking of, that such happy, dreamy smiles are flitting +across her face? If I had such a hearth as that, and such a good angel +beside it to receive me after the day's work was over, I believe I +could become at least a man, if not a Christian;" and he sighed so +deeply that Annie looked hastily up, and encountered his wistful gaze. + +"What a profound remark you just made!" she said. "What could have led +to it?" + +"You." + +"I do not think that I am an object to sigh over. I'm perfectly well, I +thank you, and have had my dinner." + +"You have no idea what a pretty picture you made." + +"Yes, in this poor light, and your disordered imagination. But did you +sigh on that account?" + +"No, but because to me it is only a picture--one that shall have the +chief place in the gallery of my memory. In a few days I shall be in my +cheerless bachelor apartments, with nothing but a dusty register in the +place of this home-like hearth." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory, you are growing sentimental. I will go and see if +supper is ready." + +"Please stay, and I will talk of the multiplication table." + +"No, that led to the 'Nebular Hypothesis.' You had better prepare for +supper;" and she vanished. + +"It's my fate," he said, rising, "to drive away every good and pleasant +thing." + +He went to the fire and stood where she had sat, and again thought was +busy. + +"She seems so real and substantial, and yet so intangible! Her +defensive armor is perfect, and I cannot get near or touch her unless +she permits it. The sincerest compliment glances off. Out of her +kindness she helps me and does me good. She bewitches and sways me by +her spells, but I might as well seek to imprison a spirit of the air as +to gain any hold upon her. I wonder whom or what she was thinking of, +that such dreamy, tender smiles should flit across her face." + +How his face would have darkened with wrath and hate, if he had known +that his detestation, Hunting, had inspired them! + +The tea-bell reminded him how time was passing, and he went to his room +with an elastic step that one would suppose impossible after seeing him +in the morning. But, as is usual with nervous organizations, he sank or +rallied rapidly in accordance with circumstances. When he appeared at +the table, Mr. Walton could hardly believe his eyes. + +"It is again the result of Miss Walton's witchcraft," explained +Gregory. "The moment I felt her hand upon my brow, there came a sense +of relief. In Italy they would make a saint of her, and bring out the +sick for her to touch." + +"And so soon lose their saint by some contagious disease," said Annie, +laughing. + +"I fear, sir, I was very rude to you this morning, but in truth I was +beside myself with pain." + +"Annie has a wonderful power of magnetism; I don't know what else to +call it," said Miss Eulie. "She can drive away one of my headaches +quicker than all other remedies combined." + +"You are making out," said Annie, "that my proper calling is that of a +nurse. If you don't change the subject, I'll leave you all to take care +of yourselves, and go down to Bellevue." + +"If you do," laughed Gregory, "I'll break every bone in my body, and be +carried into your ward as a homeless stranger." + +The supper-hour passed away in light and cheerful conversation. As if +by common consent, the scenes on the mountain were not mentioned in the +presence of the children, and they evidently had had their curiosity +satisfied on the subject. + +Annie seemed tired and languid after supper and Miss Eulie volunteered +to see the children safely to their rest. Mr. Walton insisted that +Annie should take his easy-chair, and Gregory placed a footstool at her +feet, and together they "made a baby of her," she said. The old +gentleman then took his seat, and seemed to find unbounded content in +gazing on his beloved daughter. Their guest appeared restless and began +to pace the room. Suddenly he asked Mr. Walton, "Have you heard +anything of the fugitives?" + +"Not a word beyond the fact that they bought tickets for New York and +took the train. I have telegraphed to the City Police Department, and +forwarded the description of their persons which Annie gave me. Their +dwelling has been examined by a competent person, but evidently he is +an old and experienced criminal and knows how to cover up his tracks. I +think it extremely providential that they did nothing worse than send +you over on the other side of the mountain in order to clear a way for +escape. Such desperate people often believe only in the silence of +death. They might have caused that dog to tear you to pieces and have +appeared blameless themselves. If caught, only your testimony could +convict them, though I suspect Mrs. Tompkins and her son. Young +Tompkins brought them with their luggage to the depot. He says the man +called 'Vight' met him returning from the delivery of a load of wood, +and engaged his services. As he often does teaming for people in those +back districts his story is plausible; and he swears he knew nothing +against the man. But he is a bad drinking fellow, and just the one to +become an accomplice in any rascality. I fear they will all escape us, +and yet I am profoundly grateful that matters are no worse." + +While Mr. Walton was talking, Gregory was looking intently at Annie. +She was conscious of his scrutiny, and her color rose under it, but she +continued to gaze steadily at the fire. + +"And I am going to increase that gratitude a hundred-fold, sir," he +said, earnestly. + +Annie looked up at him with a startled, deprecatory air. "No, Miss +Walton," he said, answering her look, "I will not be silent. While it +is due to your generosity that the world does not hear of your heroism +as the story would naturally be told, it is your father's right that he +should hear it, and know the priceless jewel that he has in his +daughter. I know that appearances will be against me. If you can take +her view of the matter, sir, I shall be glad, otherwise I cannot help +it;" and he related the events as they had actually occurred, softening +or palliating his course in not the slightest degree. + +Mr. Walton turned ashen pale as he thus for the first time learned the +desperate nature of his daughter's peril. Then rising with a sudden +impulse of pride and affection he clasped her in his arms. + +Gregory was about to leave the room, when Mr. Walton's voice detained +him. + +"Do not go, sir. You will pardon a father's weakness." + +"Father, I give you my word and honor," cried Annie, eagerly, "that Mr. +Gregory did not act the part of a coward. He scarcely does himself +justice in his story. He did not realize the principle involved, and +saw in the promise he gave the readiest way out of an awkward and +dangerous predicament. He did not think the man's crime was any of our +business--" + +"There is no need of pleading Mr. Gregory's cause so earnestly, my +dear," interrupted her father. "I think I understand his course fully, +and share your view of it. I am too well accustomed to the taking of +evidence not to detect the ring of truth." + +"I cannot tell you, sir, what a relief it is to me that you and Miss +Walton can judge thus correctly of my action. This morning and +yesterday I believed that you and all the world would regard me as the +meanest of cowards, and the bitterness of death was in the thought." + +"No, sir," said Mr. Walton, kindly but gravely; "your course did not +result from cowardice. But permit an old man and your father's friend +to say that it did result from the lack of high moral principle. Its +want in this case might have been fatal, for the world, as you feared, +would scarcely do you justice. Let it be a lesson to you, my dear young +friend, that only the course which is strictly right is safe, even as +far as this world is concerned." + +Gregory's face flushed deeply, but he bowed his head in humility at the +rebuke. + +"At the same time," continued Mr. Walton, "it was manly in you to state +the case frankly to me as you have done; for you knew that you might +shield yourself behind Annie's silence." + +"It was simply your right to know it," said Gregory, in a low tone. + +After a few moments of musing silence, Annie said, earnestly, "I do so +pity that poor woman!" + +"I imagine she is little better than her companion," said Mr. Walton. + +"Indeed she is, father," said Annie, eagerly. "I cannot tell you how I +feel for her, and I know from her manner and words that her guilty life +is a crushing burden. It must be a terrible thing to a woman capable of +good (as she is), and wishing to live a true life, to be irrevocably +bound to a man utterly bad." + +"She is not so bound to him," said her father; "can she not leave him?" + +"Ah! there comes in a mystery," she replied, and the subject dropped. +Soon after, they separated for the night. + +But Gregory had much food for painful thought. After the experience of +that day his chief desire was to stand well in Miss Walton's esteem. +And yet how did he stand--how could he stand, being what he was? He was +not conscious of love for her as yet. He would have been satisfied if +she had said, "I will be your friend in the truest sense of the word." +He had no small vanity, and understood her kindness. She was trying to +do good to him as she would to any one else. She was sorry for him as +for the wretched woman who also found an evil life bitter, but she +could never think of him as a dear, congenial, trusted friend. Even her +father, in her presence, had rebuked his lack of principle, asserting +that his nature was like the vile weed; and this had been proved every +day of his visit. If she should come to know of his purpose and effort +to tempt her into the display of petty weakness and lack of principle +herself, would she not regard him as "utterly bad," and shrink with +loathing even from the bonds of friendship? + +He was learning the lesson that wrong sooner or later will bring its +own punishment, and that the little experiment upon which he had +entered as a relief from ennui might become the impassable gulf between +him and happiness; for he knew that, if their relations ever verged +toward mutual confidence, she would ask questions that would render +lies his only escape. He could not sink to that resort. It was late +before he found in sleep refuge from painful thoughts. + +The next day he was much alone. The news of their adventure having got +abroad, many because of their sincere regard for Annie, and not a few +out of curiosity, called to talk the matter over. After meeting one or +two of these parties, and witnessing the modesty and grace with which +Annie satisfied and foiled their curiosity at the same time, he was +glad to escape further company in a long and solitary ramble. The air +was mild, so that he could take rest in sunny nooks, and thus he spent +most of the day by himself. His conscience was awakened, and the more +pure and beautiful Annie's character grew in his estimation, the more +dastardly his attempt upon it seemed. Never before had his evil life +appeared so hideous and hateful. + +And yet his remorse had nothing in it of true penitence. It was rather +a bitter, impotent revolt at what he regarded as cruel necessity. Now +that he had been forced to abandon his theory that people are good as +they are untempted, he adopted another, which, if it left him in a +miserable predicament, exonerated him from blame. He had stated it to +Annie when he said, "You are made of different clay from other people." +He tried hard to believe this, and partially succeeded. "It is her +nature to be good, and mine to be evil," he often said to himself that +long and lonely day. "I have had a fatal gravitation toward evil ever +since I can remember." + +But this was not true. Indeed, it could be proved out of his own memory +that he had had as many good and noble impulses as the majority, and +that circumstances had not been more adverse to him than to numerous +others. He was dimly conscious of these facts, though he tried to shut +his eyes to them. + +A man finally gets justice at the bar of his own conscience, but it is +extorted gradually, reluctantly, with much befogging of the case. + +Still this theory would not help him much with Annie Walton, for he +knew that she would never entertain it a moment. + +Thus he wandered for hours amid old scenes and boyish haunts, utterly +oblivious of them, brooding more and more darkly and despondingly over +his miserable lot. He tried to throw off the burden of depressing +thought by asking, in sudden fierceness, "Well, what is Annie Walton to +me? I have only known her a short time, and having lived thus long, can +live the rest of my days--probably few--without her." + +But it was of no use. His heart would not echo the words, but in its +very depths a voice clear and distinct seemed to say, "I want to be +with her--to be near her. With her, the hours are winged; away, they +are leaden-footed. She awakens hope, she makes it appear possible to be +a man." + +He remembered her hand upon his aching brow, and groaned aloud in view +of the gulf that his own life had placed between them. + +"'Neither can they pass to us,'" he said, unconsciously repeating the +words of Scripture. "With her nature what I know it to be, she cannot +in any way ally it to mine." + +As the shadows of evening deepened he sauntered wearily and +despondingly to the house. There were still guests in the parlor, and +he passed up to his room. For the first time he found it chilly and +fireless. It had evidently been forgotten, and he felt himself +neglected; and it seemed that he could drop out of existence unnoted +and uncared for. In what had been his own home, the place where for so +many years he had experienced the most thoughtful tenderness, there +came over him a sense of loneliness and desolation such as he had never +before known or believed possible. He felt himself orphaned of heaven +and earth, of God and man. + +But a process had commenced in Annie's mind that would have surprised +him much. Unconsciously as yet even to herself, she was disproving his +"superior clay" theory. Though carefully trained, and though for years +she had prayerfully sought to do right, still she was a true daughter +of Eve, and was often betrayed by human weakness. She had not the +small, habitual vanity of some pretty women, who take admiration and +flattery as their due, and miss it as they do their meals. Still there +were pride and vanity in her composition, and the causes that would +naturally develop them were now actively at work. She considered +herself plain and unattractive personally, and so she was to the +careless glance of a stranger, but she speedily became beautiful, or, +what was better, fascinating, to those who learned to know her well. +All are apt to learn their strong points rather than their weak ones, +and Annie had no little confidence in her power to win the attention +and then the respect and regard of those whose eyes turned away +indifferently after the first perception of her lack of beauty. She did +not use this power like a coquette, but still she exulted in it, and +was pleased to employ it where she could innocently. She was amused by +Gregory's sublime indifference at first, and thought she could soon +change that condition of his mind. She did not know that she was +successful beyond her expectation or wishes. + +But while she rejected and was not affected by the fulsome flattery +with which he at first plied her, detecting in it the ring of +insincerity, she had noted, with not a little self-gratulation, how +speedily she had made him conscious of her existence and developed a +growing interest. She knew nothing of his deliberate plot against her, +or of its motive. Therefore his manner had often puzzled her, but she +explained everything by saying, "He has lived too long in Paris." + +Still it is justice to her to say that while, from the natural love of +power existing in every breast, she had her own little complacencies, +and often times of positive pride and self-glorification, yet she +struggled against such tendencies, and in the main she earnestly sought +to use for their own good the influence she gained over others. + +But of late there had been enough to turn a stronger head than hers. +Gregory's homage and admiration were now sincere, and she knew it, and +it was no trifling thing to win such unbounded esteem from a man who +had seen so much of the world and was so critical. "He may be bad +himself, but he well knows what is good and noble," was a thought that +often recurred to her. Then, in a moment of sudden and terrible peril, +she had been able to master her strong natural timidity, and be true to +conscience, and while she thanked God sincerely, she also was more and +more inclined to take a great deal of credit to herself. Gregory's +words kept repeating themselves, "You are made of different clay from +others." While she knew that this was not true as he meant it, still +the tempter whispered, "You are naturally superior, and you have so +schooled yourself that you are better than many others." Her father's +intense look of pride and pleasure when he first learned of her +fortitude, and his strong words of thankfulness, she took as incense to +herself. Then came a flock of eager, curious, sympathizing people, who +continued to feed her aroused pride by making her out a sort of +heroine. Chief of all she was complacent in the consciousness of so +generously shielding Gregory when, if she had told the whole story, +she, in contrast with him, would appear to far greater advantage. + +Altogether, her opinion of Annie Walton was rising with dangerous +rapidity; and the feeling grew strong within her that, having coped +successfully with such temptations, she had little to fear from the +future. And this feeling of overweening self-confidence and +self-satisfaction was beginning to tinge her manner. Not that she would +ever show it offensively, for she was too much of a lady for that. But +at the supper-table that evening she gave evident signs of elation and +excitement. She talked more than usual, and was often very positive in +matters where Gregory knew her to be wrong; and she was also a little +dictatorial. At the same time the excitement made her conversation more +brilliant and pointed, and as Gregory skilfully drew her out, he was +surprised at the force and freshness of her mind. + +And yet there was something that jarred unpleasantly, a lack of the +sincere simplicity and self-forgetfulness which were her usual +characteristics. He had never known her to use the pronoun "I" with +such distinctness and emphasis before. Still all this would not have +seemed strange to him in another, but it did in her. + +She did not notice the cloud upon his brow, or that he spoke only in +order to lead her to talk. She was too much preoccupied with herself +for her customary quick sympathy with the moods of others. She made no +inquiries as to how he had spent the day, and seemingly had forgotten +him as completely as he had been absorbed in her. He saw with a deeper +regret than he could understand that, except when he awakened her pity +by suffering, or entertained her by his conversation as any stranger +might, he apparently had no hold upon her thoughts. + +After supper, in answer to the children's demand for stories, she said +almost petulantly that she was "too tired," and permitted Aunt Eulie to +take them with sorrowful faces away to bed earlier than usual. + +"I need a little rest and quiet," she said. + +Gregory was eager for further conversation in order that he might +obtain some idea how mercy would tinge her judgment of him if she +should ever come to know the worst, but she suddenly seemed disinclined +to talk, or give him any attention at all. + +Taking the arm-chair he usually occupied, and leaving the other for her +father, she leaned back luxuriously and gazed dreamily into the fire. +Mr. Walton politely offered Gregory his. Then Annie, suddenly, as if +awakening, rose and said, "Excuse me," and was about to vacate her seat. + +But Gregory insisted upon her keeping it, saying, "You need it more +than I, after the unusual fatigues of the day. I am no longer an +invalid. Even the ache in my bones from my cold has quite disappeared." + +She readily yielded to his wish, and again appeared to see something in +the fire that quite absorbed her. After receiving a few courteous +monosyllables he apparently busied himself with a magazine. + +Suddenly she said to her father, "Are you sure the steamer is due +to-day?" + +He replied with a nod and a smile that Gregory did not understand, and +he imagined that she also gave him a quick look of vexed perplexity. + +She did, for by that steamer she expected her lover, Mr. Hunting, who +had been abroad on a brief business visit, and she hoped that in a day +or two he would make his appearance. Conscious of the bitter enmity +that Gregory for some unknown reason cherished toward him, she dreaded +their meeting. As Gregory watched her furtively, her brow contracted +into a positive frown. The following thoughts were the cause: "It will +be exceedingly stiff and awkward to have two guests in the house who +are scarcely on speaking terms, and unless I can make something like +peace, it will be unendurable. Moreover, I don't want any strangers +around, much less this one, while Charles is here." + +Thus in the secret of her soul Annie's hospitality gave out utterly, +and in spirit she had incontinently turned an unwelcome guest out of +doors. Now that she had really won a vantage-ground that could be used +effectively, all her Christian and kindly purposes were forgotten in +the self-absorption that had suddenly mastered her. + +The evening was a painful one to Gregory. His sense of loneliness was +deepened, and nowhere is such a feeling stronger than at a fireside +where one feels that he has no right. Mr. Walton was occupied that +evening with some business papers. He had not a thought of discourtesy +toward his guest. Indeed, in the perfection of hospitality, he had +adopted Gregory so completely into his household that he felt that he +could treat him as one of the family. And yet Mr. Walton was also +secretly uneasy at the prospect of entertaining hostile guests, and, +with his knowledge of the world, was not sure that peace between them +could be made in an hour. + +The disposition of those around us often creates an atmosphere, nothing +tangible but something felt; and the impression on Gregory's mind, that +he belonged not to this household, but to the outside world--that the +circle of their lives did not embrace him, and that his visit might +soon come to an end without much regret on their part--was not without +cause. And yet they would have consciously failed in no duty of +hospitality had he stayed for weeks. + +But never before had Gregory so felt his isolation. He had but few +relatives, and they were not congenial. His life abroad, and neglect, +had made them comparative strangers. But here, in the home of his +childhood, the dearest spot of earth, were those who might become +equally loved with it. In a dim, obscure way the impression was growing +upon him that his best chance for life and happiness still centred in +the place where he had once known true life and happiness. Annie Walton +seemed to him the embodiment of life. She was governed and sustained by +a principle which he could not understand, and which from his soul he +was beginning to covet. + +His good father and mother had been like old Mr. Walton. Their voyage +of life was nearly over as he remembered them, and they were entering +the quiet, placid waters of the harbor. Whether they had reached their +haven of rest through storm and temptation, he did not know, but felt +that they never could have had his unfortunate experience or been +threatened with utter wreck. They belonged to his happier yet vanished +past, which could never return. + +But Annie unexpectedly awakened hope for the present and future. This +eager-eyed, joyous girl, looking forward with almost a child's delight +to the life he dreaded--this patient woman already taking up the cares +and burdens of her lot with cheerful acceptance--this strong, +high-principled maiden, facing and mastering temptation in the spirit +of the olden time--this daughter of nature was full of inspiration. +Never had he found her society a weariness. On the contrary she had +stirred his slow, feeble pulse, and revived his jaded mind, from the +first. Her pure, fresh thought and feeling had been like a breath from +an oasis to one perishing in the desert. But chiefly had her kindness, +delicacy, and generosity, when in his moral and physical weakness he +had been completely at her mercy, won his deepest gratitude. Also he +felt that in all his after life he could never even think of her touch +upon his aching temples without an answering thrill of his whole nature +that appeared to have an innate sympathy with hers. + +And yet the exasperating mystery of it all! While she was becoming the +one source of life and hope for him, while his very soul cried out for +her friendship and sisterly regard (as he would then have said), she +seemed, in her preoccupation, unconscious of his existence, and he +instinctively felt that she would bid him "good-by" on the following +day, perhaps, with a sense of relief, and the current of her life flow +on as smoothly and brightly as if he had never caused a passing +agitation. + +With gnawing remorse he inwardly cursed his evil life and unworthy +character, for these he believed formed the hopeless gulf that +separated them. + +"It is the same," he said, in his exaggerating way, "as if a puddle +should mirror the star just above it, and, becoming enamored, should +wish it to fall and be quenched in its foul depths." + +But he did himself great wrong; for in the fact that Annie so attracted +him he proved that he possessed large capabilities of good. + +He could not bear to see her sitting there so quietly forgetful of him, +and so made several vain attempts during the evening to draw her into +conversation. Finding her disinclined to talk, he at last ventured to +ask her to sing. With something like coldness she replied, "Really, Mr. +Gregory, I am not in the mood for it this evening; besides, I am +greatly fatigued." + +What a careless, indifferent shrug he usually gave when fair ladies +denied his requests! Now, for some unaccountable reason, he flushed +deeply and a sharp pain came into his heart. But he only said, "Pardon +me, Miss Walton, for not seeing this myself. But you know that I am +selfishness embodied, and your former good-nature leads me to presume." + +Annie gave him a hurried smile, as she answered, "Another time I will +try to keep up my character better"; and then she was absorbed again in +a picture among the hickory coals. + +Like many who live in the country and are much alone, she was given to +fits of abstraction and long reveries. She had no idea how the time was +passing, and meant to exert herself before the evening was over for the +benefit of her father and guest. But her lively imagination could not +endure interruption till it had completed some scenes connected with +him she hoped so soon to see. Moreover, as we have said, the tendency +to self-absorption had been developing rapidly. + +After the last rebuff, Gregory was very quiet, and soon rose and +excused himself, saying that he had taken longer walks than usual and +needed rest. + +Annie awakened, as if out of a dream, with a pang of self-reproach, and +said, "I have been a wretched hostess this evening. I hope you will +forgive me. The fact is, I've been talked out to-day." + +"And I had not the wit to entertain and interest you, so I need +forgiveness more. Good-night." + +Mr. Walton looked up from his business papers and smiled genially over +his spectacles and then was as absorbed as before. + +Annie sat down with a vague sense of discontent. With their guest, her +dreams also had gone, and she became conscious that she had treated him +with almost rude neglect, and that he had borne it in a spirit +different from that which he usually showed. But she petulantly said to +herself, "I can't always be exerting myself for him as if he were a +sick child." + +But conscience replied, "You have so much to make you happy, and he so +little! You are on the eve of a great joy, and you might have given him +one more pleasant evening." + +But she met these accusations with a harshness all unlike herself. +"It's his own fault that he is not happy. He had no business to spoil +his life." + +"Yes," retorted conscience, "but you have promised and purposed to help +him find the true life, and now you wish him out of the way, and have +lost one of your best opportunities and perhaps your last; for he will +not stay after Hunting comes;" and, self-condemned, she felt that she +had spent a very selfish and profitless evening. + +For some reason she did not feel like staying to prayers with her +father and Miss Eulie, who now came in, but, printing a hasty kiss on +Mr. Walton's cheek, said, "Good-night. I'm tired, and going to bed." +Even in her own room there was a malign influence at work that made her +devotion formal and brief, and she went to sleep, "out of sorts." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +PASSION AND PENITENCE + + + +The cloud on her brow had not disappeared on the ensuing morning when +she came down to breakfast. Unless the causes are removed, the bad +moods of one day are apt to follow us into the next. + +Annie was now entering upon one of those periods when, in accordance +with a common expression, "everything goes wrong," and the world +develops a sudden perverseness that distracts and irritates even the +patient. + +The butcher had neglected to fill the order for breakfast, and Jeff, +also under the baleful spell, had killed an ancient hen instead of a +spring chicken, to supply the sudden need. + +"Couldn't cotch nothin' else," he answered stolidly to Annie's sharp +reprimand, so sharp that Gregory, who was walking toward the barn, was +surprised. + +Zibbie was fuming in the broadest Scotch, and had spoiled her coffee, +and altogether it was a sorry breakfast to which they sat down that +morning; and Annie's worried, vexed looks did not make it more +inviting. Gregory tried to appear unconscious, and directed his +conversation chiefly to Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie. + +"Annie," said her father, humorously, "it seems to me that this fowl +must have reminiscences of the ark." + +But she could not take a jest then, and pettishly answered that "if he +kept such a stupid man as Jeff, he could not expect anything else." + +Annie was Jeff's best friend, and had interceded for him in some of his +serious scrapes, but her mood now was like a gusty day that gives +discomfort to all. + +After a few moments she said, suddenly, "O father, I forgot to tell +you. I invited the Camdens here to dinner to-day." + +His face clouded instantly, and he looked exceedingly annoyed. + +"I am very sorry to hear it," he said. + +"Why so?" asked Annie, with an accent that Gregory had never heard her +use toward her father. + +"Because I shall have to be absent, for one reason. I meant to tell you +about it last evening, but you seemed so occupied with your own +thoughts, and disappeared at last so suddenly, that I did not get a +chance. But there is no help for it. I have very important business +that will take me out to Woodville, and you know it requires a good +long day to go and come." + +"It will never do in the world for you to be away," cried Annie. + +"Can't help it, my dear; it's business that must be attended to." + +"But, father," she urged, "the Camdens are new people, and said to be +very wealthy. We ought to show them some attention. They were so +cordial yesterday, and spoke so handsomely of you, expressing a wish to +meet you and be social, that I felt that I could not do otherwise than +invite them. For reasons you understand it may not be convenient to see +them very soon after to-day." + +The old gentleman seemed to share his daughter's vexation, but from a +different cause, and after a moment said, "You are right; they are 'new +people' in more senses than one, and appear to me to be assuming a +great deal more than good taste dictates in view of the past. As +mistress of my home I wish you to feel that you have the right to +invite any one you please, within certain limits. The Camdens are +people that I would do any kindness to and readily help if they were in +trouble, but I do not wish to meet them socially." + +Tears of shame and anger glistened in Annie's eyes as she said, "I'm +sure you know very well that I wish to entertain no vulgar, pushing +people. I knew nothing of their 'past.' They seemed pleasant when they +called. They were said to have the means to be liberal if they wished, +and I thought they would be an acquisition to our neighborhood, and +that we might interest them in our church and other things." + +"In my view," replied Mr. Walton, a little hotly, "the church and every +good cause would be better off without their money, for, in plain +English, it was acquired in a way that you and I regard as +dishonorable. I'm very sorry they've come to spend it in our +neighborhood. The fact may not be generally known here, but it soon +will be. I consider such people the greatest demoralizers of the age, +flaunting their ill-gotten wealth in the faces of the honest, and +causing the young to think that if they only get money, no matter how, +society will receive them all the same. I am annoyed beyond measure +that we should seem to give them any countenance whatever. Moreover, it +is necessary that I go to Woodville." + +"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of real distress, "what shall I +do? If I had only known all this before!" Then, turning with sudden +irritation to her father, she asked, "Why did you not tell me about +them?" + +"Because you never asked, and I saw no occasion to. I do not like to +speak evil of my neighbors, even if it be true. I did not know of your +call upon them till after it occurred, and then remarked, if you will +remember, that they were people that I did not admire." + +"Yes," she exclaimed, in a tone of strong self-disgust, "I do remember +your saying so, though I had no idea you meant anything like what you +now state. The wretched mystery of it all is, why could I not have +remembered it yesterday?" + +"Well, my dear," replied the father, with the glimmer of a smile, "you +were a bit preoccupied yesterday; though I don't wonder at that." + +"I see it all now," cried Annie, impetuously. "But it was with myself I +was preoccupied, and therefore I made a fool of myself. I was rude to +you last night also, Mr. Gregory, so taken up was I with my own +wonderful being." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I thought you were thinking of another," said he, +with a keen glance, and she blushed so deeply that he feared she was; +but he added, quickly, "You once told me that it was as wrong to judge +one's self harshly as another. I assure you that I've no complaints to +make, but rather feel gratitude for your kindness. As to this other +matter, it seems to me that in your ignorance of these people you have +acted very naturally." + +"I'm sorry I did not tell you more about them," said her father. "I did +intend to, but somehow it escaped me." + +"Well," said Annie, with a long breath, "I am fairly in the scrape. +I've invited them, and the question now is, what shall we do?" + +The old merchant, with his intense repugnance to anything like +commercial dishonesty, was deeply perturbed. The idea of entertaining +at his board as guest a man with whom he would not have a business +transaction was exceedingly disagreeable. Leaving the unsatisfactory +breakfast half-finished, he rose and paced the room in his perplexity. +At last he spoke, as much to himself as to his daughter. "It shall +never be said that John Walton was deficient in hospitality. They have +been invited by one who had the right, so let them come, and be treated +as guests ever are at our house. This much is due to ourselves. But +after to-day let our relations be as slight as possible. Mr. Gregory, +you are under no obligation to meet such people, and need not appear +unless you wish." + +"With your permission I will be present, sir, and help Miss Walton +entertain them. Indeed, I can claim such slight superiority to these +Camdens or any one else that I have no scruples." + +"How is that?" asked Mr. Walton, with a grave, questioning look. "I +trust you do not uphold the theory that seems to prevail in some +commercial circles, that any mode by which a man can get money and +escape State prison is right?" + +"I imagine I am the last one in the world to uphold such a 'theory,'" +replied Gregory, quickly, with one of his expressive shrugs, "inasmuch +as I am a poor man to-day because this theory has been put in practice +against me. No, Mr. Walton," he continued, with the dignity of truth, +"it is but justice to myself to say that my mercantile life has been as +pure as your own, and that is the highest encomium that I could pass +upon it. At the same time it has been evident to you from the first day +I came under your roof that I am not the good man that you loved in my +father." + +The old gentleman sighed deeply. He was too straightforward to utter +some trite, smooth remark, such as a man of the world might make. +Regarding Gregory kindly, he said, almost as if it were a prayer, "May +his mantle fall on you. You have many traits and ways that remind me +strongly of him, and you have it in you to become like him." + +Gregory shook his head in deep dejection, and said in a low tone, "No, +never." + +"You know not the power of God," said Mr. Walton, gravely. "At any +rate, thank Him that He has kept you from the riches of those who I am +sorry to find must be our guests to-day." + +The children now came in from their early visit to the chestnut-trees, +and the subject was dropped. Mr. Walton left the room, and Gregory also +excused himself. Miss Eulie had taken no part in the discussion. It was +not in her nature to do so. She sat beaming with sympathy on both Annie +and her brother-in-law, and purposing to do all she could to help both +out of the dilemma. She felt sorry for them, and sorry for the Camdens +and Gregory, and indeed everybody in this troubled world; but such were +her pure thoughts and spiritual life that she was generally on the +wing, so far above earthly things that they had little power to depress +her. + +The burden of the day fell upon Annie, and a heavy one she found it. +Her lack of peace within was reflected upon her face, and in her +satellites that she usually managed with such quiet grace. Zibbie was +in one of her very worst tantrums, and when she heard that there was to +be company to dinner, seemed in danger of flying into fragments. The +thistle, the emblem of her land, was a meek and downy flower compared +with this ancient dame. When she took up or laid down any utensil, it +was in a way that bade fair to reduce the kitchen to chaos before +night. Jeff had "got his back up" also about the hen, and was as stupid +and sullen as only Jeff knew how to be; and even quiet Hannah was +almost driven to frenzy by Zibbie reproaching her for being everything +under heaven that she knew she was not. In her usual state of mind +Annie could have partly allayed the storm, and poured oil on the +troubled waters, but now disquietude sat on her own brow, and she gave +her orders in the sharp, decisive tone that compels reluctant obedience. + +The day was raw and uncomfortable, and Gregory resolved to make his +easy-chair by the parlor fire the point from which he would watch the +development of this domestic drama. He had no vulgar, prying curiosity, +but an absorbing interest in the chief actor; and was compelled to +admit that the being whom he had come to regard as faultless was +growing human faster than he liked. + +This impression was confirmed when the children came tearing through +the main hall past the parlor to the dining-room opposite, which they +entered, leaving the door open. Annie was there preparing the dessert. +Country house-keepers can rarely leave these matters to rural cooks, +and Zibbie could be trusted to sweeten nothing that day. + +With exclamations of delight the children clamored to help, or "muss" a +little in their own way, a privilege often given them at such times. +But Annie sent them out-of-doors again with a tone and manner that +caused them to tip-toe back past the parlor with a scared look on their +faces, and the dining-room door was shut with a bang. + +Gregory was puzzled. Here was one who had foiled his most adroit +temptations, and resisted wrong in a way that was simply heroic, first +showing something very like vanity and selfishness, and then temper and +passion on what seemed but slight provocation. He did not realize, as +many do not, that the petty vexations of life will often sting into the +most humiliating displays of weakness one who has the courage and +strength to be a martyr. Generals who were as calm and grand in battle +as Mont Blanc in a storm have been known to fume like small beer, in +camp, at very slight annoyances. + +Annie's spirit was naturally quick and imperious, brooking opposition +from no one. She was also fond of approbation. She rated Gregory's +hollow French gallantry at its true worth, but his subsequent sincere +respect and admiration, after their mountain adventure, had +unconsciously elated her, especially as she felt that she had earned +them well. + +Thus, when he had not intended it, and had given over as hopeless his +purpose to tempt her, and dropped it in self-loathing that he should +ever have entertained it, he had by his honest gratitude and esteem +awakened the dormant vanity which was more sensitive to tributes to her +character than to mere personal compliments. The attention she had +received the day before had developed this self-complacency still more, +and the nice balance of her moral life had been disturbed. + +It seems that the tempter watches for every vantage. At any rate, as +she expressed it, "everything went wrong" that day. One weakness, one +wrong, prepares the way for another as surely as when one soldier of +Diabolus gets within the city he will open the gates to others; and +Annie's temper, that she had so long and prayerfully schooled, was the +weak point inevitably assailed. She was found with her armor off. She +had closed the preceding day and entered on the present with the form +and not the reality of prayer. Therefore it was Annie Walton alone who +was coping with temptation. She felt that all was wrong without and +within. She felt that she ought to go to God at once in acknowledgment +and penitence, and regain her peace; but pride and passion were +aroused. She was hurried and worried, full of impotent revolt at +herself and everything. She was in no mood for the dreaded +self-examination that she knew must come. She was like a little wayward +child, that, while it loves its parents, yet grieves and wrongs them by +lack of obedience and simple trust, and having wronged them, partly +from pride and partly from fear, does not humbly seek reconciliation. + +The obnoxious guests came, and the dinner followed. Mr. Walton was the +embodiment of stately courtesy, but it was a courtesy due to John +Walton rather than to them, and it somewhat awed and depressed the +Camdens. Zibbie had done her best to spoil the dinner, and, in spite of +Annie, had succeeded tolerably well. Only the dessert, which Annie had +made, did credit to her housekeeping. Hannah waited on them as if she +were assisting at their obsequies. Altogether it was a rather heavy +affair, though Gregory honestly did his best to entertain, and talked +on generalities and life abroad, which the Camdens were glad to hear +about, so incessantly that he scarcely had time to eat. But he was +abundantly rewarded by a grateful look from Annie. + +As for herself, she could not converse connectedly or well. She was +trammelled by her feeling toward the guests; she was so vexed with +herself, mortified at the dinner, and angry with Zibbie, whom she +mentally vowed to discharge at once, that she felt more like crying +than talking graceful nonsense; for the Camdens soon proved themselves +equal only to chit-chat. She sat at her end of the table, red, +flurried, and nervous, as different as possible from the refined, +elegant hostess that she could be. + +Gregory was also much interested in observing how one so truthful would +act under the circumstances, and he saw that she was sorely puzzled +continually by her efforts to be both polite and honest. + +The Camdens were puzzled also, and severely criticised their +entertainers, mentally concluding and afterward asserting, with +countless variations, that Miss Walton was wonderfully overrated--that +she was a poor housekeeper, and, they should judge, but little +accustomed to good society. + +"I never saw a girl so flustered," Mrs. Camden would remark, +complacently. "Perhaps our city style rather oppressed her; and as for +Mr. Walton, he put on so much dignity that he leaned over backward. +They evidently don't belong to our set." + +That was just the trouble, and Mrs. Camden was right and wrong at the +same time. + +Their early departure was satisfactory to both parties. Mr. Walton drew +a long breath of immeasurable relief, and then called briskly to Jeff, +who was coming up from the garden, "Harness Dolly to my buggy." + +"Why, father, where are you going?" exclaimed Annie. + +"To Woodville." + +"Now, father--" began Annie, laying hold of his arm. + +"Not a word, my dear; I must go." + +"But it will be late in the night before you can get back. The day is +cold and raw, and it looks as if it would rain." + +"I can't help it. It's something I can't put off. Hurry, Jeff, and get +ready to go with me." + +"O dear!" cried Annie; "this is the worst of all. Let me go for +you--please do." + +"I'm not a child," said the old gentleman, irritably. "Since I could +not go this morning, I must go now. Please don't worry me. It's public +business that I have no right to delay, and I promised that it should +be attended to today;" and with a hasty "good-by" he took his overcoat +and started. + +Annie was almost beside herself with vexation and self-reproach, and +her feelings must find vent somewhere. Gregory prudently retired to his +room. + +"There's Zibbie," she thought; "I'll teach her one lesson;" and she +went to the kitchen and discharged the old servant on the spot. + +Zibbie was in such a reckless state of passion that she didn't care if +the world came to an end. The only comfort Annie got in this direction +was a volley of impudence. + +"I hod discharged mesel' afore ye spoke," said the irate dame. "An' ye +think I'm gang to broil an ould hen for a spring chicken in peace and +quietness, ye're a' wrong. An' then to send that dour nagur a speerin' +roun' among my fowl that I've raised from babies--I'll na ston it. I'll +gang, I'll gang, but ye'll greet after the ould 'ooman for a' o' that." + +Annie then retreated to the sitting-room, where Miss Eulie was placidly +mending Susie's torn apron, and poured into her ears the story of her +troubles. + +"To be sure--to be sure," Aunt Eulie would answer, soothingly; "but +then, Annie dear, it all won't make any difference a hundred years from +now." + +This only irritated Annie more, and at the same time impressed her with +her own folly in being so disturbed by comparative trifles. + +Gregory found his room chill and comfortless, therefore he put on his +overcoat, and started for a walk, full of surprise and painful musings. +As he was descending the stairs, Johnny came running in, crying in a +tone of real distress, "Oh, Aunt Annie, Aunt Annie, I'm so sorry, so +very sorry--" + +Annie came running out of the sitting-room, exclaiming sharply, "What +on earth is the matter now? Hasn't there been trouble enough for one +day?" + +"I'm so sorry," sobbed the little boy, "but I got a letter at the +post-office, and I--I--lost it coming across the lots, and I--I--can't +find it." + +This was too much. This was the ardently-looked-for letter that had +glimmered like a star of hope and promise of better things throughout +this miserable day, and Annie lost all control of herself. Rushing upon +the child, she cried, "You naughty, careless boy! I'll give you one +lesson"; and she shook him so violently that Gregory's indignation got +the better of him, and he said, in a low, deep tone, "Miss Walton, the +child says he is 'very, very sorry.' He has not meant to do wrong." + +Annie started back as if she were committing sacrilege, and covered her +face with her hands. Her back was toward Gregory, but he could see the +hot blood mantling her very neck. She stood there for a moment, +trembling like a leaf, and he, repenting of his hasty words, was about +to apologize, when she suddenly caught the boy in her arms, and sped +past him up the stairs to her own room. + +To his dying day he would never forget the expression of her face. + +It cannot be described. It was the look of a noble spirit, deeply +wounded, profoundly penitent. Her intense feeling touched him, and the +rough October winds brushed a tear from his own eyes more than once +before he returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NOT A HEROINE, BUT A WOMAN + + + +The cold, cynical man of the world was in a maze. He was deeply and +painfully surprised at Miss Walton, and scarcely less so at himself. +How could he account for the tumult at his heart? When he first saw +that outburst of passion against a trembling, pleading child, he felt +that he wished to leave the house then and forever. The next moment, +when he saw Annie's face as she convulsively clasped the boy to her +breast, and with supernatural strength fled to the refuge of her room, +he was not only instantly disarmed of anger, but touched and melted as +he had never been before. + +Feeling is sometimes so intense that it is like the lightning, and +burns its way instantly to the consciousness of others. Words of +condemnation would have died on the lips of the sternest judge had he +seen Annie's face. It would have shown him that the harshest things +that he could utter were already anticipated in unmeasured +self-upbraidings. + +From anger and disgust Gregory passed to the profoundest pity. The +children's unbounded affection for Annie proved that she was usually +kind and patient toward them. A little thought convinced him that the +act he saw was a sudden outburst of passion for which the exasperating +events of the day had been a preparation. Her face showed as no +language could how sincere and deep would be her repentance. He had not +gone very far into the early twilight of a grove before he was +conscious of a strong and secret exultation. + +"She is not made of different clay from others," he said. "She cannot +condemn me so utterly now; and, in view of what I have seen, she cannot +loftily deny the kinship of human weakness. + +"What a nature she has, with its subterranean fires! She is none of +your cool, calculating creatures, who cipher out from day to day what +is policy to do. She will act rightly till there is an irrepressible +irruption, and then, beware. And yet these ebullitions enrich her life +as the lava flow does the sides of Vesuvius. I shall be greatly +disappointed if she is not ten times more kind, sympathetic, and +self-forgetful than she was before; and as for that boy, she will keep +him in the tallest clover for weeks to come, to make up for this. + +"How piquant she is! I do not fear her quick, flame-like spirit when it +is combined with so much conscience and principle. Indeed, I like her +passion. It warms my cold, heavy heart. I wish she had shaken me, who +deserved it, instead of the child, and if any makings-up like that in +yonder room could follow, I would like to be shaken every day in the +week. It would make a new man of me." + +In the excitement of his feelings, he had gone further than he had +intended, and the dusk was deepening fast when he reached the house on +his return. He felt not a little uneasy as to his reception after the +rebuke he had given, but counted much on Annie's just and generous +disposition. He entered quietly at a side door and passed through the +dining-room into the hall. The lamp in the parlor was unlighted, but +the bright wood fire shed a soft, uncertain radiance throughout the +room. A few notes of prelude were struck on the piano, and he knew that +Miss Walton was there. Stepping silently forward opposite the open +door, he stood in the dark hall watching her as she sung the following +words: + + "My Father, once again Thy wayward child + In sorrow, shame, and weakness comes to Thee, + Confessing all my sin, my passion wild, + My selfishness and petty vanity. + + "O Jesus, gentle Saviour, at Thy feet + I fall, where often I have knelt before; + Thou wilt not spurn, nor charge me with deceit, + Because old faults have mastered me once more. + + "Thou knowest that I would be kind and true, + And that I hate the sins that pierced Thy side; + Thou seest that I often sadly view + The wrong that in my heart will still abide. + + "But Thou didst come such erring ones to save, + And weakness wins Thy strong and tender love; + So not in vain I now forgiveness crave, + And cling to hopes long stored with Thee above. + + "And yet I plead that Thou would'st surely keep + My weak and human heart in coming days; + Though now in penitence I justly weep, + O fill my future life with grateful praise." + +As in tremulous, melting tones she sung this simple prayer with tears +glistening in her eyes, Gregory was again conscious of the strong, +answering emotion which the presence of deep feeling in those bound to +us by some close tie of sympathy often excites. But far more than mere +feeling moved him now. Her words and manner vivified an old truth +familiar from infancy, but never realized or intelligently +believed--the power of prayer to secure practical help from God. + +How often men have lived and died poor just above mines of untold +wealth! Gaunt famine has been the inmate of households while there were +buried treasures under the hearthstone. So multitudes in their +spiritual life are weak, despairing, perishing, when by the simple +divinely appointed means of prayer they might fill their lives with +strength and fulness. How long men suffered and died with diseases that +seemed incurable, before they discovered in some common object a potent +remedy that relieved pain and restored health! + +As is the case with many brought up in Christian homes, with no one +thing was Gregory more familiar than prayer. For many years he had said +prayers daily, and yet he had seldom in all his life prayed, and of +late years had come to be a practical infidel in regard to this +subject. People who only say prayers, and expect slight, or no results +from them, or are content year after year to see no results--who lack +simple, honest, practical faith in God's word, such as they have in +that of their physician or banker--who only feel that they ought to +pray, and that in some vague, mystical manner it may do them good, are +very apt to end as sceptics in regard to its efficacy and value. Or +they may become superstitious, and continue to say prayers as the poor +Indian mutters his incantation to keep off the witches. God hears +prayer when His children cry to Him--when His faithful friends speak to +Him straight and true from their hearts; and such know well that they +are answered. + +As Gregory looked at and listened to Annie Walton, he could no more +believe that she was expressing a little aimless religious emotion, +just as she would sing a sentimental ballad, than he could think that +she was only showing purposeless filial affection if she were hanging +on her father's arm and pleading for something vital to her happiness. +The thought flashed across him, "Here may be the secret of her power to +do right--the help she gets from a source above and beyond herself. +Here may be the key to both her strength and weakness. Here glimmers +light even for me." + +Annie was about to sing again, but the interest which she had awakened +was so strong that he could not endure delay. Anxiety as to his +personal reception was forgotten, and he stepped forward and +interrupted her with a question. + +"Miss Walton, do you honestly believe that?" + +"Believe what?" said she, hastily, quite startled. + +"What I gathered from the hymn you sung--that your prayer is really +heard and answered?" + +"Why, certainly I believe it," said Annie, in a shocked and pained +tone. "Do you think me capable of mockery in such things? And yet," she +added, sadly, "perhaps after to-day you think me capable of anything." + +"Now you do both yourself and me wrong," Gregory eagerly replied. "I do +believe you are sincerely trying to obey your conscience. Did I not see +your look of sorrow as you passed me on the stairs?--when shall I +forget it! Remember words that must have been inspired, which you once +quoted to me-- + + "'Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is not of heaven nor earth,' + +and pardon me when I tell you that I have been listening the last few +moments out in the hall. Your tones and manner would melt the heart of +an infidel, and they have made me wish that I were not so unbelieving. +Forgive me for even putting such thoughts in your mind--I feel it is +wicked and selfish in me to do it--but how do you know that your +prayer, though so direct and sincere, was not sound lost in space?" + +"Because it has been answered," she replied, eagerly. "Peace came even +as I spoke the words. Because whenever I really pray to God he answers +me." + +They now stood on opposite sides of the hearth, with the glowing fire +between them. In its light Annie's wet eyes glistened, but she had +forgotten herself in her sincere and newly awakened interest in him +whom she had secretly hoped and purposed before to lead to better +things. It had formed no small part of her keen self-reproach that she +had forgotten that purpose, and wished him out of the way, just as she +was beginning to gain a decided influence over him for good. After what +he had witnessed that afternoon she felt that he would never listen to +her again. + +He would not had he detected the slightest tinge of acting or +insincerity on her part, but her penitence had been as real as her +passion. + +She was glad and grateful indeed when he approached her again in the +spirit he now manifested. + +As she stood there in the firelight, self-forgetful, conscious only of +her wish to say some words that would be like light to him, her large, +humid eyes turned up to his face, she made a picture that his mother +would like to see. + +He leaned against the mantel and looked dejectedly into the fire. After +a moment he said, sadly, "I envy you, Miss Walton. I wish I could +believe in a personal God who thought about us and cared for us--that +is, each one of us. Of course I believe in a Supreme Being--a great +First Cause; but He hides Himself behind the stars; He is lost to me in +His vast universe. I think my prayers once had an effect on my own +mind, and so did me some good. But that's past, and now I might as well +pray to gravitation as to anything else." + +Then, turning to her, he caught her wistful, interested look--an +expression which said plainly, "I want to help you," and it touched +him. He continued, feelingly, "Perhaps you are not conscious of it, but +you now look as if you cared whether I was good or bad, was sad or +happy, lived or died. If I could only see that God cared in something +the same way! He no doubt intends to do what is best for the race in +the long run, but that may involve my destruction. I dread His +terrible, inexorable laws." + +"Alas!" said Annie, tears welling up into her eyes, "I am not wise +enough to argue out these matters and demonstrate the truth. I suppose +it can be done by those who know how." + +"I doubt it," said he, shaking his head decisively. + +"Well, I can tell you only what I feel and know." + +"That is better than argument--that is what I would like. You are not a +weak, sentimental woman, full of mysticism and fancies, and I should +have much confidence in what you know and feel." + +"Do not say that I am not a weak woman; I have shown you otherwise. Be +sincere with me, for I am with you. Well, it seems to me that this +question of prayer is simply one of fact. We know that God answers +prayer, not only because He said He would, but because He does. From my +own experience I am as certain of it as of my existence. I think that +many who sneer or doubt in regard to prayer are very unfair. I ask you, +is it scientific for men to say, 'Nothing is true save what we have +seen and know ourselves?' How that would limit one's knowledge. If some +facts are discovered in Europe and established by a few proper +witnesses, we believe them here. Now in every age multitudes have said +that it was a fact that God heard and answered their prayers. What +right has any one to ignore these truths any more than any other truths +of human experience? I ask my earthly father for something. The next +day I find it on my dressing-table. Is it a delusion to believe that he +heard and granted my request? When I ask my Heavenly Father for outward +things, He sometimes gives them, and sometimes He does not, as He sees +is best for me, just as my parents did when I was a little child. And I +have already seen that He has often been kinder in refusing. But when I +ask for that which will meet my deeper and spiritual needs I seldom ask +in vain. If you should ask me how I know it, I in return ask how you +know that you are ill, or well, that you are glad or sad, or tired, or +anything about yourself that depends on your own inner consciousness? +If I should say unjust, insulting things to you now, how would you know +you were angry? If I should say, Mr. Gregory, you are mocking me; what +I am now saying has no interest for you; you don't hear me, you don't +understand me, you are thinking of something else, what kind of proof +to the contrary could you offer? Suppose that I should say I want +mathematical proof that you do feel an interest, or physical +proof--something that I can measure, weigh, or see--should I be +reasonable? Do I make it clear to you why I say I know this?" + +"Clearer than it was ever made to me before. I cannot help seeing that +you are sincere and sure about it. But pardon me--I've got in such an +inveterate habit of doubting--are not good Catholics just as sure about +the Virgin and the saints hearing and answering them? and do not pagans +feel the same way about their deities?" + +"Now, Mr. Gregory," said Annie, with a little indignant reproach in her +tone, "do you think it just and reasonable to compare my faith, or that +of any intelligent Christian, with the gross superstitions you name? +Christianity is not embraced only by the ignorant and weak-minded: +multitudes of the best and ripest scholars in the world are honest +believers." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I did not mean you to draw any such inference as +that," replied he, hastily and in some confusion. + +"I do not see how any other can be drawn," she continued; "and I know +from what I have read and heard that unbelievers usually seek to give +that impression. But it's not a fair one. The absurdities of paganism, +monkish legends, and even the plausible errors of the Romish Church, +will not endure the light of intelligent education; but the more I know +the more I see the beauty and perfection of the Christian religion and +the reasonableness of prayer, and so it is with far stronger and wiser +heads than mine. Your father and mine were never men to be imposed +upon, nor to believe anything just because they were told to do so when +children." + +"Really, Miss Walton, you said you couldn't argue about this matter. I +think you can, like a lawyer." + +"If you mean that I am using a lawyer's proverbial sleight of hand, I'm +sorry." + +"I don't mean that at all, but that you put your facts in such a way +that it's hard to meet them." + +"I only try to use common-sense. It's about the only sense I have. But +I was in hopes you did not want to meet what I say adversely, but would +like to believe." + +"I would, Miss Walton, honestly I would; but wishes go little way +against stubborn doubt. This one now rises: How is it that scientific +men are so apt to become infidel in regard to the Bible and its +teachings, and especially prayer?" + +"I'm sure I hardly know," she answered, with a sigh; "but I will tell +you what I think. I don't believe the majority of them know much about +either the Bible or prayer. With my little smattering of geology I +should think it very presuming to give an opinion contrary to that held +by the best authorities in that science; and I think it very presuming +in those who rarely look into a Bible and never pray, to tell those who +read and pray daily that they don't know what they do know. Then again, +scientific people often apply gross material tests to matters of faith +and religious experience. The thing is absurd. Suppose a man should +seek to investigate light with a pair of scales that could not weigh +anything less than a pound. There is a spiritual and moral world as +truly as a physical, and spiritual facts are just as good to build on +as any other; and I should think they ought to be better, because the +spirit is the noblest part of us. A man who sees only one side of a +mountain has no right to declare that the other is just like it. Then +again your scientific oracles are always contradicting one another, and +upsetting one another's theories. Science to-day laughs at the +absurdities believed by the learned a hundred years ago; and so will +much that is now called science, and because of which men doubt the +Bible, be laughed at in the future. But my belief is the same +substantially as that of Paul, St. Augustine, Luther, and the best +people of my own age; and Luther, who did more for the world than any +other mere man, said that to 'pray well was to work well.'" + +When Annie was under mental excitement, she was a rapid, fluent talker, +and this was especially her condition this evening. As she looked +earnestly at Gregory while she spoke, her dark eyes glowing with +feeling and intelligence and lighting her whole face, he was impressed +more than he could have been by the labored arguments of a cool, +logical scholar. Her intense earnestness put a soul into the body of +her words. He was affected more than he wished her to know, more than +was agreeable to his pride. What she had said seemed so perfectly true +and real to her that for the time she made it true to him; and yet to +admit that his long-standing doubts could not endure so slight an +assault as this, was to show that they had a very flimsy basis. +Moreover, he knew that when, left to himself, he should think it all +over, new questions would rise that could not be answered, and new +doubts return. Therefore he could not receive now what he might be +disposed to doubt to-morrow. He was a trifle bewildered, and wanted +time to think. He was as much interested in Miss Walton as in what she +was saying, and when her words proved that she was a thoughtful woman, +and could be the intelligent companion of any man, the distracting fear +grew stronger that when she came to know him well, she would coldly +stand aloof. The very thought was unendurable. In all the world, only +in the direction of Annie Walton seemed there any light for him. So to +gain time he instinctively sought to give a less serious turn to the +conversation, by saying, "Come, Miss Walton, this is the best preaching +I've ever heard. It seems to me quite unusual to find a young lady so +interested and well versed in these matters. You must have given a good +deal of thought and reading to the subject." + +Annie looked disappointed. She had hoped for a better result from her +earnest words than a compliment and a little curiosity as to herself. +But she met him in his own apparent mood, and said, "Now see how easily +imposed upon your sceptical people are! I could palm myself off, like +Portia, as a Daniel come to judgment, and by a little discreet silence +gain a blue halo as a woman of deep research and profound reading. Just +the contrary is true. I am not a very great reader on any subject, and +certainly not on theology and kindred topics. The fact is I am largely +indebted to my father. He is interested in the subjects and takes pains +to explain much to me that would require study; and since mother died +he has come to talk to me very much as he did to her. But it seems to +me that all I have said is very simple and plain, and you surely know +that my motive was not to air the little instruction I have received." + +Gregory's policy forsook him as he saw her expression of +disappointment; and as he looked at her flushed and to him now lovely +face, acting upon a sudden impulse he asked, "Won't you please tell me +your motive?" + +His manner and tone convinced her in a moment that he was more moved +and interested than she had thought, and answering with a like impulse +on her part, she said, frankly, "Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, +but from the very first day of your visit it seemed clear to me that +you were not living and feeling as those who once made this your home +could wish, and the thought was impressed upon me, impressed strongly, +that perhaps God had sent you in your feeble health and sadness (for +you evidently were depressed in mind also), to this place of old and +holy memories, that you might learn something better than this world's +philosophy. I have hoped and prayed that I might be able to help you. +But when to-day," she continued, turning away her head to hide the +rising tears, "I showed such miserable weakness, I felt that you would +never listen to me again on such subjects, and would doubt more than +ever their reality, and it made me very unhappy. I feel grateful that +you have listened to me so patiently. I hope you won't let my weakness +hurt my cause. Now you see what a frank, guileless conspirator I am," +she added, trying to smile at him through her tears. + +While she spoke Gregory bent upon her a look that tried to search her +soul. But the suspicious man of the world could not doubt her perfect +sincerity. Her looks and words disclosed her thought as a crystal +stream reveals a white pebble over which it flows. He stepped forward +and took her hand with a pressure that caused it pain for hours after, +but he trusted himself to say only, "You are my good angel, Miss +Walton. Now I understand your influence over me," and then abruptly +left the room. + +But he did not understand her influence. A man seldom does when he +first meets the woman whose words, glances, and presence have the +subtle power to fill his thoughts, quicken his pulse, stir his soul, +and awaken his whole nature into new life. He usually passes through a +luminous haze of congeniality, friendship, Platonic affinity, or even +brotherly regard, till something suddenly clears up the mist and he +finds, like the first man, lonely in Eden, that there is but one woman +for him in all the world. + +Gregory was in the midst of the cloud, but it seemed very bright around +him as he paced his room excitedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +GREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION IN REGARD TO MISS WALTON + + + +Annie Walton was now no longer an enigma to Gregory. He had changed his +views several times in regard to her. First, she was a commonplace, +useful member of the community, in a small way, and part of the +furniture of a well-ordered country-house--plain furniture too, he had +said to himself. But one evening in her company had convinced him that +such a Miss Walton was a fiction of his own mind, and he who had come +to regard average society girls as a weariness beyond endurance was +interested in her immediately. + +Then her truth and unselfishness, and the strong religious element in +her character, had been a constant rebuke to him, but he had soothed +himself with the theory that she differed from others only in being +untempted. He then had resolved to amuse himself, ease his conscience, +and feed his old grudge against her sex, by teaching the little saint +that she was only a weak, vain creature. Yet she had sustained not only +his temptations, but another ordeal, so searching and terrible that it +transformed her into a heroine, a being of superior clay to that of +ordinary mortals. "It's her nature to be good, mine to be bad," he had +said; "I'm a weed, she is a flower." But Annie herself had rudely +dispelled this illusion. + +Now he saw her to be a woman who might, did she yield to the evil +within her and without, show all the vanity, weakness, and folly +generally, of which he had at first believed her capable, but who, by +prayer and effort, daily achieved victories over herself. In addition, +she had manifested the most beautiful and God-like trait that can +ennoble human character--the desire to save and sweeten others' lives. +To have been lectured and talked to on the subject of religion in any +conventional way by one outside of his sympathies would have been as +repulsive as useless, but Annie had the tact to make her effort appear +like angelic ministry. + +There is that about every truly refined woman with a large loving heart +which is irresistible. The two qualities combined give a winning grace +that is an "open sesame" everywhere. The trouble is that culture and +polish are too often the sheen of an icicle. + +He believed he saw just her attitude toward him. It reminded him of +Miss Bently's efforts in his behalf, but with the contrast that existed +between Miss Bently and Annie. He now wondered that he could have been +interested in such a vain, shallow creature as Mrs. Grobb had proved +herself, and he excused himself on the ground that he had idealized her +into something that she was not. All that Annie said and did had the +solidity of truth, and not the hollowness of affectation. And yet there +was one thing that troubled him. While her effort to help him out of +his morbid, unhappy state was so sincere, she showed no special +personal interest in himself, such as he had in her. If he should now +go away, she would place him merely in the outer circle of her friends +or acquaintance, and make good the old saying, "Out of sight, out of +mind." But already the conviction was growing strong that it would be +long before she would be out of his mind. Though he had plenty of +pride, as we have seen, he was not conceited, and from long familiarity +with society could readily detect the difference between the regard she +would feel for a man personally attractive and the interest of aroused +sympathies which she might have in any one, and which her faith and +nature led her to have in every one. Of course he was not satisfied +with the latter, and it was becoming one of his dearest hopes to awaken +a personal feeling, though of just what kind he had not yet even +defined to himself. + +When the tea-bell rang, much later than usual on account of the chaos +of the day, he was glad to go down. Her society was far pleasanter than +his own, and future events might make everything clearer. + +His supposition in regard to Johnny was correct. As he descended the +stairs, the boy came out of the sitting-room, holding Annie tightly by +the hand and beaming upon her like the sun after a shower, and when he +found by his plate a huge apple that had been roasted specially for +him, his cup of happiness was full and he was ready for another +shaking. If the apple once caused discord it here confirmed peace. + +The supper was as inviting as the dinner had been forbidding, +indicating a change of policy in the kitchen cabinet. In fact, after +Zibbie cooled off, she found that she was not ready for "the world to +come to an end" (or its equivalent, her leaving the Waltons after so +many years of service and kindness). She had not yet reached the point +of abject apology, though she knew she would go down on her old +rheumatic knees rather than leave her ark of refuge and go out into the +turbulent waters of the world; still she made propitiating overtures in +the brownest of buttered toast, and a chicken salad that might have +been served as ambrosia on Mount Olympus. Zibbie was a guileless +strategist, for in the success of the supper she proved how great had +been her malign ingenuity and deliberation in spoiling the dinner. She +could never claim that it was accidental. Hannah no longer waited as if +it were a funeral occasion, and the domestic skies were fast +brightening up, except in one quarter: Mr. Walton's chair was vacant, +and Gregory noticed that Annie often looked wistfully and sadly toward +it. + +With the sensitiveness of one who habitually hid his deeper feeling +from the world, Gregory tried to act as if his last conversation with +Annie had been upon the weather; and as might be expected of refined +people, no allusion was made to the unpleasant features of the day. +Neither then nor afterward was a word adverse to the Camdens spoken. +They had been guests, and that was enough for the Waltons' nice sense +of courtesy. Only Susie, with a little sigh of relief, gave expression +to the general feeling by saying, "Somehow I feel kind of light +to-night. I felt dreadfully heavy this morning." + +Annie, with a smile on her lips and something like a tear in her eye, +noticed the child's remark by adding, "I think we should all feel light +if grandpa were only here." + +After supper she sung to the children and told them a bedtime story, +and then with a kiss of peace sent them off to their dream-wanderings. + +During Annie's absence from the parlor, Gregory remained in his room. +He was in no mood to talk with any one else. Even Miss Eulie's gentle +patter of words would fall with a sting of pain. + +When Annie came down to the parlor she said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I will +sing as much as you wish, to make up for last evening. Indeed I must do +something to get through the hours till father's return, for I feel so +anxious and self-reproachful about him." + +"And so make happiness for others out of your pain," said he. "Why +don't you complain and fret all the evening and make it uncomfortable +generally?" + +"I have done enough of that for one day. What will you have?" + +An impulse prompted him to say "You," but he only said, "Your own +choice," and walked softly up and down the room while she sung, now a +ballad, now a hymn, and again a simple air from an opera, but nothing +light or gay. + +He was taking a dangerous course for his own peace. As we have seen, +Annie's voice was not one to win special admiration. It was not +brilliant and highly cultivated, and had no very great compass. She +could not produce any of the remarkable effects of the trained +vocalist. But it was exceedingly sweet in the low, minor notes. It was +sympathetic, and so colored by the sentiment of the words that she made +a beautiful language of song. It was a voice that stole into the heart, +and kept vibrating there long hours after, like an Aeolian harp just +breathed upon by a dying zephyr. + +As was often the case, she forgot her auditor, and began to reveal +herself in this mode of expression so natural to her, and to sing as +she did long evenings when alone. At times her tones would be tremulous +with pathos and feeling, and again strong and hopeful. Then, as if +remembering the great joy that soon would be hers in welcoming back her +absent lover, it grew as tender and alluring as a thrush's call to its +mate. + + "O'er the land and o'er the sea + Swiftly fly my thoughts to thee; + Haste thee and come back to me: + I'm waiting. + + "Thou away, how sad my song! + When alone, the days are long; + Soon thou'lt know how glad and strong + My welcome. + + "Haste thee, then, o'er sea and land: + Quickly join our loving band, + Waiting here to clasp thy hand + In greeting." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton," said Gregory, leaning upon the piano, "that +would bring me from the antipodes." + +She did not like his tone and manner, and also became conscious that in +her choice of a ballad she had expressed thoughts that were not for +him; so she tried to turn the matter lightly off by saying, "Where you +probably were in your thoughts. What have you been thinking about all +this long time while I have fallen into the old habit of talking to +myself over the piano?" + +"You, I might say; but I should add, in truth, what you have said to me +this evening." + +"I hope only the latter." + +"Chiefly, I've been enjoying your singing. You have a very peculiar +voice. You don't 'execute' or 'render' anything, any more than a bird +does. I believe they have been your music teachers." + +"Crows abound in our woods," she answered, laughing. + +"So do robins and thrushes." + +Her face suddenly had an absent look as if she did not hear him. It was +turned from the light, or the rich color that was mantling it would +have puzzled him, and might have inspired hope. With some abruptness +and yet hesitation, such as is often noted when a delicate subject is +broached, she said, "Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make peace between you +and Mr. Hunting. I think you are not friendly." + +As she looked to see the effect of her remark the light shone on his +face, and she was again deeply pained to see how instantly it darkened. +For a moment he did not reply; then in a cold, constrained voice, he +said, "He is a friend of the family, I suppose." + +"Yes," she replied, eagerly. + +"I too would like to be regarded as a friend, and especially to you; so +I ask it as a great personal favor that you will not mention that +gentleman's name again during the brief remnant of my visit." + +"Do you mean any imputation against him?" she asked, hotly. + +Policy whispered, "Don't offend her. Hunting may be a near relation;" +so he said, quietly, "Gentlemen may have difficulties concerning which +they do not like to speak. I have made no imputation against him +whatever, but I entreat you to grant my request." + +Annie was not satisfied, but sat still with knit brows. At that moment +she heard her father's step and ran joyfully to meet him. He had come +home chilled from a long ride in the raw wind, and she spent the rest +of the evening in remorseful ministrations to his comfort. As she +flitted around him, served his tea and toast, and petted him generally, +Gregory felt that he would ride for a night after the "Wild Huntsman" +to be so treated. + +He also rightly felt that Annie's manner was a little cool toward him. +It was not in her frank, passionate nature to feel and act the same +toward one who had just expressed such bitter hostility toward her +lover. But the more he thought of it the more determined he was that +there should be no alienation between them on account of Hunting. + +"Curse him!" he muttered, "he has cost me too much already." + +He had the impression that Hunting was a relative of the family. That +he was the accepted lover of the pure and true girl that he himself was +unconsciously learning to love was too monstrous a thought to be +entertained. Still Annie's words and manner caused him some sharp pangs +of jealousy, till he cast the very idea away in scorn as unworthy of +both himself and her. + +"Evil as my life has been, it is white compared with his," he said to +himself. + +In accordance with his purpose to keep the vantage-ground already +gained, he was geniality itself, and so entertained Miss Eulie and Mr. +Walton that Annie soon relented and smiled upon him as kindly as ever. +She was in too humbled and softened a mood that evening to be +resentful, except under great provocation, and she was really very +grateful to Gregory for his readiness to overlook her weakness and give +her credit for trying to do right. Indeed, his sincere admiration and +outspoken desire for her esteem inclined her toward him, for was she +not a woman? + +"After all," she thought, "he has said nothing against Charles. They +have had a quarrel, and he no doubt is the one to blame. He is +naturally very proud and resentful, and would be all the more so in +that degree that he was wrong himself. If I can help him become a +Christian, making peace will be an easy affair; so I will not lose the +hold that I have gained upon him. When Charles comes he will tell me +all about it, and I will make him treat Gregory in such a way that +enmity cannot last." + +How omnipotent girls imagine themselves to be with those who swear they +will do anything under heaven to please them, but who usually go on in +the old ways! + +It was late when the family separated for the night, but later far when +Gregory retired. The conclusion of his long revery was that in Annie +Walton existed his only chance of life and happiness. She seemed to +possess the power to wake up all the man left in him, and if there were +any help in God, she only could show him how to find it. + +Thus his worldly wisdom had taught him, as many others had been taught, +to lean on a human arm for his main support and chief hope, while +possibly in the uncertain future some help from heaven might be +obtained. He was like a sickly plant in the shade saying to itself, +"Yonder ray of sunlight would give me new life," while it has no +thought of the sun from which the ray came. He truly wished to become a +good man for his own sake as well as Annie's, for he had sufficient +experience in the ills of evil; but he did not know that a loving God +does not make our only chance dependent on the uncertain action and +imperfect wisdom of even the best of earthly friends. The One who began +His effort of saving man by dying for him will not afterward neglect +the work, or commit it wholly to weak human hands. + +The next morning, being that of Saturday, brought Annie many duties, +and these, with callers, so occupied her time that Gregory saw but +little of her. The shadow between them seemed to have passed away, and +she treated him with the utmost kindness. But there was a new shadow on +her face that he could not understand, and after breakfast he said to +her as they were passing to the parlor, "Miss Walton, you seem out of +spirits. I hope nothing painful has happened." + +"Jeff found my lost letter this morning," she said, "and I have been +deservedly punished anew, for it brought me unpleasant tidings;" and +she hastily left the room, as if not wishing to speak further on the +matter. + +It had indeed inflicted a heavy disappointment, for it was from +Hunting, stating that business would detain him some days longer in +Europe. But she had accepted it with resignation, and felt that it was +but a light penalty for all her folly of the two preceding days. + +Gregory was not a little curious about it, for he was interested now in +everything connected with her; but as she did not speak of it again, +good taste required that he should not. An uncomfortable thought of +Hunting as the possible writer crossed his mind, but he drove it from +him with something like rage. + +As Gregory sat brooding by his fire, waiting till the sun should grow +higher before starting for a walk, Jeff came up with an armful of wood, +and seemed bubbling over with something. He, too, had suffered sorely +in the storm he had helped to raise the preceding day, and had +tremblingly eaten such dinner as the irate Zibbie had tossed on the +table for him, as a man might lunch in the vicinity of a bombshell. He +seemed to relieve himself by saying, with his characteristic grin, as +he replenished the fire, "It was dreadful 'pestuous yesterday, but de +winds is gone down. I'se glad dat ole hen is done for, but she hatch a +heap ob trouble on her las' day." + +Jeff belonged to that large school of modern philosophers who explain +the evils of the day on very superficial grounds. The human heart is +all right. It's only "dat ole hen" or unfavorable circumstances of some +kind, that do the mischief. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"THE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT"--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST + + + +In his solitary ramble, Gregory again thought long and deeply over the +situation. The impression was growing strong that the supreme hour of +his life, which would decide his destiny for good or evil, was fast +approaching. For years previously he had given up the struggle against +the latter, and had sunk deep in moral apathy, making greater effort to +doubt everything concerning God than to believe. Then he had lost even +his earthly ambition, and become mere driftwood on the tide of time. +But a sweet, true woman was doing a work for him like that of Elsie for +Prince Henry in the Golden Legend. A consciousness of power to take up +his burden again and be a man among men was coming back, and old Daddy +Tuggar's words were growing into a hope-inspiring prophecy: "She could +take the wickedest man livin' to heaven, if she'd stay right by him." + +And yet his self-distrust was painfully and dangerously great, and he +feared that when Annie came to know the worst about him, and how he had +plotted against her, she would shrink from him. If she despaired of him +he would despair of himself. He was certain that he could not win even +an intimate congenial acquaintance, much less a more tender regard, +unless he became a true, good man, worthy of her confidence. He could +not become such by commencing in deception--by hiding the past, and +trying to appear what he was not. For in the first place she would +certainly find him out and despise him, and in the second place his own +nature now revolted at anything false in his relations with her. After +long anxious thought, he concluded that the only safe, as well as the +only honorable, course was perfect frankness. If he began wrong, the +end would be disastrous. He was no longer subject to school-boy +impulses, but was a mature and thoughtful man, and had trained himself +in business to look far and keenly into the consequences of present +action. He saw in this Walton blood an intense antipathy to deceit. His +own nature was averse to it also, and his experience with Hunting had +made it doubly hateful. His pride revolted at it, for his lack of +hypocrisy had been the one ground of self-respect that remained in him. +If in his folly and wickedness he had blotted out the possibility of a +happy future, he must endure the terrible truth as he could. To try to +steal into heaven, earthly or celestial, by the back door of specious +seeming, only to be discovered in his true character and cast out with +greater ignominy, was a course as revolting as foolish. Annie knew him +to be a man of the world, with sceptical tendencies, but to her +guileless nature and inexperience this might not mean anything very +bad. In the secret of his own soul, however, he had to meet these +terrible questions: + +"Can God receive and pardon a willing unbeliever, a man who has sinned +against the clearest light, a gambler, a libertine, an embodiment of +selfishness? Can it be that Annie Walton will ever receive even +friendship from one so stained, knowing the additional fact that I +plotted against her and sought for my own senseless gratification to +prove that she was a weak, vain woman, who would be no better than +myself if tempted in like manner? It is true that I never betrayed +innocence or wronged a man out of a dollar. It is true that in the code +of the world I have done nothing to lose my character as a gentleman, +and even my design upon Miss Walton would pass as a harmless flirtation +in society; but the code of the world has no force in her pure mind, +and the license it permits is an insult to the law of God. And now it +is not with the world, but with her and Heaven that I have to deal. +Things at which society shrugs its shoulders indifferently are to them +crimes, and black ones too. I might as well seek her love with a +felon's indictment hanging over me as to seek it hiding my past life. +When she came to find me out she would feel that I had wronged her +unutterably, and confidence, the only basis of lasting esteem, would be +gone. + +"Deep in my heart I have never doubted my mother's faith. When I +imagined I did I was self-deceived. Everything here confirms it, and +Miss Walton more than all. I will consult the divine oracle. She shall +be the fair vestal, the gentle priestess. She lives near to heaven, and +knows its mind. If her kind and womanly nature shrinks from me, if she +coldly draws her skirts aside that I pollute them not even with a +touch--if she by word or even manner proves that she sees an impassable +gulf between us--then she need waste no breath in homilies over +repentance and in saying that God can receive those whom man cannot. +I'll not even listen, but go back to the city and meet my fate. If +imperfect human creatures cannot forgive each other--if I have gone so +far beyond the mercy of a tender-hearted woman--then I need look for +nothing from a just and holy God. It's mockery for good people, with +horror and disgust slightly veiled upon their faces, to tell poor +wretches that God will receive them and love them, while they would no +more take them into their confidence and esteem than they would a +pestilence. It's like people saying to one in the last stage of +consumption, 'I hope you will be better soon.' They don't hope or +expect any such thing. The Bible is said to teach that a man can sin +away his day of grace. I had about believed that I had sinned away +mine. This genuine, honest Christian girl has made me think +differently. She has inspired the strong hope that she could lead me to +become a good man--even a Christian. She shall either fulfil that hope +or show it to be false." + +Such was the outline of his thoughts that long day, during which hope +and fear balanced an even scale. But the evening shadows found fear +predominating. His awakened conscience and his recent contact with true +moral standards revealed him to himself in darker and still darker +shadow. At times he was almost ready to despair, to bid his +entertainers a courteous farewell on Monday, and go back to the city as +he came, with the additional wretchedness of having seen the heaven he +could not enter. + +But when he came down to supper, Annie smiled so sweetly and looked so +gentle and kind, that he thought, "She does not seem one to push a +wretch over a precipice. That warm little hand that charmed away my +headache so gently cannot write Dante's inscription over my 'Inferno,' +and bid me enter it as 'my own place'; and yet I dread her sense of +justice." + +In his anxiety and perturbation of mind he was unusually grave and +silent during the meal and evening. Annie exulted secretly over him. + +"He is thinking in earnest now. His old apathy and trifling manner are +gone." + +He was indeed thinking in terrible earnest. Her effort had awakened no +school-girl interest and penitence that she could soothe and reward by +quoting a few sweet promises, but had aroused a spirit like that which +came down from the hills of Gadara, and which no man could bind. + +Men and women in good society may be very polished and refined, and yet +their souls in God's sight and their own be shameful, "naked," wearing +no robe of righteousness, bound by no laws of purity and right, and +"always, night and day, crying and cutting" themselves in the unrest of +remorse. Sad and yet true it was that the demon-possessed man, the +terror of the Gadarenes, was but too true a type of the gentlemanly and +elegant Walter Gregory, as he sat that night in a torment of dread and +hope at the peaceful fireside of a Christian family. If his fears were +realized--if Annie turned from him when he revealed his true self to +her--there seemed to him every probability that evil evermore would be +his master. While she was innocently hoping and praying that her words +and influence might lead him to read his Bible, go to church, and +eventually find his way into the "green pastures beside the still +waters," it seemed that within a few hours she would either avert or +complete that most awful of tragedies--the loss of a soul. + +He accompanied them to church the following morning, and his manner was +grave even to solemnity. Little wonder. In a certain sense, in view of +his resolution, the Judgment Day had come to him. + +With heavy, contracted brows he listened to a sermon anything but +reassuring. The good old minister inclined to a legal and doctrinal +gospel, and to-day his subject was the perfection and searching +character of the divine law. He showed how God could make no terms with +sin--that he hated it with a terrible and vindictive hatred, because in +all respects it was opposite and antagonistic to His nature--because it +defiled, degraded, and destroyed. He traced all human wretchedness to +this poisonous root, and Gregory trembled and his face grew dark with +despair as he realized how it was inwoven with every fibre of his +heart. Then in simple but strong language the silver-haired old man, +who seemed a type of the ancient prophets, portrayed the great white +throne of God's justice, snowy, too dazzling for human eyes, and the +conscience-stricken man shrunk and cowered. + +He turned to Annie to see how this train of thought, so terrific to +him, affected her. Not a trace of fear was upon her face, but only +serene, reverent awe. He glanced at Mr. Walton, but the old magistrate +sat in his place, calm and dignified, evidently approving the action of +the greater Judge. Miss Eulie's face, as seen between himself and the +light of the window, appeared spirit-like. + +"Thus they will look on the Judgment Day," thought Gregory, "while I +tremble even at its picture. O the vital difference between guilt and +innocence, between faith and unbelief!" + +If the venerable clergyman had been talking personally to Gregory or +any sinful creature, he would not have concluded his subject where he +did. He would have shown how between the throne of justice and the +sinner there stood an Advocate, an Intercessor, a Saviour. But having +logically developed his text, he finished his discourse. Perhaps on the +following Sabbath he might present the mercy of God with equal +clearness. But the sermon of the day, standing alone and confirming the +threatenings of an accusing conscience, depressed Gregory greatly. It +did not anger him, as such truth usually did. He was too weak and +despairing. He now felt the hopelessness and folly of opposition. The +idea of getting into a passion with fate! Only weak natures fume at the +inevitable. There is a certain dignity in silent, passive despair. + +Annie's voice singing the closing hymn beside him sounded like an +angel's voice across the "great gulf." Almost mechanically he walked +down the aisle out into the sunny noon of a warm October day. Birds +were twittering around the porch. Fall insects filled the air with +their cheery chirpings. The bay of a dog, the shrill crowing of a cock, +came softened across the fields from a neighboring farm. Cow-bells +tinkled faintly in the distance, and two children were seen romping on +a hillside, flitting here and there like butterflies. The trees were in +gala dress of crimson and gold, and even the mountains veiled their +stern grandeur in a purple haze, through which the sun's rays shimmered +with genial but not oppressive warmth. + +The people lingered around the door, shaking hands and greeting one +another with the plain but cordial courtesy of the country. Gregory +heard one russet-apple-faced man say that "Betsy was better," and an +old colored woman, with a visage like that apple in black and mottled +decay, said in cheerful tones that "little Sampson was gittin' right +peart." A great raw-boned farmer asked a half-grown boy, "How's yer +mare?" and the boy replied that the animal was better also. All seemed +better that bright day, and from a group near came the expression, +"Crops were good this year." While the wealthier and more cultured +members of the congregation had kindly nods and smiles for all, they +naturally drew together, and there seemed a little flutter of +excitement over the renewal of the sewing society that had been +discontinued during the summer. + +Gregory stood apart from all this, with the heavy contraction still +upon his brow, and asked himself, "What have these simple, cheery, +commonplace people, with their petty earth-born cares and interests, to +do with that 'great white throne' of which we have just heard? and +where in this soft, dreamy landscape, so suggestive of peace, rest, and +everyday life, lurks any hint of the 'wrath of a just and holy God'?" + +And then the old pastor, who a little before had seemed a prototype of +John, the stern reformer from the wilderness, came out smiling and +benignant, greeting his flock as a father might his children. The very +hand that had been raised in denunciation, and in threatening a doom +that would appall the heart of courage itself, was given to Gregory in +a warm and cordial grasp. The man he had trembled before now seemed the +personification of sweet-tempered human kindness. The contrast was so +sharp that it seemed to Gregory that either what he saw or what he had +heard must be an utter delusion. + +As they were driving home, he suddenly broke the moody silence by +asking Miss Walton, "How do you reconcile the scene at the church door, +so matter-of-fact, cheery, and earthly, with the terrible pictures +suggested by the sermon? If such things are before us, it seems to me +that bright, sunny days like these are mockery." + +She looked at him wistfully. The sermon had not been what she would +have wished, but she trusted it would do him good by cutting away every +hope based on anything in himself or in vague general ideas of God's +indiscriminate mercy. She answered gently, "The contrast was indeed +great, now I think of it, and yet each scene was matter-of-fact to me +in the sense of being real. Besides, that one which our pastor +described was a court of justice. I shall have an Advocate there who +will clear me. As for 'bright days,' I believe they are just what God +means His people to have always." + +"Yes," said he, gloomily, "that is your side of the question." + +"It may be yours also," she replied, in a low tone. + +He shook his head and looked away to hide his pain. + +After a short time he again said, "Do you not think that the view of +God which your minister gave is very depressing to the average man? Is +not His law too perfect for imperfect humanity?" + +"Not at all," she answered, eagerly; but before she could say more, Mr. +Walton, unaware of the subject occupying them, turned from the front +seat and introduced another topic. + +After dinner, Gregory went to his room, which he restlessly paced. + +"Even her creed, her faith, as well as her purity and truth, raises a +wall as high as heaven between us," he exclaimed, bitterly. "She has +only to see me as God sees, to shrink away appalled, disgusted. Well, +she shall," he muttered, grinding his teeth; "I shall not add the worst +torment of all to my perdition by deceiving her." + +As he came down stairs, Annie had just finished reading to the +children, and he said, "Miss Walton, will your ideas of Sabbath-keeping +prevent you from taking a stroll in the garden with me?" + +"Not at all," she replied, smiling. "A garden is a good place to keep +Sunday in." + +He walked silently at her side across the lawn down a shady walk. Annie +hoped much from this interview, and sent a swift, earnest prayer to +Heaven that she might speak wisely. She feared that his dejection would +pass into discouragement and despair. She saw that he was much +depressed, and judged correctly that it was because he had seen only +one side of a great truth. She hoped to cheer and inspire him with the +other side. Moreover, her religion was very simple. It was only +becoming God's friend, instead of remaining indifferent or hostile. To +her, no matter what the burden, it was simply leading the heavy-laden +to the strong Divine Friend as people were brought to Him of old, and +establishing the personal relations of love, faith, and following. + +But she did not realize the desperate nature or the complications of +Gregory's moral infirmity. Still she was a safe adviser, for she did +not propose to cure him herself. She wished to rally and cheer him, to +inspire hope, and to turn his eyes from sin to the Saviour, so she +said, "Mr. Gregory, why do you look as if marching to execution?" + +"Perhaps because I feel as if I were," he said. + +Just then a variegated leaf parted from a spray overhanging the path +somewhat in advance of them, and fluttered to their feet. + +"Poor little leaf!" said Gregory, picking it up, "your bright colors +will soon be lost. Death has come to you too. Why must this wretched +thought of death be thrust on one at every turn? Nature is full of it. +Things only live, apparently, for the sake of dying. Just as this leaf +becomes most beautiful it drops. What a miserable world this is, with +death making havoc everywhere! Then your theology exaggerates the evil +a thousand-fold. If a man must die, let him die and cease to be. But +your minister spoke to-day of a living death, in which one only exists +to suffer. What a misfortune to have existed!" + +As Gregory gloomily uttered these bitter words, they stood looking at +the leaf that had suggested them. Annie's face brightened with a sudden +thought. She turned, and after a few rapid steps sprung lightly up and +caught the twig from which the leaf had fallen. Then turning to her +companion, who regarded with surprise and admiration the agile grace of +the act, she said, "Mr. Gregory, you need lessons in logic. If the leaf +you hold is your theme, as you gave me reason to believe, you don't +stick to it, and you draw from it conclusions that don't follow the +premise. Another thing, it is not right to develop a subject without +regard to its connection. Now from just this place," she continued, +pointing with her finger, "the leaf dropped. What do you see? What was +its connection?" + +"Why, a little branch full of other leaves. These would soon have +dropped off and died also, if you had not hastened their fate." + +"That's a superficial view, like the one you just took of this +'miserable world,' as you call it. I think it is a very good world--a +much better one than we deserve. And now look closely and justly at +your theme's connection, and tell me what you see. Look just here;" and +her finger rested on the little green spot where the stem of the leaf +had joined the spray. + +"I see a very small bud," he said, intelligence of her meaning dawning +in his face. + +"Which will develop next spring into other leaves and perhaps into a +new branch. All summer long your leaf has rustled and fluttered +joyously over the certainty that a richer and fuller life would come +after it, a life that it was providing for through the sunny days and +dewy nights. There is no death here, only change for the better. And so +with everything that has bloomed and flourished in this garden during +the past season, provision has been made for new and more abundant +life. All these bright but falling leaves and fading flowers are merely +Nature's robes, ornaments that she is throwing carelessly aside as she +withdraws for a little time from her regal state. Wait till she appears +again next spring, as young, fresh, and beautiful as when, like Eve, +she saw her first bright morning. Come and see her upon her throne next +June. Nature full of death! Why, Mr. Gregory, she speaks of nothing but +life to those who understand her language." + +"O that you would teach it to me!" he said, with a deeper meaning than +she detected. + +"Again," she continued, "our theology does not represent death as +making havoc anywhere. It is sin that makes the havoc, and death is +only one of its consequences. And even this enemy God compels to work +for the good of His friends. Do not think," she continued, coming a +step nearer in her earnestness, "that I make such allusions to pain +you, but only in my sincere wish to help you, and illustrate my meaning +by something you know so well. Did death make havoc in your mother's +case? Was it not rather a sombre-liveried janitor that opened for her +the gates of heaven?" + +He was deeply touched, and turned away his face. After a moment he +continued his walk, that they might get further away from the house and +the danger of interruption. + +He suddenly startled Annie by saying, in a tone of harsh and intense +bitterness, "Her death made 'havoc' for me. If she had lived I might +have been a good man instead of the wretch I am. If death as janitor +opens the gates of heaven, your religion teaches that it also opens the +gates of hell. How can I love a God who shuts up the sinful in an +inferno--in dungeons of many and varied tortures, and racks them +forever? Can I, just to escape all this, pretend that I love Him, when +in truth I fear and dread Him unspeakably? No, I'll never be a +hypocrite." + +Tears glistened in Annie's eyes as he turned to look at her. + +"You pity me," he said, more gently. "Your God does not. If He wanted +to be loved He should never have revealed a hell." + +"Should He not in mercy, if it really existed? And does it not exist? +Will merely a beautiful place make heaven for anybody? Mr. Gregory, +look around this lovely autumn evening. See the crimson glory of those +clouds yonder in the west. See that brightness shading off into paler +and more exquisite tints. Look, how those many-hued leaves reflect the +glowing sky. The air is as sweet and balmy as that of Eden could have +been. The landscape is beautiful in itself, and especially attractive +to you. To our human eyes it hardly seems as if heaven could be more +perfect than this. And yet, standing in the one spot of all the earth +most beautiful to you, Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, your face +expresses nothing but pain. There is not a trace of happiness in it. +You were not happy when you came here. I saw that the first day. All +the pleasant surroundings of your own home have not made you happy. +Have they given you even peace and quiet? Place does not make heaven, +but something we carry in our own bosoms," she concluded, leaving him +to supply the rest of her thought. + +His face was white with fear, and there was terror in his tone as he +turned and said to her, in a low voice, "Miss Walton, that is what I +have been coming to see and dread, of late, and as you put the thoughts +into words I see that it is true. I carry perdition in my own heart. +When I am alone my imaginings frighten me; and when with others, +impulses arise to do the devil's own work." + +"But it is the nature of God to save from all this. I am so sorry that +you do not understand Him better." + +"He saves some," said Gregory, gloomily. + +"But many will not let Him save them," urged Annie. + +"I should be only too glad to have Him save me, but whether He will or +not is the point at issue, and my hope is very faint. Everything +to-day, but you, seems to confirm my fate. Miss Walton, won't you take +that little rustic seat there by the brook? I wish to tell you +something that will probably settle this question." + +Annie wonderingly complied. This was an experience she had never had +before. She was rapidly realizing the difference between being the +spiritual guide of the girls in her Bible-class and being the adviser +of this strong-minded yet greatly perverted man. But she turned to him +a face full of sympathy and encouragement. + +For a moment it seemed he did not know how to begin, and he paced +restlessly up and down before her. Then he said, "Miss Walton, you +remember that worm-infested chestnut through which you gave me such a +just lesson?" + +"Please do not speak of my foolish words at that time," she replied, +eagerly. + +"Pardon me, they were not foolish. They, with the illustration of my +own choice, revealed me to myself as nothing had ever done before. Had +it not been for your graceful tact, I should have made a fool of myself +by being angry. If you had known what I deserved then you would not +have let me off so easily. But it's true. That lonely, selfish +chestnut, with a worm in its kernel, was a good emblem of myself. Evil +is throned in my heart supreme and malignant. I suppose it's through my +own fault, but be that as it may, it's there, my master. I groan over +and curse the fact, but I do evil and think evil continually, and I +fear I always shall. + +"No, listen to me to the end," he continued, as she was about to speak. + +"When on that strange mountain expedition, you made the remark, 'What +congenial friends we might be!' Those words have echoed in my heart +ever since, like the refrain of a home-song to a captive. I would give +more than I can express for your friendship--for the privilege of +seeing you and speaking to you frankly on these subjects occasionally, +for you and you only have inspired a faint hope that I might become a +better man. You are making Christianity seem a reality and not a +fashion. Though possessing human weakness, you triumph over it, and you +say it is through prayer to God. I find it impossible not to believe +everything you say, for whatever your faults are you are truth itself. +Through your influence the thought has come that God might also hear +and help me, but I have the fear and almost the belief that I have +placed myself beyond His mercy. At any rate I have almost lost hope in +anything I can do by myself. I was in moral despair when I came here, +and might as well have been dead, but you have led me to a willingness +to make one more struggle, and a great one, if I can see in it any +chance of success. I fear I am deceiving myself, but when with you, +though you are immeasurably better than I, hope steals into my heart, +that before was paralyzed by despair. When you come to know me as I +know myself, I fear that you will shrink in just horror away, and that +I shall see reflected in your face the verdict of heaven. But you shall +know the worst--the very worst. I can never use deceit with you. If +afterward you ever take my stained hand again--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but heaved a great sigh, as if of +longing and hope that words could not utter. + +It was the old truth illustrated, that God must become human to gain +humanity. Abstract truth could not save this lost and guilty man, but +the wanderer hoped that in this sweet human life he had found the clew +back to the divine life. + +Annie trembled at the responsibility that now suddenly burdened her as +she saw this trembling spirit clinging to her as the one frail barrier +between himself and the gulf of utter despair. She nerved herself, by +prayer and the exertion of all her will, to be equal to the emergency. + +And yet it was a fearful ordeal that she was called to go through as +the remorseful and deeply agitated man, his face flushed with shame, +now with impassioned, more often with despairing gesture and accent, +poured out the story of his past life, and laid bare his evil heart, +while he paced up and down the little walk before her. + +The transaction with Hunting he purposely passed over, speaking of it +merely as a business misfortune that had robbed him even of earthly +ambition. She saw a few sin-stained pages of that dreadful book of +human guilt which God must look at every day. + +Gregory did not spare himself, and palliated nothing, softening and +brightening no harsh and dark lines. On the contrary, he was stern and +blunt, and it was strange indeed to hear him charging himself before a +pure, innocent young girl, whose good opinion was life to him, with +what she regarded as crimes. When he at last came to speak of his +designs against herself, of how he had purposed to take the bloom and +beauty from her character that he might laugh at goodness as a dream +and pretence, and despise her as he did himself, his eye flashed +angrily, and he grew vindictive as if denouncing an object of his hate. +He could not even look at her during the last of his confession, but +turned away his face, fearing to see Annie's expression of aversion and +disgust. + +It was with a paling cheek and growing dread that she looked into that +dark and fearful place, a perverted human heart, and her every breath +was a prayer that God would enable her to see and act as Christ would +were some poor creature revealing to Him his desperate need. + +Gregory suddenly paused in his low but passionate flow of words, and +put his hand to his head as if the pain were insupportable. In fact, +his anguish and the intense feeling of the day had again brought on one +of his old nervous headaches. Thus far he had scarcely noticed it, but +now the sharp, quivering pangs proved how a wronged physical nature +could retaliate; how much more the higher and more delicate moral +nature! + +After the paroxysm had passed, he continued, in the hard, weary tone of +utter dejection (for he had dreaded even to look at Annie, and her +silence confirmed his worst fears), "Well, Miss Walton, you now know +the worst. On this peaceful Sabbath evening you have seen more of +perdition than you ever will again. You cannot even speak to me, and I +dare not look at your face. The expression of horror and disgust which +I know must be there would blast me and haunt me forever. It would be +worse than death, for I did have a faint hope--" + +He was interrupted by an audible sob, and turning, saw Annie with her +face buried in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break. He was +puzzled for a moment, and then, in the despairing condition of his mind +interpreted her wrongly. Standing near her with clenched hands, he +said, in the same hard tones which seemed to have passed beyond the +expression of feeling, "I'm a brute and worse. I have been wounding you +as with blows by my vile story. I have been dragging your pure thoughts +through the mire of my wretched life." + +Annie tried to speak, but apparently could not for excess of emotion. + +"Why could I not have gone away and died by myself, like some unclean +beast?" he muttered. Then, in a tone which she never forgot, and with +the manner of one who was indeed leaving hope and life behind him, he +said, "Farewell, Miss Walton; you will be better after I am gone." + +She sprung up, and laying restraining hands upon his arm, sobbed, +"No--no. Why don't you--you--understand me? My heart's--breaking for +you--wait till I can speak." + +He placed her gently on the seat again. A great light was coming into +his eyes, and he stood bending toward her as if existence depended on +her next words. Could it be that her swelling throat and sobs meant +sympathy for him? + +She soon controlled herself, and looking up at him, with a light in her +eyes that shone through her tears as sun-rays through the rain, said, +"Forgive me. I never realized before that so much sin and suffering +could exist in one unhappy life. I do pity you, as God does far more. I +will help you as He will." + +Gregory knelt at her feet, and kissed her hand with the fervor of a +captive who had just received life and liberty. + +"See, I do not shrink from you," she continued. "My Master would not. +Why should I? He came to save just such, and just such we all would be +but for His grace and shielding. I'm so--sorry for you." + +He turned hastily away for a moment to hide his feelings, and said, +slowly, "I cannot trust myself--I cannot trust God yet; but I trust +you, and I believe you have saved a soul from death." + +He stood looking toward the glowing west, and, for the first time in +years, hoped that his life might close in brightness. + +"Mr. Gregory," said Annie, in a voice so changed that he started and +turned toward her hardly knowing what to expect. She stood beside him, +no longer a tender, compassionate woman grieving for him, as if his sin +were only misfortune, but her face was almost stern in its purity and +earnestness. "Mr. Gregory, the mercy which God shows, and which I +faintly reflect, is for _you_ in sharp distinction from your sin. Do +not for a moment think that I can look with any lenience or indulgence +on all the horrible evil you have laid before me. Do not think I can +excuse or pass lightly over it as something of little consequence. I +hate your sin as I hate my own. I can honestly feel and frankly show +the sympathy I have manifested, only in view of your penitence, and +your sincere purpose, with God's help, to root out the evil of your +life. This I am daily trying to do, and this you must do in the one and +only way in which there is any use in trying. It is only with this +clear understanding that I can give you my hand in the friendship of +mutual helpfulness, and in the confidence of respect." + +He reverently took her hand and said, "Your conditions are just, Miss +Walton, and I accept your friendship as offered with a gratitude beyond +words. I can never use deceit where you are concerned, even in thought. +But please do not expect too much of me. I have formed the habit of +doubting. It may be very long before I have your simple, beautiful +faith. I will do just the best I can! It seems that if you will trust +me, help me, pray for me, I can succeed. If I am mistaken, I will carry +my wretchedness where the sight of it will not pain you. If I ever do +reach your Christian life, I will lavish a wealth of gratitude upon you +that cannot be expressed. Indeed, I will in any case, for you have done +all that I could hope and more." + +"I will do all you ask," she said, heartily, giving at the same time +his hand a strong pressure with her warm, throbbing palm, that sent a +subtle current of hope and strength into his heart. Her face softened +into an expression of almost sisterly affection, and with a gleam of +her old mirthfulness she continued, "Take counsel of practical +common-sense, Mr. Gregory. Why talk so doubtfully of success, seeking +it as you purpose to? What right have you even to imagine that God will +bestow upon you the great distinction of making you the first one of +the race He refused to hear and answer? Be humble and believe that He +will treat you like other people." + +He stopped in their slow walk toward the house and said, with glad +animation, "Miss Walton, do you know you have done more to strengthen +me in that little speech than by a long and labored argument?" + +And so they passed in out of the purple twilight, Annie's heart +thrilling with something of the joy of heaven, and Gregory feeling as +if the dawn were coming after Egyptian night. + +As they left the garden a dusky face peered out of some thick shrubbery +and looked cautiously around. Then Jeff appeared and attributed to the +scene just described a very different meaning from its real +significance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF + + + +Gregory made desperate efforts to keep up at the supper-table, but +could not prevent slight evidences of physical pain, which Annie +silently noticed. After tea he hoped to escape to his room, for he +could not endure to show even his physical weakness so soon again. On +the contrary, he was longing intensely for an opportunity to manifest a +little strength of some kind. After his recent interview he felt that +he could even bear one of his nervous headaches alone. But as he was +about to excuse himself, Annie interrupted, saying, "Now, Mr. Gregory, +that is not according to agreement. Do you suppose I cannot see that +you are half beside yourself with one of your old headaches? Was I such +a poor physician the last time that you seek to escape me now? Come +back to the parlor. I will not go out to church this evening, but +devote myself to you." + +"Miss Walton," he replied, in a low tone, "when can I make any return +for all your kindness? I must seem weakness itself in every respect, +and I dread to appear to you always in that light." + +"Your pride needs bringing down, sir; see how towering it is. Here you +would go off by yourself, and endure a useless martyrdom all night +perhaps, when by a few simple remedies I can relieve you, or at least +help you forget the pain. I have not the slightest objection to your +being a martyr, but I want some good to come out of it." "But I shall +spoil your evening." + +"Certainly you will, if I think of you groaning up there by yourself, +while I am singing, perhaps: + + "'I love to steal awhile away + From every cumbering care!'" + +"Then I'm a cumbering care!" + +"Whether you are or not, I'm not going to steal away from you to-night. +Come, do as I bid you." + +He was only too glad to submit to her delicious tyranny. She wheeled +the lounge up to the fire, and placed her chair beside it, while the +rest of the family, seeing that he had his old malady, went to the +sitting-room. + +"I have great pride in my nursing powers," she continued, in her cheery +way. "Now, if I were a man, I'd certainly be a doctor." + +"Thank Heaven you are not!" he said, with a devout earnestness that +quite startled her. + +"What? A doctor?" she asked, quickly. + +"Yes--no; I mean a man, and doctor too." + +"I see no reason why you should show such bitter opposition to my being +a man or a doctor either. Why should you?" + +"O--well--I think you are just right as a woman. You make me believe in +the doctrine of election, for it seems to me that you were destined +from all eternity to be just what you are." + +"What a strange, unfathomable doctrine that is!" said Annie, softly and +musingly. + +"It's nothing but mystery all around us," he replied, wearily and +dejectedly. + +"No, not 'all around us,'" she answered, quickly. "It's clear when we +look up. Faith builds a safe bridge to God, and to Him there are no +mysteries." + +Her touch upon his brow thrilled him, and her presence was both +exhilarating and restful. + +At last she said, "I am sorry you have these dreadful headaches so +often." + +"I shall never be again." + +"Why so?" + +"Because they have led to this evening. It has been so many long, +miserable years since I experienced anything like this." + +"Ah, I see, you have been very lonely. You have had no one to care for +you, and that I believe has been the cause of half your trouble--evil, +I mean. Indeed, they are about the same thing. Don't you see? The world +is too large a place for a home. You need a nook in it, with some one +there to look after you and for you to think about." + +He looked at her searchingly, and then turned away his face in pain. +She could not utter such words in that placid style, were she not +utterly devoid of the feeling that was filling his soul with an ecstasy +of hope and fear. + +"Do not think that even many of our sex are like Miss Bently. You will +see and choose more wisely hereafter, and find that, in exchanging that +wretched club-life for a cosey home of your own, you take a good step +in all respects." + +"Would to Heaven that I had met such a girl as you at first!" he +ventured to say. "How different then all might have been!" + +"There is no use in dwelling on the past," she replied, innocently. +"You are now pledged to make the future right." + +"God helping me, I will. I will use every means in my power," he said, +in a tone of deep earnestness; and, as principal part of the means, +determined to take her advice, but with reference to herself. After a +few moments he said, "Miss Walton, as I promised to be perfectly frank +with you, I want to ask an explanation of something that I do not +understand, and which has been almost a heavenly surprise to me. I was +nearly certain before this afternoon that when you came to know what a +stained, evil man I am--" + +"Was," interrupted Annie. + +"No, what I am. Character is not made in a moment. As yet, I only hope +and purpose to do better. I can hardly understand why you do not shrink +from me in disgust. It seemed that both your faith and your nature +would lead you to do this. I thought it possible that out of your +kindness you might try to stand at a safe distance and give me some +good advice across the gulf. But that which I feared would drive you +from me forever has only brought you nearer. Again I say, it has been a +heavenly surprise." + +"You use the word 'heavenly' with more appropriateness than you think," +she replied, gravely. "All such surprises are heavenly in their origin, +and my course is but a faint reflection of Heaven's disposition toward +you, and was prompted by the duty I owe to God as well as to you. +Self-righteousness would have led me in Pharisaic pride to say, 'Stand +aside, I am holier than thou.' But you have only to read the life of +the perfect One to know that in so doing I should not have been like +Him. He laid His rescuing hands on both the physical and the moral +leper--" + +"As you have upon me," said Gregory, with a look of such intense +gratitude that she was embarrassed. + +"I deserve no great credit, for it was only right that I should do the +utmost in my power to help you. How else could I be a Christian in any +real sense? But there is nothing strange about it. Christianity is not +like false religions, that require unnatural and useless sacrifices. If +I were a true physician, and found you suffering from a terrible and +contagious disease, while I feared and loathed the disease, I might +have the deepest sympathy for you and do my best to cure you. I do +loathe the sin you confessed, inexpressibly. See how near it came to +destroying you. While God hates the sin, He ever loves the sinful." + +"I hope you will always be divine in that respect," he could not +forbear saying, with rising color. + +But her thoughts were so intent on what was uppermost in her heart that +she did not notice his covert meaning, and said, innocently, "I will +give you honest friendship so long as you honestly try to redeem the +pledges of to-day." + +"Then I have your friendship for life, be it long or short," said he, +decisively. + +With more lightness in her tone she continued, "And I too will ask a +question that has a bearing on a little theory of my own. Supposing I +had shrunk from you, and tried to give some good advice from a safe +distance, what would you have done?" + +"Left for New York to-morrow, and gone straight to the devil as one of +his own imps," he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +She sighed deeply, and said, "I fear you would--that is, if left to +yourself. And the worst of it is, it seems to me that this is the way +the Church is trying to save the world. Suppose a doctor should address +his patients through a speaking-trumpet and hand them his remedies on +the end of a very long rod. Death would laugh at his efforts. People +can be saved only as Christ saved them. We must go where they are, lay +our hands upon them, and look sympathy and hope right into their eyes. +If Christ's followers would only do this, how many more might be +rescued who now seem hopelessly given over to evil!" + +"Those who won't do it," said Gregory, bitterly, "are in no sense His +true followers, but are merely the 'hangers on' of His army, seeking to +get out of it all they can for self. Every general knows that the +'camp-followers' are the bane of an army." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory," said she, gently, "we are not the general, and +therefore not the judge. After this I shall expect to see you in the +regular ranks, ready to give and take blows." + +They now joined Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie in the sitting-room, and +Gregory professed to feel, and indeed was, much better, and after a +little music they separated for the night. Although still suffering, +Gregory sat by his fire a long time, forgetful of pain. + +High, blustering winds prevailed all the following day, but they only +made the quiet and cosiness of Mr. Walton's fireside more delightful. +Gregory did not care to go out if he went alone. He wished to be where +he could see Annie as often as possible, for every word and smile from +her in the intervals of her duties was precious. He did honestly mean +to become a good man if it were possible, but he saw in her the only +hopeful means. He did not pretend to either faith in God or love for +Him as yet, but only felt a glow of gratitude, a warming of his heart +toward Him in view of His great mercy in sending to his aid such a +ministering spirit as Annie had proved. He took it as an omen that God +meant kindly by him, and through this human hand might save at last. + +And he clung to this hand as the drowning do to anything that keeps +them from sinking into dark and unknown depths. He saw in Annie Walton +earthly happiness certainly, and his best prospect of heaven. What +wonder then that his heart lay at her feet in entire consecration? +Apart from the peculiar fascination that she herself had for him, he +had motives for loving her that actuate but few. If she had saved him +from physical death it would have been a little thing in comparison, +but he shuddered to think of the precipice from which she had drawn him +back. + +He was cautious in revealing himself to her. The presence of others was +a restraint, and he plainly saw that she had no such regard for him as +he felt for her. But he hoped with intense fervor--yes, he even prayed +to that God whom he had so long slighted--that in time she might return +his love. To-day he would close his eyes on the past and future. She, +the sunshine of his soul, was near, and he was content to bask in her +smiles. + +Annie had given her father and aunt to understand that their conspiracy +promised to result in success, and they treated him with marked but +delicate kindness. The day passed in music, reading, and conversation, +and it was to Gregory the happiest he remembered--one of the sweet May +days that, by some happy blunder of nature, occasionally bless us in +March--and he made the very most of it. Its close found Annie Walton +enthroned in his heart. + +As for Annie, he perplexed her a little, but she explained everything +peculiar in his words and manner on the ground of his gratitude only, +and the glow of his newly awakened moral nature. If she had been an +experienced belle, she might have understood his symptoms better, but +she was one of the last in the world to imagine people falling in love +with her. Never having received much admiration from strangers, with no +long list of victims, and believing from her own experience that love +was a gradual growth resulting from long knowledge and intimacy with +its object, she could not dream that this critical man, who had seen +the beauties of two continents, would in a few days be carried away by +her plain face. Nor was he by her face, but by herself. + +Men of mind are rarely captivated by a face merely, however beautiful, +but by what it represents, or what they imagine it does. Woe be to the +beauty who has no better capital than her face! With it she can allure +some one into marrying her; but if he marries for an intelligent +companion, he is likely to prove the most disappointed and indifferent +of husbands on discovering the fraud. The world will never get over its +old belief that the fair face is the index of graces slightly veiled, +and ready to be revealed when the right to know is gained. In nursery +rhymes, fairy tales, and the average novel, the beautiful heroine is +also lovely, and so in spite of adverse experience the world will ever +expect wisdom and truth from red lips, till they say too much--till the +red lips themselves prove the contrary. Then come the anger and disgust +which men ever visit upon those who deceive and disappoint them. Beauty +is a dainty and exquisite vestibule to a temple; but when a worshipper +is beguiled into entering, only to find a stony, misshapen idol and a +dingy shrine, this does not conduce to future devotion. + +Annie's face would not arrest passers-by, and so she had not been +spoiled by too much homage, which is not good for man or woman. But +after passing the plain, simple portico of externals into the inner +temple of her sweet and truthful life, the heart once hers would +worship with undying faith and love. + +Gregory had come to interest her deeply, not only on the ground of his +need, but because she saw in him great capabilities for good. In all +his evil, his downright honesty and lack of conceit inspired a kind of +respect. She also saw that this excessively fastidious man had learned +to admire and esteem her greatly. It was not in her woman's nature to +be indifferent to this fact. She felt that if he could be redeemed from +his evil he might become a congenial and valuable friend indeed, and if +she could be the means of rescuing the son of her father's friend it +would ever be one of her happiest memories. But with her heart already +occupied by a noble ideal of Hunting, the possibility of anything more +than friendship never entered her mind. The very fact that her +affections were so engaged made her blind to manifestations on the part +of Gregory which might otherwise have awakened suspicion. Still the +confidential relations growing up between them made her wish that she +might reveal to him her virtual engagement to Hunting; and she would +have done so, had he not resented the slightest allusion in that +direction. It now seemed probable that Hunting would return before +Gregory took his departure, and if so, she felt that she could +immediately reconcile them. She came to the conclusion that her best +course was to wait till she could bring them together, and so make the +reconciliation certain by her own presence and influence; for now, in +her increasing regard for Gregory, she was determined that they all +should be on good terms, so that in the city home to which she looked +forward the man she was trying to lead to true life might be a frequent +and welcome visitor. + +But it is a difficult thing to keep such friendships Platonic in their +nature under any circumstances, and in view of Gregory's feelings, +Annie's pretty dreams of the future would be but baseless visions. + +Monday evening brought one of those genial domestic experiences that +make home more satisfying in its pleasures than all the excitements of +the world. Mr. Walton had a slight cold, and Annie was nursing and +petting him, while contributing to the general enjoyment by reading the +daily paper and singing some new ballads which she had just obtained +from New York. Her father's indisposition was so slight that it merely +called for those little attentions which are pleasant for affection to +bestow and receive. The wind howled dismally without, only to enhance +the sense of peace and comfort within, and at the usual hour all +retired to rest, without even the passing thought that anything might +disturb them before they should meet again at the cheerful +breakfast-table. + +Some time during the night Gregory seemed to hear three distinct peals +of thunder, wrathful and threatening, and then a voice like that of +Annie Walton calling him to escape a great danger. But it seemed that +he was paralyzed, and strove in vain to move hand or foot. Again and +louder pealed the thunder, and more urgent came the call of the warning +voice. By a desperate effort he sprung with a bound upon the floor, and +then realized that what seemed thunder in the exaggeration of his dream +was loud knocking at his door. Annie's voice again called, "Mr. +Gregory, awake, dress. There is a fire. There may be danger." + +He assured her that he would be out in a few moments, and had only to +open a shutter to obtain plenty of light, though he could not see +whence it came. In five minutes he hastened downstairs and found Mr. +Walton just issuing from his room; and all went out on the front +piazza. Gregory then saw that a large factory some distance up the +stream was burning, and that the fire was under such headway that +nothing could save the building. The wind had increased during the +night and fanned the flames into terrific fury. The building was old +and dry, inviting destruction in every part. + +For a while they gazed with that fearful awe which this terrible +element, when no longer servant, but master, always inspires. Susie had +not been well during the night, and in waiting on her, Annie had +discovered the disaster. + +A warning cough from Mr. Walton revealed to Annie the danger of staying +out in the raw winds; but from the windows everything was apparent, and +silently they watched the rapid progress of the flames. The fire had +caught in the lower part of the building, and was advancing up from +floor to floor with its horrid illumination at the windows. + +"Do you think I can do any good by going there?" asked Gregory. + +"Not at all," said Mr. Walton. "The whole of the New York Fire +Department could not save it now; and from the sounds I hear, there +will soon be throngs of people there. Indeed, I am anxious about my own +place. When that shingle roof begins to burn there is no telling how +far the wind will carry the cinders." + +Annie looked at her father in quick alarm, then drew Miss Eulie aside, +and they immediately went upstairs. + +With a more painful interest, Gregory now watched the scene. The tall +ladders which had first been raised against the building were +withdrawn. They were useless for the whole interior seemed ablaze. +Great tongues of fire began leaping from the windows, mocking every +effort. The rapid steps of those hastening to the scene resounded along +the road, and the startling cry of "Fire! Fire!" was heard up and down +the valley till all merged in the shouts and cries around the burning +building. Mingling with the deeper, hoarser tones of men were the +shrill voices of women, showing that they too had been drawn to witness +a destruction that meant to them loss of bread. The foliage near was +red as blood in the dreadful glare, and the neighboring pines tossed +their tasselled boughs like dark plumes at a torch-light funeral. With +a sudden roar a pyramid of flame shot up through the roof, and was +echoed by a despairing cry from those whose vocation now indeed was +gone. A moment later a fiery storm of flakes and burning shingles +filled the sky. + +To the great joy of our friends the wind was from such a quarter as to +carry this destructive tempest past them into the woodland back of the +house, which happily had been rendered damp by recent rains. + +But a cinder frequently sailed by unpleasantly near, reminding one of +scattering shots in a battle. A slight change of wind would be their +destruction, and a single stray fire-brand would endanger them. + +Just as they began to breathe somewhat freely, hoping that danger was +past, a sudden side-eddy of the gale scattered a shower of sparks and +burning shingles over the house and out-buildings. Mr. Walton +immediately rushed forth, and, with a little whistle which he usually +carried, gave a shrill summons for Jeff, who lived in a cottage near. +But Jeff was off to the fire, and so did not appear. Gregory and Annie +also hastened out, and the former ran to the barn and out-buildings +first, as from their nature they were most inflammable. To his and Mr. +Walton's joy, no traces of fire were seen. One or two smoking brands +lay in the door-yard, where they could cause no injury. But a cry of +alarm from Annie, who had stayed nearer the house, brought Mr. Walton +and Gregory to her side instantly. Pointing to the roof of their house, +she said, in tones of strong excitement, "See there--oh, see there!" + +A burning piece of wood had caught on the highest part near the ridge, +and was smoking and smouldering in a way that, with the strong wind +fanning it, would surely cause destruction if it were not dislodged. + +"Oh, what shall we do?" she cried, wringing her hands. "Can a ladder +reach it?" + +"The roof is too steep, even if it did," said Mr. Walton. + +"Where is the ladder?" cried Gregory. + +"By the carriage-house. But I fear it is useless." + +"Will you help me bring it, sir?" + +They instantly brought the longest ladder on the place, but saw that +though it might touch the eaves, it would not reach the ridge. The roof +was so steep that one could not keep footing on it; and when they took +time to look and consider, both gentlemen admitted that an effort in +that direction would fail, and probably at the cost of life. + +"Is there no scuttle by which to get out on the roof?" asked Gregory. + +"No. Quick, Annie, get out what you can, for we shall soon be homeless." + +"Wait," said Gregory. "Is there no way to reach the roof?" + +"None that we can use. A light and daring climber might possibly reach +the ridge by the lighting-rod, after leaving the ladder." + +"Where is it?" cried Gregory, eager to do something to make impossible +even the thought that he was cowardly; for the memory of his course in +the counterfeiter's den rankled deeply. + +"No," cried both Mr. Walton and Annie, laying their hands on him. "Your +life is worth more than the house." + +"My life is my own," he answered. "I _will_ make an effort to save the +old place. Quick, help me. Here, girls" (to Zibbie and Hannah, who now +stood beside them in dismay), "take hold of that end of the ladder and +carry it out there. Now push it up while I hold its foot. There, that's +it. I will do it. You cannot hinder, but only help. Miss Walton, get me +a rope. Hurry, while I prepare to climb." + +With the help of the stout women, whose strength was doubled by their +fears and excitement, he placed the ladder against the lightning-rod +and siding of the house just under the ridge. His tones were determined +and authoritative. + +He was now acting as Annie would if she were a man, and she admired and +respected him as never before. In two or three moments she and her +father returned with a line, but again expostulated. + +"Mr. Gregory, the risk is too great." + +"You can't prevent it," said he, firmly. "I absolve you from all +responsibility. I take the risk in spite of you. Make haste--see how +it's burning. There, that will do. Stand back." + +Even as he spoke he was climbing. + +"Now that's generous," said Annie; "but if you are injured, I shall +never forgive myself." + +He turned, and for a second smiled down upon her. + +The strength of his new-born love made him glad to endanger even life +in her service, and the thought, "I can at last win a little respect, +as well as sympathy," nerved him to double his ordinary powers. Like +most country boys, he had been a bold, active climber, and his +knowledge and former skill made the attempted feat possible. The main +question was whether in his feeble state his strength would hold out. +But the strong excitement of the moment would serve him in place of +muscle. He had thrown off his coat and boots, and, with a small rope +fastened about his waist, he swiftly ascended to the top of the ladder. +But there were three or four feet that he must overhand up the +lightning-rod in order to reach the ridge. It was large and twisted, +and gave him a good hold, but he had to take the risk of its being +strong enough in its fastening to sustain his weight. Fortunately it +was, and he unhesitatingly commenced the perilous effort. He made good +progress till he was within a foot of the ridge. Then his strength +began to fail, and plainly to those below he wavered. + +With white face, clasped hands, and lips moving in prayer, Annie +watched him. Her heart almost stood still with dread; and when toward +the last he slowly and still more slowly overhanded upward, plainly +indicating that his strength was ebbing, she cried, in an agony of +fear, "Come back, oh come back! What is all here to your life?" A +second before it seemed to him that he must fail, that he might +suddenly fall at her feet a crushed and lifeless mass; but her voice +revived him, and the passionate thought came with inspiring power, "I +can do more to win her love now than by years of effort"; and he made a +desperate struggle, gained the ridge, and crawled out upon it, panting +for a moment, and powerless to do more than cling for support. + +The burning cinder was now but little in advance of him, and he saw +that there was not a second to lose. It had charred and blackened the +roof where it had caught, and, fanned by the wind, was a live, glowing +coal. The shingles under it were smoking--yes, smouldering. Had it not +been for their dampness and mossy age, they would have been blazing. In +a few moments nothing could have saved the house. + +As soon as he got his breath, he crept along the ridge within reach of +the fiery flake. There seemed no place where he could lay hold of it +without burning himself. It would not do to simply detach it, as it +might catch further down the steep roof where it could not be reached. +Above all, there was not a moment to spare. He did not hesitate, but +with sufficient presence of mind to use his left instead of his right +hand, he seized the fatal brand and hurled it, a fiery meteor, clear of +the house. It hurt him cruelly, and for a moment he felt sick and +faint; but a round of applause from those below (for now Miss Eulie and +the children were out, looking tremblingly on), and Annie's cry of joy +and encouragement, again gave him strength. + +But as he looked closely at the spot where the cinder had laid, his +fears were realized. It had ignited the roof. A little water would +extinguish it now, but in a few moments, under the wild wind that was +blowing, all would be ablaze. + +He crawled to the end of the ridge and shouted, "Tie a light pail of +water to the cord--not much at a time, or I can't draw it up." + +Annie darted to the house for a lighter pail than Hannah had brought, +and to Gregory's joy he found that he had strength enough to lift it, +though with his burned band it was agony to do so. But with the now +good prospect of finishing his work successfully, his spirits rose. He +grew more familiar and confident in his dangerous position. He did not +look down from his giddy height, and permitted himself to think of +nothing but his task. Indeed, in his strong excitement, he felt that it +would not be a bitter thing to die thus serving the woman he loved; and +in his false philosophy he hoped this brave act might atone for the +wrong of the past. + +It is the nature of noble, generous deeds to exalt a man's soul so that +he can fearlessly face death, when in calm moments he would shrink back +appalled. In the excitement of the hour, and under the inspiration of +his strong human love, Gregory was not afraid to die, though life +seemed, with its new possibilities, sweeter than ever before. He knew +that his strength was failing fast, that reaction would soon set in, +and that he would be helpless, and his great hope was that he could +save the house first. + +He determined therefore not to waste a drop of water, and to make this +one pail answer if possible. He therefore poured it slowly out, and let +it run over the burning part. The continued hissing and smoke proved +that the fire had penetrated deeper than he thought. The last drop was +gone, and still the place smoked. A little more was absolutely +necessary. + +"Will my strength hold out?" he asked himself, in almost an agony of +doubt. + +Crawling back to the end of the ridge, he once more lowered the pail. + +"Fill it again," he cried. + +"Can you stand it?" Mr. Walton asked. + +"I must, or all is useless," was his answer. + +Again, but more slowly and painfully, he pulled the water up. + +Annie wrung her hands in anguish as she saw in the red glare of the +still burning factory how pale and exhausted he was. + +But he once more managed to reach the point above the still smouldering +spot, and caused the water to trickle down upon it. By the time he had +half emptied the pail the smoke ceased. + +After a moment it again faintly exuded, but another little stream of +water quenched the fire utterly. But for five minutes he watched the +place to make sure that there was not a lingering spark, and then let +the rest of the water flow over the place to saturate it completely. + +He was now certain that the house was saved. But he was satisfied from +his sensations that he had but little time in which to save himself. +Reaction was fast setting in. + +He untied the rope from his waist, and let pail and all roll clattering +down the roof. This noise was echoed by a cry of alarm from those +below, who feared for a moment that he was falling. They all had the +sickening dread which is felt when we look at one in great peril, and +yet can do nothing to help. + +At first Gregory thought that he would lie down upon the ridge and +cling to it, thus gaining strength by a little rest. But he soon found +that this would not answer. His overtaxed frame was becoming nerveless, +and his only hope was to escape at once. In trembling weakness he +crawled back to the edge and looked over. Annie stepped forward to the +foot of the ladder and extended her hands as if to catch him. + +"Stand back," he cried; "if I fall, I shall kill you." + +"I will not stand back," she answered. "You shall not take all the +risk." + +But her father, who still kept his presence of mind in the terrible +excitement of the moment, forced her away, and saved her from the +danger of this useless sacrifice. As soon as she could do nothing, her +fortitude vanished, and she covered her face with her hands and wept +bitterly. + +The chief point of difficulty in Gregory's weak state was to get off +the ridge upon the lightning-rod without losing his hold and falling at +once. If he could turn the edge and begin to descend in safety, his +strength might hold out till he reached the ladder and so the ground. +But he realized the moment of supreme peril, and hesitated. + +Then, with something like a prayer to God and with a wistful look at +Annie, he resolutely swung himself over. His hands held the weight of +his body, and he commenced the descent. Annie's glad cry once more +encouraged him. He gained the ladder and descended till not far from +the ground. + +Suddenly everything turned black before his eyes, and he fell. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CHANGES IN GREGORY + + + +When Gregory became conscious, he was lying on the ground, with his +head in Miss Eulie's lap, and Annie was bending over him with a small +flask. She again gave him a teaspoonful of brandy, and after a moment +he lifted himself up, and, passing his hand across his brow, looked +around. + +"You are not hurt. Oh, please say you are not hurt!" she exclaimed, +taking his hand. + +He looked at her a moment, and then it all came back to him, and he +smiled and said, "Not much, I think; and if I am it does not signify. +You've helped me on my feet once or twice before. Now see if you can +again;" and he attempted to rise. + +As Daddy Tuggar had intimated, there was plenty of muscle in Annie's +round arms, and she almost lifted him up, but he stood unsteadily. Mr. +Walton gave him his arm, and in a few moments he was on the sofa in the +sitting-room, where a fire was soon kindled. Zibbie was told to make +coffee, and to provide something more substantial. + +They were all profuse in expressions of gratitude, in praises of his +heroism, but he waived the whole matter off by saying, "Think of me as +well as you can, for Heaven knows I have need to retrieve my character. +But please do not speak as if I had done more than I ought. For a young +man to stand idly by, and see the home of his childhood, the place +where he had received unbounded hospitality, destroyed, would be simply +base. If I had not been reduced by months of ill health, the thing +would not have been difficult at all. But you, Miss Walton, displayed +the real heroism in the case, when you stood beneath with your arms out +to catch me. I took a risk, but you took the certainty of destruction +if I had fallen. Still," he added, with a humorous look as if in jest, +though he was only too sincere, "the prospect was so inviting that I +should have liked to fall a little way." + +"And so you did," cried innocent Johnny, eagerly. "You fell ever so +far, and Aunt Annie caught you." + +"What!" exclaimed Gregory, rising. "Is this true? And are you not hurt?" + +"That's the way with children," said Annie, with heightened color and a +reproachful look at the boy, who in the excitement of the hour was +permitted to stay up for an hour or more; "they let everything all out. +No, I'm not hurt a bit. You didn't fall very far. I'm so thankful that +your strength did not give out till you almost reached the ground. O +dear! I shudder to think what might have happened. Do you know that I +thought, with a thrill of superstitious dread, of your chestnut-burr +omen, when you stained my hand with your blood. If you had +fallen--if--" and she put her hand over her eyes to hide the dreadful +vision her imagination presented. "If anything had happened," she +continued, "my hands would have been stained, in that they had not held +you back." + +"What a tender, innocent conscience you have!" he replied, looking +fondly at her. "I confess I'd rather be here listening to you than +somewhere else." + +She gave him a troubled, startled look. To her that "somewhere else" +had a sad and terrible meaning. She sat near him, and could not help +saying in a low, earnest tone, "How could you, how could you take such +a risk without--" She did not finish the sentence, which was plain +enough in its meaning, however. + +On the impulse of the moment, Gregory was about to reply indiscreetly +--in a way that would have revealed more of his feelings toward her +than he knew would be wise at that time. But just then Hannah came in +with the lunch, and the attention of the others, who had been talking +eagerly on the other side of the room, was directed toward them. He +checked some rash words as they rose to his lips, and Annie, suspecting +nothing of the wealth of love that he was already lavishing upon her, +rose with alacrity, glad to serve one who had just served her so well. +The generous coffee and the dainty lunch, combined with feelings to +which he had long been a stranger, revived Gregory greatly, and he +sprang up and walked the room, declaring that with the exception of his +burned hand, which had been carefully dressed, he felt better than he +had for a long time. + +"I'm so thankful!" said Annie, with glistening eyes. + +"We all have cause for thankfulness," said Mr. Walton, with fervor. +"Our kind Father in heaven has dealt with us all in tender mercy. Home, +and more precious life, have been spared. Before we again seek a little +rest, let us remember all His goodness;" and he led them in a simple, +fervent prayer, the effect of which was heightened by Mr. Walton +saying, after he rose from his knees, "Annie, we must see that none of +our poor neighbors lack for anything, now that their employment has so +suddenly been taken away." + +That is acceptable devotion to God which leads to practical, active +charity toward men, and the most unbelieving are won by such a religion. + +Annie noticed with some anxiety that her father's voice was very +hoarse, and that he put his hand upon his chest several times, and she +expressed the fear that the exposure would greatly add to his cold. He +treated the matter lightly, and would do nothing more that evening than +take some simple remedies. + +When Gregory bade them good-night, Annie followed him to the foot of +the stairs, and giving his hand one of her warm grasps, said, "Mr. +Gregory, I can't help feeling that your mother knows what you have done +to-night." + +Tears started to his eyes. He did not trust himself to reply, but, with +a strong answering pressure, hastened to his room, happier than he had +been in all his past. + +It was late the next morning when they assembled at the +breakfast-table, and they noted with pain that Mr. Walton did not +appear at all well, though he made a great effort to keep up. He was +very hoarse, and complained of a tightness in his chest. + +"Now, father," said Annie, "you must stay in the house, and let me +nurse you." + +"I am very willing to submit," he replied, "and hope I shall need no +other physician." But he was feverish all day. His indisposition did +not yield to ordinary remedies. Still, beyond a little natural +solicitude, no anxiety was felt. + +Gregory was a different man. Even his sincere human love for so worthy +an object had lifted him out of the miserable depths into which he had +been sinking. It had filled his heart with pure longings, and made him +capable of noble deeds. + +As a general thing a woman inspires love in accordance with her own +character. Of course we recognize the fact that there are men with +natures so coarse that they are little better than animals. These men +may have a passing passion for any pretty woman; but the holy word Love +should not be used in such connection. But of men--of those possessing +true manhood, even in humblest station--the above assertion I think +will be found true. The woman who gains the boundless power which the +undivided homage of an honest heart confers will develop in it, and +quicken into life, traits and feelings corresponding to her own. If the +great men of the world have generally had good mothers, so as a +parallel fact will it be found that the strong, useful, successful +men--men who sustain themselves, and more than fulfil the promise of +their youth--have been supplemented and continually inspired to better +things by the ennobling companionship of true women. + +Good breeding, the ordinary restraints of self-respect, and fear of the +world's adverse opinion, greatly reduce the outward diversities of +society. Well-bred men and women act and appear very much alike in the +public eye. But there is an inner life, a real character, upon which +happiness here and heaven hereafter depend, which results largely from +that tie and intimacy which is closest of all. A shallow, frivolous +girl, having faith in little else than her pretty face and the +dressmaker's art, may unfortunately inspire a good, talented man, who +imagines her to possess all that the poets have portrayed in woman, +with a true and strong affection, but she will disappoint and dwarf +him, and be a millstone about his neck. She will cease to be his +companion. She may be thankful if, in his heart, he does not learn to +despise her, though a man can scarcely do this and be guiltless toward +the mother of his children. + +What must be the daily influence on a man who sees in his closest +friend, to whom he is joined for life, a passion for the public gaze, a +boundless faith in eternals, a complete devotion to the artificial +enhancing of ordinary and vanishing charms, combined with a +contemptuous neglect of the graces of mind and heart? These alone can +keep the love which outward appearance in part may have won at first. +Mere dress and beauty are very well to skirmish with during the first +approaches; but if a woman wishes to hold the conquered province of a +man's heart, and receive from it rich revenues of love and honor, she +must possess some queenly traits akin to divine royalty, otherwise she +only overruns the heart she might have ruled, and leaves it a blighted +waste. + +As we have seen, Annie's actual character rebuked and humiliated the +evil-minded Gregory from the first. He could not rest in her presence. +To relieve himself from self-condemnation, he must prove her goodness a +sham or an accident--mere chance exemption from temptation. Her safety +and happy influence did not depend upon good resolutions, wise policy, +and careful instruction, but upon her real possession of a character +which had been formed long before, and which met and foiled him at +every point. Lacking this, though a well-meaning, good girl in the +main, she would have been a plaything in the hands of such a man. Her +absolute truth and crystal purity of principle incased her in heaven's +armor, and neither he nor any other evil-disposed person could harm +her. She would not listen to the first insidious suggestion of the +tempter. Thus the man who expected to go away despising now honored, +reverenced, loved her, and through her strong but gentle ministry had +turned his back on evil, and was struggling to escape its degrading +bondage. + +Gregory was right in thinking that such a woman as Annie could help him +to an extent hard to estimate, but fatally wrong in looking to her +alone. The kind Father who regards the well-being of His children for +eternity rather than for the moments of time, must effectually cure him +of this error. + +But those two days were memorable ones to him. The cold and stormy +weather shut them all in the house, and that meant to him Annie's +society. He was seldom alone with her; he noted with pain that her +manner was too frank and kindly, too free from all consciousness, to +indicate anything more than the friendship she had promised; but, not +knowing how her heart was preoccupied, he hoped that the awakening of +deeper feeling was only a question of time. His present peace and rest +were so blessed, her presence was so satisfying, and his progress in +her favor so apparent as he revealed his better nature, that he was +content to call his love friendship until he saw her friendship turning +into love. + +Had not Annie expected Hunting every day she would have told Gregory +all about her relation with him, but now she determined that she would +bring them together under the same roof, and not let them separate till +she had banished every trace of their difficulty. A partial +reconciliation might result in future coolness and estrangement. This +she would regard as a misfortune, even if it had no unfavorable +influence on Gregory, for he now proved himself the best of company. +Indeed, they seemed to have a remarkable gift for entertaining each +other. + +While Wednesday did not find Mr. Walton seriously ill to all +appearance, he was still far from being well. He employed himself with +his papers and seemed to enjoy Gregory's conversation greatly. + +"He now grows very like his father, and reminds me constantly of him," +he said more than once to Annie. + +Mr. Walton's indisposition was evidently not trivial. There was a +soreness about the lungs that made it painful for him to talk much, and +he had a severe, racking cough. They were all solicitude in his behalf. +The family physician had been called, and it was hoped that a few days +of care would remove this cold. + +As he sat in his comfortable arm-chair by the fire he would smilingly +say he was having such a good time and so much petting that he did not +intend to get well very soon. + +Though Gregory's burn was painful, and both hands were bruised and cut +from climbing, he did not regret the suffering, since it also secured +from Annie some of the attention she would otherwise have given her +father. + +Wednesday afternoon was pleasant, and Gregory went out for a walk. He +did not return till rather late, and, coming down to supper, found by +his plate a letter which clouded his face instantly. + +Annie was radiant, for the same mail had brought her one from Hunting, +stating that he might be expected any day now. As she saw Gregory's +face darken, she said, "I fear your letter has brought you unpleasant +news." + +"It has," he replied. "Mr. Burnett, the senior partner, is quite ill, +and it is necessary that I return immediately." + +"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, with such hearty emphasis that he looked +at her earnestly and said, "Are you really?" + +"You shouldn't ask such a question," she answered, reproachfully. + +"Why, Miss Walton, I've made a very long visit." + +"So much has happened that it does seem a long time since you came. But +I wish it were to be longer. We shall miss you exceedingly. Besides," +she added, with rising color, "I have a special reason for wishing you +to stay a little longer." + +His color rose instantly also. She puzzled him, while he perplexed her. + +"I hope Mr. Gregory's visit has taught him," said Mr. Walton, kindly, +"that he has not lost his former home through our residence here, and +that he can run up to the old place whenever he finds opportunity." + +"I can say sincerely," he responded, "that I have enjoyed the +perfection of hospitality;" adding, in a low tone and with a quick, +remorseful look at Annie, "though little deserving it." + +"You have richly repaid us," said Mr. Walton, heartily. "It would have +been very hard for me at my years to have to seek a new home. I have +become wedded to this old place with my feelings and fancies, and the +aged, you know, dislike change. I wish to make only one more, then rest +will be complete." + +"Now, father," said Annie, with glistening eyes, "you must not talk in +that way. You know well that we cannot spare you even to go to heaven." + +"Well, my child," answered he, fondly. "I am content to leave that in +our best Friend's hands. But I cannot say," he added, with a touch of +humor, "that it's a heavy cross to stay here with you." + +"Would that such a cross were imposed upon me!" echoed Gregory, with +sudden devoutness. "Miss Walton, did not my business imperatively +demand my presence, I would break anything save my neck, in order to be +an invalid on your hands." + +"Come," cried Annie, half-vexed; "a truce to this style of remark. I +think it's verging toward the sentimental, and I'm painfully +matter-of-fact. Father, you must not think of going to heaven yet, and +I don't like to hear you talk about it. Mr. Gregory can break his +little finger, if he likes, so we may keep him longer. But do let us +all be sensible, and not think of anything sad till it comes. Why +should we? Mr. Gregory surely can find time to run up and see us, if he +wishes, and I think he will." + +Before he could reply, an anxious remark from little Susie enabled them +to leave the table in the midst of one of those laughs that banish all +embarrassment. + +"But we'll be burned up if Mr. Gregory goes away." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +PLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE + + + +Knowing that it was to be Gregory's last day with them, Annie +determined it should be full of pleasant memories. She sung with him, +and did anything he asked. Her heart overflowed toward him in a genial +and almost sisterly regard, but his most careful analysis could find no +trace even of the inception of warmer feelings. She evidently had a +strong and growing liking for him, but nothing more, and she clearly +felt the great interest in his effort to become a man of Christian +principles. This fact gave him his main hope. Her passion to save +seemed so strong that he trusted she might be approached even thus +early upon that side. + +He felt that he must speak--must get some definite hope for the future +before he went away. It seemed to him that he could fairly bring his +great need as a motive to bear upon her. Her whole course encouraged +him to do this, for she had responded to every such appeal. Still with +fear and trembling he admitted that he was about to ask for more now +than ever before. + +But he felt that he must speak. He had no hope that he could ever be +more than his wretched self without her. He would ask nothing +definite--only encouragement that if he could make himself worthy of +her she would give him a chance to win her love. In her almost sisterly +frankness it seemed that the idea of loving him had never occurred to +her, and would not after he had gone. The thought of leaving her heart +all disengaged, for some other to come and make a stronger impression, +was torture. He never could be satisfied with the closest friendship, +therefore he must plainly seek a dearer tie, even though for a time +their frank, pleasant relations should be disturbed. He resolved to +take no denial, but to give fair warning, before it was too late, that +he was laying siege to her heart. He dreaded that attitude of mind upon +her part which enables a woman to say to some men, "I could be your +sister, but never your wife." + +So he said before they separated for the night, "Miss Walton, I'm going +to snatch a few hours from the hurry and grind of business, and shall +not return to town till to-morrow afternoon. Won't you take one more +ramble with me in the morning?" + +"With pleasure," she replied, promptly. "I will devote myself to you +to-morrow, and leave you without excuse for not coming again." + +He flushed with pleasure at her reply, but said, quickly, "By the way +that reminds me. Won't you tell me what your 'special reason' was for +wishing me to stay a little longer?" + +It was her turn to blush now, which she did in a way that puzzled him. +She answered, hesitatingly, "Well, I think I'll tell you to-morrow." + +"Good-night," said Mr. Walton, feelingly retaining Gregory's hand when +he came to his chair. "We are coming to treat you almost as one of the +family. Indeed it seems hard to treat you in any other way now, +especially in your old home, now doubly yours since you have saved it +from destruction. Every day you remind me more of my dear old friend. +For some reason he has seemed very near me of late. If it should be my +lot to see your sainted parents before you do, as it probably will, I +believe it will be in my power to add even to their heavenly joys by +telling them of your present prospects. Good-night, and may the +blessing of your father's and mother's God rest upon you." + +Tears sprung into the young man's eyes, and with a strong responsive +pressure of Mr. Walton's hand, he hastened to his room, to hide what +was not weakness. + +That was the last time he saw his father's friend. + +Annie's eyes glistened as she looked after him, and throwing her arms +around her father's neck, she whispered, "God did send him here I now +truly believe. We have not conspired and prayed in vain." + +Mr. Walton fondly stroked his daughter's brown hair, and said, "You are +right, Annie; he will be a gem in your crown of rejoicing. You have +acted very wisely, very womanly, as your mother would, in this matter. +He was a bad man when he first came here, and if I had not known you so +well, I should not have trusted you with him as I have. Be as faithful +through life, and you may lead many more out of darkness." + +"Dear father," said Annie, tenderly, "this whole day, with Charles's +good letter, and crowned with these precious words from you, seem like +a benediction. May we have many more such." + +"May God's will be done," said the riper Christian, with eyes turned +homeward. + +Thus in hope, peace, and gladness the day ended for all. + +"Ye know not what shall be on the morrow." + +To Gregory's unfeigned sorrow Mr. Walton was not well enough to appear +at the breakfast-table the following morning. Annie was flitting in and +out with a grave and troubled face. But by ten o'clock he seemed better +and fell asleep. Leaving Miss Eulie watching beside him, she came and +said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I can keep my promise in part, and take a +short walk with you. You can well understand why I cannot be away long." + +"Please do not feel that you must go," he said. "However great the +disappointment, I could not ask you to leave your father if he needs +you." + +"You may rest assured that nothing would tempt me from father if he +needed me. But I think the worst is now over. He is sleeping quietly. I +can trust aunty even better than myself. Besides, I want to go. I need +the fresh air, and I wish to see more of you before you leave us." + +He cordially thanked her and said, "I shall wait for you on the piazza." + +They went down across the lawn through the garden. The sun was shining +brightly, though occasionally obscured by clouds. + +"How beautiful everything is," said Annie, "even now, when the leaves +are half off the trees and falling fast! At any season, the moment I +get out of doors I feel new life and hope." + +"What nature does for you, Miss Annie, you seem to do for others. I +feel 'new life and hope' the moment I am with you." + +She looked at him quickly, for she did not quite like his tone and +manner. But she only said, "You must believe, as I do, in a power +behind nature." + +"But even you believe He works through human agencies." + +"Yes, up to a certain point." + +"But who can say where that point is in any experience? Miss Walton," +he continued, in grave earnestness, stopping and pointing to the rustic +seat where, on the previous Sabbath, he had revealed to her his evil +life, "that place is sacred to me. No hallowed spot of earth to which +pilgrimages are made can compare with it. You know that in some places +in Europe they raise a rude cross by the roadside where a man has been +murdered. Should there not be a monument where one was given life?" + +As they resumed their walk, he said in a low, meaning tone, "Do you +remember old Daddy Tuggar's words--'You could take the wickedest man +living straight to heaven if you'd stay right by him?'" + +"But he was wrong," she replied. + +"Pardon me if I differ with you, and agree with him. Miss Walton, I've +been in your society scarcely three weeks. You know what I was when I +came. I make no great claims now, but surely if tendencies, wishes, +purposes count for anything, I am very different. How can you argue me +out of the consciousness that I owe it all to you?" + +"You will one day understand," she answered, earnestly, "that God has +helped us both, and how futile my efforts would have been without such +help. But, Mr. Gregory," she continued, looking frankly into his +flushed face (for she was beginning to suspect now something of his +drift, and instinctively sought to ward off words which might disturb +their pleasant relations), "I do not intend to give you up from this +day forth. As our quaint old friend suggests, I do mean to stand right +by you as far as circumstances will allow me. I recognize how isolated +and lonely you are, and I feel almost a _sister_'s interest in you." + +"You emphasize the word 'sister.' I suppose I ought to be more than +satisfied. Believe me I am very grateful that you can so speak. But +suppose the frankness I promised compels me to say that it does not, +and never can satisfy?" + +"Then I shall think you very unreasonable. You have no right to ask +more than one has the power to give," she answered, with a look and +manner that were full of pain. "But surely, Mr. Gregory, we do not +understand each other." + +"But I want you to understand me," he exclaimed, earnestly. "If you had +the vanity and worldly experience of most women, you would have known +before this that I love you." + +Tears rushed into Annie's eyes, and for a few moments she walked on in +utter silence. This was so different an ending from what she had +expected! She felt that she must be very careful or she would undo all +she had attempted. She now dreaded utter failure, utter estrangement, +and how to avoid these was her chief thought. + +They had reached the cedar thicket near which they had first met, and +she sat down upon the rock where she had found Gregory. Her whole aim +was to end this unfortunate matter so that they might still continue +friends. And yet the task seemed wellnigh impossible, for if he felt as +he said, how could she tell him about Hunting without increasing +alienation? But her impression was strong that he was acting under an +exaggerated sense of her services and under a mistaken belief that she +was essential to him. Therefore she tried at first to turn the matter +off lightly by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you are the most grateful man I +ever heard of. You need not think you must reward my slight services by +marrying me." + +"Now you greatly wrong me," he answered. "Did I not say I loved you? +How deeply and truly you can never know. I cannot reward you. I did not +dream of such a thing. My best hope was that some time in the future, +when by long and patient effort I had become truly a man, you might +learn to think of me in the way I wish." + +"Mr. Gregory," said she, in a voice full of trouble, "has my manner or +words led you to hope this? If so, I can never forgive myself." + +"You have no cause for self-reproaches," he said, earnestly. "Though my +suit should ever prove hopeless, in the depths of my heart I will +acquit you of all blame. You have been what you promised--a true +friend, nothing more. But please understand me. I ask nothing now, I am +not worthy. Perhaps I never shall be. If so, I will not bind you to me +with even a gossamer thread. I have too deep a respect for you. But I +am so self-distrustful! I know my weakness better than you can. Still I +am confident that if _you_ could 'reward' me, and give the hope that +you would crown the victory with yourself, I could do anything. In +loving me, you would save me." + +"Pardon me, but you are all wrong. I'm only an oar, but you look upon +me as the lifeboat itself. In that you persist in looking to me, a +weak, sinful creature, instead of to Him who alone 'taketh away the sin +of the world,' you discourage me utterly." + +"I will look to Him, but I want you to lead me to Him, and keep me at +His side." + +"I can do that just as well by being your friend." + +"I can never think so. I shall go away from this place utterly +disheartened unless you give me some hope, no matter how faint, that I +shall not have to struggle alone." + +She sprung up quickly, for he incensed her, while at the same time she +pitied him. She could not understand how he had so soon learned to love +her "deeply and truly." It rather appeared true that he had formed the +mistaken opinion that she was essential to his success, and that he was +bent upon bolstering himself up in his weakness, and sought to place +her as a barrier between him and his old evil life; and she felt that +he might need some wholesome truth rather than tender sympathy. At any +rate her womanly nature took offence at his apparent motive, as she +understood it--a motive that appeared more selfish and unworthy every +moment. He was asking what he had no right to expect of any one. But +she would not misunderstand him, and therefore said with a grave, +searching look, "Only then as I give you the hope you ask for, will you +make the effort you have promised to make?" + +"Only then can I make it," he replied, in some confusion. "Can effort +of any kind be asked of one utterly disabled?" + +Sudden fire leaped into her dark eyes, but she said, with dignity, "Mr. +Gregory, you disappoint me greatly. You assume a weakness--a +disability--which does not and cannot exist under the circumstances. +You made me a promise, but now impose a new condition which I did not +dream of at the time, and which I cannot accept. You are asking more +than you have a right to ask. However imperfect my efforts have been in +your behalf, they were at least sincere and unselfish, and I was +beginning to have a warm regard for you as a friend. I tell you frankly +that I am most anxious that we should remain friends as before. If so, +this kind of folly must cease now and forever. I have no right to +listen to such words at all, and would not but for your sake, and in +the hope of removing from your mind a very mistaken and unworthy idea. +You are entirely wrong in thinking that your future depends solely upon +me. It cannot--it ought not. It rests between you and God, and you +cannot shift the responsibility. I am willing to do all you can ask of +a sister, but no more. Do you think I have no needs, no weakness, +myself? In a husband I want a man I can lean upon as well as help. I +wish to marry one with a higher moral character than mine, to whom I +can look up. There is the widest difference in the world between giving +help, and even sincere affection to those who win it, and giving one's +self away. Simple justice requires that my happiness and feelings be +considered also. It is selfish in you to ask of me this useless +sacrifice of myself." + +Annie's quick, passionate nature was getting the better of her. It +seemed in a certain sense disloyalty to Hunting to have listened thus +long to Gregory. Moreover, not believing in nor understanding the +latter's love for her, she was indignant that he should seek to employ +her as a sort of stepping-stone into heaven. She would despise the man +who sought her merely to advance his earthly interests, and she was +growing honestly angry at Gregory, who, it seemed, wanted her only as a +guide and staff in his pilgrimage--justly angry, too, if she were right. + +Gregory became very pale as her words quivered in his heart like +arrows, but in the consciousness of a true and unselfish love, he +looked at her unfalteringly to the last, and said, "In justice to +myself I might again urge that you misunderstand me. I asked for +nothing now, only a hope for the future based on what I possibly might +become. But, as you say, I now know I asked too much--more than I had a +right to. You can never look up to me, and with a sadness you will +never understand, I admit myself answered finally. But there is one +imputation in your words that I cannot rest under. I solemnly assert +before God, and in the name of my mother, that my love for you is as +strong, pure, and unselfish as can exist in my half-wrecked nature." + +"Oh dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of mingled vexation and distress, +"why has it all turned out so miserably? I'm so sorry, so very sorry; +but in kindness I must show you how hopeless it all is. I am the same +as engaged to another." + +Gregory started violently. His despairing words had been not quite +despairing. But now a chill like death settled about his heart. He was +well satisfied that she was one who would be true as steel to all such +ties, and that no man who had learned to know her would ever prove +inconstant. But, with a white face and firmly compressed lips, he still +listened quietly. + +"I came out this morning hoping to tell you a little secret as I might +confide in a brother, and I trusted that your friendship for me would +prove strong enough to enable me to make you his friend also. I wanted +you to stay a little longer, that you might meet him, and that I might +reconcile you, and prepare the way for pleasant companionship in the +future. I am expecting Charles Hunting now every-- + +"What is the matter? What do you mean by that look of horror? What have +you against him, that you should show such deep hostility before, and +now stare at me in almost terror?" + +But he only staggered against a tree for support. + +"Speak," cried she, passionately seizing his arm. "I will not endure +the innuendo of your look and manner." + +"I will speak," he answered, in sudden vehemence. "I've lost too much +by him. Charles Hunting is--" + +But he stopped, clinched his hands, and seemed to make a desperate +effort at self-control. She heard him mutter as he turned away a few +steps, "Stop! stop! All that is left you now is a little self-respect. +Keep that--keep that." + +Annie misunderstood him, and thought he referred to some slander that +he had hesitated to utter against his enemy even in his anger and +jealousy. With flashing eyes she said, "Let me complete the sentence +for you. Charles Hunting is a Christian gentleman. You may well think +twice before you speak one word against him in my presence." + +"Did I say one word against him?" he asked, eagerly. + +"No, but you looked much more than words can express." + +"I could not help that. Your revelation was sudden, Miss Walton." + +"How could it be otherwise?" she asked, indignantly. "The first evening +of your arrival, when his name was mentioned, your face grew as black +as night. When I again sought to speak to you of him, you adjured me +never to mention his name. You taxed my forbearance severely at that +time. But I hoped you would become so changed that such enmity would be +impossible." + +"I see it all now," he groaned--"the miserable fatality of it all. I +must shut off the one way of escape, and then go forward. By my own +act, I must destroy my one chance. If I had only known this in time. +And yet it's through my own act that I did not know. Your God is +certainly one of justice. I'm punished now for all the past. But it +seems a trifle cruel to show one heaven and then shut the door in one's +face. If I had only known!" + +"There," exclaimed Annie, in the deepest distress; "because of this +little thing you fall back into your old scepticism." + +"This 'little thing' is death to me," he said, in a hard, bitter tone. +"Oh no, I'm not at all sceptical. The 'argument from design,' the +nature of the result, are both too clear. I'm simply being dealt with +according to law. Though perfectly sincere, you were entirely too +lenient that Sunday evening when I told you what I was. My conscience +was right after all. I only wish that I had fallen from yonder roof the +other night. I might then have made my exit decently." + +"Mr. Gregory, you shock me," she said, almost sternly. "You have no +right to insult my faith in a merciful God by such words, and your +believing Him cruel and vindictive on this one bit of your experience +is the sheerest egotism. It is the essence of selfishness to think +everything wrong when one does not have one's own way." + +He only bowed his answer, then stepped out to the point of the hill, +and took a long, lingering look at the valley and his old home, sighed +deeply, turned, and said to her, quietly, "Perhaps it is time for you +to return to your father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +WHAT A LOVER COULD DO + + + +Without a word they descended the hill. Gregory was very pale, and +this, with a certain firmness about his mouth, was the only indication +of feeling on his part. Otherwise, he was the same finished man of the +world that he had appeared when he came. Annie's face grew more and +more troubled with every glance at him. + +"He is hardening into stone," she thought; and she was already +reproaching herself for speaking so harshly. "I might have known," she +thought, "that his rash, bitter words were only incoherent cries of +pain and disappointment." + +He perplexed her still more by saying at the foot of the hill, in his +old light tone, "See, Miss Walton, our 'well-meaning friend' has not +been here to put up the bars, and we can take the shorter way through +the orchard. I would like to see them picking apples once more. By the +way, you must say good-by for me to your old neighbor, and tell him +that out of respect for his first honest greeting, I'm going to fill +his pipe for the winter." + +But Annie's heart was too full to answer. + +"How familiar these mossy-trunked trees are!" he continued, determined +that there should be no awkward pauses, no traces to the eyes of others +of what had occurred. "How often I've picked apples from this one and +that one--indeed from all! Good-by, old friends." + +"Do you never expect to come back to these 'old friends,' and others +that would be friends again?" she asked, in low, trembling tones. "Mr. +Gregory, you are cruel. You are saying good-by as if it were a very +ordinary matter." + +He did not trust himself to look at her, but he said, firmly, "Miss +Walton, in a few moments we shall be under the eyes of others, and +perhaps I shall never have another chance to speak to you alone. Let me +say a few plain, honest words before I go. I am not ashamed of my love +for you, nor to have it known. I am glad there was man enough in me to +love such a woman as you are. You are not one of those society belles +who wish to boast of their conquests. I wish merely to leave in a +manner that will save you all embarrassing questions and surmises, and +enable you to go back to your father as if nothing had happened. The +best I can do is to maintain the outward semblance of a gentleman with +which I came. In regard to Charles Hunting--please listen patiently--I +know that you will not believe any statement of mine. It is your nature +to trust implicitly those you love. But since I have had time to think, +even the little conscience I possess will not permit me to go away in +silence in regard to him. Do not think my words inspired by jealousy. I +have given you up. You are as unattainable by me as heaven. But that +man is not worthy of you. Think well before you--" + +"You are right," she interrupted, hotly. "I will not believe anything +against him whom I have known and loved for years. If sincere, you are +mistaken. But I entreat you, for my own sake as well as yours, never +speak a word against him again. Because, if you do, it will be hard for +me to forgive you. If you place the slightest value on my good opinion +and continued regard, you will not throw them away so uselessly. I do +feel--I ever wish to feel--a deep and friendly interest in you, +therefore speak for yourself, and I will listen with honest sympathy. +Give me hope, if possible, that you will think better of all this +folly--that you will visit your old home and those who wish to be your +true friends--that you will give me a chance to make you better +acquainted with one whom you now greatly wrong. Please give me +something better than this parting promises to end in." + +He merely bowed and said, "I supposed it would be so. It is like you. +As for myself--I do not know what my future will be, save that it will +be full of pain. Rest assured of one thing, however. I can never be a +common, vulgar sinner again, after having loved you. That would be +sacrilege. Your memory will blend with that of my mother, and shine +like a distant star in my long night. But you have no right to ask me +to come here any more. Though you do not believe in my love, it is a +reality nevertheless, and I cannot inflict upon myself the unbearable +pain of seeing you, yet hedged about with that which must ever keep me +at a distance. With my feelings, even my poor sense of honor forbids my +seeking your presence. Can I visit you feigning friendship, while my +heart is consuming with love? Come, Miss Walton, we shall have our real +leave taking here, and our formal one at the house. I don't think +gratitude will ever fade out of my heart for all you have tried to do +for me, wherever I am. Even the 'selfish' Walter Gregory can honestly +wish you happiness unalloyed. And you will have it, too, in spite +of--well, in spite of everything, for your happiness is from within, +not without. Give me your hand, and say good-by under the old mossy +trees." + +Annie burst into tears and said, "I can't say good-by and have you +leave us so unhappy--so unbelieving. Mr. Gregory, will you never trust +in God?" + +"I fear not--not after what I know to-day. He seems wronging you who +are so true to Him, as well as me. You see I am honest with you, as I +said I would be. Can you take the hand of such as I?" + +She did take it in both of hers, and said, with passionate earnestness, +"O that I could save you from yourself by main force!" + +He was deeply moved, but after a moment said, gently, "That is like +your warm heart. But you cannot. Good-by, Annie Walton. Go on in your +brave, noble life to the end, and then heaven will be the better for +your coming." + +"Will you forgive my harsh words?" + +"They were more true than harsh. They were forgiven when spoken." + +"Mr. Gregory," she cried, "I will not say farewell as you say it. I +have prayed for you, and so has your mother. I will still pray for you +unceasingly. You cannot prevent it, and I will not doubt God's promise +to hear." + +"I cannot share your faith. I am saying good-by in the saddest sense." + +He stooped and kissed her hand, and then said, firmly, "The end has +come. We really part here. I leave you as I came." + +With eyes downcast and blinded with tears she accompanied him out of +the deep shade to the further side of the orchard nearest the house. +Jeff was on a tall ladder that leaned against a heavily laden tree, and +was just about to descend. + +"That's right," cried Gregory; "come down with your basket and give me +a taste of those apples. They look the same as when I used to pick them +sixteen years ago." + +Jeff obeyed with alacrity. Gregory accompanied him a few steps, and +dropped a banknote into the basket, saying, "That's for the jolly +wood-fires you made for me," and then turned quickly toward Annie to +escape the profuse thanks impending. + +He had turned none too soon. The apple-boughs, relieved of the weight +of the fruit and Jeff's solid person, threw out the heavy ladder that +had been placed too nearly in a perpendicular position at first. It had +trembled and wavered a moment, but was now inclining over the very spot +where Annie was standing. + +"Miss Walton!" he cried, with a look of horror; rushed toward her, and +stood with head bent down between her and the falling ladder. + +She heard a rushing sound, and then with a heavy thud the ladder struck +him, glanced to one side, grazing her shoulder, and fell to the ground. + +He lay motionless beneath it. + +For a moment she gazed vacantly at him, too stunned to think or speak. + +But Jeff ran and lifted the ladder off Gregory, exclaiming, "Lor' bless +him, Miss Annie, he jus' done save your life." + +She knelt at his side and took his hand, but it seemed that of the +dead. She moaned, "The omen's true. His blood is on me now--his blood +is on me now. He died for my sake, and I called him selfish." + +She took his head into her lap, and put her hand over his heart. + +She thought she felt a faint pulsation. + +In a moment all trace of weakness vanished, and her face became +resolute and strong. + +"Jeff," she said, in clear-cut, decided tones, "go to the house, tell +Hannah and Zibbie to come here; tell Hannah to bring brandy and a +strong double blanket. Not a word of this to my father. Go, quick." + +Jeff ran as he had done once before when the bloodhounds were after +him, saying under his breath all the way, "Lor' bless him! He save Miss +Annie's life; he orter have her sure 'nuff." + +Annie was left alone with the unconscious man. She pushed his hair from +his damp brow, and, bending down, impressed a remorseful kiss upon it. + +"God forgive me that I called you selfish," she murmured. "Where is +your spirit wandering that I cannot call it back? O live, live; I can +never be happy if you die. Can this be the end? God keep my faith from +failing." + +Again she put her hand over his heart, whose love she could doubt no +more. Did it beat? or was it only the excited throbbing of her own hand? + +Jeff now returned, and, with white, scared faces, the women soon +followed. Annie tried to give Gregory brandy, but he did not seem to +swallow it. They then lifted him on the blanket and carried him to the +house, and up the back stairway to his room, so that Mr. Walton might +not know. + +"Now, Jeff," whispered Annie, "harness the fastest horse to the buggy, +and bring the doctor--mind, bring him. Don't tell him to come. Hannah, +tell Miss Eulie to come here--quietly now. Zibbie, bring hot water." + +Again she poured a teaspoonful of brandy into his mouth, and this time +he seemed to swallow it. She bathed his face and hands with spirits, +while her every breath was a prayer. + +Miss Eulie did not want a long explanation. Annie's hurried words, "A +ladder fell on him," satisfied her, and she set to work, and more +effectively with her riper experience. She took off his collar and +opened his shirt at the throat, and soon, with a look of joy, to Annie, +said, "His heart beats distinctly." + +Again they gave him brandy, and this time he made a manifest effort to +swallow it. + +With eyes aglow with excitement and hope they re-doubled their +exertions, Hannah and Zibbie helping, and at last they were rewarded by +seeing their patient make a faint movement. + +Now with every breath Annie silently sent the words heavenward, "O God, +I thank thee." + +She bent over him, and said, in a low, thrilling tone, "Mr. Gregory." A +happy smile came out upon his face, but this was the only response. + +"Do you think he is conscious?" she whispered to her aunt. + +"I hardly know. Let me give him a little more stimulant." + +After receiving it he suddenly opened his eyes and looked fearfully +around. Then he tried to rise, but fell back, and asked, faintly, +"Where is Miss Walton? Is she safe? I heard her voice." + +"You did. I'm here. Don't you know me?" + +"Are you really here unhurt?" + +"Yes, yes," she answered, eagerly; "thanks to you." + +Again he closed his eyes with a strange and quiet smile. + +"Can't you see me?" she asked. + +"There seems a blur before my eyes. It does not signify. I know your +voice, so true and kind." + +"Why can't he see?" she asked, drawing her aunt aside. + +"I don't know. What I fear most are internal injuries. Did the ladder +strike his head?" + +"O merciful Heaven!" said Annie, again in an agony of fear. "I don't +know. Oh, if he should die--if he should die--" and she wrung her hands +with terror at the thought. + +The doctor now stepped lightly in. Jeff had told him enough to excite +the gravest apprehensions. He made a few inquiries and felt Gregory's +pulse. + +"It's very feeble," he said. "More brandy." + +Then he added, "I must make such examination as I can now without +disturbing him much. Miss Morton, you and Jeff stay and help me." + +Annie went down to her father with a greater anxiety as to the result +of the examination than if the danger had been her own. + +She found her father awake, and wondering at the sounds in the room +above. + +"Annie," he said, feebly, "what is going on in Mr. Gregory's room?" + +As she looked at him, she saw that he was not better, as she hoped, but +that his face had a shrunken look, betokening the rapid failing of the +vital forces. The poor girl felt that trouble was coming like an +avalanche, and in spite of herself she sat down, and, burying her face +in her father's bosom, sobbed aloud. But she soon realized the injury +she might do him in thus giving way, and by a great effort controlled +herself so as to tell him the softened outlines of the accident. But +the ashen hue deepened on the old man's face, as he said, fervently, +"God bless him! God bless him! He has saved my darling's life. What +should I have done in these last days without you?" + +"But, father, don't you think he will get well?" she asked, eagerly. + +"I hope so. I pray so, my child. But I know the ladder, and it is a +heavy one. This is time for faith in God. We cannot see a +hand's-breadth in the darkness before us. He has been very merciful to +us thus far, very merciful, and no doubt has some wise, good purpose in +these trials and dangers. Just cling to Him, my child, and all will be +well." + +"O father, how you comfort me! We must leave everything in His hands. +But, father, you feel better, do you not?" + +"Yes, much better; not much pain now; and yet for some reason I feel +that I shall soon be where pain never comes. How otherwise can I +explain my almost mortal weakness?" + +Annie again hid her tearful eyes on the bedside. Her father placed his +hand upon her bowed head and continued, "It won't break your heart, my +little girl, will it, to have your father go to heaven?" + +But she could not answer him. + +At last the doctor came down, and said, "His injuries are certainly +serious, and may be more so than I can yet discover. The ladder grazed +his head, inflicting some injury, and struck him on the shoulder, which +is much bruised, and the collar-bone is badly broken. The whole system +has received a tremendous shock, but I hope that with good care he will +pull through. But he must be kept very quiet in mind and body. And so +must you, sir. Now you know all, and have nothing to suspect. It's +often injurious kindness to half hide something from the sick." + +"Well, doctor, do your very best by him, as if he were my own son. You +know what a debt of gratitude we owe him. Spare no expense. If he needs +anything, let it be sent for. If I were only up and around; but the +Lord wills it otherwise." + +Annie followed the physician out and said, "You have told us the very +worst then?" + +"Yes, Miss Walton, the very worst. Unless there are injuries that I +cannot now detect I think he will get better. I will send a young man +whom I can trust to take care of him. Best assured I will do all that +is possible, for I feel very grateful to this stranger for saving my +much-esteemed little friend. I suppose you know we all think a great +deal of you in our neighborhood, and I shudder to think how near we +came to a general mourning. You see he was nearer the base of the +ladder than you, Jeff says. The ladder therefore would have struck you +with greater force, and you would not have had a ghost of a chance. You +ought to be very grateful, eh, Miss Annie?" he added, with a little sly +fun in his face. + +But she shook her head sadly, and only said with deep feeling, "I am +very, very grateful." Then she added, quickly, "What about father?" + +The doctor's face changed instantly and became grave. + +"I don't quite understand his case. He was threatened with pneumonia; +but there seems no acute disease now, and yet he appears to be failing. +The excitement and exposure of the other night were too much for him. +You must make him take all the nourishment possible. Medicine is of no +use." + +Agitated by conflicting fears and hopes Annie went to the kitchen to +make something that might tempt her father's appetite. + +Blessed are the petty and distracting cares of the household, the +homely duties of the sick-room. They divert the mind and break the +force of the impending blow. If, when illness and death invade a house, +the fearing and sorrowing ones had naught to do but sit down and watch +the remorseless approach of the destroyer, they might go mad. + +When Annie stole noiselessly back to Gregory's room he was sleeping, +though his breathing seemed difficult. + +What a poor mockery the dinner hour was! Even the children were +oppressed by the general gloom and talked in whispers. But before it +was over there came a bright ray of light to Annie in the form of a +telegram from Hunting, saying that he had arrived in New York safely, +and would be at the village on the 5 P.M. train. + +"O I am so glad!" cried Annie; "never was he so needed before." + +And yet there was a remorseful twinge at her heart as she thought of +Gregory. But she felt sure of reconciliation now, for would not Hunting +overwhelm her preserver with gratitude, and forgive everything in the +past? + +She said to Jeff, "Have Dolly and the low buggy ready for me at +half-past four." + +Her father seemed peculiarly glad when he heard that his relative, the +man he hoped would soon be his son, was coming. + +"It's all turning out for the best," he said, softly. + +The hour soon came, for it was already late, and Annie slipped away, +leaving both her father and Gregory sleeping. To her great joy Hunting +stepped down from the train and was quickly seated by her side. As they +drove away in the dusk he could not forbear a rapturous kiss and +embrace which she did not resist. + +"O Charles, I'm so glad you've come--so very glad!" she exclaimed +almost breathlessly; "and I've so much to tell you that I hardly know +where to begin. How good God is to send you to me now, just when I need +you most!" + +"So you find that you can't do without me altogether? That's grand +news. How I've longed for this hour! If I'd had my own way I would have +exploded the boilers in my haste to reach port to see you again. It was +real good of you to come, and not send for me. Come Annie, celebrate my +return by the promise that you will soon make a home for me. I am happy +to say that I can now give you the means of making it a princely one." + +"I haven't the time nor the heart to think about that now, Charles. +Father is very ill. I'm exceedingly anxious about him." + +"Indeed!" said Hunting, "that is bad news;" and yet his grief was not +very deep, for he thought, "If she is left alone she will come to me at +once." + +"What is more," cried Annie, a little hurt at the quiet manner in which +he received her tidings, "suppose, instead of meeting me strong and +well, you had found me a crushed and lifeless corpse to-night?" + +"Annie," he said, "what do you mean?" + +"I mean that this would have been true but for one with whom I am sorry +you are on bad terms. Walter Gregory is at our house." + +He gave a great start at the mention of this name, and even in the deep +twilight his face seemed very white. + +"I don't understand," he almost gasped. + +"I knew you would be deeply affected," said the unsuspicious Annie. "He +stood between me and death to-day, and it may cost him his own life. He +was severely injured--how badly we can hardly tell yet;" and she +rapidly related all that had occurred. "And now, Charles," she +concluded, "no matter what he may have done, or how deeply he may have +wronged you, I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to effect a +complete reconciliation, and cement a lasting friendship. If possible, +you must become his untiring nurse. How much you owe him!" + +She noticed that he was trembling. After a moment he asked, +hesitatingly, "Has he--how long has he been here, did you say?" + +"About three weeks. You know our place was his old home, and his father +was a very dear friend of my father." + +"If I knew it I had forgotten it," he answered, with a chill of fear +growing deeper every moment. "Did he--has he said anything about our +difficulties?" + +"Nothing definite," said she, a little wonderingly at Hunting's manner. +"Father happened to mention your name the first evening of his arrival, +and the bitter enmity that came out upon his face quite startled me. +You know well that I wouldn't hear a word against you. He once +commenced saying something to your prejudice, but I stopped him and +said I would neither listen to nor believe him--that he did not know +you, and was entirely mistaken in his judgment. It was evident to us +that Mr. Gregory was not a good man. Indeed, he made no pretence of +being one; but he has changed since, as yon can well understand, or he +couldn't have sacrificed himself as he has to-day. I told father that I +thought the cause of your trouble arose from your trying to restrain +him in some of his fast ways, but he thought it resulted from business +relations." + +"You were both right," said Hunting, slowly, as if he were feeling his +way along. "He was inclined to be very dissipated, and I used to +remonstrate with him; but the immediate cause was a business +difficulty. He would have kept me out of a great deal of money if he +could." + +His words were literally true, but they gave an utterly false +impression. Annie was satisfied, however. It seemed a natural +explanation, and she trusted Hunting implicitly. Indeed, with her +nature, love could scarcely exist without trust. + +"That's all past now," said Annie, eagerly. "You surely will not let it +weigh with you a moment. Indeed, Charles, I shall expect you to do +everything in your power to make that man your friend." + +"O, certainly, I could not act otherwise," he said, rather absently. He +was scheming with desperate earnestness to meet and avert the impending +dangers. Annie's frank and cordial reception showed him that so far as +she was concerned he was as yet safe. But he knew her well enough to +feel sure that if she detected falsehood in him his case would be +nearly hopeless. He recognized that he was walking on a mine that at +any moment might be sprung. With his whole soul he loved Annie Walton, +and it would be worse than death to lose her. The thought of her had +made every gross temptation fall harmless at his feet, and even his +insatiate love of wealth had been mingled with the dearer hope that it +would eventually minister to her happiness. But he had lived so long in +the atmosphere of Wall Street that his ideas of commercial integrity +had become exceedingly blurred. When a questionable course opened by +which he could make money, he could not resist the temptation. He tried +to satisfy himself that business required such action, and called his +sharp practice by the fine names of skill, sagacity. But when on his +visits to Annie, which, of late, during the worst of his transactions, +had been frequent rather than prolonged, he had had a growing sense of +humiliation and fear. He saw that she could never be made to look upon +his affair with Burnett & Co. as he regarded it, and that her father +was the soul of commercial honor. Though Mr. Walton's fortune was +moderate, not a penny had come to him stained. After these visits +Hunting would go back to the city, resolved to quit everything +illegitimate and become in his business and other relations just what +he seemed to them. But some glittering temptation would assail him. He +would make one more adroit shuffle of the cards, and then, from being +hollow, would become morally and religiously sound at once. + +During his voyage home, there was time for thought. A severe gale, +while lashing the sea into threatening waves, had also disturbed his +guilty conscience. He had amassed sufficient to satisfy even his greed +of gold for the present, and his calculating soul hinted that it was +time to begin to put away a little stock in heaven as well as on earth. +He resolved that he would withdraw from the whirlpool of Wall Street +speculation and engage in only legitimate operations. Moreover, he +began to long for the refuge and more quiet joys of home, and he felt, +as did poor Gregory, that Annie of all women could do most to make him +happy here and fit him for the future life. Therefore he had returned +with the purpose of pressing his suit for a speedy marriage as strongly +as a safe policy would permit. + +The bright October day of his arrival in New York seemed emblematic of +his hopes and prospects, and now again the deepening night, the rising +wind, and the wildly hurrying clouds but mirrored back himself. + +His safest and wisest course would have been to make an honest +confession to Annie of the wrong he had done Gregory. As his mind +recovered from its first confusion this thought occurred to him. But he +had already given her the impression that he had received the wrong, or +rather that it had been attempted against him. Moreover, by any +truthful confession he would stand convicted of deceiving and swindling +Burnett & Co. He justly feared that Annie would break with him the +moment she learned this. So like all schemers, he temporized, and left +his course open to be decided by circumstances rather than principle. + +His first course was to learn of Annie all that he could concerning +Gregory and his visit, so that he might act in view of the fullest +knowledge possible. She told him frankly what had occurred, so far as +time permitted during their ride home. But of Gregory's love she did +not speak, and was perplexed as to her proper course. Loyalty to her +lover seemed to require that he should know all, and yet she was sure +that Gregory would not wish her to speak of it, and she owed so much to +him that she felt she could not do what was contrary to his wishes. But +Hunting well surmised that, whether Annie knew it or not, Gregory could +not have been in her society three weeks and go away an indifferent +stranger. + +"Jeff can give me more light," he thought. + +Conscious of deceit himself, he distrusted every one, even +crystal-souled Annie. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +DEEPENING SHADOWS + + + +Mr. Walton received Hunting in a fatherly way. Indeed, he looked upon +the young man as a son, and the thought of leaving Annie to his +protection was an unspeakable comfort. + +Altogether Hunting was reassured by his reception, which proved that +his relations were as yet undisturbed. But in the depths of his soul he +trembled at the presence of Gregory in the house; and when Miss Eulie +came down and said, after an affectionate greeting, that Gregory was in +something like a stupor, he was even base enough to wish that he might +never come out of it. + +At the word "stupor," Annie's face grew pale. She had a growing +dissatisfaction with Hunting's manner in regard to Gregory, and felt +that he did not feel or show the interest or gratitude that he ought; +but there was nothing tangible with which she could tax him. + +The doctor, who came early in the evening, reassured her, and said that +the state of partial consciousness was not necessarily a dangerous +symptom, as it might be the result of a severe shock. The young man he +brought was installed as nurse under Miss Eulie's charge, and Annie +said that Mr. Hunting would also take his turn as watcher. + +Then she, Mr. Hunting, and her father had a long talk over what had +happened in his absence, Mr. Walton dwelling most feelingly on what he +regarded as the providential character of the visit from the son of his +old friend. + +"If he never leaves our house alive, I have a strong assurance that he +will join his father in the better home. Indeed, I may soon be there +with them." + +"Please don't talk so, father," pleaded Annie. + +"Well, my child, perhaps it's best I should, and prepare your minds for +what may be near. It's a great consolation to see Charles again, and he +will help you bear whatever is God's will." + +"You can trust her to me," said Hunting, fervently. "I have ample means +to gratify her most extravagant wish, and my love will shelter her and +think for her even as yours would. But I trust you will soon share our +home with us." + +"I expect to, my children, but it will be our eternal home." + +Annie strove bravely to keep her tears back, for her father's sake, but +they would come. + +"Annie," said Hunting, "won't you please let your father put this ring +on your engagement finger?" and he gave Mr. Walton a magnificent +solitaire diamond. + +Mr. Walton took his daughter's hand, and looked earnestly into her +tearful, blushing face. + +"Annie," he said, in a grave, sweet tone, "I hope for your sake that I +may be wrong, but I have a presentiment that my pilgrimage is nearly +ended. You have made its last stage very happy. A good daughter makes a +good wife, Mr. Hunting; and, Annie, dear, I shall tell your mother that +you supplied her place, as far as a daughter could. It will add greatly +to my peace if I can leave you and my sister, and the dear little ones, +under the care of one so competent to protect and provide for you all. +Mr. Hunting, do you feel that you can take them to your home and heart, +with my daughter?" + +"Certainly," said Hunting. "I had no other thought; and Annie's will +shall be supreme in her future home." + +"But, after all, the chief question is, Does this ring join your +hearts? I'm sure I'm right in thinking so, Annie?" + +"Yes," she said, in a low tone. + +Slowly, with his feeble, trembling hands he put the flashing gem on +Annie's finger, and then placed her hand in Hunting's, and, looking +solemnly to heaven, said, "May God bless this betrothal as your father +blesses it." + +Hunting stooped and kissed her hand and then her lips. With mingled +truth and policy, he said, "This ceremony is more solemn and binding to +me than the one yet to come at the altar." + +Annie was happy in her engagement. It was what she expected, and had +been consummated in a way that seemed peculiarly sweet and sacred; and +yet her thoughts, with a remorseful tinge, would keep recurring to the +man who even then might be dying for her sake. + +After they had sat a little while in silence, which is often the best +expression of deep feeling, she suddenly said, with an involuntary +sigh, "Poor Mr. Gregory! I'm so sorry for him!" + +Thus Hunting knew where her thoughts were, and instantly the purpose +formed itself in his mind to induce her through her father to consent +to an immediate marriage. He saw more plainly than Annie the great +change in her father, and based his hope on the fact that the parent +might naturally wish to give his child a legal protector before he +passed away. + +Mr. Walton now showed such signs of weariness that they left him in +Miss Eulie's care, who seemed to flit like a ministering spirit between +the two patients. + +After the great excitement of the day, Annie, too, was very weary, and +soon the household sought such rest as was possible with two of its +inmates apparently very near the boundaries that separate the known +world from the unknown. Glimmering all night long, like signals of +distress at sea, the faint lights of the watchers reminded late +passers-by of the perilous nature of earthly voyaging. + +Annie had gone with Miss Eulie to take a parting look at Gregory. She +bent over him and said, "Mr. Gregory," but his spirit seemed to have +sunk into such far depths that even her voice could not summon him. + +"Oh, if he should die now!" she moaned, shudderingly, and on the night +of her engagement sobbed herself to sleep. + +The next morning saw little change in the patients, save that Mr. +Walton was evidently weaker. Miss Eulie said that Gregory had roused up +during the night and seemed perfectly conscious. He had inquired after +Mr. Walton and Annie, but toward morning had fallen into his old +lethargy. + +After breakfast Annie took Hunting up to see him, but was pained at the +darkening of her lover's face as he looked at the prostrate and +unconscious man. She could not understand it. He seemed to have no wish +to remain. She felt almost indignant, and yet what could she say more +than she had said? Gregory's condition, and the cause, should naturally +plead for him beyond all words. + +Annie spent most of the day with her father, and purposed watching with +him that night. The doctor came and reported more favorably of Gregory, +but said that everything depended upon his being quiet. Annie purposed +that Hunting should commence the duties of watcher as soon as possible. +Therefore she told her aunt to tell Gregory, as soon as she thought it +would answer, that Hunting had arrived. In the afternoon, Gregory +seemed to come out of his lethargy more decidedly than he had before, +and took some nourishment with marked relish. Then he lay quietly +looking at the fire. + +"Do you feel better now?" Miss Eulie asked, gently. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he answered, wearily. "I have a numb, strange +feeling." + +"Would you like to see Miss Walton?" + +"No, not now; I am satisfied to know she is well." + +"She wished me to tell you that Mr. Hunting had arrived." + +He turned away his face with a deep scowl, but said nothing. + +After some time she came to his side and said, "Is there anything you +would like?" + +"Nothing," he replied, gently. "I appreciate your great kindness." + +Miss Eulie sighed and left the room, feeling dimly that there were +internal injuries after all, but such as were beyond the doctor's skill. + +Annie echoed her sigh when she heard how he received Miss Eulie's +information. She determined to prepare and take him his supper. + +When she noiselessly entered, he was again looking fixedly at the fire. +But she had not advanced far into the room before he recognized her +step and looked up quickly. + +"See," she said, cheerily, coming to his side, "I've prepared and +brought you this supper with my own hands, and shall expect in return +that you compliment it highly. Now, isn't it a good supper?" she asked, +holding it before him. + +But his eyes fastened on the glittering and significant ring, whose +meaning he too well understood. With an expression of intense pain he +turned his face to the wall without a word. + +"Mr. Gregory," pleaded Annie, "I never thought you would turn away from +me." + +"Not from you, not from you," he said, in a low tone, "but I'm very +weak, and the light of that diamond is too strong for me yet." + +"Forgive me," she said, in a tone of deep reproach; "I did not think." + +"No, forgive me. Please leave me now, and remember in charity how weak +I am." + +She put the tray down and hastened from the room. He ate no supper that +night, neither did she. Hunting watched her gloomily, with both fear +and jealousy at heart. The latter, however, was groundless, for Annie's +feeling was only that of profound sorrow for something she could not +help. But lack of strongly manifested interest and sympathy for Gregory +injured him in her estimation; for woman-like she unconsciously took +the side of the one he wronged. She could understand Gregory's enmity, +but it seemed to her that Hunting should be full of generous enthusiasm +for one who was suffering so much in her behalf. + +"Men are so strange!" she said, half-vexedly. "They fall in love +without the slightest provocation, and hate each other forever, when a +woman would have sharp words and be over with it. They never do what +you would naturally expect." + +During the day Hunting had found time to see Jeff alone, but had found +him inclined to be sullen and uncommunicative. Jeff had changed sides, +and was now an ardent adherent of Gregory's, who had given him five +dollars without imposing any conditions; and then, what was of far +greater import, had saved the house and Annie's life, and, according to +Jeff's simple views of equity, he ought to have both. And yet a certain +rude element of honesty made him feel that he had made a bargain with +Hunting, and that he must fulfil his part and then they would be quits. +But he was not disposed to do it with a very good grace. So when +Hunting said, "Well, Jeff, I suppose you've seen a good deal since I +was last here." + +"Yes, I've seen a mighty lot," said Jeff, sententiously. + +"Well, Jeff, you remember our agreement. What did you see? Only the +truth now." + +"Sartin, sah, only de truf. I'se belong to de Walton family, and yous +doesn't get nothin' but de truf from dem." + +"All right, Jeff; I'm glad your employers have so good an influence on +you. Well?" + +"I'se seen Misser Gregory on de roof," said Jeff, drawing on his +imagination, as he had only heard about that event through Zibbie's +highly colored story, "where some other folks wouldn't dar go, and now +I'se see dat house dar, which I wouldn't see dar, wasn't it for Misser +Gregory." + +"Well, well," said Hunting, impatiently, "I've heard all about that. +What else?" + +"I'se seen Miss Annie roun' all day bloomin' and sweet as a rose, and +I'se seen how she might have been a crushed white lily," Jeff +continued, solemnly, with a rhetorical wave of the hand. + +There existed in Jeff the raw material of a colored preacher, only it +was very crude and undeveloped. But upon any important occasion he +always grew rhetorical and figurative in his language. + +"Come, come, Jeff, tell me something new." + +"Well," said Jeff, "since I'se promised to tell you, and since I'se +spent de ten dollars, and hasn't got it to give you back again, I'se +seen Misser Gregory las' Sunday evenin', a kneelin' afore Miss Annie as +if he was a sayin' his prayers to her, and I shouldn't wonder if she +heard 'em (with a chuckle); anyhow she wasn't lofty and scornful, and +Misser Gregory he's looked kinder glorified ever since; afore that he +looked glum, and Miss Annie, she's been kinder bendin' toward him since +dat evenin', like a rosebud wid de dew on it." + +Hunting's face darkened with suppressed anger and jealousy. After a +moment he said, "Is that all?" + +"Dat's all." + +"Well, Jeff, here's ten dollars more, and look sharper than ever now." + +"'Scuse me, Misser Hunting. We'se squar' now. I'se done what I agreed, +and now I'se gwine out ob de business." + +"Has Gregory engaged your services?" asked Hunting, quickly. + +"No, sah, he hab not. I reckon Misser Gregory tink he doesn't need any +help." + +"Why won't you do as I wish, then?" + +"Well, Mr. Hunting, it kinder makes me feel bad here," said Jeff, +rubbing his hand indefinitely over several physical organs. "I don't +jes' believe Miss Annie would like it, and after seein' Mr. Gregory +under dat pesky ladder, I couldn't do nothin' dat he wouldn't like. If +it hadn't been for him I'd sorter felt as if I'd killed Miss Annie by +leavin' dat doggoned ladder so straight up, and I nebber could hab gone +out in de dark agin all my life." + +"Why, you old black fool," said Hunting, irritably, "don't you know I'm +going to marry Miss Annie? You'd better keep on the right side of me." + +"Which is de right side?" Jeff could not forbear saying, with a +suppressed chuckle. + +"Come, sir, no impudence. You won't serve me any more then?" + +"Oh yes, Misser Hunting. I'se black yer boots, make de fire, harness de +hoss, do anything dat won't hurt in here," with a gesture that seemed +to indicate the pit of his stomach. "Anything more, please 'scuse me." + +"You will not speak of what has passed between us?" + +"I'se given my word," said Jeff, drawing himself up, "de word ob one +dat belongs to de Waltons." + +Hunting turned on his heel and strode away. Annie had given one aspect +to the scene on that Sabbath evening, and Jeff had innocently given +another. Hunting was not loyal enough even to such a woman as Annie to +believe her implicitly. But it is the curse of conscious deceit to +breed suspicion. Only the true can have absolute faith in the truth of +others. Moreover, Hunting, in his hidden selfishness and worldliness +could not understand Annie's ardent effort to save a fellow-creature +from sin. Skilled in the subtle impulses of the heart, he believed that +Annie, unconsciously even to herself, was drifting toward the man he +hated all the more because he had wronged him, while the danger of his +presence made him almost vindictive. Yet he realized the necessity of +disguising his feelings, for if Annie discovered them he might well +dread the consequence. But the idea of watching alone with Gregory was +revolting. It suggested dark thoughts which he tried to put from him in +horror, for he was far from being a hardened villain. He was only a man +who had gradually formed the habit of acting from expedience and +self-interest, instead of principle. Such a rule of life often places +us where expedience and self-interest require deeds that are black +indeed. + +But he was saved from the ordeal of spending hours alone with a man who +even in his helplessness might injure him beyond remedy, for on the +following morning Annie again sought Gregory's room bent on securing +reconciliation at once. She felt that she could endure this +estrangement no longer. + +The young man employed as watcher was out at the time. + +Gregory was gazing at the fire with the same look of listless apathy. A +deep flush overspread his deathly pale face as she came and sat down +beside him, but he did not turn from her. + +"Mr. Gregory," she said, very gently, "it seems that I can do nothing +but receive favors from you, and I've come now to ask a great one." + +He suspected something concerning Hunting, and his face darkened +forbiddingly. Though Annie noted this, she would not be denied. + +"Do you think," she said, earnestly, "that, after your sacrifice for +me, I can ever cease to be your friend in the truest and strongest +sense?" + +"Miss Walton," he said, calmly, "I've made no sacrifice for you. The +thought of that episode in the orchard is my one comfort while lying +here, and will be through what is left of life. But please do not speak +of it, for it will become a pain to me if I see the obligation is a +burden to you." + +"It is not," she said, eagerly. "I'm glad to owe my life to you. But do +you think I can go on my way and forget you?" + +"It's the very best you can do, Miss Walton." + +"But I tell you it's impossible. Thank God, it's not my nature to do +it!" + +He turned toward her with a wistful, searching look. + +"We must carry out our old agreement," continued Annie. "We must be +close and lasting friends. You should not blame me for an attachment +formed years ago." + +"I do not blame you." + +"Then you should not punish me so severely. You first make your +friendship needful to me, and then you deny it." + +"I am _your_ friend, and more." + +"How can we enjoy a frank and happy friendship through coming years, +after--after--you feel differently from what you do now, when you will +not even hear the name of him who will one day be my second self?" + +Again his face darkened; but she continued rapidly, "Mr. Hunting is +deeply grateful to you, and would like to express his feelings in +person. He wishes to bury the past--" + +"He will, with me, soon," interrupted Gregory, gloomily. + +"No; please do not speak in that way," she pleaded. "He wishes to make +what little return he can, and offers to watch with you night and day." + +He turned upon her almost fiercely, and said, "Are you too in league +with my evil destiny, in that you continually persecute me with that +man? Miss Walton, I half doubt whether you know what love means, or you +would not make such a proposition. Let me at least die quietly. With +the memory of the past and the knowledge of the present, his presence +in my room would be death by torture. Pardon me, but let us end this +matter once for all. We have both been unfortunate, you in inspiring a +love that you cannot return; I in permitting my heart to go from me, +beyond recall, before learning that my passion would be hopeless. I do +not see that either of us has been to blame, you certainly not in the +slightest degree. But, however vain, my love is an actual fact, and I +cannot act as if it were not. As well might a man with a mortal wound +smile and say it's but a scratch. I cannot change my mind merely in +view of expedience and invest such feelings in another way. The fact of +my love is now a past disaster, and I must bear the consequences with +such fortitude as I can. But what you ask would drive me mad. If I +should live, possibly in the future I might meet you often without the +torturing regret I now feel. But to make a smiling member of Charles +Hunting's friendly circle would require on my part the baldest +hypocrisy; and I can't do it, and won't try. If that man comes into my +room, I will crawl out if I can." + +He was trembling with excitement, his face flushed and feverish, and +his eyes unnaturally bright. + +"And you banish me too," said Annie, hurt and alarmed at the same time. + +"Yes, yes; forgive me for saying so. Yes; till I'm stronger. See how +I've spoken to you. I've no self-control." + +She was most reluctant to go, and stood a moment, hesitating. Timidly +she ventured to quote the line: + +"Earth has no sorrows that Heaven cannot cure." + +"That's a comforting fact for those who are going there," he said, +coldly. + +With a sudden burst of passionate grief she stooped and kissed his +hand, then fled to her own room, and cried as if her heart would break. +It seemed as if he were lost to her and heaven, and yet he was capable +of being so noble and good! + +Miss Eulie entered Gregory's room soon after, and was alarmed at his +feverish and excited appearance. She decided that Annie's visits must +cease for the present. However, she took no apparent notice of his +disturbed condition, but immediately gave a remedy to ward off fever, +and a strong opiate, which, with the reaction and his weakness, caused +him to sink back into something like his old lethargy. + +Hunting had spent the morning with Mr. Walton, preparing his mind for +the plan of immediate marriage. He found the failing man not averse to +the project, as his love ought to secure to Annie every help and solace +possible. + +After Annie had removed from her face, to the best of her ability, +every trace of her emotion, she came down and took her place at her +father's side, intending to leave it only when compelled to. Hunting +knew of her mission to Gregory, and looked at her inquiringly, but she +sadly shook her head. He tried to look hurt, but only succeeded in +looking angry. He soon controlled himself, however, though he noted +with deep uneasiness Annie's sad face and red eyes. Mr. Walton +fortunately was dozing and needed no explanation. + +That night he was much worse, and had some very serious symptoms. Annie +did not leave his side. But toward morning he rallied and fell into a +quiet sleep. Then she took a little rest. + +The next day she was told that there was a gentleman in the parlor who +wished to see her. The stranger proved to be one of Gregory's partners, +Mr. Seymour, who courteously said, "I should have been here before, but +the senior partner, Mr. Burnett, is unable to attend to business at +present, and I came away the first moment I could leave. I felt sure +also that everything would be done that could be. I hope the injury is +not so serious as was first supposed." + +"You may rest assured that we have tried to do everything," said Annie, +gravely, "but Mr. Gregory is in a very precarious condition. You would +like to see him, I suppose." + +"If I can with safety to him." + +"I think a brief interview may do him good. He needs rallying." + +At that moment Hunting, not knowing who was present, entered. Both +gentleman started, but Mr. Seymour gave no sign of recognition, nor did +Hunting, though he could not at first hide a certain degree of nervous +agitation. Annie presented him. Mr. Seymour bowed stiffly, and said, +rather curtly, "We have met before," and then gave him no further +attention, but continuing to address Annie, said, "I well understand +that Mr. Gregory needs rallying. That has been just his need for the +last few months, during which time his health has been steadily +failing. I was in hopes he would come back--" and then he stopped, +quite puzzled for a moment by the sudden change in Annie's manner, +which had become freezingly cold toward him, while there was a look of +honest indignation upon her face. + +"Excuse me, sir," she said, briefly. "I will send you my aunt, who will +attend to your wishes;" and she left Mr. Seymour standing in the middle +of the room, both confused and annoyed; but he at once surmised that it +was on account of his manner toward Hunting, who sat down with a paper +at the further side of the room, as if he were alone. + +But when, a moment later, Miss Eulie entered with her placid, unruffled +face, Mr. Seymour could not be otherwise than perfectly polite, and +after a few words, followed her to Gregory's room. + +Annie at once came to Hunting and asked, "Why did that man act so?" + +"Why, don't you see?" answered he, hastily. "Mr. Seymour is Mr. +Gregory's partner. They all have the same reason for feeling hostile +toward me, though perhaps Gregory has special reasons," he added, with +a searching look. + +Annie blushed deeply at this allusion, but said with emphasis, "No man +shall treat you in that way in my presence and still receive courtesy +from me." + +But his jealous spirit had noticed her quick blush more than her +generous resentment of the insult she supposed offered him. Therefore +he said, "Mr. Gregory would treat me worse if he got a chance." + +"But his case is different from any one's else," she said, with another +quick flush. + +"Evidently so in your estimation." + +Then for the first time she noted his jealousy, and it hurt her sorely. +She took a step nearer and looked very gravely into his face for a +moment without speaking, and then said, with that calmness which is +more effective than passion, "Charles, take care. I'm one that will be +trusted. Though it seems a light matter to you that he has saved my +life, at perhaps the cost of his own, it does not to me." + +The cool and usually cautious man had for once lost his poise, and he +said, with sudden irritation, "I hear that and nothing else. What else +could he have done? If you had stayed at your father's side you would +have been safe. He took you out to walk, and any man would have risked +his life to bring you back safely." + +He now saw in Annie a spirit he could never control as he managed +people in Wall Street, for, with a sudden flash in her eyes, she said, +hotly, "I do not reason thus coldly about those to whom I owe so much," +and abruptly left him. + +In bitterness of fear and self-reproach he at once realized his +blunder. He followed her, but she was with her father, and he could not +speak there. He looked imploringly at her, but could not catch her eye, +for she was deeply incensed. Had she not heard him she would not have +believed that he could be so ungenerous. + +He wrote on a scrap of paper, "Annie, forgive me. I humbly ask your +pardon. I'm not myself to-day, and that man's conduct, which you so +nobly resented in my behalf, vexed me to that degree that I acted like +a fool. I am not worthy of you, but you will perceive that my folly +arises from my excess of love for you. I'm going for a walk. Please +greet me with pardon in your face on my return." + +Impulsive, loving, warm-hearted Annie could not resist such an appeal. +She at once relented, and began to make a thousand better excuses for +her lover than he could for himself. But she had taught him a lesson, +and proved that she was not a weak, willowy creature that would cling +to him no matter what he was or did. He saw that he must seem to be +worthy of her. + +Gregory greeted his partner with a momentary glow of gratitude that he +had come so far to see him, and began talking about his business. + +"Not a word of that, old fellow," said Mr. Seymour. "Your business is +to get well. It seems to me that you have everything here for comfort +--good medical attendance, eh?" + +"Yes; if anything, too much is done for me." + +"I don't understand just how it happened." + +Gregory told him briefly. + +"By Jove! this Miss Walton ought to be very grateful to you." + +"She is too grateful." + +"I don't know about that. I met that infernal Hunting downstairs. Of +course I couldn't treat him with politeness, and do you know the little +lady spunked up about it to that degree that she almost turned her back +upon me and left the room." + +"Of course," said Gregory, coolly, shielding his secret by a desperate +effort; "they are engaged." + +"Oh, I understand now. Well, I rather like her spirit. Does she know +how accomplished her lover is in Wall Street?" + +"No. Hunting is a distant relative of the family. They believe him to +be a gentleman, and would not listen to a word against him." + +"But they ought to know. He lied like a scoundrel to us, and in your +trying all summer to make up the losses, he has nearly been the death +of you. I wouldn't let my daughter marry him though he had enough money +to break the Street: and it is a pity that a fine girl, as this Miss +Walton seems, should throw herself away on him." + +"Well, Seymour, that's not our affair," said Gregory, pale and faint +from his effort at self-control. "They would listen to nothing." + +"Well, good-by, old fellow. I see it won't do to talk with you any +more. Get well as soon as you can, for we want you woefully in town. +Get well, and carry off this Miss Walton yourself. It would be a neat +way of turning the tables on Hunting." + +"Don't set your heart on seeing me at the office again," said Gregory, +feelingly. "I have a presentiment that I shan't pull through this, and +I don't much care. Give my kindest regards to Mr. Burnett, and tell him +I shall think of him to the last as among my best friends." + +Seymour made a few hearty remonstrances against such a state of mind, +and took his departure with many misgivings. Gregory relapsed into his +old dreary apathy. Life had so many certain ills that upon the whole he +felt he would rather die. But he was too stunned and weak to think +much, save when Annie came to him. Her presence was always life, but +now it was a sharp revival of the consciousness of his loss. Left to +himself, his mind sank down into a sort of painless lethargy, from +which he did not wish to be aroused. + +Mr. Walton passed a quieter night, but was clearly failing fast. He +sent frequent messages of love and sympathy to Gregory, and had an +abiding faith that all would be well with him in the next life, if not +in this. Annie had not the heart to undeceive him. When he thought it a +little strange that Hunting was not with Gregory, Annie explained by +saying that the doctor insisted on perfect quiet of mind, and the +presence of Hunting might unpleasantly revive old memories, and so +unduly excite him. + +After the physician saw his patients the following morning, he looked +grave and dissatisfied. Annie followed him to the door, and said, +"Doctor, I don't like the expression of your face." + +"Well, Miss Annie," said the doctor, discontentedly, "I've a difficult +task on my hands, in trying to cure two patients that make no effort to +live. Your father seems homesick for heaven, and mere drugs can't rouse +Mr. Gregory out of his morbid, gloomy apathy. I could get him ashore if +he would strike out for himself, but he just floats down stream like +driftwood. But really I'm doing all that can be done, I think." + +"I believe you are," she said, sadly. "Good-by." + +"O merciful God!" she exclaimed when alone. "What shall I do--what +shall I do to save him? Father's going to heaven and mother. Where is +_he_ going?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +KEPT FROM THE EVIL + + + +With the light of the following day Annie gave up all hope of her +father's recovery. He was sinking fast, and conscious himself that +death was near. But his end was like the coming into harbor of a +stately ship after a long, successful voyage. He looked death in the +face with that calmness and dignity, that serene certainty that it was +a change for the better, which Christian faith alone can inspire. His +only solicitude was for those he was leaving, and yet he had no deep +anxiety, for his strong faith committed them trustingly to God. + +Annie tried to feel resigned, since it was God's will. But the tie that +bound her to him was so tender, so interwoven with every fibre of her +heart, that she shrunk with inexpressible pain from its sundering. She +knew that she was not losing her father, that the worst before them was +but a brief separation, but how could she, who had lived so many happy +years at his side, endure even this? It seemed as if she could not let +him go, and in the strong, passionate yearning of her heart, she was +almost ready to leave youth, friends, lover, and all, to go with him. + +She was one who lived in her affections rather than her surroundings. +The latter would matter little to her could she keep her +heart-treasures. It would have touched the coldest to see how she clung +to him toward the last. All else was forgotten, even Gregory, who might +be dying also. The instinct of nature was strong, and her father was +first. + +Moreover, the relation between this parent and child was peculiarly +close, for they were not only in perfect sympathy in views, character, +and faith, but Annie had stepped to the side of the widowed man years +before and sought successfully to fill the place of one who had reached +home before him. Though so young, she had been his companion and daily +friend, interesting herself in that which interested him, and thus he +had been saved from that terrible loneliness which often breaks the +heart even in the midst of a household. It was therefore with a love +beyond words that his eyes rested most of the time on her and followed +her every movement. + +She also had a vague and peculiar dread in looking forward to her +bereavement. An anticipating sense of isolation and loneliness chilled +her heart. + +Though she would not openly admit it to herself, Hunting had +disappointed her since his return. She did not get from him the support +and Christian sympathy she expected. She tried to excuse him, and +charged herself with being too exacting, and yet the sense of something +wanting pained her. She had hoped that in these dark days he would be +serene and strong, and yet abounding in the tenderest sympathy. She had +expected words of faith and consolation that would have sustained her +spirit, fainting under a double and peculiar sorrow. She had felt sure +that before this his just gratitude, like a torrent, would have +overwhelmed and destroyed Gregory's enmity. But all had turned out so +differently! Instead of being a help, he had almost added to her burden +by his hostile feeling toward her preserver, which he had not been able +wholly to disguise. Such a feeling on his part seemed both unnatural +and wrong. He professed himself ready to do anything she wished for +Gregory, but it was in a half-hearted way, to oblige her, and not for +the sake of the injured man. When she went to him for Christian +consolation, his words, though well-chosen, lacked heartiness and the +satisfying power of truth. + +Why this was so can be well understood. Hunting could not give what he +did not possess. Of necessity there would be a hollow ring when he +spoke of that which he did not understand or feel. During his brief +visits, and in his carefully written letters, he could appear all she +wished. He could honestly show his sincere love for her, and there was +no special opportunity to show anything else. In her vivid, loving +imagination she supplied all else, and she believed that when they were +more together, or in affliction, he would reveal more distinctly his +deeper and religious nature, for such a nature he professed to have; +and his letters, which could be written deliberately, abounded in +Christian sentiment. Self-deceived, he meant to be honestly religious +as soon as he could afford to give up his questionable speculations. + +But when a man least expects it the test and strain will come, that +clearly manifest the character of his moral stamina. It had now come to +Hunting, and though he strove with all the force and adroitness of a +resolute will and though he was a practiced dissembler, he was not +equal to the searching demands of those trying days, and steadily lost +ground. The only thing that kept him up was his sincere love for Annie. +That was so apparent and honest that, loving him herself, she was able +to forgive the rest. But it formed no small part of her sorrow at that +dark time, that she must lower her lofty ideal of her lover. Hunting +and Gregory seemed nearer together morally than she could have believed +possible. Thus she already had the dread that she would not be able to +"look up" to Hunting as she had expected, and that it would be her +mission to deepen and develop his character instead of "leaning" upon +it. + +It seemed strange to her as she thought of it, during her long hours of +watching, that after all she would have to do for Hunting something +like what poor Gregory had asked her to do for him. She prayerfully +purposed to do it, for the idea of being disloyal to her engagement +never entered her mind. + +"Unless men have a Christian home, in which their religious life can be +daily strengthened and fostered, they cannot be what they ought," she +said to herself. "In continual contact with the world, with nothing to +counteract, it's not strange that they act and feel as they do." + +Thus she was more disposed to feel sorry for both Hunting and Gregory +than to blame them. And yet she looked upon the two men very +differently. She regarded Hunting as a true Christian who simply needed +warming and quickening into positive life, while she thought of Gregory +with only fear and trembling. Her hope for the latter was in the +prayers stored up in his behalf. + +But now upon this day that would ever be so painfully memorable she had +thoughts only for her father, and nothing could tempt her from his side. + +Hunting also saw that the crisis was approaching, and made but a formal +semblance of a breakfast. He then entered the sick-room, and was +thinking how best to broach the subject of an immediate marriage, when +a thumping of crutches was heard in the hall. + +Miss Eulie entered and said that Daddy Tuggar had managed to hobble +over, and had set his heart upon seeing his old friend. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Walton; "he shall come in at once." + +"Caution him to stay but a few minutes," warned Annie. + +Miss Eulie helped the old man in, and he sat down by Mr. Walton's side, +with a world of trouble on his quaint, wrinkled face. + +But he said abruptly, as if he expected an affirmative answer, "Yer +gettin' better this mornin'--yer on the mend?" + +"Yes, my kind old neighbor," said Mr. Walton, feebly. "I shall soon be +well. It was kind of you, in your crippled state, to come over to see +me." + +"Well, now," said Mr. Tuggar, greatly relieved, "there _is_ use of +prayin'. I ain't much of a hand at it, and didn't know how the Lord +would take it from me; but when I heard you was sick, I began to feel +like prayin', and when I heard you was gettin' wuss, I couldn't help +prayin'. When I heard how that city chap as saved the house--(what an +old fool I was to cuss him when he first came! The Lord knew what He +was doin' when He brought him here)--when I heard how he kept the +ladder from falling on Miss Annie, I prayed right out loud. My wife, +she thought I was gettin' crazy. But I didn't care what anybody +thought. I've been prayin' all night, and it seemed as if the Lord must +hear me, and I kinder felt it in my bones that He had. So I expected to +hear you say you was goin' to get well; and Mr. Gregory, he's better +too--ain't he?" + +There was no immediate answer. Neither Miss Eulie nor Annie seemed to +know how to reply to the old man at first. But Mr. Walton reached +slowly out and took his neighbor's hand, saying, "Your prayers will be +answered, my friend. Honest prayer to God always is. I shall be well +soon, never to be old, feeble, and sick any more. I'm going where +there's 'no more pain.' Perhaps I've seen my last night, for there is +'no night there.'" + +"But the Lord knows I didn't mean nothin' of that kind. We need you +here, and He orter know it. What's the use of prayin' if you get just +the opposite of what you pray for?" + +"Suppose the opposite is best? I'm an old man--a shock of corn fully +ripe. I'm ready to be gathered." + +"Are yer goin' to die?" asked the old man, in an awed whisper. + +"No, Mr. Tuggar; I've been growing old and feeble, I've been dying for +a long time. Now I'm going to live--to be strong and well, forever and +ever. So don't grieve, but rather rejoice with me." + +The old man sat musing a moment, and then said softly to himself, "This +is what the Scripter means when it tells about the 'death of the +righteous.'" + +"Yes," continued Mr. Walton, though more feebly; "and the Scripture is +true. The dear Lord doesn't desert His people. He who has been my +friend and helper so many years now tells me that my sins, which are +many, are all forgiven. It seems that I have also heard Him say, +'To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.'" + +Tears gathered in Daddy Tuggar's eyes, and he said, brokenly, "The Lord +knows--I've allers been a sort--of well-meanin' man--but I couldn't +talk that way--if I was where you be." + +"Mr. Tuggar," said Mr. Walton, "I'm too weak to say much more, but I +want to ask you one question. You have read the Bible. Whom did the +Lord Jesus come to save?" + +"Sinners," was the prompt response. + +"Are you one?" + +"What else be I?" + +"Then, old neighbor, you are safe, if you will just receive Him as your +Saviour. If you were sure you were good enough and didn't need any +Saviour, I should despair of you. But according to the Bible you are +just such as He came after. If you feel that you are a sinner, all you +have to do is to trust Him and do the best you can." + +"Is that all you did?" + +"All. I couldn't do anything more. And now, good-by. Remember my last +words--Whom did Jesus come to save?" + +"Why, He come to save me," burst out the old man, rising up. "What a +cussed old fool I was, not to see it afore! I was allers thinkin' He +came after the good folks, and I felt that no matter how I tried I +could not be good enough. Good-by, John Walton. If they are goin' to +let sinners into heaven who are willin' to come any way the Lord will +let 'em come, I'll be yer neighbor again 'fore long;" and with his +withered, bronzed visage working with an emotion that he did not seek +to control, he wrung the dying man's hand, and hobbled out. + +But he pleaded with Miss Eulie to let him stay. "I want to see it out," +he said, "for if grim Death ain't goin' to get one square knock-down +now, then he never had it, I want to see the victory. 'Pears to me that +when the gates open the glory will shine out upon us all." + +So she installed him in Mr. Walton's arm-chair by the parlor fire, and +made him thoroughly at home. + +"I'm a waitin' by the side of the river," he said. "I wish I could go +over with him. 'Pears I'd feel sure they wouldn't turn me back then." + +"Jesus will go over the river with you," she said, gently, "and then +they can't turn you back." + +"I hope so, I hope so," said this old, child-like man, "for I'm an +awful sinner." + +After this interview, which greatly fatigued him, Mr. Walton dozed for +an hour, and then brightened up so decidedly that Annie had faint hopes +that he was better. + +The children were brought to him, and he kissed and fondled them very +tenderly. Then, in a way that would make a deep impression on their +childish natures, he told them how he was going to see their father and +mother, and would tell what good children they had been, and how they +always meant to be good, and how all would be waiting for them in +heaven. + +Thus the little ones received no grim and terrible impressions at that +death-bed, but rather memories and hopes that in all their future would +hold them back, like angel hands, from evil. + +Hunting now believed that the time for him to act had come. He had told +Jeff to have the horse and buggy ready so that he might send for the +old pastor at once. + +He came to Annie's side, and taking her hand and her father's, thus +seeming a link between them, said very gently, very tenderly, "Annie, +your father has told me that it would be a great consolation to him to +leave me in charge of you all as his son, legally and in the eyes of +the world, as I feel I am in reality. I could then do everything for +you, relieve you of every care, and protect with unquestionable right +all the interests of the household. Again, the marriage tie, like that +of our betrothal, consummated here at his side, would ever seem to us +peculiarly tender and sacred. It will almost literally be a marriage +made in heaven. I hope you will feel that you can grant this, your +father's last wish." + +Annie felt a sudden and strong repugnance to the plan. In that hour of +agonized parting she did not wish to think of marriage, even to one she +loved. Her thoughts immediately recurred to Gregory, and she felt that +such an act might, in his weak state, cause disastrous results. And yet +if it were her father's wish--his last wish--how could she refuse +him--how could she refuse him anything? The marriage day would +eventually come. If by making this the day she could once more show her +filial love and add to his dying peace, did she not owe him her first +duty? The dying are omnipotent with us. Who can refuse their last +requests? + +She looked inquiringly, but with tear-blinded eyes, at her father. + +"Yes, Annie," he said, answering her look, "it would be a great +consolation to me, because I can see how it will be of much advantage +to you--more than you can now understand. It will enable Charles to +step in at once as head of the household, and so you will be relieved +of many perplexities and details of business which would be very trying +to you, as you will feel. I want to spare you and sister all this, and +you have no idea how much it will save your feelings, and add to your +comfort, to have one like Charles act for you with such power as he +would have as your husband. After seeing you all thus provided for, it +seems to me that I could depart in perfect peace." + +"Dear father," said Annie, tenderly, "how can I deny you anything! This +seems to me no time for marriage, but, since you wish it, your will +shall be mine. It must be right or you would not ask it; and yet--" She +did not finish the sentence, but buried her face in her hands, weeping. + +"That's my noble Annie," Hunting exclaimed, with a glad exultation in +his voice that he could not disguise; and, hastening out, he told Jeff +to bring the minister as speedily as possible. + +Miss Eulie was called, and acquiesced in her brother's opinion, and +hovered around Annie in a tender flutter of maternal love. + +Hunting now felt that he was master of destiny, and in his heart bade +defiance to Gregory and all his own fears. His elation and +self-applause were great, for had he not snatched the prize out of the +hand of death itself, and made events that would have awed and +disheartened other men combine for his good? He had schemed, planned, +and overreached them all, though, in this case, for their interests as +well as his own, he believed. While he would naturally wish the +marriage to take place as soon as possible, his chief reason was to +forestall any revelations which might come through Gregory; and this +motive made his whole course, though apparently dictated by the purest +feeling, a crafty trick. Yet such was the complex nature of the man +that he honestly meant to fulfil all Mr. Walton's expectations, and +become Annie's loving shield from every care and trial, and a faithful +guardian of the household. Nay, more, as soon as he was securely +intrenched, with all his coveted possessions, he purposed that Annie +should help him to be a true, good man--a Christian in reality. + +Well may the purest and strongest pray to be kept from the evil of the +world. It lurks where least suspected, and can plot its wrongs in the +chamber of death, and on the threshold of heaven. Annie and her father +might at least suppose themselves safe now. Were they so, with God's +minister on his way to join truth with untruth--a pure-hearted maiden +to a man from whom she would shrink the moment she came to know him? +Not on the human side. They were safe only as God kept them. If Annie +Walton had found herself married to a swindler, hers would have been a +life-long martyrdom. But unconsciously she drew momentarily nearer the +edge of the precipice. Time was passing, and their venerable pastor +would soon be present. Annie had welcomed him every day previously, as +he came to take sweet counsel with her father rather than prepare him +for death, but now she had a strange, secret dread of his coming. + +Her father suddenly put his hand to his heart. + +"Have you pain there?" asked Annie. + +"It's gone," he replied, after a moment. "They will soon be all past, +Annie dear. How does Mr. Gregory seem now?" he asked of Miss Eulie. + +"Greatly depressed, I'm sorry to say," she answered. "He knows that you +are no better, and it seems to distress him very much." + +"God bless him for saving my darling's life!" he said, fervently; "and +He will bless him. I have a feeling that he will see brighter and +better days. I can send him almost a father's love and blessing, for he +now seems like a son to me. Say to him that I shall tell his father of +his noble deeds. Be a sister to him, Annie. Carry on the good work you +have so wisely begun. May the friendship of the parents descend to the +children. And you, Charles, my son, will surely feel toward him as a +brother, whatever may have been the differences of the past." + +Innocent but deeply embarrassing words to both Hunting and Annie. + +Again Mr. Walton put his hand to his heart. + +Hunting left the room, for it was surely time for Jeff to return. With +a gleam of exultant joy he saw him driving toward the house with the +white-haired minister at his side. He returned softly to the sick-room. + +Mr. Walton had just taken Annie's hands, and after a look of +unutterable fondness, said, "Before I give you to another--while you +are still my own little girl--let me thank you for having been all and +more than a father could ask. How good God was to give me such a +comfort in your mother's place!" + +"Dear father!" was all that Annie could say. + +Even then the minister was entering the house. + +"I bless thee, my child," the father continued; then turning his eyes +heavenward he reverently closed them in prayer, saying, "and God bless +thee also, and keep thee from every evil." + +God answered him. + +His grasp on Annie's hand relaxed; without even a sigh he passed away. + +Annie started up with a look of alarm, and saw the same expression on +the faces of her aunt and Hunting. They spoke to him; he did not +answer. Hunting felt his pulse. Its throb had ceased forever. The chill +of a great dread turned his own face like that of the dead. + +Miss Eulie put her hand on her brother's heart. It was at rest. Annie +stood motionless with dilating eyes watching them. But when her aunt +came toward her with streaming eyes she realized the truth and fell +fainting to the floor. + +Just then the old minister crossed the threshold, but Hunting said to +him, almost savagely, "You are too late." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +"LIVE! LIVE!"--ANNIE'S APPEAL + + + +Annie's swoon was so prolonged that both her aunt and Hunting were +alarmed. It was the reaction from the deep and peculiar excitement of +the last few days. Every power of mind and body had been under the +severest strain, and nature now gave way. + +The doctor, when he came to make his morning call, was most welcome. He +said there was nothing alarming about Miss Walton's symptoms, but added +very decisively that she would need rest and quiet of mind for a long +time in order to regain her former tone and health. + +When Annie revived he gave something that would tend to quiet her +nervous system and produce sleep. + +"I now understand Mr. Walton's case," he said to Miss Eulie. "I could +not see why his severe cold, which he had apparently cured, should +result as it did. But now it's plain that it was complicated with heart +difficulties." + +His visit to Gregory was not at all satisfactory, for his patient's +depression was so great that he was sinking under it. Mr. Walton's +death, leaving Annie defenceless, as it were, in the hands of a man +like Hunting, seemed another of the dark and cruel mysteries which to +him made up human life. The death that had given Daddy Tuggar such an +impulse toward faith and hope only led him to say with intense +bitterness, "God has forgotten His world, and the devil rules it." + +"Mr. Gregory," said the physician, gravely, "do you know that you are +about the same as taking your own life? All the doctors in the world +cannot help you unless you try to live. Drugs cannot remove your apathy +and morbid depression." + +"Very well, doctor," he replied; "do not trouble yourself to come any +more. I absolve you from all blame." + +"But I cannot absolve myself. Besides, it's not manly to give up in +this style." + +"I make no pretence of being manly or anything else. I am just what you +see. Can a broken reed stand up like a sturdy oak? Can such a thing as +I reverse fate? Thank you, doctor, for all you have done, but waste no +more time upon me. I knew, weeks ago, that the end was near, and I +would like to die in the old place." + +The doctor looked at him a moment in deep perplexity, and then silently +left the room. + +"Internal injuries that I can't get at," he muttered, as he drove away. + +Miss Eulie came to Gregory's side, and laying her hand gently on his +brow said, "You are mistaken, my young friend. You are going to live." + +"Why do you think so?" he asked. + +"The dying often have almost prophetic vision;" and she told him all +that Mr. Walton had said, though nothing of the contemplated marriage. +She dwelt with special emphasis on the facts that he had told Annie to +be a sister to Gregory and had gone to heaven with the assurance to his +old friend that his son would join him there. + +Gregory was strongly moved, and turning his face upon the pillow, gave +way to a passion of tears; but they were despairing, bitter, regretful +tears. He soon seemed ashamed of them, and when he again turned his +face toward Miss Eulie, it had a hard, stony look. + +Almost with sternness he said, "If the dying have supernatural insight, +why could not Mr. Walton see what kind of a man Hunting is? Please +leave me now. I know how kind and well-meant your words are, but they +are mockery to me;" and he turned his face to the wall. + +Miss Eulie sighed very deeply, but felt that his case was beyond her +skill. + +Daddy Tuggar was at first grievously disappointed. He had wrought +himself up into the hope of a celestial scene, and the abrupt and quiet +termination of Mr. Walton's life seemed inadequate to the occasion. But +Miss Eulie comforted him by saying that "the Christian walked by faith, +and not by sight--that God knew what was best, better than we, His +little children. + +"Death had not even the power to cause him a moment's pain," she said. +"God gave him a sweet surprise, by letting him through the gates before +he was aware." + +Thus she led the strange old man to think it was for the best after +all. The Rev. Mr. Ames, who had come on such a different mission, also +tried to make clearer what Mr. Walton had said to him. But Daddy Tuggar +would not permit his mind to wander a moment from the simple truth, +which he kept saying over and over to himself, "I'm an awful sinner, +and the good Lord come after just such." + +Another thing that greatly perplexed the old man was that Mr. Walton +had not been permitted to live long enough to see his daughter married. +As an old neighbor, and because of his strong attachment to Annie, he +had been invited to be present. + +"'Pears to me that the Lord might have spared him a few minutes +longer," he said. + +"It _appears_ to you so," replied Mr. Ames, "but the Lord _knows_ why +he did not." + +"Well, parson," said Daddy Tuggar, "I thank you very kindly for what +you have said, but John Walton has done the business for me. I'm just +goin' to trust--I'm just goin' to let myself go limber and fall right +down on the Lord Jesus' word. I don't believe it will break with me. +Anyhow, it's all I can do, and John Walton told me to do it and I +allers found he was about right." And thus late in the twilight of life +the old man took his pilgrim's staff and started homeward. + +As soon as Hunting recovered from his bitter disappointment and almost +superstitious alarm at the sudden thwarting of his purpose, his wily +and scheming mind fell to work on a new combination. If he still could +induce Annie to be married almost immediately, as he greatly hoped, all +would be well. If not, then he would assume that they were the same as +married, and at once take his place so far as possible at the head of +the household, in accordance with Mr. Walton's wish. On one hand, by +tender care and thoughtfulness for them all, he would place Annie under +the deepest obligation; on the other, he would gain, to the extent he +could, control of her affairs and property. In the latter purpose Mr. +Walton had greatly aided by naming him one of the executors of his +will; and only Miss Eulie, the sister-in-law, was united with him as +executrix. Thus he would substantially have his own way. Indeed, Mr. +Walton, in his perfect trust, meant that he should. + +Having seen Annie quietly sleeping, he started for New York to make +arrangements for the funeral, and look after some personal matters that +had already been neglected too long. + +His feelings on the journey were not enviable. He had enough faith to +fear God, but not to trust and obey. The thought recurred with +disheartening frequency, "If God is against this, He will thwart me +every time." + +The day had closed in thick darkness and a storm before Annie awoke +from the deep sleep which the sedative had prolonged. Though weak and +languid, she insisted on getting up. Her aunt almost forced her to take +a little supper, and then she went instinctively and naturally to that +room which had always been a place of refuge, but which now was the +chamber of death. + +She turned up the light that she might look at the dear, _dear_ face. +How calm and noble it was in its deep repose! It did not suggest +death--only peaceful sleep. + +With a passionate burst of sorrow she moaned, "O father, let me sleep +beside you, and be at rest!" + +Then she took his cold hand, and sat down mechanically to watch, as in +the days and nights just passed. But as she became composed and thought +grew busy, the deep peace of the sleeper seemed imparted to her. In +vivid imagination she followed him to the home and greetings that he +had so joyously anticipated. She saw him meet her mother and sister, +and other loved ones who had gone before. She saw him at his Saviour's +feet, blessed and crowned. She heard the wild storm raging without in +the darkness, and then thought of his words "There is no night there." + +"Dear father," she murmured, "I would not call you back if I could. God +give me patience to come to you in His own appointed way." + +Then she dwelt upon the strange events of the day. How near she had +come to being a wife! Why had she not become one? That the marriage +should have been so suddenly and unexpectedly prevented on the very eve +of consummation, caused some curious thoughts to flit through her mind. + +"It is enough to know that it was God's will," she said; "and my future +is still in His hands. Poor Charles! it will be a disappointment to +him; and yet what difference will a few weeks or months make?" + +Then her father's words, "Be a sister to Gregory," recurred to her, and +she reproached herself that she had so long forgotten him. "Father is +safe home," she said, "and I am leaving him to wander further and +further away. Father told me to be a sister to him, and I will. When he +gets well and strong, if he ever does, he will feel very differently; +and if he is to die (which God forbid), what more sacred duty can I +have than to plead with him and for him to the last?" + +Pressing a kiss on her father's silent lips, she went to fulfil one of +their last requests. She first asked her aunt if it would be prudent to +visit Gregory. "I hardly know, Annie, what to say," said Miss Eulie, in +deep perplexity; and she told her what had occurred in relation to +Gregory, the doctor, and herself, omitting all reference to Hunting. +"If he is not roused out of his gloom and apathy, I fear he will die," +concluded her aunt; "and if you can't rouse him, I don't know who can." + +Annie gave her a quick, questioning glance. + +"Yes, Annie, I understand," she said, quietly. "He received his worst +injury before the ladder fell." + +"O aunty, what shall I do?" + +"Indeed, my dear child, I can hardly tell you. You are placed in a +difficult and delicate position. Perhaps your father's words were +wisest, 'Be a sister to him.' At any rate, you have more power with him +than any one else, and you owe it to him to do all you can to save him." + +"I am ready to do anything, aunty, for it seems as if I could never be +happy if he should die an unbeliever." + +Annie stole noiselessly to Gregory's side, and motioned to the young +man who was in charge to withdraw to the next room. Gregory was still +asleep. She sat down by him and was greatly shocked to see how +emaciated and pale he was. It seemed as if he had suffered from an +illness of weeks rather than days. + +"He will die," she murmured, with all her old terror at the thought +returning. "He will die, and for me. Though innocent, I shall always +feel that his blood is upon me;" and she buried her face in her hands, +and her whole frame shook with a passion of grief. + +Her emotion awoke him, and he recognized with something like awe the +bowed head at his side. + +Her grief for her father, as he supposed it to be, seemed such a sacred +thing! And yet he could not bear to see her intense sorrow. His heart +ached to comfort her, but what words of consolation could such as he +offer? Still, had she not come to him as if for comfort? This thought +touched him deeply, and he almost cursed his unbelieving soul that made +him dumb at such a time. What could he say but miserable commonplaces +in regard to a bereavement like hers? + +He did not say anything, but merely reached out his hand and gently +stroked her bowed head. + +Then she knew he was awake, and she took his hand and bowed her head +upon it. + +"Miss Walton," he said, in a husky voice, "it cuts me to the heart to +see you grieve so. But, alas! I do not know how to comfort you, and I +can't say trite words which mean nothing. After losing such a father as +yours, what can any one say?" + +She raised her head and said, impetuously, "It's not for father I am +grieving. He is in heaven--he is not lost to me. It's for you--you. You +are breaking my heart." + +"Miss Walton," he began, in much surprise, "I don't understand--" + +"Why don't you understand?" she interrupted. "What do you think I am +made of? Do you think that you can lie here and die for me and I go +serenely on? Do you not see that you would blight the life you have +saved?" + +His apathy was gone now. But he was bewildered, so sudden and +overpowering was her emotion. He only found words to say, "Miss Walton, +God knows I am yours, body and soul. What can I do?" + +"Live! live!" she continued, with the same passionate earnestness. "I +impose no conditions, I ask nothing else. Only get well and strong +again. If you will do this, I have such confidence in your better +nature, and the many prayers laid up for you, as to feel sure that all +will come out right. But if you will just lie here and die, you will +imbitter my life. What did the doctor tell you this morning? And yet I +shall feel that I am partly the cause. O, Mr. Gregory, you may think me +foolish, but that strange little omen of the chestnut burr is in my +mind so often! I never was superstitious before, but it haunts me. +Don't you remember how you stained my hand with your blood? I can't get +it out of my mind, and it has for me now a strange significance. If I +had to remember through coming years that you died for me all hopeless +and unbelieving, do you think so poorly of me as to imagine I could be +happy? Why can't you be generous enough to brighten the life you have +saved? Among my father's last words he said I must be a sister to you. +How can I if you die? You would make this dear old place, that we both +love, full of terrible memories." + +He was deeply moved, and after a moment said, "I did not know that you +felt in this way. I thought the best thing that I could do was to get +out of the world and out of the way. I thought I knew you, but I do not +half understand your large, generous heart. For your sake I will try +and get well, nor will I impose any conditions whatever. But pardon me: +I am going to ask one thing, which you can grant or not as you choose. +Please do not wrong me by thinking that I have any personal end in +view. I have given all that up as truly as if I were dead. I ask that +you do not speedily marry Charles Hunting--not till you are sure you +know him." + +"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in real distress, "this dreadful quarrel! +What trouble it makes all around!" + +"If your father," continued Gregory, with grave earnestness, "told you +to be a sister to me, then I have some right to act as a brother toward +you. But as an honest man, with all my faults, and with your interests +nearest my heart, I entreat you to heed my request. Nay, more: I am +going to seem ungenerous, and refer for the first and last time to the +obligation you are under to me. By all the influence I gained by that +act, I beg of you to hesitate before you marry Charles Hunting. Believe +me, I would not lay a straw in the way of your marrying a good man." + +"Your words pain me more than I can tell you," said Annie, sadly. "I do +not understand them. Once they would have angered me. But, however +mistaken you are, I cannot do injustice to your motive. + +"I do not see how your request can injure Charles," she continued, +musingly. "I have no wish to marry now for a long time--not till these +sad scenes have faded somewhat from memory. If you will only promise to +live I will not marry him till you get strong and well--till you can +look upon this matter as a man--as a brother ought. But your hostility +must not be unreasonable or implacable. I _know_ you do Mr. Hunting +great injustice. And yet such is my solicitude for you that I will do +what seems to me almost disloyal. But I know that I owe a great deal to +you as well as Charles." + +"What I ask is for your sake, not mine. I only used the obligation as a +motive." + +"Well," said Annie, "I yield; and surely a sister could do no more than +I have done to-night." + +"And I have simply done my duty," he answered, quietly. "And yet I +thank you truly. You also may see the time when you will thank me more +than when I interposed my worthless person between you and danger." + +"Please never call yourself 'worthless' to me again. We never did +agree, and I fear we shall be gray before we do. But mark this: I am +never going to give you up, whatever happens. I shall obey dear +father's last words from both duty and inclination. But let us end this +painful conversation. What have you eaten to-day?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," he said. + +"Will you eat something if I bring it?" + +"I will do anything you ask." + +"Now you give me hope," and she vanished, sending the regular watcher +back to his post. + +Gregory found it no difficult task to eat the dainty little supper she +brought. She had broken the malign spell he was under. As we have seen, +his was a physical nature peculiarly subject to mental conditions. + +Soon after she said, in a low tone meant only for his ear, "Good-night, +my poor suffering brother. We all three shall understand each other +better in God's good time." + +"I hope so," he said, with a different meaning. "You have made me feel +that I am not alone and uncared for in the world, though I cannot call +you sister yet. Good-night." + +Annie went back to her father's side, and remained till her aunt almost +forced her away. + +It is not necessary to dwell on the events of the next few days. Such +is our earthly lot, nearly all can depict them by recalling their own +sad experience: the hushed and solemn household, even the children +speaking low and treading softly, as if they might awake one whom only +"the last trump" could arouse. + +John Walton's funeral was no formal pageant, but an occasion of sincere +and general mourning. Even those whose lives and characters were the +opposite of his had the profoundest respect for him, and the entire +community united in honoring his memory. + +Perhaps the most painful time of all to the stricken family was the +evening after their slow, dreary ride to the village cemetery. Then, as +not before, they realized their loss. + +Annie felt that her best solace would be in trying to cheer others. She +had seen Gregory but seldom and briefly since the interview last +described, but had been greatly comforted by his decided change for the +better. He had kept his word. Indeed, it was only the leaden hand of +despondency that kept him down, and he rallied from the moment it was +lifted. This evening he was dressed and sitting by the fire. As she +entered, in her deep mourning, his look was so wistful and kind, so +eloquent with sympathy, that instead of cheering him, as she had +intended, she sat down on a low ottoman, and burying her face in her +hands, cried as if her heart would break. + +"Oh that I knew how to comfort you!" said Gregory, in the deepest +distress. "I cannot bear to see you suffer." + +He rose with difficulty and came to her side, saying, "What can I do, +Miss Walton? Would that I could prevent you, at any cost to myself, +from ever shedding another tear!" + +His sympathy was so true and strong that it was a luxury for her to +receive it; and she had kept up so long that tears were nature's own +relief. + +At last he said timidly, hesitatingly, as if venturing on forbidden +ground, "I think the Bible says that in heaven all tears will be wiped +away. Your father is surely there." + +"Would that I were there with him!" she sobbed. + +"Not yet, Annie, not yet," he said, gently. "Think how dark this world +would be to more than one if you were not in it." + +"But will you never seek this dear home of rest?" she asked. + +"The way of life is closed to me," he said, sadly. + +"O, Mr. Gregory! Who is it that says, 'I am the way?'" + +"But He says to me, 'Depart.'" + +"And yet I, knowing all--I, a weak, sinful creature like yourself--say, +Come to Him. I am better and kinder than He who died for us all! What +strange, sad logic! Good-night, Walter. You will not always so wrong +your best Friend." + +Gregory's despairing conviction that his day of mercy was past was +hardly proof against her words and manner, but he was in thick darkness +and saw no way out. + +Annie went down to her aunt and Hunting in the parlor. "Why will Mr. +Gregory be so hard and unbelieving?" she said, tearfully. + +"If you knew him as well as I do you would understand," said Hunting, +politicly, and then changed the conversation. + +He was consumed by a jealousy which he dared not show. Annie's manner +toward him was all that he could ask, and he felt sure of her now. But +it was the future he dreaded, for he was satisfied that Gregory had +formed an attachment for Annie, whether she knew it or not, and, unless +he could secure her by marriage, the man he had wronged might find +means of tearing off his mask. With desperate earnestness he resolved +to press his suit. + +His course since Mr. Walton's death had been such as to win Annie's +sincerest gratitude. When action rather than moral support was +required, he was strong, and no one could be more delicately thoughtful +of her feelings and kinder than he had been. + +"Dear Charles," said Annie, when they were alone. "What should I have +done without you in all these dreary days! How you have saved me from +all painful contact with the world!" + +"And so I ever wish to shield you," said Hunting. "Will you not, as +your father purposed, give me the right at once?" + +"You have the right, Charles. I ask no more than you have done and are +doing. But do not urge marriage now. I yielded then for father's sake, +not my own. My heart is too sore and crushed to think of it now. After +all, what difference can a few months make to you? Be generous. Give me +a respite, and I will make you a better wife and a happier home." + +"But it looks, Annie, as if you could not trust me," he said, gloomily. + +"No, Charles," she said, gravely, "it looks rather as if you distrusted +me; and you must learn to trust me implicitly. Out of both love for you +and justice to myself, I exercise my woman's right of naming the day. +In the meantime I give you my perfect confidence. No words of +others--nothing but your own acts can disturb it, and of this I have no +fear." + +He did not seek to disguise his deep disappointment. While she felt +sorry for him, she remained firm, and he saw that it would not be wise +to urge her. + +Annie would not carelessly give pain to any one, much less to those she +loved. And yet her mind was strong and well-balanced. She knew it was +no great misfortune to Hunting to wait a few months when her own +feelings and the duty she owed another required it. "When Mr. Gregory +gets strong and well and back to business," she thought, "he will +wonder at himself. I have no right almost to destroy him now in his +weakness by doing that which can be done better at another time; and +indeed, for my own sake, I should have required delay." + +The next day Hunting was reluctantly compelled to go to the city. +Somewhat to Annie's surprise, Gregory made no effort to secure her +society. In her frank, sisterly regard she was slow in understanding +that her presence caused regretful pain to him. But he seemed +resolutely bent upon getting well, and was gaining rapidly. He walked +out a little while during the middle of the day, and her eyes followed +him wistfully as he moved slowly and feebly along the garden walk. She +saw, with quickly starting tears, that he went to the rustic seat by +the brook where they had spent that memorable Sunday afternoon, and +that he stood in long, deep thought. + +When he came back she offered to read to him. + +"Not now--not yet," he said, sadly. "I know my own weakness, and would +be true to my word." + +"Why do you shun me?" she asked. + +"May you never understand from experience," he said with a smile that +was sadder than tears, and passed on up to his room. + +And yet, though he did not know it, his course was the best policy, for +it awakened stronger respect and sympathy on her part. + +The next morning ushered in the first of the dreamy Indian-summer days, +when Nature, as if grieved over the havoc of the frost, would hide the +dismantled trees and dead flowers by a purple haze, and seek as do +fading beauties to disguise the ravages of time by drawing over her +withered face a deceptive veil. + +Gregory felt so much better that he thought he could venture to make a +parting call on Daddy Tuggar. He found the old man smoking on his +porch, and his reception was as warm and demonstrative as his first had +been a month ago, though of a different nature. Gregory lighted a cigar +and sat down beside him. + +"I'm wonderful glad to see you," said Mr. Tuggar. "To think that I +should have cussed you when it was the good Lord that brought you here!" + +"Do you think so?" asked Gregory. + +"Certain I do. Would that house be there? Wouldn't all our hearts be +broke for Miss Annie if it wasn't for you?" + +Gregory felt that his heart was "broke" for her as it was, but he said, +"It was my taking her out to walk that caused her danger. So you +wouldn't have lost her if I had not come." + +"You didn't knowin'ly git her in danger, and you did knowin'ly git her +out, and that's enough for me," said the old man. + +"Well, well, Mr. Tuggar, if I had broken my neck it would have been a +little thing compared with saving the life of such a woman as Miss +Walton. Still, I fear the Lord has not much to do with me." + +"And have you been all this time with John Walton and Miss Annie and +still feel that way?" + +"It's not their fault." + +"I believe that. Are you willin' to say you are a great sinner?" + +"Of course. What else am I?" + +"That's it--that's it," cried the old man, delightedly. "Now you're all +right. That's just where I was. When John Walton bid me good-by, he +asked me one question that let more light into my thick head than all +the readin' and preachin' and prayin' I ever heard. He asked, 'Whom did +Jesus Christ come to save?' Answer that." + +"The Bible says He came to save sinners," replied Gregory, now deeply +interested. + +"Well, I should think that meant you and me," said Mr. Tuggar, +emphatically. "Anyhow, I know it means me. John Walton told me that all +I had to do was to just trust the Saviour--not of good people--but of +sinners, and do the best I could; and I have just done it, and I'm all +right, Mr. Gregory, I'm all right. I don't know whether I can stop +swearin', but I'm a tryin'. I don't know whether I can ever get under +my old ugly temper, but I'm a tryin' and a prayin'. But whether I can +or not, I'm all right, for the good Lord came to save sinners; and if +that don't mean me, what's the use of words?" + +"But can you trust Him?" asked Gregory. + +"Certain I can. Wasn't John Walton an honest man? Wasn't Jesus Christ +honest? Didn't he know what He come for?" + +"Admitting that He came to save sinners, how can you be sure He will +save all? He might save you and not me." + +"Well," said Mr. Tuggar, "I hadn't been home long before that question +come up to me, and I thought on it a long time. I smoked wellnigh a +hundred pipes on it afore I got it settled, but 'tis settled, and when +I settle a thing I don't go botherin' back about it. But like enough +'twon't satisfy you." + +"At any rate, I should like to hear your conclusion." + +"Well, I argued it out to myself. I says, 'Suppose there's some sinners +too bad, or too somethin' or other, for the Lord to save, and suppose +you are one of them, ain't ''lected,' as my wife says. If I could be an +unbelievin' sinner for eighty years, it seemed to me that if anybody +wasn't 'lected I wasn't. I was dreadfully down, I tell yer, for I'd set +my heart on bein' John Walton's neighbor again. After I'd smoked a good +many pipes, I cussed myself for an old fool. 'There, you've brought +your case into court,' I says, 'and you're goin' to give it up afore +it's argued.' Then I argued it. I was honest, you may be sure. It +wouldn't do me any good to pettifog in this matter. First I says, if +there was any doubt about the Lord savin' all sinners who wanted Him +to, John Walton orter have spoken of it, and from what I know of the +man he would. Then I says, arter all, it's the Lord I've got to deal +with. Now what kind of a Lord is He? Then I commenced rememberin' all +that Miss Eulie and Miss Annie had read to me about Him, and all I'd +heard, and I got my wife to read some, and my hopes grew every minute. +I tell you what, Mr. Gregory, it was a queer crowd He often had around +Him. I'd kinder felt at home among 'em, 'specially with that swearin' +fisherman Peter. + +"Well, the upshot of it was, I couldn't find that He ever turned one +sinner away. Then why should He me? Then my wife, as she was readin', +come across the words, 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast +out.' I had heard them words afore often, but it seemed now as the +first time, and I just shouted, 'I've got His word for it,' and my wife +thought I was crazy, sure 'nuff, for she didn't know what I was drivin' +at. And now, Mr. Gregory, you're just shut up to two things, just two +things. Either the Lord Jesus will save every sinner that comes to Him, +or he ain't honest, and don't mean what he says, and won't do as he +used to. I tell yer I'm settled, better settled than yonder mountain. I +just let myself go limber right down upon the promise, and it's all +right. I'm going to be John Walton's neighbor again." + +Gregory was more affected by the old man's quaint talk than he would +have believed possible. It seemed true that he was "shut up" to one or +the other of the alternatives presented. He commenced pacing up and +down the little porch in deep thought. Mr. Tuggar puffed away at his +pipe with such vigor that he was exceedingly beclouded, however clear +his mind. At last Gregory said, "I shall think over what you have said, +very carefully, for I admit it has a great deal of force to my mind." + +"That's right," said Mr. Tuggar; "argue it out, just as I did. Show +yourself no favors, and be fair to yourself, and you can't get away +from my conclusion. You've got to come to it." + +"I should be very glad to come to it," said Gregory, gravely. + +"I should think you would. There'll be some good neighbors up there, +Mr. Gregory; these Waltons are all bound to be there. Miss Annie would +be kinder good company--eh, Mr. Gregory?" + +In spite of himself he flushed deeply under the old man's keen scrutiny. + +"There's one thing that's mighty 'plexing to me," said Mr. Tuggar, led +to the subject by its subtle connection with Gregory's blush, "and +that's why the Lord didn't keep John Walton alive a few minutes longer, +so that the marriage could take place." + +Gregory gave a great start. "What marriage?" he asked. + +"Why, don't you know about it?" said Mr. Tuggar, in much surprise. + +"No, nothing at all." + +"Then perhaps I ortn't ter speak of it." + +"Certainly not, if you don't think it right." + +"Well, I've said so much I might as well say it all," said the old man, +musingly. "It's no secret, as I knows of;" and he told Gregory how near +Annie came to being a wife. + +Gregory drew a long breath and looked deathly pale and faint. + +"Well, now, I'd no idea that you'd be so struck of a heap," said the +old man, in still deeper surprise. + +"God's hand was in that," murmured Gregory; "God's hand was in that." + +"Do you think so, now? Well, it does seem kinder cur'us, and per'aps it +was, for somehow I never took to that Hunting, though he seems all +right." + +"Good-by, Mr. Tuggar," said Gregory, rising; "you have given me a good +deal to think about, and I'm going to think, and act, too, if I can. I +am going to New York to-morrow, and one of the first things I do will +be to fill your pipe for a long time;" and he pressed the old man's +hand most cordially. + +"Let yourself go limber when you come to trust, and it will be all +right," were Daddy Tuggar's last words, as he balanced himself on his +crutches in parting. + +Gregory found Annie in the parlor, and he said, "I have good news for +you; Daddy Tuggar is a Christian." + +Annie sprang joyfully up and said, "I'm going over to see him at once." + +When she returned, Gregory was quietly reading in the parlor, showing +thus that he had no wish to avoid her. + +She came directly to him and said, "Daddy Tuggar says that you propose +going home to-morrow." + +"Well, really, Miss Walton, I have no home to go to; but I expect to +return to the city." + +"Now I protest against it." + +"I'm glad you do." + +"Then you won't go?" + +"Yes, I must; but I'm glad you don't wish me to go" + +"Why need you go yet? You ought not. You should wait till you are +strong." + +"That is just why I go--to get _strong_. I never could here, with you +looking so kindly at me as you do now. You see I am as frank as I +promised to be. So please say no more, for you cannot and you ought not +to change my purpose." + +"O dear!" cried Annie, "how one's faith is tried! Why need this be so?" + +"On the contrary," he said, "what little faith I ever had has been +quite revived this afternoon. Daddy Tuggar has been 'talking religion' +to me, and, pardon me for saying it, I found his words more convincing +than even yours." + +"I am not jealous of him," said Annie, gladly. + +"I can't help thinking that God does see and care, in that He prevented +your marriage." + +Annie blushed deeply, and said, coldly, "I am sorry you touched upon +that subject," and she left the room. + +Gregory went quietly on with his reading, or seemed to do so. Indeed, +he made a strong effort, and succeeded, for he was determined to master +himself outwardly. + +She soon relented and came back. When she saw him apparently so +undisturbed, the thought came to her, "He has truly given me up. There +is nothing of the lover in that calmness, and he makes no effort to win +my favor," but she said, "Mr. Gregory, I fear I hurt your feelings. You +certainly did mine. I cannot endure the injustice you persist in doing +Mr. Hunting." + +"I only repeat your own words, 'We all three shall understand each +other in God's good time'; and after what I heard to-day, I have the +feeling that He is watching over you." + +"Won't you promise not to speak any more on this subject?" + +"Yes, for I have done my duty." + +She took up his book and read to him, thus giving one more hour of +mingled pain and pleasure; though when he thought how long it would be +before he heard that sweet voice again, if ever, his pain almost +reached the point of anguish. As she turned toward him and saw his look +of suffering, she realized somewhat the effort he had made to keep up +before her. + +She came to him and said, "I was about to ask a favor, but perhaps it's +hardly right." + +"Ask it, anyway," he said, with a smile. + +"I don't urge it, but I expect Mr. Hunting this evening. Won't you come +down to supper and meet him?" + +"For your sake I will, now that I have gained some self-control. I am +not one to quarrel in a lady's parlor under any provocation. For your +sake I will treat Mr. Hunting like a gentleman, and make my last +evening with you as little of a restraint as possible." + +"Thank you--thank you. You now promise to make it one of peculiar +happiness." + +Annie drove to the depot for Hunting, and told of Gregory's consent to +meet him. She said, "Now is your opportunity, Charles. Meet him in such +a way as to make enmity impossible." + +His manner was not very reassuring, but, in his pleasure at hearing +that Gregory was soon to depart, and that in his absence Annie's +confidence in him had not been disturbed, he promised to do the best he +could. She was nervously excited as the moment of meeting approached, +and, somewhat to her surprise, Hunting seemed to share her uneasiness. + +Gregory did not come down till the family were all in the supper-room. +Annie was struck with his appearance as he entered. Though his left arm +was in a sling, there was a graceful and almost courtly dignity in his +bearing, a brilliancy in his eyes and a firmness, about his mouth, +which proved that he had nerved himself for the ordeal and would +maintain himself. Instantly she thought of the time when he had first +appeared in that room, a half-wrecked, blase man of the world. Now he +looked and acted like a nobleman. + +Hunting, on the contrary, had a shuffling and embarrassed manner; but +he approached Gregory and held out his hand, saying, "Come, Mr. +Gregory, let by-gones be by-gones." + +But Gregory only bowed with the perfection of distant courtesy, and +said, "Good-evening, Mr. Hunting," and took his seat. + +Both Hunting and Annie blushed deeply and resentfully. After they were +seated, Annie looked toward Hunting to say "grace" as usual, but he +could not before the man who knew him so well, and there was another +moment of deep embarrassment, while a sudden satirical light gleamed +from Gregory's eyes. Annie saw it, and it angered her. + +Then Gregory broke the ice with quiet, well-bred ease. In natural tones +he commenced conversation, addressing now one, now another, in such a +way that they were forced to answer him in like manner. He asked +Hunting about the news and gossip of the city as naturally as if they +had met that evening for the first time. He even had pleasant repartee +with Johnny and Susie, who had now come to like him very much, and his +manner toward Miss Eulie was peculiarly gentle and respectful, for he +was deeply grateful to her. Indeed, that good lady could scarcely +believe her eyes and ears; but Gregory had always been an enigma to +her. At first he spoke to Annie less frequently than to any one else, +for he dreaded the cloud upon her brow and her outspoken truthfulness, +and he was determined the evening should pass off as he had planned. +Though so crippled that his food had to be prepared for him, he only +made it a matter of graceful jest, and gave ample proof that a highly +bred and cultivated man can be elegant in manners under circumstances +the most adverse. + +Even Annie thawed and relented under his graceful tact, and felt that +perhaps he was doing all she could expect in view of the simple promise +to "treat Hunting like a gentleman, for her sake." But it had pained +her deeply that he had not met Hunting's advances; and she saw that, +though perfectly courteous, he was not committing himself in the +slightest degree toward reconciliation. + +Moreover, she was excessively annoyed that Hunting acted so poor a +part. It is as natural for a woman to take pride in her lover as to +breathe, but she could have no pride in Hunting that evening. He seemed +annoyed beyond endurance with both himself and Gregory, though he +strove to disguise it. He knew that he was appearing to disadvantage, +and this increased his embarrassment, and he was most unhappy in his +words and manner. Yet he could take exception at nothing, for Gregory, +secure in his polished armor, grew more brilliant and entertaining as +he saw his adversary losing ground. + +All were glad when he supper-hour was over and they could adjourn to +the parlor. Here Gregory changed his tactics, and drawing the children +aside, told them a marvellous tale as a good-by souvenir, thus causing +them to feel deep regret for his departure. He next drew Miss Eulie +into an animated discussion upon a subject he knew her to be interested +in. From this he made the conversation general, and continued to speak +to Hunting as naturally as if there were no differences between them. +But all saw that he was growing very weary, and early in the evening he +quietly rose and excused himself, saying that he needed rest for his +journey on the morrow. There was the same polite, distant bow to +Hunting as at first, and in deep disappointment Annie admitted that +nothing had been gained by the interview from which she had hoped so +much. They were no nearer reconciliation. While Gregory's manner had +compelled respect and even admiration, it had annoyed her excessively, +for he had made her lover appear to disadvantage, and she was almost +vexed with Hunting that he had not been equal to the occasion. She was +sorry that she had asked Gregory to come down while Hunting was +present, and yet courtesy seemed to require that he should be with +them, since he was now sufficiently well. Altogether it was a silent +little group that Gregory left in the parlor, as all were busy with +their own thoughts. + +Hunting determined to remain the following day and see Gregory off and +out of the way forever, he hoped. + +The next morning Gregory did not come down to breakfast. But at about +ten o'clock he started for a short farewell stroll about the old place. +Annie joined him in the garden. + +"I do not think you were generous last evening," she said. "Mr. Hunting +met you half-way." + +"Did I not do just what I promised?" + +"But I was in hopes you would do more, especially when the way was +opened." + +"Do you think, Miss Walton, that Mr. Hunting's manner and feelings +toward me were sincerely cordial and friendly? Was it the prompting of +his heart, or your influence, that led him to put out his hand?" + +Annie blushed, in conscious confusion. "I fear I shall never reconcile +you," she said, sadly. + +"I fear not," he replied. "There must be a great change in us both +before you can. Though the reason I give you was a sufficient one for +not taking his hand in friendly feeling, it was not the one that +influenced me. I would not have taken it under any circumstances." + +"Mr. Gregory, you grieve me most deeply," she said, in a tone of real +distress. "Won't you, when you come to part, take his hand for my sake, +and let a little of the ice thaw?" + +"No," he said, almost sternly; "not even for your sake, for whom I +would die, will I be dishonest with myself or him; and you are not one +to ask me to act a lie." + +"You wound me deeply, sir!" she said, coldly. + +"Faithful are the wounds of a friend," he replied. She did not answer. + +"We shall not part in this way, Annie," he said, in a low, troubled +voice. + +"The best I can do is to give you credit for very mistaken sincerity," +she answered, sadly. + +"That is all now, I fear," replied he, gently. "Good-by, Annie Walton. +We are really parting now. My mission to you is past, and we go our +different ways. You will never believe anything I can say on this +painful subject, and I would not have spoken of it again of my own +accord. Keep your promise to me, and all will yet be well, I believe. +As that poor woman who saved us in the mountains said, 'There will at +least be one good thing about me. Whether I can pray for myself or not, +I shall daily pray for you'; and I feel that God who shielded you so +strangely once, will still guard you. Do not grieve because I go away +with pain in my heart. It's a better kind of suffering than that with +which I came, and lasting good may come out of it, for my old reckless +despair is gone. If I ever do become a good man--a Christian--I shall +have you to thank; and even heaven would be happier if you were the +means of bringing me there." + +"When you speak that way, Walter," she said, tears starting to her +eyes, "I must forgive everything; and when you become a Christian you +will love even your enemy. Please take this little package from me, but +do not open it till you reach the quiet and seclusion of your own +rooms. Good-by, my brother, for as such my father told me to act and +feel toward you, and from my heart I obey." + +He looked at her with moistened eyes, but did not trust himself to +answer, and without another word they returned to the house. + +Gregory's leave-taking from the rest of the household was no mere form. +Especially was this true of Miss Eulie, to whom he said most feelingly, +"Miss Morton, my mother could not have been kinder or more patient with +me." + +When he pressed Zibbie's hand and left a banknote in it, she broke out +in the broadest Scotch, "Maister Gregory, an' when I think me auld gray +head would ha' been oot in the stourm wi' na hame to cover it, I pray +the gude God to shelter yours fra a' the cauld blasts o' the wourld." + +Silent Hannah, alike favored, seemed afflicted with a sudden attack of +St. Vitus's dance, so indefinite was the number of her courtesies; +while Jeff, on the driver's seat, looked as solemn as if he were to +drive Gregory to the cemetery instead of the depot. + +At the moment of final parting, Gregory merely took Annie's hand and +looked into her eyes with an expression that caused them speedily to +droop, tear-blinded. + +To Hunting he had bowed his farewell in the parlor. + +When the last object connected with his old home was hidden from his +wistful, lingering gaze, he said, with the sorrow of one who watches +the sod placed above the grave of his dearest, "So it all ends." + +But when in his city apartments, which never before had seemed such a +cheerless mockery of the idea of home, he opened the package Annie had +given him--when he found a small, worn Bible, inscribed with the words, +"To my dear little daughter Annie, from mother," and written beneath, +in a child's hand, "I thank you, dear mother. I will read it every +day"--he sprang up, and exclaimed it strongest feeling, "No, all has +not ended yet." + +When he became sufficiently calm he again took up the Bible, and found +the leaves turned down at the 14th chapter of St. John, with the words, +"Begin here." + +He read, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe +also in me. + +"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would +have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." + +"How sweetly--with what exquisite delicacy--she points me beyond the +shadows of time!" he said, musingly. "I believe in God. I ever have. +Then why not _trust_ the 'Man of Sorrows,' who also must be God? Both +Annie and her quaint old friend are right. He never turned one away who +came sincerely. In Him who forgave the outcast and thief there glimmers +hope for me. How thick the darkness as I look elsewhere. Lord Jesus," +he cried, with a rush of tears, "I am palsied through sin: lift me up, +that I may come to Thee." + +Better for him that night than a glowing hearth with genial friends +around it was Annie's Bible. + +Looking at it fondly, he said, "It links me to her happy childhood +before that false man came, and it may join me to her in the 'place' +which God is preparing, when he who now deceives her is as far removed +as sin." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +AT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER + + + +Immediately after Mr. Walton's funeral Miss Eulie had written to a +brother-in-law, then, in Europe, full particulars of all that had +occurred. This gentleman's name was Kemp, and he had originally married +a sister of Miss Eulie and Mrs. Walton. But she had died some years +since, and he had married as his second wife one who was an entire +stranger to the Walton family, and with whom there could be but little +sympathy. For this reason, though no unfriendliness existed, there had +been a natural falling-off of the old cordial intimacy. Mr. Walton had +respected Mr. Kemp as a man of sterling worth and unimpeachable +integrity, and his feelings were shared by Miss Eulie and Annie, while +Mr. Kemp himself secretly cherished a tender and regretful memory of +his earlier marriage connection. When he heard that his niece, Annie, +was orphaned, his heart yearned toward her, for he had always been fond +of her as a child. But when he came to read of her relations with +Hunting, and that this man was in charge of her property, he was in +deep distress. He would have returned home immediately, but his wife's +health would not permit his leaving her. He wrote to Miss Eulie a long +letter of honest sympathy, urging her and Annie to come to him at +Paris, saying that the change would be of great benefit to both. + +This letter was expressed in such a way that it could be shown to +Annie. But he inclosed another under seal to the aunt, marked private, +in which by strong and guarded language he warned her against Hunting. +He did not dare commit definite charges to writing, not knowing how +much influence Hunting had over Miss Eulie. He felt sure that Annie +would not listen to anything against her lover, and justly feared that +she would inform him of what she heard, thus putting him on his guard, +and increasing his power for mischief. Mr. Kemp's hope was to act +through Miss Eulie, and get both her and Annie under his protection as +soon as possible. He knew that when he was face to face with Annie he +could prove to her the character of her lover, and through her compel +him to resign his executorship. Therefore he solemnly charged Miss +Eulie, as she loved Annie, not to permit her marriage with Hunting, +and, as executrix, to watch his financial management closely. + +Miss Eulie was greatly distressed by the contents of this letter. Mr. +Kemp's words, combined with Gregory's manner, destroyed her confidence +in Hunting, and made her feel that he might cause them irretrievable +disaster. She knew her brother to be a man of honor, and when he wrote +such words as these, "If Mr. Walton had known Hunting as I do he would +rather have buried his daughter than permit her to marry him," she was +sure that he did not speak unadvisedly. + +"Moreover," Mr. Kemp wrote, "I am not giving my mere opinion of +Hunting. I have absolute proof of what he is and has done." + +But it was his opinion that it would not be safe to reveal to Annie the +contents of this letter, as Hunting, in the desperation of his fears, +might find means to compass a hasty marriage, or disastrously use his +power over her property. + +As we have seen, in quiet home-ministerings Miss Eulie had no superior, +but she felt peculiarly timid and self-distrustful in dealing with +matters like these. Her first impulse and her growing desire were that +she and Annie might reach the shelter and protection of her brother. +She did not understand business, and felt powerless to thwart Hunting. + +Annie's spirits greatly flagged after her father's death. Hunting did +not seem to have the power to comfort and help her that she had +expected to find in him. She could not definitely find fault with a +single act, save his treatment of Gregory; he was devotion itself to +her, but it was to her alone. He proved no link between her and God. +Even when in careful phrases he sought to use the "language of Canaan," +he did not speak it as a native, and ever left a vague, unsatisfied +pain in her heart. He was true and strong when he spoke of his own +love. He was eloquent and glowing when his fancy painted their future +home, but cold and formal in comparison when he dwelt on that which her +Christian nature most needed in her deep affliction. + +When Annie found that she could leave the children in charge of a +careful, trustworthy relative, she was readily persuaded into the plan +of going abroad. She felt the need of change, for her health had begun +to fail, and she was sinking into one of those morbid states which are +partly physical and partly mental. + +Hunting, also, strongly approved of the project. Business would require +him to visit Europe during the winter, and in having Annie as a +companion he thought himself fortunate indeed. He felt sure that as +soon as she regained her health and spirits she would consent to their +marriage; moreover, it would place the sea between her and Gregory, +thus averting all danger of disclosure. A trip abroad promised to +further his interests in all respects. He knew nothing of Mr. Kemp save +as a New York business man, and supposed that Mr. Kemp had only a +general and favorable knowledge of himself. + +For Annie's sake and her own Miss Eulie tried to prevent any marked +change in her manner toward Hunting, and though she was not a very good +actress he did not care enough about her to notice her occasional +restraints and formality of manner. But Annie did, and it was another +source of vague uneasiness and pain, though the causes were too +intangible to speak of. She thought it possible that Gregory had +prejudiced her aunt slightly. But it was her nature to prove all the +more loyal to Hunting, especially when he was so devoted to her. + +Before they could complete arrangements for departure, Annie was taken +seriously ill, and January of the ensuing year had nearly passed before +she was strong enough for the journey. During her illness no one could +have been more kind and attentive than Hunting, and Annie felt +exceedingly grateful. Still, in their prolonged and close intimacy +since her father's death, something in the man himself had caused her +love for him to wane. She had a growing consciousness that he was not +what she had supposed. She reproached herself bitterly for this, and +under the sense of the wrong she felt herself doing him, was disposed +to show more deference to his wishes, and in justice to him to try to +make amends. When, therefore, he again urged that the marriage take +place before they sailed, giving as his reasons that he could take +better care of her, and that henceforth she could be with him, and that +he would not be compelled to leave her so often on account of his +business, she was half inclined to yield. She felt that the +marriage-tie would confirm her true feelings as a wife, and that it was +hardly fair to ask him to be away from his large and exacting business +so much, especially when he had appeared so generous in the time he had +given her, which must have involved to him serious loss and +inconvenience. She said to herself, "I shall be better and happier, and +so will Charles, when I cease secretly finding fault with him, and +devote myself unselfishly to making a good wife and a good home." + +Hunting exultantly thought that he would carry his point, but Miss +Eulie proved she was not that nonentity which, in his polite and +attentive indifference, he had secretly considered her. With quiet +firmness she said that, as Annie's natural guardian, she would not give +her consent to the marriage. As a reason she said, "I think it would +show a great lack of respect and courtesy to Annie's uncle and my +brother, who is so fond of her, and has been so kind. I see no pressing +need for the marriage now, for I am going with Annie and can take care +of her as I have done. If it seems best, you can be married over there, +and I know that Mr. Kemp would feel greatly hurt if we acted as if we +were indifferent to his presence at the ceremony." + +The moment her aunt expressed this view Annie agreed with her, and +Hunting felt that he could not greatly complain, as the marriage would +be delayed but a few weeks. + +Annie felt absolved from her promise to Gregory by an event that +occurred not very long after his departure. Gregory had sent a box, +directed to Miss Eulie's care, containing some toys and books for the +children, and the promised tobacco for Daddy Tuggar, also a note for +Annie, inclosed in one to Miss Eulie, in which were these words only, +"If you had searched the world you could not have given me anything +that I would value more." + +In his self-distrust, and in his purpose not to give the slightest +ground for the imputation that he had sought her promise of delay to +obtain time to gain a hearing himself, he had said no more. But Annie +thought that he might have said more. The note seemed cold and brief in +view of all that had passed between them. Still, she hoped much from +the influence of her Bible. + +One evening Hunting came up from the city evidently much disturbed. To +her expressions of natural solicitude he replied, "I don't like to +speak of it, for you seem to think that I ought to stand everything +from Mr. Gregory. And so I suppose I ought, and indeed I was grateful, +but one can't help having the natural feelings of a man. I was with +some friends and met him face to face in an omnibus. Knowing how great +was your wish that we should be friendly, I spoke courteously to him, +but he looked at me as if I were a dog. He might as well have struck +me. I saw that my friends were greatly surprised, but of course I could +not explain there, and yet it's not pleasant to be treated like a +pickpocket, with no redress. I defy him," continued Hunting, assuming +the tone and manner of one greatly wronged, "to prove anything worse +against me than that I compelled him and his partners to pay money to +which I had a legal right, and which I could have collected in a court +of law." + +The politic Hunting said nothing of moral right, and innocent Annie was +not on the lookout for such quibbles. + +Her quick feelings were strongly stirred, and on the impulse of the +moment she sat down and wrote: + +"Mr. Gregory--I think your course toward Mr. Hunting to-day was not +only unjust, but even ungentlemanly. You cannot hurt his feelings +without wounding mine. I cannot help feeling that your hostility is +both 'unreasonable and implacable.' In sadness and disappointment, +"Annie Walton." + +"There," she said, "read that, and please mail it for me." + +"That's my noble Annie," he said, gratefully. "Now you prove your love +anew, and show you will not stand quietly by and see me insulted." + +"You may rest assured I will not," she said, promptly; adding very +sadly after a moment, "I cannot understand how Mr. Gregory, with all +his good qualities, can act so." + +"You do not know him so well as I do," said Hunting; "and yet even I +feel grateful to him for his services to you, and would show it if he +would treat me decently." + +"He shall treat you decently, and politely too, if he wishes to keep my +favor," said she, hotly. + +But the next day, when she thought it all over quietly, she regretted +that she had written so harshly. "My words will not help my Bible's +influence," she thought in self-reproach, "and only when he becomes a +Christian will he show a different disposition." + +Her regret would have been still deeper, if she had known that Hunting +had sent her note with one from himself to this effect: + +"You perceive from the inclosed that you cannot insult me as you did +yesterday and still retain the favor of one whose esteem you value _too +highly_ perhaps. My only regret is that you were not a witness to the +words and manner which accompanied the act of writing." + +Still stronger would have been her indignation had she known that +Hunting had greatly exaggerated his insult. Gregory had merely acted as +if unconscious of his presence, and there had been no look of scorn. + +When Gregory received the missives he tossed Hunting's contemptuously +into the fire, but read Annie's more than once, sighed deeply, and +said, "He keeps his ascendency over her. O God! quench not my spark of +faith by permitting this great wrong to be consummated." Then he +indorsed on her note, "Forgiven, my dear, deceived sister. You will +understand in God's good time." + +But he felt that God must unravel the problem, for Annie would listen +to nothing against her lover. + +She hoped that Gregory would write an explanation, or at least some +words in self-defence, and then she meant to soften her hasty note, but +no answer came. This increased her depression, and she was surprised at +her strong and abiding interest in him. She could not understand how +their eventful acquaintance should end as it promised to. Then came her +illness, and through many long, sleepless hours, she thought of the +painful mystery. + +As she recovered strength of body and mind she felt that it was one of +those things that she must trustingly put in God's hands and leave +there. This she did, and resolutely and patiently addressed herself to +the duties of her lot. + +As for Gregory, from the first evening of his return to the city, he +adopted the resolution in regard to Annie's Bible which she, as a +little child, had written in it so many years ago, "I will read it +every day." + +It became his shrine and constant solace. Instead of going to his club, +as was his former custom, he spent the long, quiet evenings in its +study. The more he read the more fascinated he became by its rich and +varied truths. Sometimes as he was tracing up a line of thought through +its pages, so luminously and beautifully would it develop that it +seemed to him that Annie and his mother, with unseen hands, were +pointing the way. Though almost alone in the great city, he grew less +and less lonely, and welcomed the shades of evening, that he might +return to a place now sacred to him, where the gift Bible, like a +living presence, awaited him. + +His doubts and fears vanished slowly. His faith kindled even more +slowly; but the teachings of that inspired Book gave him principle, +true manhood, and strength to do right, no matter how he felt. He had +honestly and sturdily resolved to be guided by it, and it did guide +him. He was a Christian, though he did not know it, and would not +presume to call himself such even to himself. In view of his evil past +he was exceedingly humble and self-distrustful. As Mr. Walton had told +poor old Daddy Tuggar, he was simply trying to "trust Jesus Christ and +do the best he could." + +But those associated with him in business, and many others, wondered at +the change in him. Old Mr. Burnett, his senior partner, was especially +delighted, and would often say to him, "I thank God, Mr. Gregory, that +you nearly had your neck broken last October"; for the good old man +associated this accident with the change. + +Gregory also began attending church--not a gorgeous temple on Fifth +Avenue, where he was not needed; but he hunted up an obscure and +struggling mission, and said to the minister, "I am little better than +a heathen, but if you will trust me I will do the best I can to help +you." + +Within a month, through his liberal gifts and energetic labors, the +usefulness of the mission was almost doubled. It was touching to see +him humbly and patiently doing the Lord's lowliest work, as if he were +not worthy. He hoped that in time he might receive the glad assurance +that he was accepted; but whether it came or not, he purposed to do the +best he could, and leave his fate in God's hands. At any rate God +seemed not against him, for both his business and his Christian work +prospered. + +One bright morning late in January, Annie, Miss Eulie, and Hunting were +driven down, to the steamer, and having gone to their state-rooms and +seen that their luggage was properly stowed away, they came up on deck +to watch the scenes attending the departure of the great ship, and +observe the views as they sailed down the bay. Hunting had told them to +make the most of this part of the voyage, for in a winter passage it +might be long before they could enjoy another promenade. + +Annie was intensely interested, for all was new and strange. She had a +keen, quick eye for character, and a human interest in humanity, even +though those around her did not belong to her "set." Therefore it was +with appreciative eyes that she watched the motley groups of her +fellow-passengers waving handkerchiefs and exchanging farewells with +equally diversified groups on the wharf. + +"It seems," she said to her aunt, "as if all the world had sent their +representatives here. It makes me almost sad that there is no one to +see us off." + +Then her eye rested upon a gentleman who evidently had no one to see +him off. He was leaning on the railing upon the opposite side of the +ship, smoking a cigar. His back was toward all this bustle and +confusion, and he seemed to have an air of isolation and of +indifference to what was going on about him. His tall person was clad +in a heavy overcoat, which seemed to combine comfort with elegance, and +gave to him, even in his leaning posture, a distingue air. But that +which drew Annie's attention was the difference of his manner from that +of all others, who were either excited by their surroundings, or were +turning wistfully and eagerly toward friends whom it might be long +before they saw again. The motionless, apathetic figure, smoking +quietly, with his hat drawn down over his eyes, and looking away from +everything and everybody, came to have a fascination for her. + +The steamer slowly and majestically moved out into the stream. Shouts, +cries, final words, hoarse orders from the officers--a perfect babel of +sounds--filled the air, but the silently-curling smoke-wreaths were the +only suggestion of life from that strangely indifferent form. He seemed +like one so deeply absorbed in his own thoughts that he would have to +be awakened as from sleep. + +Suddenly he turned and came toward them with the air of one who feels +himself alone, though jostled in a crowd, and instantly, with a strange +thrill at heart, Annie recognized Walter Gregory. + +Hunting saw him also, and Annie noted that, while the blackest frown +gathered on his brow, he grew very pale. + +In his absorption, Gregory would have passed by them, but Annie said, +"Mr. Gregory, are you not going to speak to us?" + +He started violently, and his face mantled with hot blood, and Annie +also felt that she was blushing unaccountably. But he recovered +instantly, and came and shook her hand most cordially, saying, "This is +a strangely unexpected pleasure. And Miss Morton, also! When was I ever +so fortunate before?" + +Then he saw Hunting, to whom he bowed with his old, distant manner, and +Hunting returned the acknowledgment in the most stiff and formal way. + +"Do you know," said Annie, "I have been watching you with curiosity for +some time past, though I did not know who you were till you turned. I +could not account for your apathy and indifference to this scene, which +to me is so novel and exciting, and which seems to find every one +interested save yourself. I should hardly have thought you alive if you +had not been smoking." + +"Well," he said, "I have been abroad so often that it has become like +crossing the ferry, and I was expecting no one down to see me off. But +you do not look well;" and both she and Miss Eulie noticed that he +glanced uneasily from her to Hunting, and did not seem sure how he +should address her. + +"Miss Walton has just recovered from a long illness," said Miss Eulie, +quietly. + +His face instantly brightened, and as quickly changed to an expression +of sincerest sympathy. + +"Not seriously ill, I hope," he said, earnestly. + +"I'm afraid I was," replied Annie, adding, cheerfully, "I am quite well +now, though." + +His face became as pale as it had been flushed a moment before, and he +said, in a low tone, "I did not know it." + +His manner touched her, and proved that there was no indifference on +his part toward her, though there might be to the bustling world around +him. + +Then he inquired particularly after each member of the household, and +especially after old Daddy Tuggar. + +Annie told him how delighted the children had been with the toys and +books. "And as for Daddy Tuggar," she said, smiling, "he has been in +the clouds, literally and metaphorically, ever since you sent him the +tobacco. Whenever I go to see him he says, most cheerfully, 'It's all +settled, Miss Annie. It grows clearer with every pipe' (while I can +scarcely see him), 'I'm all right, 'cause I'm an awful sinner.'" + +She was rather surprised at the look of glad sympathy which Gregory +gave her, but he only said, "He is to be envied." + +Then at her request he began to point out the objects of interest they +were passing, and with quiet courtesy drew Hunting into the +conversation, who rather ungraciously permitted it because he could not +help himself. + +Annie again, with pain, saw the unfavorable contrast of her lover with +this man, who certainly proved himself the more finished gentleman, if +nothing else. + +With almost a child's delight she said, "You have no idea how novel and +interesting all this is to me, though so old and matter-of-fact to you. +I have always wanted to cross the ocean, and look forward to this +voyage with unmingled pleasure." + +"I'm sincerely sorry such a disastrous change is so soon to take place +in your sensations, for it will be rough outside to-day, and I fear you +and Miss Morton will soon be suffering from the most forlorn and +prosaic of maladies." + +"I won't give up to it," said Annie, resolutely. + +"I have no doubt," he replied, humorously, "as our quaint old friend +used to say, that you are 'well meanin',' but we must all submit to +fate. I fear you will soon be confined to the dismal lower regions." + +"Are you sick?" + +"I was at first." + +His prediction was soon verified. From almost a feeling of rapture and +a sense of the sublime as they looked out upon the broad Atlantic with +its tumultuous waves, the ladies suddenly became silent, and glanced +nervously toward the stairway that led to the cabin. + +Gregory promptly gave his arm to Miss Eulie, while Hunting followed +with Annie, and that was the last appearance of the ladies for three +days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO + + + +On the morning of the fourth day, as the sea had become more calm, the +ladies ventured upon deck for a short time. Gregory immediately joined +them and complimented their courage in coming out during a winter +voyage. + +"Nature and I are friends all the year round," said Annie, with a faint +attempt at a smile, for she was still sick and faint. "I rather like +her wild, rough moods. It has been a great trial to my patience to lie +in my berth, helpless and miserable from what you well term a 'prosaic +malady,' when I was longing to see the ocean. Now that we have made a +desperate attempt to reach deck, there is nothing to see. Do you think +this dense fog will last long?" + +"I hope not, especially for your sake. But do not regret coming out, +for you will soon feel better for it." + +"I do already; I believe I could live out of doors. Have you been ill?" + +"O no; I should have been a sailor." + +"Mr. Hunting has fared almost as badly as we," said Annie, determined +that they should make one group. + +"Indeed! I'm sorry," said Gregory, quietly. + +"I hate the ocean," snarled Hunting, with a grim, white face; "I'm +always sick." + +"And I'm afraid of it," said Miss Eulie. "How can they find their way +through such a mist? Then, we might run into something." + +"In any case you are safe, Miss Morton," said Gregory, with a smile. + +She gave him a bright look and replied, "I trust we all are. But the +sea is rough, boisterous, treacherous, and mysterious, just the +qualities I don't like. What a perfect emblem of mystery this fog is +through which we are going so rapidly!" + +"Well," said Gregory, with one of his expressive shrugs, "I find all +these experiences equally on the land, especially the latter." + +Annie gave him a quick, inquiring look, while color came into even +Hunting's pale face. + +Annie felt no little curiosity as to Gregory's developing character, +for though he had said nothing definite, his softened manner and quiet +dignity made him seem very unlike his old self. + +"How do you pass your time?" she asked. + +"Well, I read a great deal, and I take considerable exercise, for I +wish fully to regain my health." + +She gave him a grateful look. He was keeping his promise. She said, +"You look very much better than I expected to see you, and I'm very +glad, for you were almost ghostly when you left us. What do you find so +interesting to read?" + +His color rose instantly, but he said with a smile, "A good old book +that I brought with me." + +The expression of his face answered her swift, questioning look. It was +her Bible. Neither Miss Eulie nor Hunting understood why she became so +quiet; but the latter, who was watching them closely, thought he +detected some secret understanding. In his jealous egotism it could +only mean what was adverse to himself, and he had an attack of +something worse than sea-sickness. + +Gregory quietly turned the conversation upon ocean travel, and for a +half-hour entertained the ladies without any effort on their part, and +then they went back to their state-rooms. + +By evening the ship was running so steadily that they all came out to +supper. Gregory, who was a personal friend of the captain, had secured +them a place near the head of the table, where they received the best +of attention. Annie, evidently, was recovering rapidly, and took a +genuine interest in the novel life and scenes around her. She found +herself vis-a-vis and side by side with great diversities of character, +and listened with an amused, intelligent face to the brisk +conversation. She noted with surprise that Gregory seemed quite a +favorite, but soon saw the reason in his effort to make the hour pass +pleasantly to his fellow-passengers. The captain had given him a seat +at his right hand, and appealed to him on every disputed point that was +outside of his special province. + +She was also pleased to see how Gregory toned up the table-talk and +skilfully led it away from disagreeable topics. But he had a rather +difficult task, for, sitting near her, was a man whose ostentatious +dress reflected his character and words. + +Some one was relating an anecdote of a narrow escape, and another +remarked, "That's what I should call a special Providence." + +"Special Providence!" said Annie's loud neighbor, contemptuously. "A +grown man is very weak-minded to believe in any Providence whatever." + +There was a shocked, pained expression on many faces, and Annie's eyes +flashed with indignation. She turned to Hunting, expecting him to +resent such an insult to their faith, but saw only a cold sneer on his +face. Hunting was decidedly English in his style, and would travel +around the world and never speak to a stranger, or make an +acquaintance, if he could help it. Then, instinctively, she turned to +Gregory. He was looking fixedly at the man, whose manner had attracted +general attention. But he only said, "Then I am very weak-minded." + +There was a general expression of pleased surprise and sympathy on the +faces of those who understood his reply, while the captain stared at +him in some astonishment. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "I meant nothing personal. It +was only a rather blunt way of saying that I didn't believe in any such +things myself." + +"I give you credit for your honesty, but some of us do." + +"Then you pretend to be a Christian?" + +"I should not _pretend_ to be one under any circumstances," said +Gregory, with the perfection of quiet dignity, "and I am very sorry to +say that I am not so favored. But I have full belief in a Providence, +both special and general." + +"I like your honesty, too," said the man, seemingly anxious for an +argument. "By the word 'pretend' I only meant claim, or assert. But it +seems to me that the facts in the case are all against your belief. I +find nothing but law in the universe. You might as well say that this +ship is run by special Providence, when, in fact, it is run by +accurately gauged machinery, system, and rules." + +"Now your argument is lame," said the captain, laughing. "We have +plenty of good machinery, system, and rules aboard, but if I wasn't +around, looking after everything all the time, as a special Providence, +I'm afraid you'd find salt water before Liverpool." + +A general laugh followed this sally, and Gregory said: "And so I +believe that the Divine Providence superintends His own laws and +system. I think my friend the captain has given a most happy +illustration of the truth, and I had no idea he was so good a +theologian." + +"That's not an argument," said the man, considerably crestfallen. +"That's only a joke." + +"By the way, Mr. Gregory, it seems to me that your views have changed +since you crossed with me last," remarked the captain. + +"I frankly admit they have," was the prompt reply. "Perhaps I can +explain myself by the following question: If you find, by a careful +observation, that you are heading your ship the wrong way, what do you +do?" + +"Put her about on the right course." + +"That is just what I have tried to do, sir. I think my meaning is +plain?" + +"Nothing could be clearer, and I'd rather be aboard now than when you +were on the old tack." + +Annie gave Gregory a glance of glad, grateful approval that warmed his +heart like sunshine. + +Hunting said, enviously, _sotto voce_, "I think such conversation at a +public table wretched taste." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Annie, decidedly; "but, granting it, +Mr. Gregory did not introduce the subject, and I wish you had spoken as +he did when every Christian at the table was insulted." + +He colored deeply, but judiciously said nothing. + +With increasing pain she thought, "He who says he is not a Christian +acts more like one than he who claims the character." + +But she now had the strongest hopes for Gregory, and longed for a +private talk with him. + +The next day it blew quite a gale, and Hunting and Miss Eulie were +helplessly confined to their staterooms. But Annie had become a sailor, +and having done all she could for her aunt, came upon deck, where she +saw Gregory walking back and forth with almost the steadiness of one of +the ship's officers. + +She tried to go to him, but would have fallen had he not seen her and +reached her side almost at a bound. With a gentleness and tenderness as +real as delicate, he placed her in a sheltered nook where she could see +the waves in their mad sport, and said, "Now you can see old ocean in +one of his best moods. The wind, though strong, is right abaft, filling +all the sails they dare carry, and we are making grand progress." + +"How wonderful it is!" cried Annie, looking with a child's interest +upon the scene. "Just see those briny mountains, with foam and spray +for foliage. If our own Highlands with their mingled evergreens and +snow were changed from granite to water, and set in this wild motion, +it could hardly seem more strange and sublime. Look at that great +monster coming so threateningly toward us. It seems as if we should be +engulfed beyond a chance." + +"Now see how gracefully the ship will surmount it," said Gregory, +smiling. + +"O dear!" said she, sighing, "if we could only rise above our troubles +in the same way!" Then, feeling that she had touched on delicate +ground, she hastened to add, "This boundless waste increases my old +childish wonder how people ever find their way across the ocean." + +"The captain is even now illustrating your own teaching and practice in +regard to the longer and more difficult voyage of life," said Gregory, +meaningly. "He is 'looking up'--taking an observation of the heavens, +and will soon know just where we are and how to steer." + +Annie looked at him wistfully, and said, in a low tone, "I was so glad +to learn, last evening, that you had taken an observation also, and I +was so very grateful, too, that you had the courage to defend our +faith." + +"I have to thank you that I could do either. It was really you who +spoke." + +"No, Mr. Gregory," she said, gently, "my work for you reached its +limit. God is leading you now." + +"I try to hope so," he said; "but it was your hand that placed in mine +that by which He is leading me. He surely must have put it into your +heart to give me that Bible. When I reached my cheerless rooms in New +York I felt so lonely and low-spirited that I had not the courage to go +a single step further. But your Bible became a living, comforting +presence from that night. What exquisite tact you showed in giving me +that little worn companion of your childhood, instead of a new +gilt-leaved one, with no associations. I first hoped that you might +with it give me also something of your childhood's faith. But that does +not come yet. That does not come." + +"It will," said she, earnestly, and with moistened eyes. + +"That, now, is one of my dearest hopes. But after what I have been, I +am not worthy that it should come soon. But if I perish myself I want +to try to help others." + +Then he asked, in honest distrustfulness, "Do you think it right for +one who is not a Christian to try to teach others?" + +"Before I answer that question I wish to ask a little more about +yourself;" and she skilfully drew him out, he speaking more openly in +view of the question to be decided than he would otherwise have done. +He told of the long evenings spent over her Bible; of his mission work, +and of his honest effort to deal justly with all; at the same time +dwelling strongly on his doubts and spiritual darkness, and the unspent +influences of his old evil life. + +The answer was different from what he expected; for she said: "Mr. +Gregory, why do you say that you are not a Christian?" + +"Because I feel that I am not." + +"Does feeling merely make a Christian?" she asked. "Is not action more +than feeling? Do not trusting, following, serving, and seeking to obey, +make a Christian? But suppose that even with your present _feeling_ you +were living at the time of Christ's visible presence on earth, would +you be hostile or indifferent, or would you join His band even though +small and despised?" + +"I think I would do the latter, if permitted." + +"I know you would, from your course last night. And do you think Jesus +would say, 'Because you are not an emotional man like Peter, you are no +friend of mine'? Why, Mr. Gregory, He let even Judas Iscariot, though +with unworthy motive, follow Him as long as he would, giving him a +chance to become true." + +"Miss Walton, do not mislead me in this matter. You know how implicitly +I trust you." + +"And I would rather cast myself over into those waves than deceive +you," she said; "and if I saw them swallowing you up I should as +confidently expect to meet you again, as my father. How strange it is +you can believe that Jesus died for you and yet will not receive you +when you are doing just that which He died to accomplish." + +He took a few rapid turns up and down the deck and then leaned over the +railing. She saw that he brushed more than one tear into the waves. At +last he turned and gave his hand in warm pressure, saying, "I cannot +doubt you, and I will doubt Him no longer. I see that I have wronged +Him, and the thought causes me sorrow even in my joy." + +"Now you are my brother in very truth," she said, gently, with glad +tears in her own eyes. "All that we have passed through has not been in +vain. How wonderfully God has led us!" + +It was a long time before either spoke again. + +At last he said, with a strange, wondering smile, "To think that such +as I should ever reach heaven! As Daddy Tuggar says, 'there will be +good neighbors there.'" + +She answered him by a happy smile, and then both were busy with their +own thoughts again. Annie was thinking how best to introduce the +subject so near her heart, his reconciliation with Hunting. + +But that gentleman had become so tortured with jealousy and so alarmed +at the thought of any prolonged conference between Annie and Gregory, +that he dragged himself on deck. As he watched them a moment before +they saw him, he was quite reassured. Gregory was merely standing near +Annie, and both were looking away to sea, as if they had nothing +special to say to each other. Annie was pained to see that Gregory's +manner did not change toward Hunting. He was perfectly polite, but +nothing more; soon he excused himself, thinking they would like to be +alone. + +In the afternoon she found a moment to say, "Mr. Gregory, will you +never become reconciled to Mr. Hunting? You surely cannot hate him now?" + +He replied, gravely, "I do not hate him any longer. I would do him any +kindness in my power, and that is a great deal for me to say. But Mr. +Hunting has no real wish for reconciliation." + +In bitter sorrow she was compelled to admit to herself the truth of his +words. After a moment he added, "If he does he knows the exact terms on +which it can be effected." + +She could not understand it, and reproached herself bitterly that so +many doubts in regard to her affianced would come unbidden, and force +themselves on her mind. The feeling grew stronger that there was wrong +on both sides, and perhaps the more on Hunting's. + +That was a memorable day to Gregory. It seemed to him that Annie's hand +had drawn aside the sombre curtain of his unbelief, and shown the path +of light shining more and more unto the perfect day. Though +comparatively lonely, he felt that his pilgrimage could not now be +unhappy, and that every sorrow would at last find its cure. In regard +to her earthly future he could only hope and trust. It would be a +terrible trial to his faith if she were permitted to marry Hunting, and +yet he was sure it would all be well at last; for was it not said that +God's people would come to their rest out of "great tribulation"? She +had given him the impression that, under any circumstances, her love +for him could only be sisterly in its character. + +But he was too happy in his new-born hope to think of much else that +day; and, finding a secluded nook, he searched Annie's Bible for truths +confirmatory of her words. On every side they glowed as in letters of +light. Then late that night he went on deck, and in his strong +excitement felt as if walking on air in his long, glad vigil. + +At last, growing wearied, he leaned upon the railing and looked out +upon the dark waves--not dark to him, for the wanderer at last had seen +the light of his heavenly home, and felt that it would cheer his way +till the portals opened and received him into rest. + +Suddenly, upon the top of a distant wave, something large and white +appeared, and then sank into an ocean valley. Again it rose--a sail, +then the dark hull of a ship. + +In dreamy musing he began, wondering how, in mid-ocean, with so many +leagues of space, two vessels should cross each other's track so near. +"It's just the same with human lives," he thought. "A few months or +years ago, people that I never knew, and might have passed on the wider +ocean of life, unknowing and uncaring, have now come so near! Why is +it? Why does that ship, with the whole Atlantic before it, come so +steadily toward us?" + +It did come so steadily and so near that a feeling of uneasiness +troubled him, but he thought that those in charge knew their business +better than he. + +A moment later he started forward. The ship that had come so silently +and phantom-like across the waves seemed right in the path of the +steamer. + +Was it not a phantom? + +No; there's a white face at the wheel--the man is making a sudden, +desperate effort--it's too late. + +With a crash like thunder the seeming phantom ship plows into the +steamer's side. + +For a moment Gregory was appalled, stunned; and stared at the fatal +intruder that fell back in strong rebound, and dropped astern. + +Then he became conscious of the confusion, and awakening uproar on both +vessels. Cries of agony, shouts of alarm, and hoarse orders pierced the +midnight air. He ran forward and saw the yawning cavern which the blow +had made in the ship's side, and heard the rush of water into the hold. +Across the chasm he saw the captain's pale face looking down with a +dismay like his own. + +"The ship will sink, and soon," Gregory shouted. + +There was no denial. + +Down to the startled passengers he rushed, crying, "Awake! Escape for +your lives!" + +His words were taken up and echoed in every part of the ship. + +He struck a heavy blow upon the door of Annie's stateroom. "Miss +Walton!" + +"Oh, what has happened?" she asked. + +"You and Miss Morton come on deck, instantly; don't stop to dress; +snatch a shawl--anything. Lose not a moment. What is Hunting's number?" + +"Forty, on the opposite side." + +"I will be back in a moment; be ready." + +Hunting's state-room was so near where the steamer had been struck that +its door was jammed and could not be opened. + +"Help! help! I can't get out," shrieked the terrified man. + +Gregory wrenched a leaf from a dining-room table and pried the door +open. + +"Come," he said, "you've no time to dress." + +Hunting wrapped his trembling form in a blanket and gasped, as he +followed, "I'll pay you back every cent of that money with interest." + +"Make your peace with God. We may soon be before Him," was the awful +response. + +Miss Eulie and Annie stood waiting, draped in heavy shawls. + +"I'm sorry for the delay; Hunting's door was jammed and had to be +broken open. Come;" and putting his arm around Miss Eulie and taking +Annie's hand, he forced them rapidly through the increasing throng of +terror-stricken passengers that were rushing in all directions. + +Even then, with a strange thrill at heart, Annie thought, "He has saved +his enemy's life." + +He took them well aft, and said, "Don't move; stand just here until I +return," and then pushed his way to the point where a frantic crowd +were snatching for the life preservers which were being given out. The +officer, knowing him, tossed him four as requested. + +Coming back, he said to Hunting, "Fasten that one on Miss Morton and +keep the other." Throwing down his own for a moment, he proceeded to +fasten Annie's. He would not trust the demoralized Hunting to do +anything for her, and he was right, for Hunting's hands so trembled +that he was helpless. Having seen that Annie's was secured beyond a +doubt, Gregory also tied on Miss Eulie's. + +In the meantime a passenger snatched his own preserving-belt, which he +had been trying to keep by placing his foot upon it. + +"Stop," Annie cried. "O Mr. Gregory! he has taken it and you have none. +You shall have mine;" and she was about to unfasten it. + +He laid a strong grasp upon her hands. "Stop such folly," he said, +sternly. "Come to where they are launching that boat. You have no +choice;" and he forced her forward while Hunting followed with Miss +Eulie. + +They stood waiting where the lantern's glare fell upon their faces, +with many others more pale and agonized. + +Annie clung to him as her only hope (for Hunting seemed almost +paralyzed with fear), and whispered, "Will you the same as die for me +again?" + +"Yes, God bless you! a thousand times if there were need," he said, in +tones whose gentleness equalled the harshness of his former words. + +She looked at him wonderingly. There was no fear upon his face, only +unspeakable love for her. + +"Are you not afraid?" she asked. + +"You said I was a Christian to-day, and your Bible and God's voice in +my heart have confirmed your words. No, I am at peace in all this +uproar, save anxiety for you." + +She buried her face upon his shoulder. + +"My darling sister!" he murmured in her ear. "How can I ever thank you +enough?" + +Then he started suddenly, and tearing off the cape of his coat, said to +Hunting, "Fasten that around Miss Morton;" and before Annie quite knew +what he was doing he had taken off the body part and incased her in it. + +"Here, Hunting, your belt is not secure"; and he tightened the straps. + +"Pass the women forward," shouted the captain. + +Of course those nearest were embarked first. The ladies in Gregory's +charge had to take their turn, and the boat was about full when Miss +Eulie was lowered over the side. + +At that moment the increasing throng, with a deeper realization of +danger, as the truth of their situation grew plainer, felt the first +mad impulse of panic, and there was a rush toward the boat. Hunting +felt the awful contagion. His face had the look of a hunted wild beast. +Annie gazed wonderingly at him, but as he half-started with the others +for the boat she understood him. Laying a restraining hand upon his +arm, she said, in a low tone, "If you leave my side now, you leave it +forever." + +He cowered back in shame. + +The officer in charge of the boat had shouted, "This boat is for women +and children; as you are men and not brutes, stand back." + +This checked the desperate mob for a moment, and Gregory was about to +pass Annie down when there was another mad rush led by the blatant +individual who had scouted the idea of Providence. + +"Cut away all," shouted the captain from the bridge, and the boat +dropped astern. + +It was only by fierce effort that Gregory kept himself and Annie from +being carried over the side by the surging mass, many of whom leaped +blindly over, supposing the boat to be still there. + +Pressing their way out they went where another boat was being launched. +Hunting followed them like a child, and was as helpless. He now +commenced moaning, "O God! what shall I do? what shall I do?" + +"Trust Him, and be a man. What else should you do?" said Gregory, +sternly, for he was deeply disgusted at Hunting's behavior. + +Around this boat the officer in charge had placed a cordon of men to +keep the crowd away, and stood pistol in hand to enforce his orders. +But the boat was scarcely lowered before there was the same wild rush, +mostly on the part of the crew and steerage passengers. The officer +fired and brought down the foremost, but the frenzied wretches trampled +him down with those helping, together with women and children, as a +herd of buffaloes might have done. They poured over into the boat, +swamped it, and as the steamer moved slowly ahead, were left struggling +and perishing in the waves. + +Gregory had put his arm around Annie and drawn her out of the crush. +Fortunately they had been at one side, so that this was possible. + +"The boats are useless," he said, sadly. "There will be the same +suicidal folly at every one, even if they have time to lower any more. +Come aft. That part will sink last, and there will be less suction +there when the ship goes down. We may find something that will keep us +afloat." + +Annie clung to his arm and said, quietly, "I will do just as you say," +while Hunting followed in the same maze of terror. + +They had hardly got well away before a mast, with its rigging, fell +where they had stood, crushing many and maiming others, rendering them +helpless. + +"Awful! awful" shuddered Hunting, and Annie put her hands before her +eyes. + +An officer, with some men, now came toward them with axes, and +commenced breaking up the after wheelhouse. + +"Here is our best chance," said Gregory. "Let us calmly await the final +moment and then do the best we can. All this broken timber will float, +and we can cling to it." + +The ship was settling fast, and had become like a log upon the water, +responding slowly and heavily to the action of the waves. But under the +cold, pitiless starlight of that winter night, what heartrending scenes +were witnessed upon her sinking deck! Death had already laid its icy +finger on many, and many more were grouped near in despairing +expectation of the same fate. + +While many, like Hunting, were almost paralyzed with fear, and others +shrieked and cried aloud in agony--while some prayed incoherently, and +others rushed back and forth as if demented--there were not wanting +numerous noble examples of faith and courage. Fortunately, there were +not many ladies on board, and most of these proved that woman's +fortitude is not a poetic fiction. One or two family groups stood near +in close embrace, and some men calmly folded their arms across their +breasts, and met their fate as God would have them. + +Annie was conscious of a strange peace and hopefulness. She thrilled +with the thought which she expressed to Gregory--"How soon I may see +father and mother!" + +She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at that +supreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while she +wondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her hand +in both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both father +and mother are awaiting me--and, Annie," he whispered, tenderly, "you, +too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors,' soon." + +Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words? + +"O God! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but was +not. + +"Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently. + +Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking toward +the bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave came +rolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized faces +and struggling forms. + +Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turned +heavenward, in calm and noble trust. + +Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others, +but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +UNMASKED + + + +It seemed that they passed through miles of water that roared around +them like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other in their +strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise with her to +the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near; Gregory swam +for it, and pushing it to Annie helped her upon it. Hunting also +grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of all three, +especially as Gregory had no preserver on. + +One must leave it that the other two might escape. + +"Good-by, Annie, darling," said Gregory. "We will meet again in heaven +if not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boat may +pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you." + +"What are you going to do?" gasped Annie. + +"Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to find +something else." + +"No, no," cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you go +I will too." + +"I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself; +but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reach home +first, I'll watch and wait till you come." + +She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, and +then he disappeared in the darkness. + +"Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have a +preserver on?" + +"O God, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man. + +Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. She was +almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best-loved +ones were in heaven. + +She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense of +duty to live until God took her life kept her firm. But every moment it +seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbed hands +loosen their hold. + +"But," she murmured in the noblest triumph of faith, "I shall sink, not +in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms." + +Toward the last, when alone in the very presence of death, He seemed +nearest and dearest. She could not bear to look at the dark, angry +waters strewn with floating corpses. She had a sickening dread that +Gregory's white face might float by. So she closed her eyes, and only +thought of heaven, which was so near that its music seemed to mingle +with the surging of the waves. + +She tried to say a comforting word to Hunting, but the terror-stricken +man could only groan mechanically, "God have mercy on me!" + +Soon she began to grow numb all over. A dreamy peace pervaded her mind, +and she was but partially conscious. + +She was aroused by hearing her name called. Did the voice come from +that shore beyond all dark waves of earthly trouble? At first she was +not sure. + +Again and louder came the cry, but too full of human agony to be a +heavenly voice-- + +"Annie! Annie!" + +"Here!" she cried, faintly, while Hunting, helpful for once, shrieked +aloud above the roar of the waves. + +Then she heard the sound of oars, and a moment later strong hands +lifted her into the boat, and she found herself in Gregory's arms, her +head pillowed on his breast. Then all grew dark. + +When she again became conscious she found herself in a small cabin, +with many others in like pitiable plight. Her aunt was bending over her +on one side and Gregory on the other, chafing her hands. At first she +could not remember or understand, and stared vacantly at them. + +"Annie, darling," said Miss Eulie, "don't you know me?" + +Then glad intelligence dawned in her face, and she reached out her +arms, and each clasped the other as one might receive the dead back to +life. + +But quickly she turned and asked, "Where is Mr. Gregory?" + +"Here, safe and sound," he said, joyously, "and Hunting, too. I shall +bless him all the days of my life, for his cries drowned old ocean's +hoarse voice and brought us right to you." + +Hunting looked as if he did not exactly relish the tribute, but he +stooped down and kissed Annie, who permitted rather than received the +caress. + +"How did you escape?" she asked Gregory, eagerly. + +"Well, I swam toward the ship that struck us, whose lights I saw +twinkling in the distance, till almost exhausted. I was on the point of +giving up, when a small piece of the wreck floated near. By a great +effort I succeeded in reaching it. Then a little later a boat from this +ship picked me up and we started after you or any others that could be +found. I am glad to say that quite a number that went down with the +ship were saved." + +She looked at him in a way to bring the warm blood into his face, and +said, in a low tone, "How can I ever repay yon?" + +"By doing as you once said to me, 'Live! get strong and well.' Good-by +now. Miss Morton will take care of you." + +Her eyes followed him till he disappeared, then she turned and hid her +face on Miss Eulie's shoulder. The good old lady was a little puzzled, +and so was Hunting, though he had dismal forebodings. But he was so +glad to have escaped that he could not indulge in very bitter regrets +just then. As his mind recovered its poise, however, and he had time to +think it all over, there came a sickening sense of humiliation. + +In a few minutes Gregory returned and said to Annie, "See how honored +you are. I've been so lucky as to get the captain's best coat for you, +and those wet things that would chill you to death can be taken off. +You can give my coat to Hunting. You see I was up at the time of the +accident, and so am dressed." + +"If I am to wear the captain's coat," said Annie, "then, with some of +his authority, I order you to go and take care of yourself. You have +done enough for others for a little while." + +"Ay, ay, captain," said Gregory, smiling, as he again vanished. + +It would only be painful to dwell on the dreary days and nights during +which the comparatively small sailing vessel was beating back against a +stormy wind to the port from which she had sailed. She had been much +injured by the collision, and many were doubtful whether, after all, +they would ever see land. Thus, to the manifold miseries of the rescued +passengers, was added continued anxiety as to their fate. It was, +indeed, a sad company that was crowded in that small cabin, +half-clothed, bruised, sick, and fearful. What seemed to them an +endless experience was but a long nightmare of trouble, while some, who +had lost their best and dearest, refused to be comforted and almost +wished they had perished also. + +Annie's gratitude that their little party had all been spared grew +stronger every hour, and the one through whose efforts they had been +saved grew daily dearer. + +At first she let her strong affection go out to him unchecked, not +realizing whither she was drifting; but a little characteristic event +occurred which revealed her to herself. + +Her exposure had again caused quite a serious illness, and she saw +little of Gregory for a few days. Hunting claimed his right to be with +her as far as it was possible. Though she would not admit it to +herself, she almost shrunk from him. Of course the sailing ship had +been provisioned for only a comparatively small crew, and the sudden +and large accession to the number threatened to add the terrors of +famine to their other misfortunes. + +Annie had given almost all of her allowance away. Indeed she had no +appetite, and revolted at the coarse food served. But she noticed that +Hunting ate all of his, or else put some quietly away, in view of +future need. She said to him, upon this occasion, "Can't you spare a +little of your portion for those poor people over there? They look +half-famished." + +"I will do so if you wish," he replied, "but it would hardly be wise. +Think what tremendous business interests I represent, and it is of the +first importance that I keep up." + +"Mr. Gregory is almost starving himself," said Miss Eulie, quietly. "I +feel very anxious about him." + +"I represent a business of thousands where Mr. Gregory does hundreds," +said Hunting, complacently. + +"I wish you represented something else," said Annie, bitterly, turning +away. + +Her words and manner jostled him out of himself. A principle that +seemed to him so sound and generally accepted appeared sordid and +selfish calculation to Annie and she felt that Gregory represented +infinitely greater riches in his self-denial for others. + +Hunting saw his blunder and instantly carried all his portion to those +whom Annie had pointed out. But it was too late. He had shown his inner +nature again in a way that repelled Annie's very soul. She turned sick +at the thought of being bound to such a man. + +At first she had tried to excuse his helpless terror on the ship by +thinking it a physical trait; but this was a moral trait. It gave a +sudden insight into the cold, dark depths of his nature. + +Immediately after the disaster she had been too sick and bewildered to +realize her situation. Her engagement was such an old and accepted fact +that at first no thought of any other termination of it than by +marriage entered her mind. Yet she already looked forward to it only as +a duty, and she felt that her love for Hunting would be that of pity +rather than trust and honor. But she was so truthful--so chained by her +promises--that her engagement rested upon her like a solemn obligation. +Again, it had been entered into under circumstances so tenderly sacred +that even the wish to escape from it seemed like sacrilege. Still, she +said, in intense bitterness, "Dear father was deceived also. We did not +know him as we should." + +Yet she had nothing against Hunting, save a growing lack of +congeniality and his cowardice at a time when few men could be heroic. +In her strong sense of justice she felt that she should not condemn a +man for an infirmity. But her cheeks tingled with shame as she +remembered his weakness, and she felt that a Christian ought to have +done a little better under any circumstances. When, in the event above +described, she saw his hard, calculating spirit, her whole nature +revolted from him almost in loathing. + +After a brief time she told him that she wanted to be alone, and he +went away cursing his own folly. Miss Eulie, thinking she wished to +sleep, also left her. + +"How can I marry him?" she groaned; "and yet how can I escape such an +engagement?" + +When her aunt returned she found her sobbing as if her heart would +break. + +"Why, Annie, dear, what is the matter?" she asked. + +"Don't ask me," she moaned, and buried her face in her pillow. + +Then that judicious lady looked very intelligent, but said nothing +more. She sat down and began to stroke Annie's brown, dishevelled hair. +But instead of showing very great sympathy for her niece, she had an +unusually complacent expression. Gregory had a strong but discreet +friend in the camp. + +When Annie became calmer, she said, hesitatingly, "Do you think--is Mr. +Gregory--doesn't he eat anything?" + +"No; he is really wronging himself. I heard it said that the captain +had threatened, jokingly, to put him in irons if he did not obey orders +and eat his allowance." + +"Do you think I could make--do you think he would do better if I should +ask him?" inquired Annie, with her face buried in her pillow. + +"Well," said Miss Eulie, gravely, though with a smile upon her face, +"Mr. Gregory is very self-willed, especially about some things, but I +do think that you have more power over him than any one else." + +"Won't you tell him that I want to see him?" + +He was very glad to come. Annie tried hard to be very firm and +composed, but, with her red eyes and full heart, did not succeed very +well. + +At first he was a little embarrassed by her close scrutiny, for she had +wrought herself up into the expectation of seeing a gaunt, +famine-stricken man. But his cheeks, though somewhat hollow, were +ruddy, and his face was bronzed by exposure. Instead of being pained by +his cadaverous aspect, she was impressed by his manly beauty; but she +said, "I have sent for you that I might give you a scolding." + +"I'm all meekness," he said, a little wonderingly. + +"Aunty tells me that you don't eat anything." + +"That is just what she says of you." + +"But I'm ill and can't eat." + +"Neither can I." + +"Why not?" + +"How can a man eat when there are hungry women aboard? It would choke +me." + +Instead of scolding him, she again buried her face in her pillow, and +burst into tears. + +He was a little perplexed, but said, gently, "Come, my dear little +sister, I hope you are not worrying about me. I assure you there is no +cause. I never felt better, and the worst that can happen is a famine +in England when I reach. It grieves me to the heart to see you so pale +and weak. The captain says I have a bad conscience, but it's only +anxiety for you that makes me so restless." + +"Do you stay upon deck all night this bitter weather?" + +"Well, I want to be ready if anything should happen." + +"O Walter, Walter! how I have wronged you!" + +"No, beg your pardon, you have righted me. What was I when I first knew +you, Annie Walton? There is some chance of my being a man now. But +come, let me cheer you up. I have good news for you. If I had lost +every dollar on that ship I should still be rich, for your little Bible +(I shall always call it yours) remained safe in my overcoat pocket, and +you brought it aboard. Now let me read you something that will comfort +you. I find a place where it is written, 'Begin here.' Can you account +for that?" + +And he read that chapter, so old but inexhaustible, beginning, "Let not +your heart be troubled." + +Having finished it, he said, "I will leave my treasure with you, as you +may wish to read some yourself. In regard to the subject of the +'scolding,' which, by the way, I have not yet received, if Miss Morton +here can tell me that you are eating more, I will. Good-by." + +Annie's appetite improved from that hour. She seized upon the old Bible +and turned its stained leaves with the tenderest interest. As she did +so, her harsh note to Gregory, written when Hunting complained that he +had been insulted, dropped out. How doubly harsh and unjust her words +seemed now! Then she read his words, "Forgiven, my dear, deceived +sister." She kissed them passionately, then tore the note to fragments. + +Miss Eulie watched her curiously, then stole away with another smile. +She liked the spell that was acting now, but knew Annie too well to say +much. Miss Eulie was one of those rare women who could let a good work +of this kind go on without meddling. + +Annie did not read the Bible, but only laid it against her cheek. Then +Hunting came back looking very discontented, for he had managed to +catch glimpses of her interview with Gregory. + +"Shall I read to you from that book?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"You seemed to enjoy having Mr. Gregory read it to you," he said, +meaningly. + +Color came into her pale face, but she only said, "He did not stay +long. I'm ill and tired." + +"It's rather hard, Annie," he continued, with a deeply injured air, "to +see another more welcome at your side than I am." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, in a sudden passion. "How much time has +Mr. Gregory been with me since he saved both our lives? You heard my +father say that I should be a sister to him; and yet I believe that you +would like me to become a stranger. Have you forgotten that but for him +you would have been at the bottom of the Atlantic? There, there, leave +me now, I'm weak and ill--leave me till we both can get into better +moods." + +Pale with suppressed shame and anger, he went away, wishing in the +depth of his soul that Gregory was at the bottom of the Atlantic. + +Again she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed and moaned, "How can +I marry that man! He makes my very flesh creep." + +Then for the first time came the swift thought, "I could marry Gregory; +I'm happy the moment I'm near him;" and her face burned as did the +thought in her heart. + +Then she turned pale with fear at herself. A sudden sense of guilt +alarmed her, for she had the feeling that she belonged to Hunting. So +solemn had been her engagement that the thought of loving another +seemed almost like disloyalty to the marriage-tie. With a despairing +sigh, she murmured, "Chained, chained." + +Then strongly arose the womanly instinct of self-shielding, and the +purpose to hide her secret. An hour before, Gregory could not come too +often. He might have stooped down and as a brother kissed her lips, and +she would not have thought it strange or unnatural. Now she dreaded to +see him. And yet when would he be out of her thoughts? She hoped and +half-believed that he was beginning to regard her as a sister, and +still, deep in her soul, this thought had an added sting of pain. + +Ah, Annie! you thought you loved before, but a master-spirit has now +come who will stir depths in your nature of which neither you nor +Hunting dreamed. + +Hunting, seemingly, had no further cause to be jealous of Gregory +during the rest of the voyage. With the whole strength of her proud, +resolute nature, Annie guarded her secret. She sent kind messages to +Gregory, and returned the Bible, but did not ask him to visit her +again. Neither did she come on deck herself till they were entering the +harbor of an English port. + +When Gregory came eagerly toward her, though her face flushed deeply, +she greeted him with a kind and gentle dignity, which, nevertheless, +threw a chill upon his heart. All the earnest words he meant to say +died upon his lips, and gave way to mere commonplaces. Drawing her +heavy shawl about her, she sat down and looked back toward the sea as +if regretting leaving it with all its horrors. He thought, "When have I +seen such a look of patient sorrow on any human face? She saw the love +I could not hide at our last interview. I did not deceive her by +calling her 'sister.' Her great, generous heart is grieving because of +my hopeless love, while in the most delicate manner she reminds me how +vain it is. Now I know why she did not send for me again." + +He walked away from the little group pale and faint, and she could not +keep back the hot tears as she watched him. Miss Eulie was also +observant, and saw how they misunderstood each other. But she acted as +if blind, feeling that quickly coming events would right everything +better than any words of hers. + +Gregory went to another part of the vessel, and leaned over the +railing. Annie noticed with an absorbing interest that he seemed as +indifferent to the delight of the passengers at the prospect of soon +being on land, and the bustle on the wharf, as he had appeared at the +commencement of the voyage. But she rightly guessed that there was +tumult at his heart. There certainly was at hers. When the vessel +dropped anchor and they would soon go ashore, he turned with the +resolve, "I will show her that I can bear my hard lot like a man," and +again came toward them, a proud and courteous gentleman. + +Annie saw and understood the change, and her heart was chilled by a +sense of loneliness and isolation greater than if the stormy Atlantic +had rolled between them. And yet his manner toward her was very gentle, +very considerate. + +He took charge of Miss Eulie, and soon they were at the best hotel in +the place. The advent of the survivors caused great excitement in the +city, and they were all overwhelmed with kindness and sympathy. + +After a few hours Gregory returned to the hotel, dressed in quiet +elegance, and he seemed to Annie the very ideal of manhood; while she, +in her mourning robes, seemed to him the perfection of womankind. But +their manner toward each other was very quiet, and only Miss Eulie +guessed the subterranean fires that were burning in each heart. + +"Are you sure that you will be perfectly comfortable here?" he asked. + +"Entirely so," Annie replied. "Mr. Hunting has telegraphed to my uncle, +and we will await him here. I do not feel quite strong enough to travel +yet." + +"Then I can leave you for a day or two with a quiet mind. I must go to +Liverpool." + +She turned a shade paler, but only said, "I am very sorry you must +leave us so soon." + +"I missed a note from your Bible," he said, in a low tone. + +"Forgive me! I destroyed it," and she turned and walked to the window +to hide her burning face. + +Just then Hunting entered, and a few moments later Gregory bade them a +quiet farewell. + +"How wonderful is her constancy!" he sighed as he went away. "How can +she love and cling to that man after what he has shown himself!" + +He had utterly misunderstood her and believed that she had destroyed +the note, not because of her own harsh words, but of his reflecting on +Hunting. + +Annie thought she knew what sorrow was, but confessed to herself in +bitterness, after he had gone, that such had not been the case before. + +If Hunting secretly exulted that Gregory was out of the way, and had +been taught by Annie that he must keep his distance, as he would +express it, he was also secretly uneasy at her manner toward him. She +merely endured his lavish attentions, and seemed relieved when he was +compelled to leave her for a time. "She will feel and act differently," +he thought, "when she gets well and strong, and will be the same as +before." Thus the harassing fears and jealousy that had tortured him at +sea gave way to complacent confidence. But he was greatly provoked that +he could scarcely ever see Annie without the embarrassing presence of +Miss Eulie. + +He had a growing antipathy for that lady, while he felt sure that she +did not like him. Annie was very grateful to her aunt for quietly +shielding her from caresses that every hour grew more unendurable. + +Gregory was detained for some time in Liverpool, and on his return to +the city where he had left Annie and Miss Eulie he met Mr. Kemp, whom +he had known well in New York, also seeking them. This gentleman +greeted him most warmly, for he had read in the papers good accounts of +Gregory's behavior. In a few moments they entered the hotel together. +Fortunately, as Gregory thought, but most unfortunately, has he learned +afterward, Hunting was out at the time. + +The warm color came into Annie's face as he greeted her, and she seemed +so honestly and eagerly glad to see him that his sore heart was +comforted. + +Mr. Kemp's manner toward his niece and sister was affectionate in the +extreme. Indeed, the good old man seemed quite overcome by his +feelings, and Gregory was about to retire, but he said, "No, please +stay, sir. Forgive my weakness, if it is such. You don't know how dear +these people are to me, and when I think of all they have passed +through I can hardly control myself." + +"We should not be here, uncle," said Annie, in a low, thrilling voice, +"had it not been for Mr. Gregory." + +Then the old gentleman came and gave Gregory's hand such a grasp that +it ached for hours after. "I have been reading," he said, "warm +tributes to his conduct in the papers, but I did not know that we were +all under such deep personal obligations to him. Come, Annie, you must +tell me all about it." + +"Not now, please," said Gregory. "I start in a few moments for Paris, +and must even now say good-by for a little time. I warn you, Mr. Kemp, +that Miss Walton will exaggerate my services. She has a way of +overvaluing what is done for her, and undervaluing what she does for +others." + +"Well," said Mr. Kemp, with a significant nod, "that's a trait that +runs in the Walton blood." + +"I long ago came to regard their blood as of the truest blue," said +Gregory, laughing. + +"Must you leave us again so soon?" said Annie, with a slight tremble in +her voice. + +"Yes, Miss Walton, even now I should be on the way to the train. But +you are surrounded by those who can best take care of you. Still I +earnestly hope that, before many days, I shall see you in Paris, and in +greatly improved health. So I won't say good-by, but only good-morning." + +Ah, he did not know, or he would have said "farewell" with a heavy +heart. + +His parting from her was most friendly, and the pressure of his hand +warm and strong, but Annie felt, with a deep, unsatisfied pain at +heart, that it was all too formal. Mr. Kemp was exceedingly +demonstrative, and said, "Wait till I see you in Paris, and I will +overwhelm you with questions, especially about your partner, my dear +old friend, Mr. Burnett." + +But staid, quiet Miss Eulie surprised them all. She just put her arms +about his neck, and gave him a hearty kiss, saying, "Take that, Mr. +Gregory, from one who loves you like a mother." + +He returned the caress most tenderly, and hastened away to hide his +emotion. + +Then envious Annie bitterly reproached herself that she had been so +cold, and, to make amends, began giving a glowing account of all that +Gregory had done for them. + +The old gentleman listened with an amused twinkle in his eyes, secretly +exulting over the thought, "It is not going to break her heart to part +with Hunting." + +In the midst of her graphic story that unfortunate man entered, and her +words died upon her lips. She rose quietly, and said, "Charles, this is +my uncle, Mr. Kemp." + +But she was amazed to see Mr. Kemp, who thus far had seemed geniality +itself, acknowledge her affianced with freezing coldness, and Hunting +turned deathly pale with a presentiment of disaster. + +"Be seated, sir," said Mr. Kemp, stiffly; "I wish to make a brief +explanation, and after that will relieve you of the care of these +ladies." + +Hunting sank into a chair, and Annie saw something of the same terror +on his face which had sickened her on the sinking ship. "Annie," said +her uncle, very gravely, "have you entire confidence in me? Your father +had." + +"Certainly," said Annie, wondering beyond measure at this most +unaccountable scene. + +"Will you take my word for it, that this man, who seems most conscious +of his guilt, deceived--yes, lied to Burnett & Co., and swindled them +out of so large a sum of money that the firm would have failed but for +me? Because, if you cannot take my word, I can give you absolute proof." + +Annie buried her face in her hands and said, "Now I understand all this +wretched mystery. How I have wronged Mr. Gregory!" + +"You could not do other than wrong him while Mr. Hunting had any +influence over you. I know Mr. Gregory well. He is an honorable +business man, and always was, with all his faults. And now, sir, for +your satisfaction, let me inform you that Mr. Burnett is one of my most +intimate friends. He told me all about it, and gave ample proof of the +nature of the entire transaction. I am connected with the bank with +which the firm deposited, and through my influence I secured them such +accommodation as tided them over the critical time in their affairs +which your villany had occasioned." + +Hunting now recovered himself sufficiently to say, "I did nothing +different from what often occurs in business. I had a legal right to +every cent that I collected from Burnett & Co." + +"But how about _moral right?_ Do we not all know that often the most +barefaced robberies take place within the limits of the law? And such +was your act. Even the hardened gamblers of the Street were disgusted." + +"You have no right to speak to me in this way, sir," said Hunting, +trying to work up a little indignation. "Mr. Walton trusted me, and I +became engaged to Miss Walton under circumstances the most solemn and +sacred; we are the same as married." + +"Come, sir," interrupted Mr. Kemp, hotly, "don't make me lose my +temper. John Walton was the soul of Christian honor. He would have +buried his daughter rather than have her marry you, if he had known you +as I do. I now insist that you resign your executorship and relieve us +of your presence." + +"Annie," cried Hunting, in a voice of anguish, "can you sit quietly by +and hear me so insulted?" + +She sat motionless--her face, burning with shame, buried in her hands. +With her intense Walton hatred of deceit, the thought that she had come +so near marrying a swindler and liar scorched her very soul. + +He came to her side and tried to take her hand, but she shrunk from him +in loathing, and, springing up, said passionately, "When I think, sir, +that with this guilty secret you would have tricked me into marriage by +my father's death-bed, I am perfectly appalled at your wickedness. God +in mercy snatched me then from a fate worse than death." + +She turned away for a moment and pressed her hands upon her throbbing +heart. Then turning her dark and flashing eyes to where he stood, pale, +speechless, and trembling, she said, more calmly, "May God forgive you. +I will when I can. Go." + +She proved what is often true, that the gentle, when desperately +wronged, are the most terrible. + +He slunk cowering away without a word, and to avoid exposure Mr. Kemp +at once compelled him to sign papers that took from him all further +power of mischief. Mr. Kemp eventually became executor in his stead. + +As soon as Annie grew calmer she had a glad sense of escape greater +than that which had followed her rescue from the wrecked ship. Her +heart sprung up within her bosom and sung for joy. Then again she would +shudder deeply at what she had so narrowly avoided. Stronger than her +gratitude for life twice saved was her feeling of obligation to Gregory +for his persistent effort to shield her from this marriage. She was +eager to start for Paris at once that she might ask forgiveness for all +her injustice toward him. But in the excess of her feelings she was far +more unjust toward herself, as he would have told her. + +Still, even if Hunting's dishonesty had not been revealed to her, Annie +would have broken with him. As soon as she gained her mental strength +and poise--as soon as she realized that her love was hopelessly gone +from him--her true, strong nature would have revolted from the marriage +as from a crime, and she would have told him, in deepest pity, but with +rock-like firmness, that it could not be. + +The next day she greatly relented toward him, and, in her deep pity, +sent a kind farewell message which it would nave been well for him to +heed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME + + + +When Gregory reached Paris, to his grief and consternation he found a +despatch informing him of the sudden death of old Mr. Burnett, and the +illness of Mr. Seymour, the other partner. "Return instantly," it read; +"the senior clerk is coming out to take your place." + +At first it appeared a double grief that he could scarcely endure, for +it seemed that if he went back now Annie would be lost to him beyond +hope. But after thinking it all over he became calmer, "It may be best +after all, for as my wife she is lost to me beyond hope, and God sees +that I am not strong enough to meet her often yet and sustain myself, +and so snatches me from the temptation." + +Thus little children guess at the meaning of an earthly father, but +Gregory did what a child should--he trusted. + +He wrote a warm but hasty note to Annie, which through some +carelessness was never delivered, attended to some necessary matters, +and was just in time to catch the French steamer outward bound. + +When Annie reached Paris, she learned in dismay that he had sailed for +New York. Seemingly he had left no message, no explanation; all they +could learn at his hotel was that he had received a despatch summoning +him instantly home. Annie was deeply wounded, though she tried to +believe that he had written and that the letter had been missent or +lost. A thousand conjectures of evil ran in her mind, and the thought +of his being again on the ocean, which she now so dreaded, at the +stormiest season of the year, was a source of deep anxiety. In her +morbid fears she even thought that the scheming Hunting might have +something to do with it. She gave way to despondency. Then her aunt +tried to comfort her by saying, "Annie, I am sure I understand you both +better than you do each other, and I think I can write Mr. Gregory a +line which will clear up everything." + +But the quiet little lady was quite frightened by the way in which +Annie turned upon her. + +"As you love me, aunty," she said, "never write a line on this subject. +I am not one to seek, but must be sought, even by Gregory. Not one +line, I charge you, containing a hint of my feelings." + +"Well, Annie, darling," she said, gently, "it's all going to come out +right." + +But Annie, in her weak, depressed state, saw only the dark side. As +with Gregory there was nothing for her but patient trust. + +But when, in due time, there came a despatch from him announcing his +safe arrival, she was greatly reassured. The light came back into her +eyes and the color to her cheeks. + +"What kind of medicine have you been taking to-day?" asked her uncle, +slyly. + +"She has been treated with electricity," Miss Eulie remarked, quietly. + +"O, aunty!" said Annie, with a deep blush, "when did I ever hear you +indulge in such a witticism before?" + +And when, some days later, she received a cordial, brotherly letter +from Gregory, relating all that had occurred, a deep content stole into +her heart, and she felt, with Miss Eulie, that all would eventually be +well. She replied scrupulously, in like vein with himself, and thus +began a correspondence that to each became a source of the truest +happiness. Their letters were intensely brotherly and sisterly in +character, but Annie felt almost sure that, under his fraternal +disguise, she detected the warmth and glow of a far stronger affection; +and, before many months had passed, he hoped the same of her dainty +letters, though he could not lay his finger on a single word and say, +"This proves it." But Annie's warm heart unconsciously colored the +pages, nevertheless. + +Of Hunting he briefly wrote, "God pity him." + +In May, Gregory was glad to find that he would have to go to Europe +again, and purposed to give Annie a surprise. But he received only a +very sad one himself, for, on arriving at Paris, he learned, to his +intense disappointment, that Mr. Kemp and his party had suddenly +decided to return home. He was eventually comforted by receiving a +letter from Annie, showing clearly that she had been as greatly +disappointed as himself; but, woman-like, most of the letter was an +effort to cheer him. + +Still he was growing almost superstitious at the manner in which she +seemed to elude his loving grasp, and sighed, "I fear she will always +prove to me a spirit of the air." + +One bright morning, in the ensuing October, Gregory again greeted, like +the face of a friend, the shores of his native country, and the thought +that Annie was beyond that blue line of land thrilled his heart with +impatient expectation. + +As they approached Sandy Hook, the pilot brought abroad a New York +paper, and as he was carelessly glancing over it, his eyes were caught +by an advertisement of the sale by auction of the Walton estate, his +old home. He saw by the date that the sale would not take place till +the following day, and he now felt sure that he could give Annie a +double surprise, for he had not written of his return. He had learned +from Annie that her father must have intrusted large sums to Hunting +which could not be accounted for, and that beyond the country-place not +much had been left. He rightly guessed that this place was about to be +sold to provide means for the support of the family. He was surprised +that Annie had not written to him about the sale, and indeed she had +wished to, thinking that he might like to buy it. But Mr. Kemp had +dissuaded her, saying that it was not at all probable that Gregory had +the means to buy so large a property, and judging Gregory by himself, +he added, "A business man does not want a country-place anyway. +Besides, Annie, if you should suggest it, it might be a source of much +pain to him to feel that he could not." + +But as soon as Gregory was ashore he hunted up one of his senior +clerks, and instructed him to go up the following morning and buy the +place at any cost, but not to let any one know it was for him. He also +told him to assure the family that they need not vacate the place in +any haste. + +It soon became evident at the sale that the stranger from the city was +determined to have the property, and the other bidders gave way. + +When the clerk returned that evening Gregory plied him with questions, +and learned that Miss Walton seemed to have great regret at leaving, +and was very grateful when told that she could take her own time for +departure. In fact, Annie grudged every October day at the old place, +that brought back the past so vividly. Gregory could not forbear +asking, with a slight flush, "How did Miss Walton look?" + +"Like her surroundings," said the clerk, politely blind, "and not like +a city belle. Mr. Gregory, I congratulate you on possessing the most +home-like place on the river." + +Gregory took the earliest train the following morning, and at noon +found himself by the cedar thicket again, with a strange thrill, as he +recalled all that had occurred there and since. He sat down to rest for +a moment on the rock where Annie had first found him more than a year +before. Beneath him lay his home--his now in truth--embowered in +crimson and golden foliage, that seemed doubly bright in the genial +October sunlight, while at his very feet were the orchard's laden +boughs, beneath which he had proved to Annie the reality and depth of +his love; and there beyond was the cottage of Daddy Tuggar, with that +old man smoking upon the porch. But, chief of all, he could mark the +very spot by the brook in the garden where Annie's hand, like an +angel's, had plucked him from the brink of despair, and given the first +faint hope of immortal life. Tears blinded his eyes, but the bow of +promise shone in them as he looked heavenward, and said, "Merciful +Father! how kind of Thee, in view of my past, to give me this dear +earnest of my heavenly home!" + +The sound of approaching steps aroused him, and springing up he saw +through the thicket, with an emotion so deep that it made him tremble, +the one woman of the world to him. + +With an expression of deep sadness, and the manner of one taking a +lingering leave of a very dear friend, Annie came slowly toward him +along the brow of the hill. He tried to still even the beating of his +heart, for he would not lose one moment of exquisite anticipation. And +yet he was deeply agitated, for he knew that he could not maintain the +brotherly disguise an hour longer. + +Suddenly she looked toward the cedar thicket, and, as if recalling what +had occurred there, covered her face with her hands, to hide the +painful scene. Then he saw that she would not even come to the place, +but was turning to go to the house by another way. + +He darted out from his concealment and rushed toward her. At first, in +wild alarm, she put her hand to her side, and leaned against a +chestnut-tree for support. Then recognizing him, with a glad cry, she +permitted him to take her in his arms, while she hid her face on his +shoulder. A moment later they recoiled from each other in blushing +confusion. + +"Well?" said Gregory, stupidly. + +She was the first to recover herself, and said, "O, Walter, I'm so--so +glad you have come at last!" + +"Do I look sorry?" he asked, taking her hand. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed; "this is too good to be true!" + +"That's what I think, I feared you would take flight the moment I +appeared." + +"When did you arrive? Come, tell me everything." + +"Not all at once, dear--Annie. But let me give you a seat on the rock +by the thicket, and then I will say the catechism." + +"Please, no, Walter; not there," she said, drawing back. + +"Yes, there; we will give that place a new association." + +But she was glad to reach the seat, for she trembled so she could +hardly stand. + +Then he told her how he purposed to surprise her, and answered every +eager question. + +"O, Annie!" he concluded, "how I have longed for this hour! Never did +that dreadful ocean seem so wide before." + +She looked at him more fondly than she knew, and said, "Ah, Walter! +your blood is not on my hands after all." + +"Let me see," he said. + +"I know it is not," she replied, putting them behind her back; "don't I +see you there well and happy?" + +"I don't know but it will be on your hands yet," he said, +half-tragically, springing up. + +She gave him a swift look of inquiry, but her eyes dropped as quickly +beneath his eager gaze, while her deep blush caused her to vie with the +sugar-maple on the lawn in very truth. But he said after a moment, +"Annie, dear, won't you let me interpret another chestnut burr for you?" + +"Certainly, Walter," she tried to say innocently, "all that are on the +tree." + +"Now don't make fun of me, because I'm desperately in earnest. I don't +want one like that I chose with a great lonely worm-infested chestnut +in it. What a good, wholesome lesson you gave me then! Thank you, +Annie, darling." + +"Brothers don't use such strong language toward their sisters," said +Annie, looking on the ground. + +"I can't help it. To tell the honest truth I'm not much of a brother. +Neither do I want one like that which you chose with three chestnuts in +it. _Three_, faugh! I've had enough of that. I want to find one like +that which you brought me the first day I met you here." + +"You will never find it if you stand talking forever." + +"You won't go away?" + +"Perhaps not." + +He looked at her doubtfully, but she would not meet his eye. Then he +started on his search, but kept looking back so often that she laughed, +and said, "I'm not a chestnut burr." + +"I'm afraid of you." + +"Then you had better run away." + +"Sisters shouldn't tease their brothers." + +"Well, forgive me this time." + +He caught a branch full of half-open burrs, and peered eagerly in them +till he found one to his mind, and pulled it off regardless of the +pricking spines, then came and kneeled at her side, and said, "Now, +Annie, dear, look into it carefully. This is nature's oracle. You see +two solid, plump chestnuts." + +"Well?" she said, faintly. + +"And you see this false, empty form of shell between them?" + +"Yes"--with a touch of sadness. + +"That's Hunting, poor wretch! How unspeakable was his loss!" and he +tossed the worthless emblem away. + +"And now, Annie, loved beyond all words I can ever find to tell you, +see how near these two chestnuts are together--as near as you and I are +in heart, I trust. Surely my poor pretence of brotherly character has +not deceived you for a moment. Won't you please put your dainty fingers +down into the burr and join the two together?" + +She lifted her drooping eyes a moment to the more eloquent pleading of +his face, but they fell as speedily. + +In a low, thrilling tone she said, "No, Walter, but you may." + +He dropped the burr and sealed the unspoken covenant upon her lips. + +After a few moments he said, very gently and gravely, "Annie, do you +remember when my arm last encircled you?" + +The crimson face turned pale as she recalled that awful midnight when +he rescued her from death. + +Both breathed fervently, "How good God has been to us!" + +In their joy, as in fear and sorrow, they remembered Him. + +"O, see!" cried Annie, "your hands are bleeding where the burr pricked +them, and you have stained my hands again. Your blood is on them," she +added, almost in fear. + +"Yes, and the best blood of my heart ever will be. Is not the 'blood +upon us' the deepest and most sacred hope of our hearts? Is it not the +proof of the strongest love the world has known? Let mine there be the +pledge that my life is as nothing when it can shield and shelter you." + +And so he changed the meaning of the omen. + +The hours passed unheeded. At last they went across the orchard as +before, and stopped and looked at the place where the ladder fell, and +then at each other. + +"Walter," said Annie, shyly, "I gave you my first kiss here." + +"I am repaid then." + +Before going to the house, they called on Daddy Tuggar. He was so +amazed that he could only ejaculate, "Evenin'." + +"Mr. Tuggar, I have acted on your suggestion," said Gregory. "I thought +Miss Walton would be good company forever, and I have the promise of +it." + +"To think that I should have cussed you!" said the old man, in an awed +tone. + +"But you will give us your blessing, now?" said Annie, smiling. + +"My blessin' ain't worth nothin'; but I know the good Lord will bless +you both, even if Miss Annie never was an awful sinner." + +"Mr. Tuggar," said Gregory, "I own that place over there. Will you take +me for a neighbor till you are ready to be Mr. Walton's?" + +"O, Walter!" said Annie, with a glad cry, "is that really true?" + +"Yes, it became mine yesterday; or, rather, it remained yours." + +"Mr. Gregory," said Daddy Tuggar, his quaint face twitching strangely, +"if anybody steals your apples, I'm afraid I'll swear at 'em, even yet." + +"No, you won't, Daddy," said he. "But I'm going to bring you over to +spend an evening with us soon. Good-by!" + +They found Miss Eulie in the parlor, pensively packing up some dear +little relics of a home she supposed lost. Gregory put his arm around +her and said, "Aunty, I'm going to claim relationship right away; put +those things back where you found them, and sit down here in the +cosiest corner of the hearth, your place from this time forth." + +"How is this?" she exclaimed, in breathless astonishment. + +"Well, Annie owns me, and therefore this place." + +Johnny came bounding in, and Gregory caught him, and said, "Here is the +prophet of my fate. How did you tell me your Aunt Annie managed people, +the morning after my first arrival here?" + +"I said she kinder made people love her, and then they wanted to do as +she said," replied the boy, timidly. + +"Let me tell you a secret," and he drew the boy and whispered in his +ear, "she is going to manage me on just those terms." + +Then little Susie came sidling in, and Gregory took her in his arms, +saying, "So dimpled, yet so false, you renounced me for a chipmonk; and +now I am going to be Aunt Annie's beau till I'm gray." + +Jeff next appeared with a basket of wood. Gregory gave his black hand +an honest shake, and said, "Why, Jeff, old fellow, what is the matter +with you to-night? The last time I saw you you looked as if you were +driving me to the cemetery." + +"Well, Misser Gregory," said Jeff, ducking and shuffling. "Ise did come +mighty neah takin' de turnin' to de cem'try dat day. I tho't you looked +as if you wanted to go dar." + +As they sat down to tea, Zibbie put her head in at the door, and said, +"The gude God bless ye, for ye ha' kept the auld 'ooman fra the cauld +wourld yet." + +Delighted Hannah could not pass a biscuit without a courtesy. + +That evening the hickory fire glowed and turned to bright and fragrant +coals as in the days past, but Annie looked wistfully toward her +father's vacant chair, and sighed, "If father were only here!" + +"Don't grieve, darling," said Gregory, tenderly. "He is at home, as we +are." + +A few evenings later Gregory brought up from the city a large, square +bundle. + +"What have you there?" said Annie, greeting him as the reader can +imagine. + +"Your epitaph." + +"O, Walter! so soon?" + +His answer was a smile, and quickly opening the pack age, he showed a +rich, quaint frame containing some lines in illuminated text. Placing +it where the light fell clearly, he drew her to him and said, "Read +that." + + "God sent His messenger of faith, + And whispered in the maiden's heart, + 'Rise up and look from where thou art, + And scatter with unselfish hands + Thy freshness on the barren sands + And solitudes of death.'" + + "O beauty of holiness, + Of self-forgetfulness!" + +With a caress of unspeakable tenderness he said, "You are the maiden, +and God sent you to me." + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Opening a Chestnut Burr, by E. P. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Opening a Chestnut Burr + +Author: Edward Payson Roe + +Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6028] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on December 10, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR *** + + + + +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + +[Illustration: "LET ME OPEN THE BURR FOR YOU." +Chestnut Burr. _Frontispiece._] + +The Works of E. P. Roe +VOLUME FOUR + + +OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + +ILLUSTRATED + + + + + +THIS BOOK + +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MY WIFE + + + + +PREFACE + + + +In sending this, my fourth venture, out upon the uncertain waters of +public opinion, I shall say but few words of preface. In the past I +have received considerable well-deserved criticism from the gentlemen +of the caustic pen, but so far from having any hard feeling toward +them, I have rather wondered that they found so much to say that was +favorable. How they will judge this simple October story (if they +think it worth while to judge it at all) I leave to the future, and +turn to those for whom the book was really written. + +In fancy I see them around the glowing hearth in quiet homes, such as +I have tried to describe in the following pages, and hope that this +new-comer will be welcomed for the sake of those that preceded it. +Possibly it may make friends of its own. + +From widely separated parts of the country, and from almost every +class, I have received many and cordial assurances that my former +books were sources not only of pleasure, but also of help and benefit, +and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of unobtrusively entering +so many households, and saying words on that subject which is +inseparable from happiness in both worlds. + +I think the purpose of the book will become apparent to the reader. +The incidents and characters are mainly imaginary. + +Observation has shown me that there are many in the world, like my +hero, whose condition can be illustrated by the following lines: + + + Were some great ship all out of stores, + When half-way o'er the sea, + Fit emblem of too many lives, + Such vessel doomed would be. + +Must there not be something fatally wrong in that scheme of life which +finds an heir of eternity weary, listless, discouraged, while yet in +the dawning of existence? It is not in perishing _things_, merely, to +give back the lost zest. But a glad zest and hopefulness might be +inspired even in the most jaded and _ennui_-cursed, were there in our +homes such simple, truthful natures as that of my heroine; and in the +sphere of quiet homes--not elsewhere--I believe that woman can best +rule and save the world. + +Highland Falls, N.Y., September, 1874. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER I +A HERO BUT NOT HEROIC + +CHAPTER II +OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + +CHAPTER III +MORBID BROODING + +CHAPTER IV +HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE + +CHAPTER V +WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? + +CHAPTER VI +UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS + +CHAPTER VII +A CONSPIRACY + +CHAPTER VIII +WITCHCRAFT + +CHAPTER IX +MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY + +CHAPTER X +A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON + +CHAPTER XI +A DRINKING SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING + +CHAPTER XII +FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION + +CHAPTER XIII +INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS + +CHAPTER XIV +A WELL-MEANIN' MAN + +CHAPTER XV +MISS WALTON'S DREAM + +CHAPTER XVI +AN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS + +CHAPTER XVII +PROMISE OR DIE + +CHAPTER XVIII +IN THE DEPTHS + +CHAPTER XIX +MISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS + +CHAPTER XX +MISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY + +CHAPTER XXI +PASSION AND PENITENCE + +CHAPTER XXII +NOT A HEROINE BUT A WOMAN + +CHAPTER XXIII +GREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION + +CHAPTER XXIV +THE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST + +CHAPTER XXV +THE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF + +CHAPTER XXVI +CHANGES IN GREGORY + +CHAPTER XXVII +PLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE + +CHAPTER XXVIII +WHAT A LOVER COULD DO + +CHAPTER XXIX +DEEPENING SHADOWS + +CHAPTER XXX +KEPT FROM THE EVIL + +CHAPTER XXXI +LIVE! LIVE! ANNIE'S APPEAL + +CHAPTER XXXII +AT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER + +CHAPTER XXXIII +A COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO + +CHAPTER XXXIV +UNMASKED + +CHAPTER XXXV +A CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC + + + +"Shall I ever be strong in mind or body again?" said Walter Gregory, +with irritation, as he entered a crowded Broadway omnibus. + +The person thus querying so despairingly with himself was a man not +far from thirty years of age, but the lines of care were furrowed so +deeply on his handsome face, that dismal, lowering morning, the first +of October, that he seemed much older. Having wedged himself in +between two burly forms that suggested thrift down town and good cheer +on the avenue, he appears meagre and shrunken in contrast. He is tall +and thin. His face is white and drawn, instead of being ruddy with +health's rich, warm blood. There is scarcely anything remaining to +remind one of the period of youth, so recently vanished; neither is +there the dignity, nor the consciousness of strength, that should come +with maturer years. His heavy, light-colored mustache and pallid face +gave him the aspect of a _blase_ man of the world who had exhausted +himself and life at an age when wisely directed manhood should be just +entering on its richest pleasures. + +And such an opinion of him, with some hopeful exceptions and +indications, would be correct. The expression of irritation and self- +disgust still remaining on his face as the stage rumbles down town is +a hopeful sign. His soul at least is not surrounded by a Chinese wall +of conceit. However perverted his nature may be, it is not a shallow +one, and he evidently has a painful sense of the wrongs committed +against it. Though his square jaw and the curve of his lip indicate +firmness, one could not look upon his contracted brow and half- +despairing expression, as he sits oblivious of all surroundings, +without thinking of a ship drifting helplessly and in distress. There +are encouraging possibilities in the fact that from those windows of +the soul, his eyes, a troubled rather than an evil spirit looks out. A +close observer would see at a glance that he was not a good man, but +he might also note that he was not content with being a bad one. There +was little of the rigid pride and sinister hardness or the conceit +often seen on the faces of men of the world who have spent years in +spoiling their manhood; and the sensual phase of coarse dissipation +was quite wanting. + +You will find in artificial metropolitan society many men so +emasculated that they are quite vain of being blase--fools that with +conscious superiority smile disdainfully at those still possessing +simple, wholesome tastes for things which they in their indescribable +accent characterize as a "bore." + +But Walter Gregory looked like one who had early found the dregs of +evil life very bitter, and his face was like that of nature when +smitten with untimely frosts. + +He reached his office at last, and wearily sat down to the routine +work at his desk. Instead of the intent and interested look with which +a young and healthy man would naturally enter on his business, he +showed rather a dogged resolution to work whether he felt like it or +not, and with harsh disregard of his physical weakness. + +The world will never cease witnessing the wrongs that men commit +against each other; but perhaps if the wrongs and cruelties that +people inflict on themselves could be summed up the painful aggregate +would be much larger. + +As Gregory sat bending over his writing, rather from weakness than +from a stooping habit, his senior partner came in, and was evidently +struck by the appearance of feebleness on the part of the young man. +The unpleasant impression haunted him, for having looked over his +letters he came out of his private office and again glanced uneasily +at the colorless face, which gave evidence that only sheer force of +will was spurring a failing hand and brain to their tasks. + +At last Mr. Burnett came and laid his hand on his junior partner's +shoulder, saying, kindly, "Come, Gregory, drop your work. You are ill. +The strain upon you has been too long and severe. The worst is over +now, and we are going to pull through better than I expected. Don't +take the matter so bitterly to heart. I admit myself that the +operation promised well at first. You were misled, and so were we all, +by downright deception. That the swindle was imposed on us through you +was more your misfortune than your fault, and it will make you a +keener business man in the future. You have worked like a galley-slave +all summer to retrieve matters, and have taken no vacation at all. You +must take one now immediately, or you will break down altogether. Go +off to the woods; fish, hunt, follow your fancies; and the bracing +October air will make a new man of you." + +"I thank you very much," Gregory began. "I suppose I do need rest. In +a few days, however, I can leave better--" + +"No," interrupted Mr. Burnett, with hearty emphasis; "drop everything. +As soon as you finish that letter, be off. Don't show your face here +again till November." + +"I thank you for your interest in me," said Gregory, rising. "Indeed, +I believe it would be good economy, for if I don't feel better soon I +shall be of no use here or anywhere else." + +"That's it," said old Mr. Burnett, kindly. "Sick and blue, they go +together. Now be off to the woods, and send me some game. I won't +inquire too sharply whether you brought it down with lead or silver." + +Gregory soon left the office, and made his arrangements to start on +his trip early the next morning. His purpose was to make a brief visit +to the home of his boyhood and then to go wherever a vagrant fancy +might lead. + +The ancestral place was no longer in his family, though he was spared +the pain of seeing it in the hands of strangers. It had been purchased +a few years since by an old and very dear friend of his deceased +father--a gentleman named Walton. It had so happened that Gregory had +rarely met his father's friend, who had been engaged in business at +the West, and of his family he knew little more than that there were +two daughters--one who had married a Southern gentleman, and the +other, much younger, living with her father. Gregory had been much +abroad as the European agent of his house, and it was during such +absence that Mr. Walton had retired from business and purchased the +old Gregory homestead. The young man felt sure, however, that though a +comparative stranger himself, he would, for his father's sake, be a +welcome visitor at the home of his childhood. At any rate he +determined to test the matter, for the moment he found himself at +liberty he felt a strange and an eager longing to revisit the scenes +of the happiest portion of his life. He had meant to pay such a visit +in the previous spring, soon after his arrival from Europe, when his +elation at being made partner in the house which he so long had served +as clerk reached almost the point of happiness. + +Among those who had welcomed him back was a man a little older than +himself, who, in his absence, had become known as a successful +operator in Wall Street. They had been intimate before Gregory went +abroad, and the friendship was renewed at once. Gregory prided himself +on his knowledge of the world, and was not by nature inclined to trust +hastily; and yet he did place implicit confidence in Mr. Hunting, +regarding him as a better man than himself. Hunting was an active +member of a church, and his name figured on several charities, while +Gregory had almost ceased to attend any place of worship, and spent +his money selfishly upon himself, or foolishly upon others, giving +only as prompted by impulse. Indeed, his friend had occasionally +ventured to remonstrate with him against his tendencies to +dissipation, saying that a young man of his prospects should not +damage them for the sake of passing gratification. Gregory felt the +force of these words, for he was exceedingly ambitious, and bent upon +accumulating wealth and at the same time making a brilliant figure in +business circles. + +In addition to the ordinary motives which would naturally lead him to +desire such success he was incited by a secret one more powerful than +all the others combined. + +Before going abroad, when but a clerk, he had been the favored suitor +of a beautiful and accomplished girl. Indeed the understanding between +them almost amounted to an engagement, and he revelled in a +passionate, romantic attachment at an age when the blood is hot, the +heart enthusiastic, and when not a particle of worldly cynicism and +adverse experience had taught him to moderate his rose-hued +anticipations. She seemed the embodiment of goodness, as well as +beauty and grace, for did she not repress his tendencies to be a +little fast? Did she not, with more than sisterly solicitude, counsel +him to shun certain florid youth whose premature blossoming indicated +that they might early run to seed? and did he not, in consequence, cut +Guy Bonner, the jolliest fellow he had ever known? Indeed, more than +all, had she not ventured to talk religion to him, so that for a time +he had regarded himself as in a very "hopeful frame of mind," and had +been inclined to take a mission-class in the same school with herself? +How lovely and angelic she had once appeared, stooping in elegant +costume from her social height to the little ragamuffins of the street +that sat gaping around her! As he gazed adoringly, while waiting to be +her resort home, his young heart had swelled with the impulse to be +good and noble also. + +But one day she caused him to drop out of his roseate clouds. With +much sweetness and resignation, and with appropriate sighs, she said +that "it was her painful duty to tell him that their intimacy must +cease--that she had received an offer from Mr. Grobb, and that her +parents, and indeed all her friends, had urged her to accept him. She +had been led to feel that they with their riper experience and +knowledge of life knew what was best for her, and therefore she had +yielded to their wishes and accepted the offer." She was beginning to +add, in a sentimental tone, that "had she only followed the impulses +of her heart"--when Gregory, at first too stunned and bewildered to +speak, recovered his senses and interrupted with, "Please don't speak +of your heart, Miss Bently. Why mention so small a matter? Go on with +your little transaction by all means. I am a business man myself, and +can readily understand your motives;" and he turned on his heel and +strode from the room, leaving Miss Bently ill at ease. + +The young man's first expression of having received, as it were, a +staggering blow, and then his bitter satire, made an impression on her +cotton-and-wool nature, and for a time her proceedings with Mr. Grobb +did not wear the aspect in which they had been presented by her +friends. But her little world so confidently and continually +reiterated the statement that she was making a "splendid match" that +her qualms vanished, and she felt that what all asserted must be true, +and so entered on the gorgeous preparations as if the wedding were all +and the man nothing. + +It is the custom to satirize or bitterly denounce such girls, but +perhaps they are rather to be pitied. They are the natural products of +artificial society, wherein wealth, show, and the social eminence +which is based on dress and establishment are held out as the prizes +of a woman's existence. The only wonder is that so much heart and +truth assert themselves among those who all their life have seen +wealth practically worshipped, and worth, ungilded, generally ignored. +From ultra-fashionable circles a girl is often seen developing into +the noblest womanhood; while narrow, mercenary natures are often found +where far better things might have been expected. If such girls as +Miss Bently could only be kept in quiet obscurity, like a bale of +merchandise, till wanted, it would not be so bad; but some of them are +such brilliant belles and incorrigible coquettes that they are like +certain Wall Street speculators who threaten to "break the street" in +making their own fortunes. + +Some natures can receive a fair lady's refusal with a good-natured +shrug, as merely the result of a bad venture, and hope for better luck +next time; but to a greater number this is impossible, especially if +they are played with and deceived. Walter Gregory pre-eminently +belonged to the latter class. In early life he had breathed the very +atmosphere of truth, and his tendency to sincerity ever remained the +best element of his character. His was one of those fine-fibred +natures most susceptible to injury. Up to this time his indiscretions +had only been those of foolish, thoughtless youth, while aiming at the +standard of manliness and style in vogue among his city companions. +High-spirited young fellows, not early braced by principle, must pass +through this phase as in babyhood they cut their teeth. If there is +true mettle in them, and they are not perverted by exceptionally bad +influences, they outgrow the idea that to be fast and foolish is to be +men as naturally as they do their roundabouts. + +What a man does is often not so important as the state of the heart +that prompts the act. In common parlance, Walter was as good-hearted a +fellow as ever breathed. Indeed, he was really inclined to noble +enthusiasms. + +If Miss Bently had been what he imagined her, she might have led him +swiftly and surely into true manhood; but she was only an adept at +pretty seeming with him, and when Mr. Grobb offered her his vast +wealth, with himself as the only incumbrance, she acted promptly and +characteristically. + +But perhaps it can be safely said that in no den of iniquity in the +city could Walter Gregory have received such moral injury as poisoned +his very soul when, in Mr. Bently's elegant and respectable parlor, +the "angel" he worshipped "explained how she was situated," and from a +"sense of duty" stated her purpose to yield to the wishes of her +friends. Gregory had often seen Mr. Grobb, but had given him no +thought, supposing him some elderly relative of the family. That this +was the accepted suitor of the girl who had, with tender, meaning +glances, sung for him sentimental ballads, who had sweetly talked to +him of religion and mission work, seemed a monstrous perversion. Call +it unjust, unreasonable, if you will, yet it was the most natural +thing in the world for one possessing his sensitive, intense nature to +pass into harsh, bitter cynicism, and to regard Miss Bently as a +typical girl of the period. + +A young man is far on the road to evil when he loses faith in woman. +During the formative period of character she is, of earthly +influences, the most potent in making or marring him. A kind refusal, +where no false encouragement has been given, often does a man good, +and leaves his faith intact; but an experience similar to that of +young Gregory is like putting into a fountain that which may stain and +embitter the waters of the stream in all its length. + +At the early age of twenty-two he became what is usually understood by +the phrase "a man of the world." Still his moral nature could not sink +into the depths without many a bitter outcry against its wrongs. It +was with no slight effort that he drowned the memory of his early home +and its good influences. During the first two or three years he +occasionally had periods of passionate remorse, and made spasmodic +efforts toward better things. But they were made in human strength, +and in view of the penalties of evil, rather than because he was +enamored of the right. Some special temptation would soon sweep him +away into the old life, and thus, because of his broken promises and +repeated failures, he at last lost faith in himself also, and lacked +that self-respect without which no man can cope successfully with his +evil nature and an evil world. + +Living in a boarding-house, with none of the restraints and purifying +influences of a good home, he formed intimacies with brilliant but +unscrupulous young men. The theatre became his church, and at last the +code of his fast, fashionable set was that which governed his life. He +avoided gross, vulgar dissipation, both because his nature revolted at +it, and also on account of his purpose to permit nothing to interfere +with his prospects of advancement in business. He meant to show Miss +Bently that she had made a bad business speculation after all. Thus +ambition became the controlling element in his character; and he might +have had a worse one. Moreover, in all his moral debasement he never +lost a decided tendency toward truthfulness and honesty. He would have +starved rather than touch anything that did not belong to him, nor +would he allow himself to deceive in matters of business, and it was +upon these points that he specially prided himself. + +Gregory's unusual business ability, coupled with his knowledge of +French and German, led to his being sent abroad as agent of his firm. +Five years of life in the materialistic and sceptical atmosphere of +continental cities confirmed the evil tendencies which were only too +well developed before he left his own land. He became what so many +appear to be in our day, a practical materialist and atheist. Present +life and surroundings, present profit and pleasure, were all in all. +He ceased to recognize the existence of a soul within himself having +distinct needs and interests. His thoughts centred wholly in the +comfort and pleasures of the day and in that which would advance his +ambitious schemes. His scepticism was not intellectual and in +reference to the Bible and its teachings, but practical and in +reference to humanity itself. He believed that with few exceptions men +and women lived for their own profit and pleasure, and that religion +and creeds were matters of custom and fashion, or an accident of +birth. Only the reverence in which religion had been held in his early +home kept him from sharing fully in the contempt which the gentlemen +he met abroad seemed to have for it. He could not altogether despise +his mother's faith, but he regarded her as a gentle enthusiast haunted +by sacred traditions. The companionships which he had formed led him +to believe that unless influenced by some interested motive a liberal- +minded man of the world must of necessity outgrow these things. With +the self-deception of his kind, he thought he was broad and liberal in +his views, when in reality he had lost all distinction between truth +and error, and was narrowing his mind down to things only. Jew or +Gentile, Christian or Pagan, it was becoming all one to him. Men +changed their creeds and religions with other fashions, but all looked +after what they believed to be the main chance, and he proposed to do +the same. + +As time passed on, however, he began to admit to himself that it was +strange that in making all things bend to his pleasure he did not +secure more. He wearied of certain things. Stronger excitements were +needed to spur his jaded senses. His bets, his stakes at cards grew +heavier, his pleasures more gross, till a delicate organization so +revolted at its wrongs and so chastised him for excess that he was +deterred from self-gratification in that direction. + +Some men's bodies are a "means of grace" to them. Coarse dissipation +is a physical impossibility, or swift suicide in a very painful form. +Young Gregory found that only in the excitements of the mind could he +hope to find continued enjoyment. His ambition to accumulate wealth +and become a brilliant business man most accorded with his tastes and +training, and on these objects he gradually concentrated all his +energies, seeking only in club-rooms and places of fashionable resort +recreation from the strain of business. + +He recognized that the best way to advance his own interests was to +serve his employers well; and this he did so effectually that at last +he was made a partner in the business, and, with a sense of something +more like pleasure than he had known for a long time, returned to New +York and entered upon his new duties. + +As we have said, among those who warmly greeted and congratulated him, +was Mr. Hunting. They gradually came to spend much time together, and +business and money-getting were their favorite themes. Gregory saw +that his friend was as keen on the track of fortune as himself, and +that he had apparently been much more successful. Mr. Hunting +intimated that after one reached the charmed inner circle Wall Street +was a perfect Eldorado, and seemed to take pains to drop occasional +suggestions as to how an investment shrewdly made by one with his +favored point of observation often secured in a day a larger return +than a year of plodding business. + +These remarks were not lost on Gregory, and the wish became very +strong that he might share in some of the splendid "hits" by which his +friend was accumulating so rapidly. + +Usually Mr. Hunting was very quiet and self-possessed, but one evening +in May he came into Gregory's rooms in a manner indicating not a +little excitement and elation. + +"Gregory!" he exclaimed, "I am going to make my fortune." + +"Make your fortune! You are as rich as Croesus now." + +"The past will be as nothing. I've struck a mine rather than a vein." + +"It's a pity some of your friends could not share in your luck." + +"Well, a few can. This is so large, and such a good thing, that I have +concluded to let a few intimates go in with me. Only all must keep +very quiet about it;" and he proposed an operation that seemed certain +of success as he explained it. + +Gregory concluded to put into it nearly all he had independent of his +investment in the firm, and also obtained permission to interest his +partners, and to procure an interview between them and Mr. Hunting. + +The scheme looked so very plausible that they were drawn into it also; +but Mr. Burnett took Gregory aside and said: "After all, we must place +a great deal of confidence in Mr. Hunting's word in this matter. Are +you satisfied that we can safely do so?" + +"I would stake my life on his word in this case," said Gregory, +eagerly, "and I pledge all I have put in the firm on his truth." + +This was the last flicker of his old enthusiasm and trust in anybody +or anything, including himself. With almost the skill of genius Mr. +Hunting adroitly, within the limits of the law, swindled them all, and +made a vast profit out of their losses. The transaction was not +generally known, but even some of the hardened gamblers of the street +said "it was too bad." + +But the bank-officers with whom Burnett & Co. did business knew about +it, and if it had not been for their lenience and aid the firm would +have failed. As it was, it required a struggle of months to regain the +solid ground of safety. + +At first the firm was suspicious of Gregory, and disposed to blame him +very much. But when he proved to them that he had lost his private +means by Hunting's treachery, and insisted on making over to them all +his right and title to the property he had invested with them, they +saw that he was no confederate of the swindler, but that he had +suffered more than any of them. + +He had, indeed. He had lost his ambition. The large sum of money that +was to be the basis of the immense fortune he had hoped to amass was +gone. He had greatly prided himself on his business ability, but had +signalized his entrance on his new and responsible position by being +overreached and swindled in a transaction that had impoverished +himself and almost ruined his partners. He grew very misanthropic, and +was quite as bitter against himself as against others. In his +estimation people were either cloaking their evil or had not been +tempted, and he felt after Hunting dropped the mask that he would +never trust any one again. + +It may be said, all this is very unreasonable. Yes, it is; but then +people will judge the world by their own experience of it, and some +natures are more easily warped by wrong than others. No logic can cope +with feeling and prejudice. Because of his own misguided life and the +wrong he had received from others, Walter Gregory was no more able to +form a correct estimate of society than one color-blind is to judge of +the tints of flowers. And yet he belonged to that class who claim pre- +eminently to know the world. Because he thought he knew it so well he +hated and despised it, and himself as part of it. + +The months that followed his great and sudden downfall dragged their +slow length along. He worked early and late, without thought of +sparing himself. If he could only see what the firm had lost through +him made good, he did not care what became of himself. Why should he? +There was little in the present to interest him, and the future +looked, in his depressed, morbid state, as monotonous and barren as +the sands of a desert. Seemingly, he had exhausted life, and it had +lost all zest for him. + +But while his power to enjoy had gone, not so his power to suffer. His +conscience was uneasy, and told him in a vague way that something was +wrong. Reason, or, more correctly speaking, instinct, condemned his +life as a wretched blunder. He had lived for his own enjoyment, and +now, when but half through life, what was there for him to enjoy? + +As in increasing weakness he dragged himself to the office on a sultry +September day, the thought occurred to him that the end was nearer +than he expected. + +"Let it come," he said, bitterly. "Why should I live?" + +The thought of his early home recurred to him with increasing +frequency, and he had a growing desire to visit it before his strength +failed utterly. Therefore it was with a certain melancholy pleasure +that he found himself at liberty, through the kindness of his +partners, to make this visit, and at the season, too, when his boyish +memories of the place, like the foliage, would be most varied and +vivid. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR + + + +If the reader could imagine a man visiting his own grave, he might +obtain some idea of Walter Gregory's feelings as he took the boat +which would land him not far from his early home. And yet, so +different was he from the boy who had left that home fifteen years +before, that it was almost the same as if he were visiting the grave +of a brother who had died in youth. + +Though the day was mild, a fresh bracing wind blew from the west. +Shielding himself from this on the after-deck, he half reclined, on +account of his weakness, in a position from which he could see the +shores and passing vessels upon the river. The swift gliding motion, +the beautiful and familiar scenery, the sense of freedom from routine +work, and the crisp, pure air, that seemed like a delicate wine, all +combined to form a mystic lever that began to lift his heart out of +the depths of despondency. + +A storm had passed away, leaving not a trace. The October sun shone in +undimmed splendor, and all nature appeared to rejoice in its light. +The waves with their silver crests seemed chasing one another in mad +glee. The sailing vessels, as they tacked to and fro across the river +under the stiff western breeze, made the water foam about their blunt +prows, and the white-winged gulls wheeled in graceful circles +overhead. There was a sense of movement and life that was contagious. +Gregory's dull eyes kindled with something like interest, and then he +thought: "The storm lowered over these sunny shores yesterday. The +gloom of night rested upon these waters but a few hours since. Why is +it that nature can smile and be glad the moment the shadow passes and +I cannot? Is there no sunlight for the soul? I seem as if entering a +cave, that grows colder and darker at every step, and no gleam shines +at the further end, indicating that I may pass through it and out into +the light again." + +Thus letting his fancy wander at will, at times half-dreaming and +half-waking, he passed the hours that elapsed before the boat touched +at a point in the Highlands of the Hudson, his destination. Making a +better dinner than he had enjoyed for a long time, and feeling +stronger than for weeks before, he started for the place that now, of +all the world, had for him the greatest attraction. + +There was no marked change in the foliage as yet, but only a deepening +of color, like a flush on the cheek of beauty. As he was driving along +the familiar road, farm-house and grove, and even tree, rock, and +thicket, began to greet him as with the faces of old friends. At last +he saw, nestling in a wild, picturesque valley, the quaint outline of +his former home. His heart yearned toward it, and he felt that next to +his mother's face no other object could be so welcome. + +"Slower, please," he said to the driver. + +Though his eyes were moist, and at times dim with tears, not a feature +in the scene escaped him. When near the gateway he sprung out with a +lightness that he would not have believed possible the day before, and +said, "Come for me at five." + +For a little time he stood leaning on the gate. Two children were +playing on the lawn, and it almost seemed to him that the elder, a boy +of about ten years, might be himself, and he a passing stranger, who +had merely stopped to look at the pretty scene. + +"Oh that I were a boy like that one there! Oh that I were here again +as of old!" he sighed. "How unchanged it all is, and I so changed! It +seems as if the past were mocking me. That must be I there playing +with my little sister. Mother must be sewing in her cheery south room, +and father surely is taking his after-dinner nap in the library. Can +it be that they are all dead save me? and that this is but a beautiful +mirage?" + +He felt that he could not meet any one until he became more composed, +and so passed on up the valley. Before turning away he noticed that a +lady come out at the front door. The children joined her, and they +started for a walk. + +Looking wistfully on either side, Gregory soon came to a point where +the orchard extended to the road. A well-remembered fall pippin tree +hung its laden boughs over the fence, and the fruit looked so ripe and +golden in the slanting rays of October sunlight that he determined to +try one of the apples and see if it tasted as of old. As he climbed +upon the wall a loose stone fell clattering down and rolled into the +road. He did not notice this, but an old man dozing in the porch of a +little house opposite did. As Gregory reached up his cane to detach +from its spray a great, yellow-cheeked fellow, his hand was arrested, +and he was almost startled off his perch by such a volley of oaths as +shocked even his hardened ears. Turning gingerly around so as not to +lose his footing, he faced this masked battery that had opened so +unexpectedly upon him, and saw a white-haired old man balancing +himself on one crutch and brandishing the other at him. + +"Stop knockin' down that wall and fillin! the road with stuns, you--," +shouted the venerable man, in tones that indicated anything but the +calmness of age. "Let John Walton's apples alone, you--thief. What do +you mean by robbin' in broad daylight, right under a man's nose?" + +Gregory saw that he had a character to deal with, and, to divert his +mind from thoughts that were growing too painful, determined to draw +the old man out; so he said, "Is not taking things so openly a rather +honest way of robbing?" + +"Git down, I tell yer," cried the guardian of the orchard. + +"Suppose 'tis, it's robbin' arter all. So now move on, and none of yer +cussed impudence." + +"But you call them John Walton's apples," said Gregory, eating one +with provoking coolness. "What have you got to do with them? and why +should you care?" + +"Now look here, stranger, you're an infernal mean cuss to ask such +questions. Ain't John Walton my neighbor? and a good neighbor, too? +D'ye suppose a well-meanin' man like myself would stand by and see a +neighbor robbed? and of all others, John Walton? Don't you know that +robbin' a good man brings bad luck, you thunderin' fool?" + +"But I've always had bad luck, so I needn't stop on that account," +retorted Gregory, from the fence. + +"I believe it, and you allers will," vociferated the old man, "and +I'll tell yer why. I know from the cut of yer jib that yer've allers +been eatin' forbidden fruit. If yer lived now a good square life like +'Squire Walton and me, you'd have no reason to complain of yer luck. +If I could get a clip at yer with this crutch I'd give yer suthin' +else to complain of. If yer had any decency yer wouldn't stand there a +jibin' at a lame old man." + +Gregory took off his hat with a polite bow and said: "I beg your +pardon; I was under the impression that you were doing the 'cussing.' +I shall come and see you soon, for somehow it does me good to have you +swear at me. I only wish I had as good a friend in the world as Mr. +Walton has in you." With these words he sprung from the fence on the +orchard side, and made his way to the hill behind the Walton +residence, leaving the old man mumbling and muttering in a very +profane manner. + +"Like enough it was somebody visitin' at the Walton's, and I've made +a--fool of myself after all. What's worse, that poor little Miss Eulie +will hear I've been swearin' agin, and there'll be another awful +prayin' time. What a cussed old fool I be, to promise to quit +swearin'! I know I can't. What's the good o' stoppin'? It's inside, +and might as well come out. The Lord knows I don't mean no disrespect +to Him. It's only one of my ways. He knows well enough that I'm a good +neighbor, and what's the harm in a little cussin'?" and so the strange +old man talked on to himself in the intervals between long pulls at +his pipe. + +By the time Gregory reached the top of the hill his strength was quite +exhausted, and, panting, he sat down on the sunny side of a thicket of +cedars, for the late afternoon was growing chilly. Beneath him lay the +one oasis in a desert world. + +With an indescribable blending of pleasure and pain, he found himself +tracing with his eye every well-remembered path, and marking every +familiar object. + +Not a breath of air was stirring, and it would seem that Nature was +seeking to impart to his perturbed spirit, full of the restless +movement of city life and the inevitable disquiet of sin, something of +her own calmness and peace. The only sounds he heard seemed a part of +nature's silence,--the tinkle of cowbells, the slumberous monotone of +water as it fell over the dam, the grating notes of a katydid, +rendered hoarse by recent cool nights, in a shady ravine near by, and +a black cricket chirping at the edge of the rock on which he sat-- +these were all. And yet the sounds, though not heard for years, seemed +as familiar as the mother's lullaby that puts a child to sleep, and a +delicious sense of restfulness stole into his heart. The world in +which he had so greatly sinned and suffered might be another planet, +it seemed so far away. Could it be that in a few short hours he had +escaped out of the hurry and grind of New York into this sheltered +nook? Why had he not come before? Here was the remedy for soul and +body, if any existed. + +Not a person was visible on the place, and it seemed that it might +thus have been awaiting him in all his absence, and that now he had +only to go and take possession. + +"So our home in heaven awaits us, mother used to say," he thought, +"while we are such willing exiles from it. I would give all the world +to believe as she did." + +He found that the place so inseparably associated with his mother +brought back her teachings, which he had so often tried to forget. + +"I wish I might bury myself here, away from the world," he muttered, +"for it has only cheated and lied to me from first to last. Everything +deceived me, and turned out differently from what I expected. These +loved old scenes are true and unchanged, and smile upon me now as when +I was here a happy boy. Would to heaven I might never leave them +again!" + +He was startled out of his revery by the sharp bark of a squirrel that +ran chattering and whisking its tail in great excitement from limb to +limb in a clump of chestnuts near. The crackling of a twig betrayed to +Gregory the cause of its alarm, for through an opening in the thicket +he saw the lady who had started out for a walk with the children while +he was leaning on the front gate. + +Shrinking further behind the cedars he proposed to reconnoitre a +little before making himself known. He observed that she was attired +in a dark, close-fitting costume suitable for rambling among the +hills. At first he thought that she was pretty, and then that she was +not. His quick, critical eye detected that her features were not +regular, that her profile was not classic. It was only the rich glow +of exercise and the jaunty gypsy hat that had given the first +impression of something like beauty. In her right hand, which was +ungloved, she daintily held, by its short stem, a chestnut burr which +the squirrel in its alarm had dropped, and now, in its own shrill +vernacular, was scolding about so vociferously. She was glancing +around for some means to break it open, and Gregory had scarcely time +to notice her fine dark eyes, when, as if remembering the rock on +which he had been sitting, she advanced toward him with a step so +quick and elastic that he envied her vigor. + +Further concealment was now impossible. Therefore with easy politeness +he stepped forward and said: "Let me open the burr for you, Miss +Walton." + +She started violently at the sound of his voice, and for a moment +reminded him of a frightened bird on the eve of flight. + +"Pardon me for so alarming you," he hastened to say, "and also pardon +a seeming stranger for addressing you informally. My name may not be +unknown to you, although I am in person. It is Walter Gregory." + +She had been so startled that she could not immediately recover +herself, and still stood regarding him doubtfully, although with +manner more assured. + +"Come," said he, smiling and advancing toward her with the quiet +assurance of a society man. "Let me open the burr for you, and you +shall take its contents in confirmation of what I say. If I find sound +chestnuts in it, let them be a token that I am not misrepresenting +myself. If my test fails, then you may justly ask for better +credentials." + +Half smiling, and quite satisfied from his words and appearance in +advance, she extended the burr toward him. But as she did so it parted +from the stem, and would have fallen to the ground had he not, with +his ungloved hand, caught the prickly thing. His hand was as white and +soft as hers, and the sharp spines stung him sorely, yet he permitted +no sign of pain to appear upon his face. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Miss Walton, "I fear it hurt you." + +He looked up humorously and said, "An augury is a solemn affair, and +no disrespect must be allowed to nature's oracle, which in this case +is a chestnut burr;" and he speedily opened it. + +"There!" he said, triumphantly, "what more could you ask? Here are two +solid, plump chestnuts, with only a false, empty form of shell between +them. And here, like the solid nuts, are two people entitled to each +other's acquaintance, with only the false formality of an +introduction, like the empty shell, keeping them apart. Since no +mutual friend is present to introduce us, has not Nature taken upon +herself the office through this chestnut burr? But perhaps I should +further Nature's efforts by giving you my card." + +As Miss Walton regained composure, she soon proved to Gregory that she +was not merely a shy country girl. At the close of his rather long and +fanciful speech she said, genially, extending her hand: "My love for +Nature is unbounded, Mr. Gregory, and the introduction you have so +happily obtained from her weighs more with me than any other that you +could have had. Let me welcome you to your own home, as it were. But +see, your hand is bleeding, where the burr pricked you. Is this an +omen, also? If our first meeting brings bloody wounds, I fear you will +shun further acquaintance." + +There was a spice of bitterness in Gregory's laugh, as he said: +"People don't often die of such wounds. But it is a little odd that in +taking your hand I should stain it with my blood. I am inclined to +drop the burr after all, and base all my claims on my practical +visiting card. You may come to look upon the burr as a warning, rather +than an introduction, and order me off the premises." + +"It was an omen of your choice," replied Miss Walton, laughing. "You +have more to fear from it than I. If you will venture to stay you +shall be most welcome. Indeed, it almost seems that you have a better +right here than we, and your name has been so often heard that you are +no stranger. I know father will be very glad to see you, for he often +speaks of you, and wonders if you are like his old friend, the dearest +one, I think, he ever had. How long have you been here?" + +"Well, I have been wandering about the place much of the afternoon." + +"I need not ask you why you did not come in at once," she said, +gently. "Seeing your old home after so long an absence is like meeting +some dear friend. One naturally wishes to be alone for a time. But now +I hope you will go home with me." + +He was surprised at her delicate appreciation of his feelings, and +gave her a quick pleased look, saying: "Nature has taught you to be a +good interpreter, Miss Walton. You are right. The memories of the old +place were a little too much for me at first, and I did not know that +those whom I met would appreciate my feelings so delicately." + +The two children now appeared, running around the brow of the hill, +the boy calling in great excitement: "Aunt Annie, oh! Aunt Annie, +we've found a squirrel-hole. We chased him into it. Can't Susie sit by +the hole and keep him in, while I go for a spade to dig him out?" + +Then they saw the unlooked-for stranger, who at once rivalled the +squirrel-hole in interest, and with slower steps, and curious glances, +they approached. + +"These are my sister's children," said Miss Walton, simply. + +Gregory kindly took the boy by the hand, and kissed the little girl, +who looked half-frightened and half-pleased, as a very little maiden +should, while she rubbed the cheek that his mustache had tickled. + +"Do you think we can get the squirrel, Aunt Annie?" again asked the +boy. + +"Do you think it would be right, Johnny, if you could?" she asked. +"Suppose you were the squirrel in the hole, and one big monster, like +Susie here, should sit by the door, and you heard another big monster +say, 'Wait till I get something to tear open his house with.' How +would you feel?" + +"I won't keep the poor little squirrel in his hole," said sympathetic +Susie. + +But the boy's brow contracted, and he said, sternly: "Squirrels are +nothing but robbers, and their holes are robbers' dens. They take half +our nuts every year." + +Miss Walton looked significantly at Gregory, and laughed, saying, +"There it is, you see, man and woman." + +A momentary shadow crossed his face, and he said, abruptly, "I hope +Susie will be as kindly in coming years." + +Miss Walton looked at him curiously as they began to descend the hill +to the house. She evidently did not understand his remark, coupled +with his manner. + +As they approached the barn there was great excitement among the +poultry. Passing round its angle, Walter saw coming toward them a +quaint-looking old woman, in what appeared to be a white scalloped +nightcap. She had a pan of corn in her hand, and was attended by a +retinue that would have rejoiced an epicure's heart. Chickens, ducks, +geese, turkeys, and Guinea fowls thronged around and after her with an +intentness on the grain and a disregard of one another's rights and +feelings that reminded one unpleasantly of political aspirants just +after a Presidential election. Johnny made a dive for an old gobbler, +and the great red-wattled bird dropped his wings and seemed inclined +to show fight, but a reluctant armistice was brought about between +them by the old woman screaming: "Maister Johnny, an' ye let not the +fowls alone ye'll ha' na apples roast the night." + +Susie clung timidly to her aunty's side as they passed through these +clamorous candidates for holiday honors, and the young lady said, +kindly, "You have a large family to look after, Zibbie, but I'm afraid +we'll lessen it every day now." + +"Indeed, an' ye will, and it goes agin the grain to wring the necks of +them that I've nursed from the shell," said the old woman, rather +sharply. + +"It must be a great trial to your feelings," said Miss Walton, +laughing; "but what would you have us do with them, Zibbie? You don't +need them all for pets." + +Before Zibbie could answer, an old gentleman in a low buggy drove into +the large door-yard, and the children bounded toward him, screaming, +"Grandpa." + +A colored man took the horse, and Mr. Walton, with a briskness that +one would not expect at his advanced age, came toward them. + +He was a noble-looking old man, with hair and beard as white as snow, +and with the stately manners of the old school. When he learned who +Gregory was he greeted him with a cordiality that was so genuine as to +compel the cynical man of the world to feel its truth. + +Mr. Walton's eyes were turned so often and wistfully on his face that +Gregory was embarrassed. + +"I was looking for my friend," said the old gentleman, in a husky +voice, turning hastily away to hide his feeling. "You strongly remind +me of him; and yet--" But he never finished the sentence. + +Gregory well understood the "and yet," and in bitterness of soul +remembered that his father had been a good man, but that the impress +of goodness could not rest on his face. + +He had now grown very weary, and gave evidence of it. + +"Mr. Gregory, you look ill," said Miss Walton, hastily. + +"I am not well," he said, "and have not been for a long time. Perhaps +I am going beyond my strength to-day." + +In a moment they were all solicitude. The driver, who then appeared +according to his instructions, was posted back to the hotel for Mr. +Gregory's luggage, Mr. Walton saying, with hearty emphasis that +removed every scruple, "This must be your home, sir, as long as you +can remain with us, as truly as ever it was." + +A little later he found himself in the "spare room," on whose state he +had rarely intruded when a boy. Jeff, the colored man, had kindled a +cheery wood fire on the ample hearth, and, too exhausted even to +think, Gregory sank back in a great easy-chair with the blessed sense +of the storm-tossed on reaching a quiet haven. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MORBID BROODING + + + +To the millions who are suffering in mind or body there certainly come +in this world moments of repose, when pain ceases; and the respite +seems so delicious in contrast that it may well suggest the "rest that +remaineth." Thinking of neither the past nor the future, Gregory for a +little time gave himself up to the sense of present and luxurious +comfort. With closed eyes and mind almost as quiet as his motionless +body, he let the moments pass, feeling dimly that he would ask no +better heaven than the eternal continuance of this painless, half- +dreaming lethargy. + +He was soon aroused, however, by a knocking at the door, and a middle- +aged servant placed before him a tempting plate of Albert biscuit and +a glass of home-made currant wine of indefinite age. The quaint and +dainty little lunch caught his appetite as exactly as if manna had +fallen adapted to his need; but it soon stimulated him out of his +condition of partial non-existence. With returning consciousness of +the necessity of living and acting came the strong desire to spend as +much of his vacation as possible in his old home, and he determined to +avail himself of Mr. Walton's invitation to the utmost limit that +etiquette would permit. + +His awakened mind gave but little thought to his entertainers, and he +did not anticipate much pleasure from their society. He was satisfied +that they were refined, cultivated people, with whom he could be as +much at ease as would be possible in any companionship, but he hoped +and proposed to spend the most of his time alone in wandering amid old +scenes and brooding over the past. The morbid mind is ever full of +unnatural contradictions, and he found a melancholy pleasure in +shutting his eyes to the future and recalling the time when he had +been happy and hopeful. In his egotism he found more that interested +him in his past and vanished self than in the surrounding world. Evil +and ill-health had so enfeebled his body, narrowed his mind, and +blurred the future, that his best solace seemed a vain and sentimental +recalling of the crude yet comparatively happy period of childhood. + +This is sorry progress. A man must indeed have lived radically wrong +when he looks backward for the best of his life. Gray-haired Mr. +Walton was looking forward. Gregory's habit of self-pleasing--of +acting according to his mood--was too deeply seated to permit even the +thought of returning the hospitality he hoped to enjoy by a cordial +effort on his part to prove himself an agreeable guest. Polite he ever +would be, for he had the instincts and training of a gentleman, in +society's interpretation of the word, but he had lost the power to +feel a generous solicitude for the feelings and happiness of others. +Indeed, he rather took a cynical pleasure in discovering defects in +the character of those around him, and in learning that their seeming +enjoyment of life was but hollow and partial. Conscious of being evil +himself, he liked to think others were not much better, or would not +be if tempted. Therefore, with a gloomy scepticism, he questioned all +the seeming happiness and goodness he saw. "It is either unreal or +untried," he was wont to say bitterly. + +About seven o'clock, Hannah, the waitress, again appeared, saying: +"Supper is ready, but the ladies beg you will not come down unless you +feel able. I can bring up your tea if you wish." + +Thinking first and only of self, he at once decided not to go down. He +felt sufficiently rested and revived, but was in no mood for +commonplace talk to comparative strangers. His cosey chair, glowing +fire, and listless ease were much better than noisy children, +inquisitive ladies, and the unconscious reproach of Mr. Walton's face, +as he would look in vain for the lineaments of his lost friend. +Therefore he said, suavely: "Please say to the ladies that I am so +wearied that I should make but a dull companion, and so for their +sakes, as well as my own, had better not leave my room this evening." + +It is the perfection of art in selfishness to make it appear as if you +were thinking only of others. This was the design of Walter's polite +message. Soon a bit of tender steak, a roast potato, tea, and toast +were smoking appetizingly beside him, and he congratulated himself +that he had escaped the bore of company for one evening. + +Notwithstanding his misanthropy and cherished desolation the supper +was so inviting that he was tempted to partake of it heartily. Then +incasing himself in his ample dressing-gown he placed his slippered +feet on the fender before a cheery fire, lighted a choice Havana, and +proceeded to be miserable after the fashion that indulged misery often +affects. + +Hannah quietly removed the tea-tray, and Mr. Walton came up and +courteously inquired if there was anything that would add to his +guest's comfort. + +"After a few hours of rest and quiet I hope I shall be able to make a +better return for your hospitality," Gregory rejoined, with equal +politeness. + +"Oh, do not feel under any obligation to exert yourself," said kind +Mr. Walton. "In order to derive full benefit from your vacation, you +must simply rest and follow your moods." + +This view of the case suited Gregory exactly, and the prospect of a +visit at his old home grew still more inviting. When he was left +alone, he gave himself up wholly to the memories of the past. + +At first it was with a pleasurable pain that he recalled his former +life. With an imagination naturally strong he lived it all over again, +from the date of his first recollections. In the curling flames and +glowing coals on the hearth a panorama passed before him. He saw a +joyous child, a light-hearted boy, and a sanguine youth, with the +shifting and familiar scenery of well-remembered experience. Time +softened the pictures, and the harsh, rough outlines which exist in +every truthful portraiture of life were lost in the haze of distance. +The gentle but steady light of mother love, and through her a pale, +half-recognized reflection of the love of God, illumined all those +years; and his father's strong, quiet affection made a background +anything but dark. He had been naturally what is termed a very good +boy, full of generous impulses. There had been no lack of ordinary +waywardness or of the faults of youth, but they showed a tendency to +yield readily to the correcting influence of love. Good impulses, +however, are not principles, and may give way to stronger impulses of +evil. If the influences of his early home had alone followed him, he +would not now be moodily recalling the past as the exiled convict +might watch the shores of his native land recede. + +And then, as in his prolonged revery the fire burned low, and the +ruddy coals turned to ashes, the past faded into distance, and his +present life, dull and leaden, rose before him, and from regretful +memories that were not wholly painful he passed to that bitterness of +feeling which ever comes when hope is giving place to despair. + +The fire flickered out and died, his head drooped lower and lower, +while the brooding frown upon his brow darkened almost into a scowl. +Outwardly he made a sad picture for a young man in the prime of life, +but to Him who looks at the attitude of the soul, what but unutterable +love kept him from appearing absolutely revolting? + +Suddenly, like light breaking into a vault a few notes of prelude were +struck upon the piano in the parlor below, and a sweet voice, softened +by distance sung: + + "Rock of ages, cleft for me, + let me hide myself in thee," + +How often he had heard the familiar words and music in that same home! +They seemed to crown and complete all the memories of the place, but +they reminded him more clearly than ever before that its most +inseparable associations were holy, hopeful, and suggestive of a faith +that he seemed to have lost as utterly as if it had been a gem dropped +into the ocean. + +He had lived in foreign lands far from his birthplace, but the purpose +to return ever dwelt pleasurably in his mind. But how could he cross +the gulf that yawned between him and the faith of his childhood? Was +there really anything beyond that gulf save what the credulous +imagination had created? Instinctively he felt that there was, for he +was honest enough with himself to remember that his scepticism was the +result of an evil life and the influence of an unbelieving world, +rather than the outcome of patient investigation. The wish was father +to the thought. + +Yet sweet, unfaltering, and clear as the voice of faith ever should +be, the hymn went forward in the room below, his memory supplying the +well-known words that were lost from remoteness:-- + + "When mine eyelids close in death, + When I soar to worlds unknown." + +"Oh, when!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "What shall be my experience then? +If I continue to fail in health as I have of late I shall know +cursedly soon. That must be Miss Walton singing. Though she does not +realize it, to me this is almost as cruel mockery as if an angel sang +at the gates of hell." + +The music ceased, and the monotone of one reading followed. + +"Family prayers as of old," he muttered. "How everything conspires to- +day to bring my home-life back again! and yet there is a fatal lack of +something that is harder to endure than the absence of my own kindred +and vanished youth. I doubt whether I can stay here long after all. +Will not the mocking fable of Tantalus be repeated constantly, as I +see others drinking daily at a fountain which though apparently so +near is ever beyond my reach?" + +Shivering with the chill of the night and the deeper chill at heart, +he retired to troubled sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE + + + +Rest, and the sunny light and bracing air of the following morning, +banished much of Gregory's moodiness, and he descended the stairs +proposing to dismiss painful thoughts and get what comfort and +semblance of enjoyment he could out of the passing hours. Mr. Walton +met him cordially--indeed with almost fatherly solicitude--and led him +at once to the dining-room, where an inviting breakfast awaited them. +Miss Walton also was genial, and introduced Miss Eulalia Morton, a +maiden sister of her mother. Miss Eulie, as she was familiarly called, +was a pale, delicate little lady, with a face sweetened rather than +hardened and imbittered by time. If, as some believe, the flesh and +the spirit, the soul and the body, are ever at variance, she gave the +impression at first glance that the body was getting the worst of the +conflict. But in truth the faintest thoughts of strife seemed to have +no association with her whatever. She appeared so light and aerial +that one could imagine her flying over the rough places of life, and +vanishing when any one opposed her. + +Miss Walton reversed all this, for she was decidedly substantial. She +was of only medium height, but a fine figure made her appear taller +than she was. She immediately gave the impression of power and reserve +force. You felt this in her quick, elastic step, saw it in her decided +though not abrupt movements, and heard it in her tone. Even the +nonchalant Mr. Gregory could not ignore her in his customary polite +manner, though quiet refinement and peculiar unobtrusiveness seemed +her characteristics. She won attention, not because she sought it, nor +on the ground of eccentricities, but because of her intense vitality. +From her dark eyes a close observer might catch glimpses of a quick, +active mind, an eager spirit, and--well, perhaps a passionate temper. +Though chastened and subdued, she ever gave the impression of power to +those who came to know her well. In certain ways, as they interpreted +her, people acknowledged this force of character. Some spoke of her as +very lively, others as exceedingly energetic and willing to enter on +any good work. Some thought her ambitious, else why was she so +prominent in church matters, and so ready to visit the sick and poor? +They could explain this in but one way. And some looked knowingly at +each other and said: "I wonder if she is always as smiling and sweet +as when in society;" and then followed shaking of heads which +intimated, "Look out for sudden gusts." + +Again, as in simple morning wrapper she turned to greet Gregory, she +gave him the impression of something like beauty. But his taste, +rendered critical by much observation both at home and abroad, at once +told him that he was mistaken. + +"The expression is well enough," he thought, "but she has not a single +perfect feature--not one that an artist would copy, except perhaps the +eyes, and even they are not soft and Madonna-like." + +He had a sybarite's eye for beauty, and an intense admiration for it. +At the same time he was too intellectual to be satisfied with the mere +sensuous type. And yet, when he decided that a woman was not pretty, +she ceased to interest him. His exacting taste required no small +degree of outward perfection crowned by ready wit and society polish. +With those so endowed he had frequently amused himself in New York and +Paris by a passing flirtation since the politic Miss Bently had made +him a sceptic in regard to women. All his intercourse with society had +confirmed his cynicism. The most beautiful and brilliant in the +drawing-rooms were seldom the best. He flattered them to their faces +and sneered at them in his heart. Therefore his attentions were merely +of a nature to excite their vanity, stimulated by much incense from +other sources. He saw this plainly manifested trait, which he +contributed to develop, and despised it. He also saw that many were as +eager for a good match as ever the adored Miss Bently had been, and +that, while they liked his compliments, they cared not for him. Why +should they? Insincere and selfish himself, why should he expect to +awaken better feelings on the part of those who were anything but +unsophisticated, and from knowledge of the world could gauge him at +his true worth? Not even a sentimental girl would show her heart to +such a man. And yet with the blind egotism of selfishness he smiled +grimly at their apparent heartlessness and said, "Such is woman." + +At the same time it must in justice be said that he despised men in +general quite as sincerely. "Human nature is wretched stuff," had come +to be the first article in his creed. + +In regard to Miss Walton he concluded: "She is a goodish girl, more of +a lady than the average, pious and orthodox, an excellent housekeeper, +and a great comfort to her father, no doubt. She is safe from her very +plainness, though confident, of course, that she could resist +temptation and be a saint under all circumstances;" and he dismissed +her from his mind with a sort of inward groan and protest against the +necessity of making himself agreeable to her during his visit. + +He did not think it worth while to disguise his face as he made these +brief critical observations, and quick-witted Annie gathered something +of the drift of his thoughts, as she stole a few glances at him from +behind the coffee-urn. It piqued her pride a little, and she was +disappointed in him, for she had hoped for a pleasant addition to +their society for a time. But she was so supremely indifferent to him, +and had so much to fill her thoughts and days, that his slight promise +to prove an agreeable visitor caused but momentary annoyance. Yet the +glimmer of a smile flitted across her face as she thought: "He may +find himself slightly mistaken in me, after all. His face seems to +say, 'No doubt she is a good young woman, and well enough for this +slow country place, but she has no beauty, no style.' I think I can +manage to disturb the even current of his vanity, if his visit is long +enough, and he shall learn at least that I shall not gape admiringly +at his artificial metropolitan airs." + +Her manner toward Gregory remained full of kindness and grace, but she +made no effort to secure his attention and engage him in conversation, +as he had feared she would do. She acted as if she were accustomed to +see such persons as himself at her father's breakfast-table every +morning; and, though habitually wrapped up in his own personality, he +soon became dimly conscious that her course toward him was not what he +had expected. + +Miss Eulie was all solicitude in view of his character of invalid; and +the children looked at him with curious eyes and growing +disapprobation. There was nothing in him to secure their instinctive +friendship, and he made no effort to win their sympathies. + +The morning meal began with a reverent looking to heaven for God's +blessing on the gifts which were acknowledged as coming from Him; and +even Gregory was compelled to admit that the brief rite did not appear +like a careless signing of the cross, or a shrivelled form from which +spirit and meaning had departed, but a sincere expression of loving +trust and gratitude. + +During the greater part of the meal, Mr. Walton dwelt on the +circumstances that had led to his friendship with Gregory's father, +but at last the conversation flagged a little, since the young man +made so slight effort to maintain it. + +Suddenly Mr. Walton turned to his daughter and said, "By the way, +Annie, you have not told me where you found Mr. Gregory, for my +impression is that you brought him down from the hills." + +"I was about to say that I found him in a chestnut burr," replied +Annie, with a twinkle in her eye. "At least I found a stranger by the +cedar thicket, and he proved from a chestnut burr who he was, and his +right to acquaintance, with a better logic than I supposed him capable +of." + +"Indeed?" asked Gregory, quickly, feeling the prick of her last words; +"on what grounds were you led to estimate my logic so slightingly?" + +"On merely general grounds; but you see I am open to all evidence in +your favor. City life no doubt has great advantages, but it also has +greater drawbacks." + +"What are they?" + +"I cannot think of them all now. Suffice it to say that if you had +always lived in the city you could not have interpreted a chestnut +burr so gracefully. Many there seem to forget Nature's lore." + +"But may they not learn other things more valuable?" + +Miss Walton shook her head, and said, with a laugh: "An ignorant +exhorter once stated to his little schoolhouse audience that Paul was +brought up at the foot of the hill Gamaliel. I almost wish he were +right, for I should have had more confidence in the teachings of the +hill than in those of the narrow-minded Jewish Rabbi." + +"And yet you regard Paul as the very chief of the apostles." + +"He became such after he was taught of Him who teaches through the +hills and nature generally." + +"My daughter is an enthusiast for nature," remarked Mr. Walton. + +"If the people are the same as when I was here a boy, the hills have +not taught the majority very much," said Gregory, with a French shrug. + +"Many of them have a better wisdom than you think," answered Annie, +quietly. + +"In what does it consist?" + +"Well, for one thing they know how to enjoy life and add to the +enjoyment of others." + +Gregory looked at her keenly for a moment, but saw nothing to lead him +to think that she was speaking on other than general principles; but +he said, a little moodily, as they rose from the table, "That +certainly is a better wisdom than is usually attained in either city +or country." + +"It is not our custom to make company of our friends," said Mr. +Walton, cordially. "We hope you will feel completely at home, and come +and go as you like, and do just what you find agreeable. We dine at +two, and have an early supper on account of the children. There are +one or two fair saddle horses on the place, but if you do not feel +strong enough to ride, Annie can drive you out, and I assure you she +is at home in the management of a horse." + +"Yes, indeed," echoed the little boy. "Aunt Annie can manage anything +or anybody." + +"That is a remarkable power," said Gregory, with an amused look and a +side glance at the young girl. "How does she do it?" + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the boy; "she makes them love her, and +then they want to do as she says." + +A momentary wrathful gleam shot from Annie's eyes at her indiscreet +little champion, but with heightened color she joined in the laugh +that followed. + +Gregory had the ill grace to say with a sort of mocking gallantry, as +he bowed himself out, "It must be delightful to be managed on such +terms." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? + + + +Putting on a light overcoat, for the morning air was sharp and +bracing, Gregory soon found himself in the old square garden. Though +its glory was decidedly on the wane, it was as yet unnipped by the +frost It had a neatness and an order of its own that were quite unlike +those where nature is in entire subordination to art. Indeed it looked +very much as he remembered it in the past, and he welcomed its +unchanged aspect. He strolled to many other remembered boyish haunts, +and it seemed that the very lichens and mosses grew in the same places +as of old, and that nature had stood still and awaited his return. + +And yet every familiar object chided him for being so changed, and he +began to find more of pain than pleasure as this contrast between what +he had been and what he might have been was constantly forced upon +him. + +"Oh that I had never left this place!" he exclaimed, bitterly: "It +would have been better to stay here and drudge as a day laborer. What +has that career out in the world to which I looked forward so ardently +amounted to? The present is disappointment and self-disgust, the +future an indefinite region of fears and forebodings, and even the +happy past is becoming a bitter mockery by reminding me of what can +never be again." + +Wearied and despondent, he moodily returned to the house and threw +himself on a lounge in the parlor. A smouldering wood fire upon the +hearth softened the air to summer temperature. The heat was grateful +to his chilled, bloodless body, and gave him a luxurious sense of +physical comfort, and he muttered: "I had about resolved to leave this +place with its memories that are growing into torment, but I suppose +it would be the same anywhere else. I am too weak and ill to face new +scenes and discomfort. A little animal enjoyment and bodily respite +from pain seem about all that is left to me of existence, and I think +I can find these here better than elsewhere. If I am expected, +however, to fall under the management of the daughter of the house on +the terms blurted out by that fidgety nephew of hers, I will fly for +my life. A plague on him! His restlessness makes me nervous! If I +could endure a child at all, the blue-eyed little girl would make a +pretty toy." + +Sounds from the sitting-room behind the parlor now caught his +attention, and listening he soon became aware that Miss Walton was +teaching the children. "She has just the voice for a 'schoolmarm,'" he +thought--"quick, clear-cut, and decided." + +If he had not given way to unreasonable prejudice he might also have +noted that there was nothing harsh or querulous in it. + +"With her management and love of nature, she doubtless thinks herself +the personification of goodness. I suppose I shall be well lectured +before I get away. I had a foretaste of it this morning. 'Drawbacks of +city life,' forsooth! She no doubt regards me as a result of these +disadvantages. But if she should come to deem it her mission to +convert or reform me, then will be lost my small remnant of peace and +comfort." + +But weakness and weariness soon inclined him to sleep. Miss Walton's +voice sounded far away. Then it passed into his dream as that of Miss +Bently chiding him affectedly for his wayward tendencies; again it was +explaining that conscientious young lady's "sense of duty" in view of +Mr. Grobb's offer, and even in his sleep his face darkened with pain +and wrath. + +Just then, school hours being over, Miss Walton came into the parlor. +For a moment, as she stood by the fire, she did not notice its +unconscious occupant. Then, seeing him, she was about to leave the +room noiselessly, when the expression of his face arrested her steps. + +If Annie Walton's eyes suggested the probability of "sudden gusts," +they also at times announced a warm, kind heart, for as she looked at +him now her face instantly softened to pity. + +"Good he is not," she thought, "but he evidently suffers in his evil. +Something is blighting his life, and what can blight a life save evil? +Perhaps I had better change my proposed crusade against his vanity and +cynicism to a kind, sisterly effort toward making him a better and +therefore a happier man. It will soon come out in conversation that I +have long been the same as engaged to another, and this will relieve +me of absurd suspicions of designs upon him. If I could win a friendly +confidence on his part, I'm sure I could tell him some wholesome +truths, for even an enemy could scarcely look on that face without +relenting." + +There was nothing slow or cumbrous about Annie. These thoughts had +flashed through her mind during the brief moment in which her eyes +softened from surprise into sympathy as they caught the expression of +Gregory's face. Then, fearing to disturb him, with silent tread she +passed out to her wonted morning duties. + +How seemingly accidental was that visit to the parlor! Its motive +indefinite and forgotten. Apparently it was but a trivial episode of +an uneventful day, involving no greater catastrophe than the momentary +rousing of a sleeper who would doze again. But what day can we with +certainty call uneventful? and what episode trivial? Those half- +aimless, purposeless steps of Annie Walton into the quiet parlor might +lead to results that would radically change the endless future of +several lives. + +In her womanly, pitying nature, had not God sent His angel? If a +viewless "ministering spirit," as the sinful man's appointed guardian, +was present, as many believe is the case with every one, how truly he +must have welcomed this unselfish human companionship in his loving +labor to save life; for only they who rescue from sin truly save life. + +And yet the sleeper, even in his dreams, was evidently at war with +himself, the world, and God. He was an example of the truth that good +comes from without and not from within us. It is heaven stooping to +men; heaven's messengers sent to us; truth quickened in our minds by +heavenly influence, even as sunlight and rain awaken into beautiful +life the seeds hidden in the soil; and, above all, impulses direct +from God, that steal into our hearts as the south wind penetrates ice- +bound gardens in spring. + +But, alas! multitudes like Walter Gregory blind their eyes and steel +their hearts against such influences. God and those allied to Him +longed to bring the healing of faith and love to his wounded spirit. +He scowled back his answer, and, as he then felt, would shrink with +morbid sensitiveness and dislike from the kindest and most delicate +presentation of the transforming truth. But the divine love is ever +seeking to win our attention by messengers innumerable; now by the +appalling storm, again by a summer sunset; now by an awful providence, +again by a great joy; at times by stern prophets and teachers, but +more often by the gentle human agencies of which Annie was the type, +as with pitying face she bent over the worn and jaded man of the world +and hoped and prayed that she might be able to act the part of a true +sister toward him. Thorny and guarded was every avenue to his heart; +and yet her feminine tact, combined with the softening and purifying +influence of his old home, might gain her words acceptance, where the +wisest and most eloquent would plead in vain. + +After dinner he again hastened forth for a walk, his purpose being to +avoid company, for he was so moody and morbid, so weak, nervous, and +irritable, that the thought of meeting and decorously conversing with +those whose lives and character were a continual reproach to him was +intolerable. Then he had the impression that the "keen-eyed, plain- +featured Miss Walton," as he characterized her in his mind, would +surely commence discoursing on moral and religious subjects if he gave +her a chance; and he feared that if she did, he would say or do +something very rude, and confirm the bad impression that he was sure +of having already made. If he could have strolled into his club, and +among groups engaged with cards, papers, and city gossip, he would +have felt quite at home. Ties formed at such a place are not very +strong as a usual thing, and the manner of the world can isolate the +members and their real life completely, even when the rooms are +thronged. As Gregory grew worn and thin and his pallor increased, as +he smoked and brooded more and more apart, his companions would shrug +their shoulders significantly and whisper, "It looks as if Gregory +would go under soon. Something's the matter with him." + +At first good-natured men would say, "Come, Gregory, take a hand with +us," but when he complied it was with such a listless manner that they +were sorry they had asked him. At last, beyond mere passing +courtesies, they had come to leave him very much alone; and in his +unnatural and perverted state this was just what he most desired. His +whole being had become a diseased, sensitive nerve, shrinking most +from any effort toward his improvement, even as a finger pointed at a +festering wound causes anticipatory agonies. + +At the club he would be let alone, but these good people would "take +an interest in him," and might even "talk religion," and probe with +questions and surmises. If they did, he knew, from what he had already +seen of them, that they would try to do it delicately and kindly, but +he felt that the most considerate efforts would be like the surgical +instruments of the dark ages. He needed good, decisive, heroic +treatment. But who would have the courage and skill to give it? Who +cared enough for him to take the trouble? + +Not merely had Annie Walton looked with eyes of human pity upon his +sin-marred visage that morning. The Divine personality, enthroned in +the depths of her soul and permeating her life, looked commiseratingly +forth also. Could demons glare from human eyes and God not smile from +them? + +As Annie thought much of him after her stolen glance in the morning, +she longed to do that which he dreaded she would try to do--attempt +his reformation. Not that she cared for him personally, or that she +had grown sentimentally interested in his Byronic style of +wretchedness. So far from it, her happy and healthful nature was +repelled by his diseased and morbid one. She found him what girls call +a "disagreeable man." But she yearned toward a sinning, suffering +soul, found in any guise. It was not in her woman's heart to pass by +on the other side. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS + + + +Gregory's afternoon walk was not very prolonged, for a shivering sense +of discomfort soon drove him back to the house. Although the morning +had been cool, the sun had shone bright and warm, but now the fore- +shadowing of a storm was evident. A haze had spread over the sky, +increasing in leaden hue toward the west. The chilly wind moaned +fitfully through the trees, and the landscape darkened like a face +shadowed by coming trouble. + +Walter dreaded a storm, fearing it would shut him up with the family +without escape; but at last the sun so enshrouded itself in gloom that +he was compelled to return. He went to his room, for a book, hoping +that when they saw him engaged they would leave him more to himself. +But to his agreeable surprise he found a cheerful fire blazing on the +hearth, and an ample supply of wood in a box near. The easy-chair was +wheeled forward, and a plate of grapes and the latest magazine were +placed invitingly on the table. Even his cynicism was not proof +against this, delicate thoughtfulness, and he exclaimed, "Ah, this is +better than I expected, and a hundred-fold better than I deserve. I +make but poor return for their kindness. This cosey room seems to say, +'We won't force ourselves on you. You can be alone as much as you +like,' for I suppose they must have noticed my disinclination for +society. But they are wise after all, for I am cursed poor company for +myself and worse than none at all for others." + +Eating from time to time a purple grape, he so lost himself in the +fresh thoughts of the magazine that the tea-bell rang ere he was +aware. + +"In the name of decency I must try to make myself agreeable for a +little while this evening," he muttered, as he descended to the +cheerful supper-room. + +To their solicitude for his health and their regret that the +approaching storm had driven him so early to the house, he replied, "I +found in my room a better substitute for the sunlight I had lost; +though as a votary of nature, Miss Walton, I suppose you will regard +this assertion as rank heresy." + +"Not at all, for your firelight is the result of sunlight." answered +Annie, smiling. + +"How is that?" + +"It required many summers to ripen the wood that blazed on your +hearth. Indeed, good dry wood is but concentrated sunshine put by for +cold, gloomy days and chilly nights." + +"That is an odd fancy. I wish there were other ways of storing up +sunshine for future use." + +"There are," said Miss Walton, cheerfully; and she looked up as if she +would like to say more, but he instantly changed the subject in his +instinctive wish to avoid the faintest approach to moralizing. Still, +conversation continued brisk till Mr. Walton asked suddenly, "By the +way, Mr. Gregory, have you ever met Mr. Hunting of Wall Street?" + +There was no immediate answer, and they all looked inquiringly at him. +To their surprise his face was darkened by the heaviest frown. After a +moment he said, with peculiar emphasis, "Yes; I know him well." + +A chill seemed to fall on them after that; and he, glancing up, saw +that Annie looked flushed and indignant, Miss Eulie pained, and Mr. +Walton very grave. Even the little boy shot vindictive glances at him. +He at once surmised that Hunting was related to the family, and was +oppressed with the thought that he was fast losing the welcome given +him on his father's account. But in a few moments Annie rallied and +made unwonted efforts to banish the general embarrassment, and with +partial success, for Gregory had tact and good conversational powers +if he chose to exert them. When, soon after, they adjourned to the +parlor, outward serenity reigned. + +On either side of the ample hearth, on which blazed a hickory fire, a +table was drawn up. An easy-chair stood invitingly by each, with a +little carpet bench on which to rest the feet. + +"Take one of these," said Mr. Walton, cordially, "and join me with a +cigar. The ladies of my household are indulgent to my small vices." + +"And I will send for your magazine," said Annie, "and then you can +read and chat according to your mood. You gee that we do not intend to +make a stranger of you." + +"For which I am very glad. You treat me far better than I deserve." + +Instead of some deprecatory remark, Annie gave him a quick, half- +comical look which he did not fully understand. + +"There is more in her than I at first imagined," he thought. + +Seated with the magazine, Gregory found himself in the enjoyment of +every element of comfort. That he might be under no constraint to +talk, Annie commenced speaking to her father and Miss Eulie of some +neighborhood affairs, of which he knew nothing. The children and a +large greyhound were dividing the rug between them. The former were +chatting in low tones and roasting the first chestnuts of the season +on a broad shovel that was placed on the glowing coals. The dog was +sleepily watching them lest in their quick movements his tail should +come to grief. + +Gregory had something of an artist's eye, and he could not help +glancing up from his reading occasionally, and thinking what a pretty +picture the roomy parlor made. + +"Annie," said Mr. Walton, after a little while, "I can't get through +this article with my old eyes. Won't you finish it for me? Shall we +disturb you, Mr. Gregory?" + +"Not at all." + +Gregory soon forgot to read himself in listening to her. Not that he +heard the subject-matter with any interest, but her sweet, natural +tones and simplicity arrested and retained his attention. Even the +statistics and the prose of political economy seemed to fall from her +lips in musical cadence, and yet there was no apparent effort and not +a thought of effect. Walter mused as he listened. + +"I should like to hear some quiet, genial book read in that style, +though it is evident that Miss Walton is no tragedy queen." + +Having finished the reading, Annie started briskly up and said, "Come, +little people, your chestnuts are roasted and eaten. It's bedtime. The +turkeys and squirrels will be at the nut-trees long before you to- +morrow unless you scamper off at once." + +"O, Aunt Annie," chimed their voices, "you must sing us the chestnut +song first; you promised to." + +"With your permission, Mr. Gregory, I suppose I must make my promise +good," said Annie. + +"I join the children in asking for the song," he replied, glad to get +them out of the way on such easy conditions, though he expected a +nursery ditty or a juvenile hymn from some Sabbath-school collection, +wherein healthy, growing boys are made to sing, "I want to be an +angel." "Moreover," he added, "I have read that one must always keep +one's word to a child." + +"Which is a very important truth: do you not think so?" + +"Since you are using the word 'truth' so prominently, Miss Walton, I +must say that I have not thought much about it. But I certainly would +have you keep your word on this occasion." + +"Aunt Annie always keeps her word," said Johnny, rather bluntly. By +some childish instinct he divined that Gregory did not appreciate Aunt +Annie sufficiently, and this added to his prejudice. + +"You have a stout little champion there," Gregory remarked. + +"I cannot complain of his zeal," she answered significantly, at the +same time giving the boy a caress. "Mr. Gregory, this is a rude +country ballad, and we are going to sing it in our accustomed way, +even though it shock your city ears. Johnny and Susie, you can join in +the chorus;" and she sang the following simple October glee: + + Katydid, your throat is sore, + You can chirp this fall no more; + Robin red-breast, summer's past, + Did you think 'twould always last? + Fly away to sunny climes, + Lands of oranges and limes; + With the squirrels we shall stay + And put our store of nuts away. +O the spiny chestnut burrs! O the prickly chestnut burrs! + Harsh without, but lined with down, + And full of chestnuts, plump and brown. + + Sorry are we for the flowers; + We shall miss our summer bowers; + Still we welcome frosty Jack, + Stealing now from Greenland back. + And the burrs will welcome him; + When he knocks, they'll let him in. + They don't know what Jack's about; + Soon he'll turn the chestnuts out. +O the spiny, etc.- + + Turkey gobbler, with your train, + You shall scratch the leaves in vain; + Squirrel, with your whisking tail, + Your sharp eyes shall not avail; + In the crisp and early dawn, + Scampering across the lawn. + We will beat you to the trees, + Come you then whene'er you please. +O the spiny, etc.-- + +Gregory's expression as she played a simple prelude was one of +endurance, but when she began to sing the changes of his face were +rapid. First he turned toward her with a look of interest, then of +surprise. Miss Eulie could not help watching him, for, though she was +well on in life, just such a character had never risen above her +horizon. Too gentle to censure, she felt that she had much cause for +regret. + +At first she was pleased to see that he found the ditty far more to +his taste than he had expected. But the rapid alternation from pleased +surprise and enjoyment to something like a scowl of despair and almost +hate she could not understand. Following his eyes she saw them resting +on the boy, who was now eagerly joining in the chorus of the last +verse. She was not sufficiently skilled to know that to Gregory's +diseased moral nature things most simple and wholesome in themselves +were most repugnant. She could not understand that the tripping little +song, with its wild-wood life and movement--that the boy singing with +the delight of a pure, fresh heart--told him, beyond the power of +labored language, how hackneyed and blase he had become, how far and +hopelessly he had drifted from the same true childhood. + +And Miss Walton, turning suddenly toward him, saw the same dark +expression, full of suffering and impotent revolt at his destiny, as +he regarded it, and she too was puzzled. + +"You do not like our foolish little song," she said. + +"I envy that boy, Miss Walton," was his reply. + +Then she began to understand him, and said, gently, "You have no +occasion to." + +"I wish you, or any one, could find the logic to prove that." + +"The proof is not in logic but in nature, that is ever young. They who +draw their life from nature do not fall into the only age we need +dread." + +"Do you not expect to grow old?" + +She shook her head half humorously and said, "But these children will +before I get them to bed." + +He ostensibly resumed his magazine, but did not turn any leaves. + +His first mental query was, "Have I rightly gauged Miss Walton? I half +believe she understands me better than I do her. I estimated her as a +goodish, fairly educated country girl, of the church-going sort, one +that would be dreadfully shocked at finding me out, and deem it at +once her mission to pluck me as a brand from the burning. I know all +about the goodness of such girls. They are ignorant of the world; they +have never been tempted, and they have a brood of little feminine +weaknesses that of course are not paraded in public. + +"And no doubt all this is true of Miss Walton, and yet, for some +reason, she interests me a little this evening. She is refined, but +nowhere in the world will you meet drearier monotony and barrenness +than among refined people. Having no real originality, their little +oddities are polished away. In Miss Walton I'm beginning to catch +glimpses of vistas unexplored, though perhaps I am a fool for thinking +so. + +"What a peculiar voice she has! She would make a poor figure, no doubt, +in an opera; and yet she might render a simple aria very well. But for +songs of nature and ballads I have never heard so sympathetic a voice. +It suggests a power of making music a sweet home language instead of a +difficult, high art, attainable by few. Really Miss Walton is worth +investigation, for no one with such a voice can be utterly +commonplace. Strange as it is, I cannot ignore her. Though she makes +no effort to attract my attention, I am ever conscious of her +presence." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CONSPIRACY + + + +When Miss Walton returned to the parlor her father said, "Annie, I am +going to trespass on your patience again." + +She answered with a little piquant gesture, and was soon reading in +natural, easy tones, without much stumbling, what must have been Greek +to her. + +Gregory watched her with increasing interest, and another question +than the one of finance involved in the article was rising in his +mind. + +"Is this real? Is this seeming goodness a fact?" It was the very +essence of his perverted nature to doubt it. Now that his eyes were +opened, and he closely observed Miss Walton, he saw that his +prejudices against her were groundless. Although not a stylish, pretty +woman, she was evidently far removed from the goodish, commonplace +character that he could regard as part of the furniture of the house, +useful in its place, but of no more interest than a needful piece of +cabinet work. Nor did she assert herself as do those aggressive, +lecturing females who deem it their mission to set everybody right +within their sphere. + +And yet she did assert herself; but he was compelled to admit that it +was like the summer breeze or the perfume of a rose. He had resolved +that very day to avoid and ignore her as far as possible, and yet, +before the first evening in her presence was half over, he had left a +magazine story unfinished; he was watching her, thinking and surmising +about her, and listening, as she read, to what he did not care a straw +about. Although she had not made the slightest effort, some influence +from her had stolen upon him like a cool breeze on a sultry day, and +wooed him as gently as the perfume of a flower that is sweet to all. +He said to himself, "She is not pretty," and yet found pleasure in +watching her red lips drop figures and financial terms as musically as +a little rill murmurs over a mossy rock. + +From behind his magazine he studied the group at the opposite table, +but it was with the pain which a despairing swimmer, swept seaward by +a resistless current, might feel in seeing the safe and happy on the +shore. + +Gray Mr. Walton leaned back in his chair, the embodiment of peace and +placid content. + +The subject to which he was listening and kindred topics had so far +receded that his interest was that of a calm, philosophic observer, +and Gregory thought, with a glimmer of a smile, "He is not dabbling in +stocks or he could not maintain that quiet mien." + +His habits of thought as a business man merely made it a pleasure to +keep up with the times. In fact he was in that serene border-land +between the two worlds where the questions of earth are growing vague +and distant and those of the "better country" more real and +engrossing, for Gregory observed, later in the evening, that he took +the family Bible with more zest than he had bestowed on the motive +power of the world. It was evident where his most valued treasures +were stored. With a bitter sigh, Gregory thought, "I would take his +gray hairs if I could have his peace and faith." + +Miss Eulie, to whom he gave a passing glance, seemed even less earthly +in her nature. Indeed, it appeared as if she had never more than half +belonged to the material creation. Slight, ethereal, with untroubled +blue eyes, and little puff curls too light to show their change to +gray, she struck Gregory unpleasantly, as if she were a connecting +link between gross humanity and spiritual existence, and his eyes +reverted to Miss Walton, and dwelt with increasing interest on her. +There at least were youth, health, and something else--what was it in +the girl that had so strongly and suddenly gained his attention? At +any rate there was nothing about her uncanny and spirit-like. + +He did not understand her. Was it possible that a young girl, not much +beyond twenty, was happy in the care of orphan children, in the quiet +humdrum duties of housekeeping, and in reading stupid articles through +the long, quiet evenings, with few excitements beyond church-going, +rural tea-drinkings, and country walks and rides? With a grim smile he +thought how soon the belles he had admired would expire under such a +regimen. Could this be good acting because a guest was present? If so +it was perfect, for it seemed, her daily life. + +"I will watch her," he thought. "I will solve this little feminine +enigma. It will divert my mind, and I've nothing else to do." + +"My daughter spoils me, you see, Mr. Gregory," said Mr. Walton, +starting up as Annie finished a theory that would make every one rich +by the printing-press process, + +"Don't plume yourself, papa," replied Annie, archly; "I shall make you +do something for me to pay for all this." + +With a humorous look he replied, "No matter, I have the best of the +bargain, for I should have to do the 'something' anyway. But what do +you think of this theory, sir?" And he explained, not knowing that +Walter had been listening. + +The gentlemen were soon deep in the mysteries of currency and finance, +topics on which both could talk well. Annie listened with polite +attention for a short time--indeed Gregory was exerting himself more +for her sake than for Mr. Walton's--and she was satisfied from her +father's face that his guest was interesting him; but as the subject +was mainly unintelligible to her she soon turned with real zest to +Miss Eulie's fancy-work, and there was an earnest whispered discussion +in regard to the right number of stitches. Walter noted this and +sneeringly thought, with a masculine phase of justice often seen, +"That's like a woman. She drops one of the deepest and most important +subjects of the day" (and he might have added, "As explained by me")-- +"and gives her whole soul to a bit of thread lace;" and he soon let +Mr. Walton have the discussion all his own way. + +In furtherance of his purpose to draw Annie out he said, rather +banteringly, "Miss Walton, I am astonished that so good a man as your +father should have as an ardent friend the profane and disreputable +character that I found living in the cottage opposite on the day of my +arrival." + +"Profane, I admit he is," she replied, "but not disreputable. Indeed, +as the world goes, I think old Daddy Tuggar, as he is called in this +vicinity, is a good man." + +"O, Annie!" said Miss Eulie. "How can you think so? You have broader +charity than I. He is breaking his poor wife's heart." + +"Indeed?" said Annie, dryly; "I was not aware of it." + +"I too am astonished," said Walter, in mock solemnity. "How is it that +a refined and orthodox young lady, a pillar of the church, too, I +gather, can regard with other than unmixed disapprobation a man who +breaks the third commandment and all the rules of Lindley Murray at +every breath?" + +"I imagine the latter offence is the more heinous sin in your eyes, +Mr. Gregory," she said, scanning his face with a quick look. + +"Oh, you become aggressive. I was under the impression that I was +making the attack and that you were on the defensive. But I can +readily explain the opinion which you, perhaps not unjustly, impute to +me. You and I judge this venerable sinner from different standpoints." + +"You explain your judgment, but do not justify it," replied Annie, +quietly. + +"Annie, I don't see on what grounds you call Daddy Tuggar a good man," +said Miss Eulie, emphatically. + +"Please understand me, aunty," said Annie, earnestly. "I did not say +he was a Christian man, but merely a good man as the world goes; and I +know I shall shock you when I say that I have more faith in him than +in his praying and Scripture-quoting wife. There, I knew I should," +she added, as she saw Miss Eulie's look of pained surprise. + +Mr. Walton was listening with an amused smile. He evidently understood +his quaint old friend and shared Annie's opinion of him. + +Gregory was growing decidedly interested, and said, "Really, Miss +Walton, I must side with your aunt in this matter. I shall overwhelm +you with an awful word. I think you are latitudinarian in your +tendencies." + +"Which Daddy Tuggar would call a new-fangled way of swearing at me," +retorted Annie, with her frank laugh that was so genuinely mirthful +that even Aunt Eulie joined in it. + +"I half think," continued Annie, "that the churchmen in the ages of +controversy did a good deal of worse swearing than our old neighbor is +guilty of when they hurled at each other with such bitter zest the +epithets Antinomian, Socinian, Pelagian, Calvinistic, etc." + +"Those terms have an awful sound. They smite my ear with all the power +that vagueness imparts, and surely must have caused stout hearts to +tremble in their day," he remarked. + +"We are no longer on the ground of currency and finance," said Annie, +archly, "and I shall leave you to imagine that I know all about the +ideas represented by the polysyllabic terms of churchmen's warfare." + +He looked at her a moment in comic dismay. Really this country girl +was growing too much for him in his game of banter. + +"Miss Walton, I shall not dispute or question your knowledge of the +Socin--cin--(you know the rest) heresy--" + +"Alas!" put in Annie, quietly, "I do know all about the 'sin heresy.' +I can say that honestly." + +"I am somewhat inclined to doubt that," he said, quickly; then added, +in sudden and mock severity, "Miss Walton, if I were a judge upon the +bench I should charge that you were evading the question and befogging +the case. The point at issue is, How can you regard Daddy Tuggar as a +good man? As evidence against him I can affirm that I do not remember +to have had such a good square cursing in my life, and I have received +several." + +This last expression caused Miss Eulie to open her eyes at him. + +"Not for your sake, sir," said Annie, with a keen yet humorous glance +at him, "who as judge on the bench have in your pocket a written +verdict, I fear, but for Aunt Eulie's I will give the reasons for my +estimate. I regard her in the light of an honest jury. In the first +place the term you used, 'square,' applies to him. I do not think he +could be tempted to do a dishonest thing; and that, as the world goes, +is certainly a good point." + +"And as the church goes, too," he added, cynically. + +"He is a good neighbor, and considerate of the rights of others. He +can feel, and is not afraid to show a sincere indignation when seeing +a wrong done to another." + +"I can vouch for that. I shall steal no more of your apples, Mr. +Walton." + +"There is not a particle of hypocrisy about him. I wish I could think +the same of his wife. For some reason she always gives me the +impression of insincerity. If I were as good as you are, aunty, +perhaps I should not be so suspicious. One thing more, and my eulogy +of Daddy--the only one he will ever receive, I fear--is over. He is +capable of sincere friendship, and that is more than you can say of a +great many." + +"It is indeed," said Gregory, with bitter emphasis. "I should be +willing to take my chances with Daddy Tuggar in this or any other +world." + +"You had better not," she answered, now thoroughly in earnest. + +"Why so?" + +"I should think memories of this place would make my meaning clear," +she replied, gently. + +Gregory's face darkened, and he admitted to himself that most +unexpectedly she had sent an arrow home, and yet he could take no +exception. + +His indifference toward her had vanished now. So far from regarding +her as a dull, good, country girl with a narrow horizon of little +feminine and commonplace interests, he began to doubt whether he +should be able to cope with her in the tilt of thought. He saw that +she was quick, original, and did her own thinking, that in repartee +she hit back unexpectedly, in flashes, as the lightning strikes from +the clouds. He could not keep pace with her quick intuition. + +Moreover, in her delicate reference to his parents' faith she had +suggested an argument for Christianity that he had never been able to +answer. For a little time she had caused him to forget his wretched +self, but her last remark had thrown him back on his old doubts, +fears, and memories. As we have said, his cynical, despondent +expression returned, and he silently lowered at the fire. + +Annie had too much tact to add a word. "He must be hurt--well probed +indeed--before he can be well," she thought. + +Country bedtime had now come, and Mr. Walton said, "Mr. Gregory, I +trust you will not find our custom of family prayers distasteful." + +"The absence of such a custom would seem strange to me in this place," +he replied, but he did not say whether it would be agreeable or +distasteful. + +Annie went to the piano as if it were a habit, and after a moment +chose the tender hymn-- + + "Come, ye disconsolate." + +At first, in his morbid sensitiveness, he was inclined to resent this +selection as aimed at him, but soon he was under the spell of the +music and the sentiment, which he thought had never before been so +exquisitely blended. + +Miss Walton was not very finished or artistic in anything. She would +not be regarded as a scholar, even among the girls of her own age and +station, and her knowledge of classical music was limited. But she was +gifted in a peculiar degree with tact, a quick perception, and the +power of interpreting the language of nature and of the heart. She +read and estimated character rapidly. Almost intuitively she saw +people's needs and weaknesses, but so far was she from making them the +ground of satire and contempt that they awakened her pity and desire +to help. In other words, she was one of those Christians who in some +degree catch the very essence of Christ's character, who lived and +died to save. She did not think of condemning the guilty and +disconsolate man that brooded at her fireside, but she did long to +help him. + +"I may never be able to say such words to him directly," she thought, +"but I can sing them, and if he leaves our home to-morrow he shall +hear the truth once more." + +And she did sing with tenderness and feeling. In rendering something +that required simplicity, nature, and pathos, no prima donna could +surpass her, for while her voice was not powerful, and had no unusual +compass, it was as sweet as that of a thrush in May. + +Only deaf ears and a stony heart could have remained insensible, and +Gregory was touched. A reviving breath from Paradise seemed to blow +upon him and gently urge, "Arise, struggle, make one more effort, and +you may yet cross the burning sands of the desert. It is not a mirage +that is mocking you now." + +As the last words trembled from the singer's lips he shaded his eyes +with the hand on which his head was leaning, but Miss Eulie saw a tear +fall with momentary glitter, and she exulted over it as his good angel +might have done. + +If penitent tears could be crystallized they would be the only gems of +earth that angels would covet, and perhaps God's co-workers here will +find those that they caused to flow on earth, set as gems in their +"crown of glory that fadeth not away." + +Mr. Walton, in reverential tones, read the fifty-third chapter of +Isaiah, which, with greater beauty and tenderness, carried forward the +thought of the hymn; and then he knelt and offered a prayer that was +so simple and child-like, so free from form and cant, and so direct +from the heart, that Gregory was deeply moved. The associations of his +early home were now most vividly revealed and crowned by the sacred +hour of family worship, the memory of which, like a reproachful face, +had followed him in all his evil life. + +When he arose from his knees he again shaded his face with his hand to +hide his wet eyes and twitching muscles. After a few moments he bade +the family an abrupt goodnight, and retired to his room. + +At first they merely exchanged significant glances. Then Miss Eulie +told of the tear as if it were a bit of dust from a mine that might +enrich them all. For a while Annie sat thoughtfully gazing into the +fire, but at last she said, "It must be plain to us that Mr. Gregory +has wandered further from his old home in spirit than he has in body; +but it seems equally evident that he is not happy and content. He +seems suffering and out of health in soul and body. Perhaps God has +sent him to us and to his childhood's home for healing. Let us, +therefore, be very careful, very tender and considerate. He is +naturally proud and sensitive, and is morbidly so now." + +"I think he is near the Kingdom," said Miss Eulie, with a little sigh +of satisfaction. + +"Perhaps all are nearer than we think," said Annie, in a musing tone. +"God is not far from any one of us. But it is the curse of sin to +blind. He has, no doubt, been long in reaching his present unhappy +condition, and he may be long in escaping from it." + +"Well, the Lord reigns," said Mr. Walton, sententiously, as if that +settled the question. + +"Dear old father!" said Annie, smiling fondly at him, "that's your +favorite saying. You have a comfortable habit of putting all +perplexing questions into the Lord's hand and borrowing no further +trouble. Perhaps that is the wisest way after all, only one is a long +time learning it." + +"I've been a long time learning it, my child," said her father. "Let +us agree to carry his case often to the throne of mercy, and in His +good time and way our prayers will be answered." + +Thus in quaint old scriptural style they conspired for the life of +their unconscious guest. This was in truth a "holy alliance." How many +dark conspiracies there have been, resulting in blood, wrong, and +outrage, that some unworthy brow might wear for a little time a petty, +perishing crown of earth! Oh, that there were more conspiracies like +that in Mr. Walton's parlor for the purpose of rendering the unworthy +fit to wear the crown immortal! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WITCHCRAFT + + + +Miss Eulie was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late to +breakfast the following morning with not a trace of his softened +feelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose to +seem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbelief +could not pass away so easily. + +Even in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the frost's +icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong to +spring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time. +But such days may end in a northeast snowstorm and the birds perish. + +The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in the +table-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom of +the early morning rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he made +an indifferent breakfast and did not appear well. + +After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said, +she remarked to her father when alone with him: + +"I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner when you spoke of Mr. +Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. What +could have occurred between them?" + +"Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps," said Mr. Walton, +musingly. + +"I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some of +his fast ways," Annie continued, emphatically, "and they have had hot +words. Men have so little discretion in their zeal." + +"Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foibles +unless they threaten their pockets," her father replied. "It is more +probable that Gregory has borrowed money of Hunting, and been +compelled to pay it against his will; and yet I have no right to +surmise anything of the kind." + +"But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent on +doing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution. +But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr. +Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed in +any face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, and +that we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here. +Oh, dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead of +this moody, wayward stranger." + +"I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little of +my old friend, his father. But remember what you said last night. It +may be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him become +what his father was." + +"I will do my best; but I do not look forward to his society with much +pleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, I +should feel repaid a thousand-fold." + +Gregory finished his letters and then paced restlessly up and down his +room. + +"That this country girl should have so moved me!" he muttered. "What +does it mean? What is there about her that takes hold of my attention +and awakens my interest? I wish to go downstairs now, and talk to her, +and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do. +Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her. + +"Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind, +beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert her +power to the utmost and make herself useful? Yes, but she will try to +do more than amuse. Well, suppose she does; one can coolly foil such +efforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could, +but one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. I +suppose I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, and +they thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or on +the eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seem +a relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsive +girl, even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem to +have fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which I +can only doubt, suffer, and chafe. + +"I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her character. I doubt +whether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girls +exist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I will +solve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a day +or two she will become an old story and life resume its normal +monotony;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out his +purpose. + +The children were just coming from the sitting-room where they had +their school, exclaiming, "Oh, aunty, what shall we do this awful +rainy day?" + +"Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read you +a fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until dinner- +time." + +"May I listen to the fairy story also?" asked Walter. + +Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be half- +desperate from your imprisonment to accept of such solace. But if you +can wait till I have kept my word to the children I will read +something more to your taste." + +"I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once again +after all these years." + +"As Shakespeare may sound to us some time in the future," she replied, +smiling. + +"I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shakespeare," he said. + +"I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet I +am only growing up to Shakespeare." + +"You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand." + +"And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add," she +answered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen +department. "You men have a general faith that there will be dinner at +two o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass, +and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitude +enough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate the +kitchen divinity." + +"There!" he said, "I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and she +has stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. She +is a witch." + +After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children called +for a story, and both clamored for their favorites. + +"Johnny," said Miss Walton, "it is manly to yield to the least and +weakest, especially if she be a little woman." + +The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption of +dignity said, "You may read Susie's story first, aunty." + +"Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time;" +which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace which +accompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has triumphed. + +"Now, little miniature man and woman, listen!" and their round eyes +were ready for the world of wonders. + +And this child of nature was at the same time showing Gregory a world +as new and strange--a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy, +but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the children away into +fairy-land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth, +and genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart. + +"Well, what do you think of the fairy story?" she asked after she had +finished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at the +happy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince and +princess were married: + +"I did not hear it," he said. + +"That's complimentary. But you appeared listening very closely." + +"You have heard of people reading a different meaning between the +lines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning." + +"And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale?" she +asked with interest. + +"It would be difficult for me to explain--something too vague and +indefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else I +will listen to the text itself." + +"Come, children, scamper off to the garret," said Annie, "and remember +you are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle to +each other." + +"You will fill those youngsters' heads with beautiful superstitions." + +"Superstition and faith are not so very far apart, though so unlike." + +"Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins." + +"Is it?" + +"Isn't it?" + +"I don't like to contradict you, sir." + +"You have contradicted me, and I suppose it is manly to yield to a +lady.'" + +"Not in matters of principle and honest conviction." + +"Alas! if one has not very much of either!" + +"It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault." + +"I have no doubt it is a misfortune, Miss Walton, but you are not +reading." + +"Well, make your choice." + +"I leave it entirely to you." + +"You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light and +cheerful from Dickens." + +"Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to make +one laugh." + +"Then here is Irving. His style flows like a meadowbrook." + +"No, he is too sentimental." + +"Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium." + +"No, he wearies one with explanations and history." + +"Some of Tennyson's dainty idylls will suit your fastidious taste." + +"I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to-day." + +"Shakespeare, then; you regard him as perfect." + +"No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to." + +"Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazine, and some new novels." + +"Modern rubbish--a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchen +fires instead of thought." + +"Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring? +There is Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical Ancient History'; that has a solid, +venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's 'Elegy.' +That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writing +it. But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your mood +exactly, Tupper's 'Proverbial Philosophy.'" + +"You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainly +that I am as full of whims as a--" + +"Woman, would you like to say?" + +"Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day, +and the most faultless style and theme in our language would weary me. +I am possessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and disgust at +myself and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you know +of any spell that can exorcise these demons?" + +"Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my power +and obey?" + +"I am your slave." + +Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. "You +must take a horizontal position in order that my spell may work." + +"Pshaw! you are prescribing an ordinary nap." + +"I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. But +permit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you have +nothing to do in this matter but to obey." + +"Very well;" and he threw himself on the sofa. + +"The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you;" and +she did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful when +one is indisposed. + +Her manner both soothed and pleased him. + +He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since he +had experienced woman's gentle care and ministry; and Annie Walton had +a power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly he +said, "I wish I had a sister like you." + +"My creed, you know," she replied, "makes all mankind kindred." + +"Nonsense!" said Gregory, irritably; "deliver me from your church +sisters." + +"Take care!" she answered, with a warning nod, "I'm a church sister; +so don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep." + +"I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister." + +"You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush; +you must not talk." + +"How would you treat me after I had been anathematized?" + +"If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush; +not another word. I am going to sing." + +A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himself +to listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fall +asleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden clouds +driven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the angles +of the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemed +emblematic of himself. But now he had a brief but blessed sense of +shelter from both the storm and himself. The fire blazed cheerily on +the hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmosphere. +Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has found +something to suit her, or rather him, and is singing. + +"What an unusual voice she has!" he thought "Truly the spirit of +David's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. I +wonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under the +stress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not show +herself a true daughter of Eve? I must find out, for it is about the +only remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest of +us--if she is a female Hunting--then good-by to all hope. I shall not +live to find anybody or anything to trust. If she is what she seems, +it's barely possible that she might help me out of this horrible +'slough of despond,' if she would take the trouble. I wish that she +were my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just like +her." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY + + + +To Gregory's surprise he waked and then admitted to himself that, +contrary to his expectation and purpose, he had been asleep. His last +remembered consciousness was that of sweet, low music; and how long +ago was that? He looked at his watch; it was nearly two, and he must +have slept several hours. He glanced around and saw that he was alone, +but the fire still blazed on the hearth, and the afghan infolded him +with its genial warmth as before, and it seemed that although by +himself he was still cared for. + +"She is a witch," he muttered. "Her spells are no jokes. But I will +investigate her case like an old-time Salem inquisitor. With more than +Yankee curiosity, which was at the bottom of their superstitious +questionings, I will pry into her power. But she will find that she +has a wary sceptic to convince. I have seen too many saints and +sinners to be again deceived by fair seeming." + +A broad ray of sunlight shot across the room. "By my soul! it's +clearing off. Is this her work also? Has she swept away the clouds +with her broomstick? And there goes the dinner-bell, too;" and he went +to his room two steps at a time, as he had done when a boy. + +Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said: +"He must be better." + +At the table she asked, "How do you find yourself now?" + +"Much given to appetite." Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said, +abruptly, "Do you believe in witchcraft?" + +"Well, no, sir," said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback. + +"I do!" continued he, emphatically. + +"When and where have you had experience of the black art?" + +"This morning, and in your house, sir." + +"You seem none the worse for it," said his host, smiling. + +"Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer if +I am practiced upon any more." + +"Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witchery this exceeds," +said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appetite comes of it." + +"It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result," replied +Gregory. "What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salem +witches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything like +mine." + +"You must remember that the question of what was agreeable or +otherwise scarcely entered into a Puritan's motives." + +"I am not so sure of that," he answered, quickly. "It has ever seemed +to me that the good people of other days went into persecution with a +zeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will have +their excitements, and a good rousing persecution used to stir things +like the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day." + +"Granting," said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor-- +and these must be mainly charged to the age--still you must admit that +among them were earnest men who did from good motives what appears +very wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principles +were embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evil +through the suffering and death of these poor creatures." + +"And then consider the simplicity and ease of the persecutor's +method," continued Gregory, mockingly. "A man's head has become full +of supposed doctrinal errors. To refute and banish these would require +much study and argument on the part of the opponent. It was so much +easier to take an obstinate heretic's head off than to argue with him! +I think it was the simplicity of the persecutor's method that kept it +in favor so long." + +"But it never convinced any one," said Annie, "and the man killed +merely goes into another world of the same opinion still." + +"And there probably learns, poor fellow, that both were wrong, and +that he had better have been content with good dinners and a quiet +life, and let theology alone." + +"The world would move but slowly, if all men were content with 'good +dinners and a quiet life,'" said Annie, satirically. "But you have not +answered my question. Could not good, earnest men have been very +cruel, believing that everything depended on their uprooting some evil +of their day?" + +"To tell the truth, Miss Walton," he replied, a little nettled, "I +have no sympathy with that style of men. To me they are very repulsive +and ridiculous. They remind me of the breathless, perspiring +politicians of our time, who button-hole you and assert that the world +will come to an end unless John Smith is elected. To me, the desperate +earnestness of people who imagine it their mission to set the world +right is excessively tiresome. For one man or a thousand to proclaim +that they speak for God and embody truth, and that the race should +listen and obey, is the absurdity of arrogance." + +"If we were to agree with you, should we not have to say that the +prophets should have kept their visions to themselves, and that Luther +should have remained in his cell, and Columbus have coasted alongshore +and not insisted on what was to all the world an absurdity?" + +"Come, Miss Walton," said Gregory, with a vexed laugh as they rose +from the table, "you are a witch. I am willing to argue with flesh and +blood, but I would rather hear you sing. Still, since you have swept +away these clouds so I can have my ramble, I will forgive you for +unhorsing me in our recent tilt." + +"If you would mount some good honest hobby and ride it hard, I doubt +whether any one could unhorse you," she replied in a low tone, as she +accompanied him to the parlor. + +"Men with hobbies are my detestation, Miss Walton." + +"Nevertheless, they are the true knights-errant of our age. Of course +it depends upon what kind of hobbies they ride, or whether they can +manage their steeds." + +"Miss Walton, your figure suggests a half-idiot, with a narrow +forehead and one idea, banging back and forth on a wooden horse, but +making no progress--in other words, a fussy, bustling man who can do +and talk but one thing." + +"Your understanding of the popular phrase is narrow and literal, and +while it may have such a meaning, it can also have a very different +one. Suppose that, instead of looking with languid eyes alike upon all +things, a man finds some question of vital import, or a pursuit that +promises good to himself and to others and that enlists his interest. +He comes at last to give it his best energies and thought. The whole +current of his life is setting in that direction. Of course he must +ever be under the restraints of good sense and refinement. A man's +life without a hobby is a weak and wavering line of battle +indefinitely long. One's life with a hobby is a concentrated charge." + +There was in Miss Walton's face and manner, as she uttered these +words, that which caused him to regard her with involuntary +admiration. Suddenly he asked, "Have you a hobby?" + +Her manner changed instantly, and with an arch look she said, "If you +detest a man with a hobby, what a monster a woman with one would be in +your eyes!" + +"I have admitted that you are a witch." + +"Oh, I am a monster already, and so have no character to lose. But +where is your penetration? If a man with a hobby is idiotic, narrow- +browed, fussy and bustling, excessively obtrusive with his one idea, a +woman must be like him with all these things exaggerated. Has it not +occurred to you that I have a hobby of the most wooden and clumsy +order?" + +"But that was my idea of a hobby. You have spiritualized my wooden +block into a Pegasus--the symbol of inspiration. Have you such a +hobby?" + +"I have." + +"What is it?" + +She went out of the room, saying smilingly over her shoulder, "You +must find that out for yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON + + + +Gregory was soon off for his ramble. The storm had cleared away, +leaving the air so warm and genial as to suggest spring rather than +fall; but he was quite oblivious of the outer world, and familiar +scenes had not the power to awaken either pleasant or painful +associations. He was trying to account for the influence that Annie +Walton had suddenly gained over him, but it was beyond his philosophy. +This provoked him. His cool, worldly nature doubted everything and +especially everybody. He believed in the inherent weakness of +humanity, and that if people were exceptionally good it was because +they had been exceptionally fortunate in escaping temptation. He also +had a cynical pleasure in seeing such people tripping and stumbling, +so that he might say in self-excusing, "We are all alike." + +And yet he was compelled to admit that if Annie's goodness was seeming +it was higher art than he had known before. There was also an +unconscious assertion of superiority in her manner that he did not +like. True, things had turned out far better than he had expected. +There was no cant about her. She did not lecture him or "talk +religion" in what he regarded as the stereotyped way, and he was sure +she would not, even if they became better acquainted. But there is +that in genuine goodness and nobility of character that always +humiliates the bad and makes them feel their degradation. A real pity +and sympathy for him tinged her manner, but these qualities are not +agreeable to pride. And it must be admitted that she had a little +self-righteous satisfaction that she was so much better than this +sadly robbed and wounded man suddenly appearing at the wayside of her +life. In human strength there is generally a trace of arrogance. Only +divine strength and purity can say with perfect love and full +allowance for all weakness and adverse influences, "Neither do I +condemn thee; go, and sin no more." + +Gregory had now reached a rustic bridge across a little stream that, +swollen from the recent rain, came gurgling and clamoring down from +the hills. Leaning upon the rail he seemed to watch the foaming water +glide under his feet; but the outward vision made no impression on his +mind. + +At last in the consciousness of solitude he said: "She told me I must +find her out. I will. I will know whether she is as free from human +frailty as she seems. I have little doubt that before many days I can +cause her to show all the inherent weaknesses of her sex; and I should +think New York and Paris had taught me what they are. She has never +been tempted. She has never been subjected to the delicate flattery of +an accomplished man of the world. I am no gross libertine. I could not +be in this place. I could not so wrong hospitality and the household +of my father's friend. But I should like to prove to that girl her +delusion, and show her that she is a weak woman like the rest; that +she is a pretty painted ship that has never been in a storm, and +therefore need not sail so confidently. We all start on the voyage of +life as little skiffs and pleasure boats might cross the ocean. If any +get safely over, it is because they were lucky enough not to meet +dangerous currents or rough weather. I should like her better with her +piquant ways if she were more like myself. Saints and Madonnas are +well enough in pictures, but such as I would find them very +uncomfortable society." + +With sudden power the thought flashed upon him, "Why not let her make +you as she is?" Where did the thought come from? Tell me not that the +Divine Father forgets His children. He is speaking to them +continually, only they will not hear. There was a brief passionate +wish on the part of this bad man that she might be what she seemed and +that he could become like her. As the turbulent, muddy Jordan divided +that God's people might pass through, so this thought from heaven +found passage through his heart, and then the current of sinful +impulse and habit flowed on as before. With the stupidity of evil he +was breaking the clew that God had dropped into his hand even when +desperately weary of his lost state. He is wrecked and helpless on the +wide ocean; a ship is coming to his rescue; and his first effort is +that this vessel also may be wrecked or greatly injured in the +attempt. + +There is no insanity like that of a perverted heart. The adversary of +souls has so many human victims doing his work that he can fold his +hands in idleness. And yet according to the world's practice, and we +might almost say its code, Gregory purposed nothing that would be +severely condemned--nothing more than an ordinary flirtation, as +common in society as idleness, love of excitement, and that power over +others which ministers to vanity. He had no wish to be able to say +anything worse of her than that under temptation she would be as vain +and heartless a coquette as many others that he knew in what is +regarded as good society. He would have cut off his right hand, as he +then felt, rather than have sought to lead her into gross sin. + +And yet what did Gregory purpose in regard to Annie but to take the +heavenly bloom and beauty from her character? As if they can be lovely +to either God or man of whom it can be said only, They commit no overt +crime. What is the form of a rose without its beauty and fragrance? +They who tempt to evil are the real iconoclasts. They destroy God's +image. + +But the supreme question of the selfish heart is, "What do I want +_now?_" + +Gregory wished to satisfy himself and Miss Walton that she had no +grounds for claiming any special superiority over him, and he turned +on his heel and went back to the house to carry out his purpose. +Nature, purified and beautiful by reason of its recent baptism from +heaven, had no attractions for him. Gems of moisture sparkled unseen. +He was planning and scheming to turn her head with vanity, make her +quiet life of ministry to others odious, and draw her into a +fashionable flirtation. + +Annie did not appear until the supper-bell summoned her, and then +said, "Mr. Gregory, I hope you will not think it rude if father and I +leave you to your books and Aunt Eulie's care this evening. It is our +church prayer-meeting night, and father never likes to be absent." + +"I shall miss you beyond measure. The evening will seem an age." + +Something in his tone caused her to give him a quick glance, but she +only said, with a smile, "You are very polite to say so, but I imagine +the last magazine will be a good substitute." + +"I doubt whether there is a substitute for you, Miss Walton. I am +coming to believe that your absence would make that vacuum which +nature so dreads. You shall see how good I will be this evening, and +you shall read me everything you please, even to that 'Ancient +Ecclesiastical History.' If you will only stay I will be your slave; +and you shall rule me with a rod of iron or draw me with the silken +cords of kindness, according to your mood." + +"It is not well to have too many moods, Mr. Gregory," said Annie, +quietly. "In reply to all your alluring reasons for staying at home I +have only to say that I have promised father to go with him; besides, +I think it is my duty to go." + +"'Duty' is a harsh, troublesome word to be always quoting. It is a +kind of strait-jacket which we poor moral lunatics are compelled to +wear." + +"'Duty' seems to me a good solid road on which one may travel safely. +One never knows where the side paths lead: into the brambles or a +morass like enough." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, such austerity is not becoming to your youth and +beauty." + +"What am I to think of your sincerity when you speak of my beauty, Mr. +Gregory?" + +"Beauty is a question of taste," answered Gregory, gallantly. "It is +settled by no rigid rules or principles, but by the eyes of the +observer." + +"Oh! I understand now. My beauty this evening is the result of your +bad taste." + +"Calling it 'bad' does not make it so. Well, since you will not remain +at home with me, will you not let me go with you to the prayer- +meeting? If I'm ever to join your church, it is time I entered on the +initiating mysteries." + +"I think a book will do you more good in your present mood." + +"What a low estimate you make of the 'means of grace'! Why, certain of +your own poets have said, 'And fools who came to scoff remained to +pray.'" + +"The quotation does not apply to you, Mr. Gregory. For, even if you +can doubt the power and truth of Christianity, the memory of your +childhood will prevent you from scoffing at it." + +A sudden shadow came across his face, but after a moment he said, in +his old tones: + +"Will you not let me go to the prayer-meeting?" + +"Father will be glad to have you go with us, if you think it prudent +to venture out in the night air." + +"Prudence to the dogs! What is the use of living if we cannot do as we +please? But will _you_ be glad to have me go?" + +"That depends upon your motives." + +"If I should confess you wouldn't let me go," he replied with a bow. +"But I will try to be as good as possible, just to reward your +kindness." + +The rest of the family now joined them in the supper-room, and during +the meal Walter exerted himself to show how entertaining he could be +if he chose. Anecdotes, incidents of travel, graphic sketches of +society, and sallies of wit, made an hour pass before any one was +aware. + +Even the children listened with wondering eyes, and Mr. Walton and +Miss Eulie were delighted with the vivacity of their guest. Annie +apparently had no reason to complain of him, for his whole manner +toward her during the hour was that of delicately sustained +compliment. When she spoke he listened with deference, and her words +usually had point and meaning. He also gave to her remarks the best +interpretation of which they were capable, and by skilfully drawing +her out made her surpass even herself, so that Miss Eulie said, "Why, +Annie, there surely is some witchcraft about. You and Mr. Gregory are +as brilliant as fireworks." + +"It's all Miss Walton's work, I assure you," said Gregory. "As Pat +declared, 'I'm not meself any more,' and shall surprise you, sir, by +asking if I may go to the prayer-meeting. Miss Walton says I can if I +will behave myself. The last time I went to the old place I made faces +at the girls. I suppose that would be wrong." + +"That is the sin of our age--making faces," said Annie. "Many have +two, and some can make for themselves even more." + +"Now that was a barbed arrow," said Gregory, looking at her keenly. +"Did you let it fly at a venture?" + +"Bless me!" said Mr. Walton, rising hastily, "we should have been on +the road a quarter of an hour ago. You mustn't be so entertaining +another prayer-meeting night, Mr. Gregory. Of course we shall be glad +to have you accompany us if you feel well enough. I give you both but +five minutes before joining me at the wagon." + +Walter again mounted the stairs with something of his old buoyancy, +and Annie followed, looking curiously after him. + +It was not in human nature to be indifferent to that most skilful +flattery which can be addressed to woman--the recognition of her +cleverness, and the enhancing of it by adroit and suggestive +questions--and yet all his manner was tinged by a certain insincere +gallantry, rather than by a manly, honest respect. She vaguely felt +this, though she could not distinctly point it out. He puzzled her. +What did he mean, and at what was he aiming? + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A DRINKING-SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING + + + +Having failed in his attempt to induce Annie to remain at home, +Gregory resolved that the prayer-meeting should not be one of quiet +devotion. Mr. Walton made him, as an invalid, take the back seat with +Annie, while he sat with the driver, and Gregory, after a faint show +of resistance, gladly complied. + +"It's chilly. Won't you give me half of your shawl?" he said to her. + +"You may have it all," she replied, about to take it off. + +"No, I'll freeze first. Do the brethren and sisters sit together?" + +"No," she answered, laughing, "we have got in the queer way of +dividing the room between us, and the few men who attend sit on one +side and we on the other." + +"Oh, it's almost a female prayer-meeting then. Do the sisters pray?" + +"Mr. Gregory, you are not a stranger here that you need pretend to +such ignorance. I think the meeting is conducted very much as when you +were a boy." + +"With this most interesting difference, that you will be there and +will sing, I hope. Miss Walton, where did you learn to sing?" + +"Mainly at home." + +"I should think so. Your voice is as unlike that of a public singer as +you are unlike the singer herself." + +"It must seem very tame to you." + +"It seems very different. We have an artificial-flower department in +our store. There is no lack of color and form there, I assure you, but +after all I would prefer your rose garden in June." + +"But you would probably prefer your artificial-flower department the +rest of the year," said Annie, laughing. + +"Why so?" + +"Our roses are annuals and are only prosaic briers after their bloom." + +"Imagine them hybrid perpetuals and monthlies and you have my meaning. +But your resemblance to a rose extends even to its thorns. Your words +are a little sharp sometimes." + +"In the thorns the resemblance begins and ends, Mr. Gregory. I assure +you I am a veritable Scotch brier. But here we are at our destination. +I wonder if you will see many old, remembered faces." + +"I shall be content in seeing yours," he replied in a low tone, +pressing her hand as he assisted her to alight. + +If he could have seen the expression of her face in the darkness it +would have satisfied him that she did not receive that style of +compliment like many of the belles of his acquaintance, who would take +the small change of flattery with the smiling complacency of a public +door-keeper. + +They were late. The good old pastor was absent, and one of the +brethren was reading a chapter in the Bible. Gregory took a seat where +he could see Annie plainly, and she sat with her side face toward him. + +He watched her keenly, in order to see if she showed any consciousness +of his presence. The only evidence in his favor was a slight flush and +a firmness about the lips, as if her will was asserting itself. But +soon her face had the peaceful and serious expression becoming the +place and hour, and he saw that she had no thoughts for him whatever. +He was determined to distract her attention, and by restlessness, by +looking fixedly at her, sought her eye, but only secured the notice of +some young girls who thought him "badly smitten with Miss Walton." + +The long chapter having been read, a hymn was given out. The gentleman +who usually led the music was also absent, and there was an ominous +pause, in which the good brother's eye wandered appealingly around the +room and at last rested hopefully on Annie. She did not fail him, but, +with heightened color and voice that trembled slightly at first, +"started the tune." It was a sweet, familiar air, and she soon had the +support of other voices. One after another they joined her in widely +varying degrees of melody, even as the example of a noble life will +gradually secure a number of more or less successful imitators. + +Gregory had seen the appeal to her with an amused, half-comical look, +but her sincere and ready performance of the duty that had +unexpectedly revealed itself rapidly changed the expression of his +face to one of respect and admiration. Distinct, and yet blending with +the others, her voice seemed both to key up and hide the little +roughnesses and discords of some who perhaps had more melody in their +hearts than in their tones. + +Again a divine impulse, like a flower-laden breeze sweeping into a +dark and grated vault at Greenwood, stirred Gregory's evil nature. + +"Let her teach you the harmony of noble, unselfish living. Follow her +in thought, feeling, and action, as those stammering, untuned tongues +do in melody, and the blight of evil will pass from your life. Seek +not to muddy and poison this clear little rill that is watering a bit +of God's world. Grant that her goodness is not real, established, and +thoroughly tested--that it is only a pretty surface picture. Seek not +to blur that picture." + +But the evil heart is like Sodom. Good angel-thoughts may come to it, +but they are treated with violence and driven out. His habit of +cynical doubt soon returned, and his purpose to show Miss Walton that +she was a weak, vain woman after all became stronger than ever. + +It seemed to have come to this, that his salvation depended on, not +what Miss Walton could say or do directly in his behalf, but upon her +maintenance of a character that even a sceptical world must +acknowledge as inspired by heaven, and this, too, against a tempter of +unusual skill and tact. She might sing with resistless pathos, and +argue and plead with Paul's logic and eloquence. His nature might be +stirred for a moment as a stagnant pool is agitated by the winds of +heaven, and, like the pool, he would soon settle back into his old +apathy. But if she could be made to show weakness, to stumble and +fall, it would confirm him in his belief that goodness, if it really +existed, was accidental; that those whose lives were apparently free +from stain deserved no credit, because untempted; and that those who +fell should be pitied rather than blamed, since they were unfortunate +rather than guilty. Anything that would quiet and satisfy his +conscience in its stern arraignment of his evil life would be welcome. +The more he saw of Miss Walton the more he felt that she would be a +fair subject upon whom to test his favorite theory. Therefore, by the +time one of the brethren present had finished his homely exhortation +he was wholly bent upon carrying out his plan. + +But Miss Walton sat near, as innocently oblivious of this plot against +her as Eve of the serpent's guile before the tempter and temptation +came into fatal conjunction. + +What thoughts for and against each other may dwell utterly hidden and +unknown in the hearts of those so near that their hands may touch! +Conspiracies to compass the death that is remediless may lurk just +behind eyes that smile upon us. Of course Gregory desired no such +fatal result to follow his little experiment. Few who for their own +pleasure, profit, or caprice tempt others wish the evil to work on to +the bitter end. They merely want a sufficient letting down of +principle and virtue for the accomplishment of their purpose, and then +would prefer that the downward tendency should cease or be reversed. +The merchant who requires dishonorable practices of his clerk wishes +him to stop at a point which, in the world's estimation, is safe. And +those who, like Gregory, would take the bloom from woman's purity and +holiness in thought and action, that they may enjoy a questionable +flirtation, would be horrified to see that woman drop into the foul +gulf of vice. With the blind egotism of selfishness, they wish merely +to gratify their present inclinations, ignoring the consequences. They +are like children who think it would be sport to see a little cataract +falling over a Holland dike. Therefore, when the tide is in they open +a small channel, but are soon aghast to find that the deep sea is +overwhelming the land. + +Gregory, as is usual with his kind, thought only of his own desires. +When he had accomplished these Miss Walton must take care of herself. +When from seeming a sweet, pure woman she had, by a little temptation, +proved to be capable of becoming a vain flirt, he would go back to +business and dismiss her from his thoughts with the grim chuckle, "She +is like the rest of us." + +And thus Annie was destined to meet her mother Eve's experience; and +with the energy and promptness of evil Gregory was keenly on the alert +for anything to further his purpose. + +It would seem that the satanic ally in such schemes does not permit +opportunity to be wanting long. The leader of the meeting again +selected a hymn, but of a peculiar metre. He read only two lines, and +then looked expectantly toward Annie, who could not at the moment +think of a tune that would answer; and while with knit brows she was +bending over her book, to her unbounded surprise she heard the hymn +started by a clear, mellow tenor voice. Looking up she saw Gregory +singing as gravely as a deacon. She was sufficiently a musician to +know that the air did not belong to sacred music, though she had never +heard it before. + +In his watchfulness he had noted her hesitation, and glancing at the +metre saw instantly that the measure of a drinking-song he knew well +would fit the words. This fell out better than he had hoped, and with +the thought, "I will jostle her out of her dignity now," he began +singing without any embarrassment, though every eye was upon him. He +had been out in the world long enough for that. + +As Annie turned with a shocked and half-frightened expression toward +him his eyes met hers with a sudden gleam of drollery which was +irresistible, and he had the satisfaction of seeing her drop her head +to conceal a smile. But he noticed, a moment later, that her face +became grave with disapprobation. + +Having sung a stanza he looked around with an injured air, as if +reproaching the others for not joining in with him. + +"The tune is not exactly familiar to us," said the good man leading +the meeting, "but if the brother will continue singing we will soon +catch the air; or perhaps the brother or some one else (with a glance +at Annie) will start one better known." + +Gregory deliberately turned over the leaves, and to the tune of Old +Hundred started a hymn commencing: + + "Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb, + Take this new treasure to thy trust, + And give these sacred relics room + To slumber in the silent dust." + +Annie had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the transition from what +he had been singing to the funereal and most inappropriate words was +almost too much for her. To her impotent anger and self-disgust she +felt a hysterical desire to laugh, and only controlled herself by +keeping her head down and her lips firmly pressed together during the +remainder of the brief service. + +Even others who did not know Gregory could not prevent a broad smile +at the incongruous hymn he had chosen, but they unitedly wailed it +through, for he persisted in singing it all in the most dirge-like +manner. They gave him credit for doing the best he could, and supposed +his unhappy choice resulted from haste and embarrassment. In the +spontaneity of social meetings people become accustomed to much that +is not harmonious. + +Mr. Walton was puzzled. His guest was certainly appearing in an +unexpected role, and he feared that all was not right. + +After the meeting the brethren gathered round Gregory and thanked him +for his assistance, and he shook hands with them and the elderly +ladies present with the manner of one who might have been a "pillar in +the temple." Many of them remembered his father and mother and +supposed their mantle had fallen on him. + +An ancient "mother in Israel" thanked him that he had "started a tune +that they all could sing, instead of the new-fangled ones the young +people are always getting up nowadays. But," said she, "I wish you +could learn us that pretty one you first sang, for it took my fancy +amazingly. I think I must have heard it before somewhere." + +Gregory gave Annie another of his suggestive glances, that sent her +out hastily into the darkness, and a moment later he joined her at the +carriage steps. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION + + + +Gregory lifted Miss Walton very tenderly into the carriage and took +his place by her side, while her father was detained by some little +matter of business. + +"I am not an invalid," said Annie, rather curtly. + +"Indeed you are not, Miss Walton; from your super-abundance you are +even giving life to me." + +"I thought from your manner you feared I was about to faint," she +answered, dryly. + +Mr. Walton joined them and they started homeward. + +"Come, Miss Annie," said Gregory (addressing her thus for the first +time); "why so distant? Was I not called a brother in the meeting? If +I am a brother you are a sister. I told you I would secure this +relationship." + +She did not answer him. + +"I think it was too bad," he continued, "that you did not second my +efforts better. You would not help me sing either of the tunes I +started." + +"Mr. Gregory," said Annie, emphatically, "I will never go to a prayer- +meeting with you again." + +"What a rash resolve! But I confess that I preferred to have you stay +at home with me." + +"You have spoiled the whole evening for me." + +"And you spoiled mine. So we are quits," he replied, laughingly. + +"No, we are not. How can you turn sacred things into a jest?" + +"I was possessed to see a smile light up the awful gravity of your +face, and I feel amply repaid in that I succeeded. It was a delicious +bit of sunshine on a cloudy day." + +"And I am provoked at myself beyond measure, that I could have laughed +like a silly child." + +"But did you not like the first tune I sang? 'Old Hundred' was +selected in deference to the wishes of the meeting." + +"No, I did not like it. It was not suitable to the place and words. +Though I never heard it before, its somewhat slow movement did not +prevent it from smacking of something very foreign to a prayer- +meeting." + +"A most happy and inspired expression. Many a time I have smacked my +lips when it was being sung over the best of wine." + +"Was it a drinking-song, then?" she asked, quickly. + +"What will you do with me if I say it was?" + +"Mr. Gregory, I would not have thought this even of you." + +"Even of me! That is complimentary. I now learn what a low estimate +you have of me. But see how unjust you are. The musical commissaries +of the church militant are ever saying, 'It's a pity the devil should +have all the good music,' and so half the Sunday-school tunes, and +many sung in churches, have had a lower origin than my drinking-song. +I assure you that the words are as fine as the air. Why have I not as +good a right to steal a tune from the devil as the rest of them?" + +"It's the motive that makes all the difference," said Annie. "But I +fear that in this case the devil suffered no loss." + +"I'm sure my motive was not bad. I only wished to see a bonny smile +light up your face." + +Before she could reply the carriage stopped at Mr. Walton's door, and +with Mr. Gregory she passed into the cosey parlor. Her father did not +immediately join them. + +As Gregory looked at her while she took off her wraps, he thought, "By +Jove! she's handsome if she is not pretty." + +In fact Annie's face at that time would have attracted attention +anywhere. The crisp air had given her a fine color. Her eyes glowed +with suppressed excitement and anger, while the firm lines about the +mouth indicated that when she spoke it would be decidedly. In spite of +herself the audacity, cleverness, and wickedness of this stranger had +affected her greatly. As he threw off his moodiness, as he revealed +himself by word and action, she saw that he was no ordinary character, +but a thorough man of the world, and with some strange caprices. The +suspicion crossed her mind that he might be not only in peril himself +but also a source of danger. She had determined during the ride home +that even though he meant no slur upon sacred things he should carry +his mocking spirit no more into them. Therefore, after a moment's +thought, she turned toward him with a manner of mingled frankness and +dignity, and said, "Mr. Gregory, I regret what has occurred this +evening. I have a painful sense of the ludicrous, and you have taken +unfair advantage of it. I am usually better and happier for going to +our simple little meeting, but now I can think of the whole hour only +with pain. I think I am as mirth-loving as the majority of my age, and +perhaps more so. I say truly that my heart is very light and happy. +But, Mr. Gregory, we look at certain things very differently from you. +While I would not for a moment have you think that religion brings +into my life gloom and restraint--quite the reverse--still it gives me +great pain when anything connected with my faith is made a matter of +jest. These things are sacred to us, and I know my father would feel +deeply grieved if he understood you this evening. Do you not see? It +appears to us differently from what it does to you and perhaps to the +world at large. These things are to us what your mother's memory is to +you. I would sooner cut off my right hand than trifle with that." + +Gregory had been able to maintain his quizzical look of mischief till +she named his mother; then his face changed instantly. A flush of +shame crossed it, and after a moment, with an expression something +like true manhood, he stepped forward and took Annie's hand, saying, +"Miss Walton, I sincerely ask your pardon. I did not know--I could not +believe that you felt as you do. I will give you no further reason to +complain of me on this ground. I hope you will forgive me." + +She at once relented, and said: + + "'Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is not of heaven nor earth.' + +There is an apt quotation from your favorite Shakespeare." + +"You seem a delightful mixture of both, Miss Walton." + +"If you were a better judge, sir, you would know that the earthly +ingredient is too great. But that is in your favor, for I am +sufficiently human to make allowance for human folly." + +"I shall tax your charity to the utmost." + +As Gregory sat in his arm-chair recalling the events of the day before +retiring, he thought: "Well, my attempt has failed signally. While by +her involuntary smile she showed that she was human, she has also +managed this evening to prove that she is perfectly sincere in her +religion, and to render it impossible for me to assail her in that +direction again. As the old hymn goes, I must 'let her religious hours +alone.' But how far her religion or superstition will control her +action is another question. I have learned both at home and abroad +that people can be very religious and very sincere in matters of faith +and ceremony, and jealous of any hand stretched out to touch their +sacred ark, but when through with the holy business they can live the +life of very ordinary mortals. This may be true of Miss Walton. At any +rate I have made a mistake in showing my hand somewhat at a prayer- +meeting, for women are so tenacious on religious matters. Deference, +personal attention, and compliments--these are the irresistible +weapons. These inflate pride and vanity to such a degree that a +miserable collapse is necessary. And yet I must be careful, for she is +not like some belles I know, who have the swallow of a whale for +flattery. She is too intelligent, too refined, to take compliments as +large and glaring as a sunflower. Something in the way of a moss-rose +bud will accomplish more. I will appear as if falling under her power; +as if bewitched by her charms. Nothing pleases your plain girls more +than to be thought beautiful. I shall have her head turned in a week. +I am more bent than ever on teaching this little Puritan that she and +I live upon the same level." + +Saturday morning dawned clear and bracing, and the grass was white +with hoar-frost. The children came in to breakfast with glowing cheeks +and hair awry, crying excitedly in the same breath that they "had been +to the chestnut trees and that Jack had opened the burrs all night." + +In answer to their clamorous petitions a one-o'clock dinner was +promised, and Aunt Annie was to accompany them on a nutting expedition +with Jeff as pioneer to thresh and club the trees. + +"Can I go too?" Gregory asked of the children. + +"I suppose so," said Johnny, rather coldly; "if Aunt Annie is +willing." + +"You can go with me," said kind-hearted little Susie. + +"Now I can go whether Aunt Annie is willing or not," said Gregory, +with mock defiance at the boy. + +He glanced at his aunt's face to gather how he should take this, but +she settled the matter satisfactorily to him by saying, "You shall be +my beau, and Mr. Gregory will be Susie's." + +"Good, good!" exclaimed Susie. "I've got a beau already;" and she +beamed upon Gregory in a way that made them all laugh. + +"'Coming events cast their shadows before,' you perceive, Miss +Walton," said he, meaningly. + +"Sometimes the events themselves are but shadows," she replied, dryly. + +"Now that is severe upon the beaux. How about the belles?" he asked, +quickly. + +"I have nothing to say against my own sex, sir." + +"That is not fair. Of course I can say nothing adverse." + +"If you should say what you think, I fear we should be little inclined +to cry with Shylock, 'A Daniel come to judgment!'" + +"You have a dreadful opinion of me, Miss Walton. I wish you would +teach me how I can change it." + +"You discovered so much in a chestnut burr the day you came I should +not be surprised if you could find anything else there that you wish +to know." + +"I shall not look in burrs for chestnuts this afternoon, but for +something else far more important." + +Gregory spent the forenoon quietly in his own room reading, in order +that he might have all the vigor possible for the ramble. And to +Annie, as housekeeper, Saturday morning brought many duties. + +By two o'clock the nutting expedition was organized, and with Jeff in +advance, carrying a short ladder and a long limber pole, the party +started for the hills. At first Johnny, oppressed with his dignity as +Aunt Annie's "beau," stalked soberly at her side, and Susie also +claimed Gregory according to agreement, and insisted on keeping hold +of his hand. + +He submitted with such grace as he could muster, for children were +tiresome to him, and he wanted to talk to Miss Walton, without "little +pitchers with large ears" around. + +Annie smiled to herself at his half-concealed annoyance and his wooden +gallantry to Susie, but she understood child life well enough to know +that the present arrangement would not last very long. And she was +right. They had hardly entered the shady lane leading to the trees +before a chipmonk, with its shrill note of exclamation at unexpected +company, started out from some leaves near and ran for its hole. + +Away went Aunt Annie's beau after it, and Susie also, quite oblivious +of her first possession in that line, joined in the pursuit. There was +an excited consultation above the squirrel's retreat, and then Johnny +took out his knife and cut a flexible rod with which to investigate +the "robber's den." + +Gregory at once joined Annie, saying, "Since the beau of your choice +has deserted you, will you accept of another?" + +"Yes, till he proves alike inconstant." + +"I will see to that. A burr shall be my emblem." + +"Or I do," she added, laughing. + +"Now the future is beyond my power." + +"Perhaps it is anyway. Johnny was bent upon being a true knight. You +may see something that will be to you what the chipmonk was to him." + +"And such is your opinion of man's constancy? Miss Walton, you are +more of a cynic than I am." + +"Indeed! Do women dwell in your fancy as fixed stars?" + +"Fixed stars are all suns, are they not? I know of one with wonderful +powers of attraction," said he, with a significant glance. + +"Does she live in New York?" quietly asked Annie. + +"You know well she does not. She is a votaress of nature, and, as I +said, I shall search in every burr for the hidden clew to her favor." + +"You had better look for chestnuts, sir." + +"Chestnuts! Fit food for children and chipmonks. I am in quest of the +only manna that ever fell from heaven. Have you read Longfellow's +'Golden Legend,' Miss Walton?" + +"Yes," she replied, with a slight contraction of the brow as if the +suggestion were not pleasing. + +The children now came running toward them and wished to resume their +old places. "No, sir," said Walter, decisively. "You deserted your +lady's side and your place is filled; and Susie-- + + "'Thou fair, false one,' + +--you renounced me for a chipmonk. My wounded heart has found solace +in another." + +Johnny received this charge against his gallantry with a red face and +eyes that began to dilate with anger, while Susie looked at Gregory +poutingly and said, "I don't like big beaux. I think chipmonks are +ever so much nicer." + +The laugh that followed broke the force of the storm that was brewing; +and Annie, by saying, "See, children, Jeff is climbing the tree on top +of the hill; I wonder who will get the first nuts," caused the wind to +veer round from the threatening quarter, and away they scampered with +grievances all forgotten. + +"If grown-up children could only forget their troubles as easily!" +sighed Gregory. "Miss Walton, you are gifted with admirable tact. Your +witchery has cleared up another storm." + +"They have not forgotten," said Annie, ignoring the compliment--"they +have only been diverted from their trouble. Children can do by nature +what we should from intelligent choice--turn away the mind from +painful subjects to those that are pleasing. You don't catch me +brooding over trouble when there are a thousand pleasant things to +think of." + +"That is easier said than done, Miss Walton. I read on your smooth +brow that you have had few serious troubles, and, as you say, +'_you_ have a thousand pleasant things to think of.' But with others +it may be very different. Some troubles have a terrible magnetism that +draws the mind back to them as if by a malign spell, and there are no +'pleasant things to think of.'" + +"No 'pleasant things'? Why, Mr. Gregory! The universe is very wide." + +"Present company excepted," replied he gallantly. "But what do I care +for the universe? As you say, it is 'very wide'--a big, uncomfortable +place, in which one is afraid of getting lost." + +"I am not," said Annie, gently. + +"How so?" + +"It's all my Father's house. I am never for a moment lost sight of. +Wherever I am, I am like a little child playing outside the door while +its mother, unseen, is watching it from the window." + +He looked at her keenly to see if she were perfectly sincere. Her face +had the expression of a child, and the thought flashed across him, "If +she is so watched and guarded, how vain are my attempts!" + +But he only said with a shrug, "It would be a pity to dissipate your +happy superstition, Miss Walton, but after what I have seen and +experienced in the world it would seem more generally true that the +mother forgot her charge, left the window, and the child was run over +by the butcher's cart." + +"Do you think it vain confidence," said Annie, earnestly, "when I say +that you could not dissipate what you term my 'superstition,' any more +than you could argue me out of my belief in my good old father's +love?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS + + + +The conversation had taken a turn that Gregory wished to avoid, so he +said: "Miss Walton, you regard me as wretched authority on theology, +and therefore my opinions will go for nothing. Suppose we join the +children on the hill, for I am most anxious to commence the search for +the clew to your favor. Give me your hand, that as your attendant I +may at least appear to assist you in climbing, though I suppose you +justly think you could help me more than I can you." + +"And if I can, why should I not?" asked Annie, kindly. + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I would crawl up first. But thanks to your +reviving influences, I am not so far gone as that." + +"Then you would not permit a woman to reach out a helping hand to you? +Talk not against Turks and Arabs. How do Christian men regard us?" + +"But you look upon me as a 'heathen.'" + +"Beg your pardon, I do not." + +"Miss Walton, give your honest opinion of me--just what you think." + +"Will you do the same of me?" + +"Oh, certainly!" + +"No, do not answer in that tone. On your honor." + +Gregory was now caught. If he agreed he must state his doubts of her +real goodness; his low estimate of women in general which led to his +purpose to tempt her. This would not only arm her against his efforts, +but place him in a very unpleasant light. "I beat a retreat, Miss +Walton. I am satisfied that your opinion would discourage me utterly." + +"You need have no fears of that kind," she said; "although my opinion +would not be flattering it would be most encouraging." + +"No, Miss Walton, I am not to be caught. My every glance and word +reveal my opinion of you, while yours of me amounts to what I used to +hear years ago: 'You are a bad boy now, but may become a good one.' +Come, give me your hand." + +As she complied she gave him a quick, keen look. Her intuition told +her of something hidden, and he puzzled her. + +Her hand was ungloved, and he thought, "When have I clasped such a +hand before? It could help a Hercules. At any rate he would like to +hold it, for it is alive." + +There is as much diversity of character in hands as in faces. Some are +very white and shapely, and a diamond flashes prettily upon them, but +having said this you have said all. Others suggest honest work and +plenty of it, and for such the sensible will ever have a genuine +respect. There are some hands that make you think of creatures whose +blood is cold. A lady's hand in society often suggests feebleness, +lack of vitality. It is a thing to touch decorously, and if feeling +betray you into giving a hearty grasp and pressure, you find that you +are only causing pain and reducing the member to a confused jumble of +bones and sinews. There are hands that suggest fancy-work, light +crochet needles, and neuralgia. + +Annie's hand was not one that a sculptor would care to copy, though he +would find no great fault with it; but a sculptor would certainly take +pleasure in shaking hands with her--the pleasure that is the opposite +of our shrinking from taking the hand of the dead. It was soft and +delicate to the pressure, and yet firm. It reminded one of silk drawn +over steel, and was all electric and throbbing with life. You felt +that it could give you the true grasp of friendship--that it had power +to do more than barely cling to something--that it could both help and +sustain, yet its touch would be gentleness itself beside the couch of +suffering. + +When they had reached the brow of the hill he was much more exhausted +than she, and sat down panting. + +"Miss Walton," he asked, "do you not despise a feeble man?" + +"What kind of feebleness do you mean?" + +"The weakness that makes me sit pale and panting here, while you stand +there glowing with life and vigor, a veritable Hebe." + +"All your compliments cannot balance that imputation against me. Such +weakness awakens my pity, sympathy, and wish to help." + +"Ah! the emotions you would bestow on a beggar--very agreeable to a +_man_. Well, what kind of feebleness do you despise?" + +"I think I should despise a feeble, vacillating Hercules most of all-- +a burly, assuming sort of person, who could be made a tool of, and led +to do what he knew to be mean and wrong." + +"You must despise a great many people then." + +"No, I do not. Honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no right to despise any +one. I was only giving the reverse of my ideal man. But I assure you I +share too deeply in humanity's faults to be very critical." + +"I am delighted to hear, Miss Walton, that you share in our fallen +humanity, for I was beginning to doubt it, and you can well understand +that I should be dreadfully uncomfortable in the presence of +perfection." + +"If you could escape all other sources of discomfort as surely as this +one, you would be most happy," replied Annie, with heightened color. +"I shall ever think you are satirical when you speak in such style." + +"A truce, Miss Walton; only, in mercy to my poor mortality, be as +human as you can. Though you seem to suspect me of a low estimate of +your sex, I much prefer women to saints and Madonnas. I am going to +look for the burr." + +This was adroitness itself on the part of Gregory, for, of all things, +sensible Annie, conscious of faults and many struggles, did not wish +to give the impression that she thought herself approaching +perfection. And yet he had managed to make her sensitive on that +point, and given her a strong motive to relax strict rules of duty, +and act "like other people," as he would say. + +Jeff's limber pole was now doing effective service. With many a soft +thud upon the sward and leaves the burrs rained around, while the +detached chestnuts rattled down like hail. The children were careering +about this little tempest of Jeff's manufacture in a state of wild +glee, dodging the random burrs, and snatching what nuts they could in +safety on the outskirts of the prickly shower. At last the tree was +well thrashed, and bad the appearance of a school-boy bully who, after +bristling with threats and boasts for a long time, suddenly meets his +master and is left in a very meek and plucked condition. + +But the moment Jeff's pole ceased its sturdy strokes there was a rush +for the spoils, the children awakening the echoes with their +exclamations of delight as they found the ground covered with what was +more precious to them than gold. Even Gregory's sluggish pulses +tingled and quickened at the well-remembered scene, and he felt a +little of their excitement. For the moment he determined to be a boy +again, and running into the charmed circle, picked away as fast as any +of them till his physical weakness painfully reminded him that his old +tireless activity had passed away, perhaps forever. + +He leaned against the trunk of the tree and noted with something of an +artist's eye the pretty picture. The valley beneath was beginning to +glow with the richest October tints, in the midst of which was his old +home, that to his affection seemed like a gem set in gold, ruby, and +emerald. The stream appeared white and silvery as seen through +openings of the bordering trees, and in the distance the purple haze +and mountains blended together, leaving it uncertain where the granite +began, as in Gregory's mind fact and fancy were confusedly mingling in +regard to Miss Walton. + +And he soon turned from even that loved and beautiful landscape to her +as an object of piquant interest, and the pleasure of analyzing and +testing her character, and--well, some hidden fascination of her own, +caused a faint stir of excitement at his heart, even as the October +air and exercise had just tinged his pale cheeks. + +But Miss Walton reminded him of a young sugar maple that he had +noticed, all aflame, from his window that morning, so rich and high +was her color, as, still intent upon the thickly scattered nuts, she +followed the old unspent childish impulse to gather now as she had +done when of Susie's age. With a half-wondering smile Gregory watched +her intent expression, so like that of the other children, and +thought, "Well, she is the freshest and most unhackneyed girl I have +ever met for one who knows so much. It seems true, as she said, that +she draws her life from nature and will never grow old. Now she is a +child with those children, looking and acting like them. A moment +later she will be a self-possessed young lady, with a quick, trained +intellect that I can scarcely cope with. And yet in each and every +character she seems so real and vital that even I, in spite of myself, +feel compelled to admit her truth. Her life is like a glad, musical +mountain stream, while I am a stagnant pool that she passes and leaves +behind. I wonder if it is possible for one life to be awakened and +quickened by another. I wonder if her vital force would be strong +enough to drag another on who had almost lost the power to follow. It +is said that young fresh blood can be infused directly into the veins +of the old and feeble. Can the same be true of moral forces, and a +glad zest and interest in life be breathed into the jaded, cloyed, +ennui-cursed spirit of one who regards existence with dull eye, +sluggish pulse, and heart of lead? It seems to me that if any one +could have such power it would be that girl there with her intense +vitality and subtle connection with nature, which, as she says, is +ever young and vigorous. And yet I propose to reveal her to herself as +a weak, vain creature, whose fair seeming like a pasteboard castle +falls before the breath of flattery. By Jove, I half hope I shan't +succeed, and yet to satisfy myself I shall carry the test to the +utmost limit." + +In her absorbed search for nuts, Annie had approached the trunk of the +tree, and was stooping almost at Gregory's feet without noticing him. +Suddenly she turned up a burr whose appearance so interested her that +she stood up to examine it, and then became conscious of his intent +gaze. + +"There you stand," she said, "cool and superior, criticising and +laughing at me as a great overgrown child." + +"If you had looked more closely you would have seen anything rather +than cool criticism in my face. I wish you could tell me your secret, +Miss Walton. What is your hidden connection with Nature, that her +strong, beautiful life flows so freely into yours?" + +"You would not believe me if I told you." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I should be inclined to believe anything you +told me, you seem so real. But, pardon me, you have in your hand the +very burr I have been looking vainly for. Perhaps in it I may find the +coveted clew to your favor. It may winningly suggest to you my +meaning, while plain, bald words would only repel. If I could only +interpret Nature as you breathe her spirit I might find that the +autumn leaves were like illuminated pages, and every object--even such +an insignificant one as this burr--an inspired illustration. When men +come to read Nature's open book, publishers may despair. _If_ I wished +to tell you how I would dwell in your thoughts, what poet has written +anything equal to this half-open burr? It portrays our past, it gives +our present relations, and suggests the future; only, like all +parables, it must not be pressed too far, and too much prominence must +not be given to some mere detail. These prickly outward pointing +spines represent the reserve and formality which keep comparative +strangers apart. But now the burr is half-open, revealing its heart of +silk and down. So if one could get past the barriers which you, alike +with all, turn toward an indifferent or unfriendly world, a kindliness +would be found that would surround a cherished friend as these silken +sides envelop this sole and favored chestnut. Again, note that the +burr is half-open, indicating, I hope, the progress we have made +toward such friendship. I have no true friend in the wide world that I +can trust, and I would like to believe that your regard, like this +burr, is opening toward me. The final suggestion that I should draw +may seem selfish, and yet is it not natural? This chestnut dwells +alone in the very centre of the burr. We do not like to share a +supreme friendship. There are some in whose esteem we would be first." + +When Gregory finished he was half-frightened at his words, for in +developing his fanciful parallel in the bold style of gallantry he had +learned to employ toward the belles of the ball-room, and from a +certain unaccountable fascination that Annie herself had for him, he +had said more than he meant. + +"Good heavens!" he thought, "if she should take this for a declaration +and accept me on the spot, I should then be in the worst scrape of my +sorry life." + +Miss Walton's manner rather puzzled him. Her heightened color and +quickened breathing were alarming, while the contraction of her brow +and the firmness of her lips, together with an intent look on the +chestnut in the centre of the burr, rather than a languishing look at +him or at nothing, were more assuring. She perplexed him still more +when, as her only response to all this sentiment, she asked, "Mr. +Gregory, will you lend me your penknife?" + +Without a word he handed it to her, and she at the same time took the +burr from his hand, and daintily plucking out the chestnut tossed the +burr rather contemptuously away. "Mr. Gregory, if I understand your +rather far-fetched and forced interpretation of this little 'parable +of nature,' you chose to represent yourself by this great lonely +chestnut occupying the space where three might have grown. On +observing this emblematic nut closely I detect something that may also +have a place in your 'parable';" and she pushed aside the little quirl +at the small end of the nut, which partially concealed a worm-hole, +and cutting through the shell showed the destroyer in the very heart +of the kernel. + +There was nothing far-fetched in this suggestion of nature, and he +saw--and he understood that Miss Walton saw--evil enthroned in the +very depths of his soul. The revelation of the hateful truth was so +sudden and sharp that his face darkened with involuntary pain and +anger. It seemed to him that, by the simple act of showing him the +worm-infested chestnut, she had rejected anything approaching even +friendship, and had also given him a good but humiliating reason why. +He lost his self-possession and forgot that he deserved a stinging +rebuke for his insincerity. He would have turned away in coldness and +resentment. His visit might have come to an abrupt termination, had +not Annie, with that delicate, womanly tact which was one of her most +marked characteristics, interrupted him as he was about to say +something to the effect, "Miss Walton, since you are so much holier +than I, it were better that I should contaminate the air you breathe +no longer." + +She looked into his clouded face with an open smile, and said, "Mr. +Gregory, you have been unfortunate in the choice of a burr. Now let me +choose for you;" and she began looking around for one suited to her +taste and purpose. + +This gave him time to recover himself and to realize the folly of +quarrelling or showing any special feeling in the matter. After a +moment he was only desirous of some pretext for laughing it off, but +how to manage it he did not know, and was inwardly cursing himself as +a blundering fool, and no match for this child of nature. + +Annie soon came toward him, saying, "Perhaps this burr will suggest +better meanings. You see it is wide open. That means perfect +frankness. There are three chestnuts here instead of one. We must be +willing to share the regard of others. One of these nuts has the +central place. As we come to know people well, we usually find some +one occupying the supreme place in their esteem, and though we may +approach closely we should not wish to usurp what belongs to another. +Under Jeff's vigorous blows the burr and its contents have had a +tremendous downfall, but they have not parted company. True friends +should stick together in adversity. What do you think of my +interpretation?" + +"I think you are a witch, beyond doubt, and if you had lived a few +centuries ago, you would have been sent to heaven in a chariot of +fire." + +"Really, Mr. Gregory, you give me a _hot_ answer, but it is with such +a smiling face that I will take no exception. Let us slowly follow +Jeff and the children along the brow of the hill to the next tree. The +fact is I am a little tired." + +What controversy could a man have with a pretty and wearied girl? +Gregory felt like a boy who had received a deserved whipping and yet +was compelled and somewhat inclined to act very amiably toward the +donor. But he was fast coming to the conclusion that this unassuming +country girl was a difficult subject on which to perform his +experiment. He was learning to have a wholesome respect for her that +was slightly tinged with fear, and doubts of success in his plot +against her grew stronger every moment. And yet the element of +persistence was large in his character, and he could not readily give +over his purpose, though his cynical confidence had vanished. He now +determined to observe her closely and discover if possible her weak +points. He still held to the theory that flattery was the most +available weapon, though he saw he could employ it no longer in the +form of fulsome and outspoken compliment. The innate refinement and +truthfulness of Annie's nature revolted at broad gallantry and +adulation. He believed that he must reverse the tactics he usually +employed in society, but not the principles. Therefore he resolved +that his flattery should be delicate, subtle, manifested in manner +rather than in words. He would seem submissive; he would humbly wear +the air of a conquered one. He would delicately maintain the "I-am-at- +your-mercy" attitude. + +These thoughts flashed through his mind as they passed along the brow +of the hill, which at every turn gave them a new and beautiful +landscape. But vales in Eden would not have held his attention then. +To his perplexity this new acquaintance had secured his undivided +interest. He felt that he ought to be angry at her and yet was not. He +felt that a man who had seen as much of the world as he should be able +to play with this little country girl as with a child; but he was +becoming convinced that, with all his art, he was no match for her +artlessness. + +In the interpretation of the burr of her own choice, Annie had +suggested that the central and supreme place in her heart was already +occupied, and his thoughts recurred frequently to that fact with +uneasiness. The slightest trace of jealousy, even as the merest twinge +of pain is often precursor of serious disease, indicated the power +Miss Walton might gain over one who thought himself proof against all +such influence. But he tried to satisfy himself by thinking, "It is +her father who occupies the first place in her affections." + +Then a moment later with a mental protest at his folly, "What do I +care who has the first place? It's well I do not, for she would not +permit such a reprobate as I, with evil in my heart like that cursed +worm in the chestnut, to have any place worth naming--unless I can +introduce a little canker of evil in her heart also. I wish I could. +That would bring us nearer together and upon the same level." Annie +saw the landscapes. She looked away from the man by her side and for a +few moments forgot him. The scenes upon which she was gazing were +associated with another, and she ardently wished that that other and +more favored one could exchange places with Gregory. Her eyes grew +dreamy and tender as she recalled words spoken in days gone by, when, +her heart thrilling with a young girl's first dream of love, she had +leaned upon Charles Hunting's arm, and listened to that sweetest music +of earth, all the more enchanting when broken and incoherent; and +Hunting, with all his coolness and precision in Wall Street, had been +excessively nervous and unhappy in his phraseology upon one occasion, +and tremblingly glad to get any terms from the girl who seemed a child +beside him. Annie would not permit an engagement to take place. +Hunting was a distant relative. She had always liked him very much, +but was not sure she loved him. She was extremely reluctant to leave +her father, and was not ready for a speedy marriage; so she frankly +told him that he had no rival, nor was there a prospect of any, but +she would not bind him, or permit herself to be bound at that time. If +they were fated for each other the way would eventually be made +perfectly clear. + +He was quite content, especially as Mr. Walton gave his hearty +approval to the match, and he regarded the understanding as a virtual +engagement. He wanted Annie to wear the significant ring, saying that +it should not be regarded as binding, but she declined to do so. + +Nearly two years had passed, and, while she put him off, she satisfied +him that he was steadily gaining the place that he wished to possess +in her affections. He was gifted with much tact and did not press his +suit, but quietly acted as if the matter were really settled, and it +were only a question of time. Annie had also come to feel in the same +way. She did not see a very great deal of him, though he wrote +regularly, and his letters were admirable. He became her ideal man and +dwelt in her imagination as a demi-god. To the practical mind of this +American girl his successes in the vast and complicated transactions +of business were as grand as the achievements of any hero. Her father +had been a merchant, and she inherited a respect for the calling. Her +father also often assured her that her lover bade fair to lead in +commercial circles. + +"Hunting has both nerve and prudence," he was wont to say; and to +impetuous Annie these qualities, combined with Christian principles, +formed her very ideal man. + +Her lover took great pains not to undeceive her as to his character, +and indeed, with the infatuation of his class, hoped that, when he had +amassed the fortune that glittered ever just before him, he could +assume, in some princely mansion, the princely, knightly soul with +which she had endowed him. + +So he did not press matters. Indeed in his rapid accumulation of money +he scarcely wished any interruption, and Annie thought all the more of +him that he was not dawdling around making love half the time. There +was also less danger of disenchanting her by his presence, for woman's +perception is quick. + +But now she inwardly contrasted her strong, masterful knight, "_sans +peur et sans reproche_," as she believed, with the enfeebled, shrunken +man at her side. Gregory suffered dreadfully by the comparison. The +worm-eaten chestnut seemed truly emblematic, and in spite of herself +her face lighted up with exultation and joy that the man of her choice +was a _man_, and not one upon whom she could not lean for even +physical support. + +Gregory caught her expression and said, quickly: "Your face is full of +sudden gleams. Tell me what you are thinking about." + +She blushed deeply in the consciousness of her thoughts, but after a +moment said, "I do not believe in the confessional." + +He looked at her keenly, saying, "I wish you did and that I were your +father confessor." + +She replied, laughing, "You are neither old nor good enough. If I were +of that faith I should require one a great deal older and better than +myself. But here we are at our second tree, which Jeff has just +finished. I am going to be a child again and gather nuts as before. I +hope you will follow suit, and not stand leaning against the tree +laughing at me." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +"A WELL-MEANIN' MAN" + + + +The western horizon vied with the autumn foliage as at last they +turned homeward. Their path led out upon the main road some distance +above the house, and, laden with the spoils that would greatly +diminish the squirrels' hoard for the coming winter, they sauntered +along slowly, from a sense of both weariness and leisure. + +They soon reached the cottage of the lame old man who had fired such a +broadside of lurid words at Gregory, as he stood on the fence +opposite. With a crutch under one arm and leaning on his gate, Daddy +Tuggar seemed awaiting them, and secured their attention by the +laconic salutation, "Evenin'!" + +"Why, Daddy," exclaimed Annie, coming quickly toward him. "I am real +glad to see you so spry and well. It seems to me that you are getting +young again;" and she shook the old man's hand heartily. + +"Now don't praise my old graveyard of a body, Miss Annie. My sperit is +pert enough, but it's all buried up in this old clumsy, half-dead +carcass. The worms will close their mortgage on it purty soon." + +"But they haven't a mortgage on your soul," said Annie, in a low tone. +"You remember what I said to you a few days ago." + +"Now bless you, Miss Annie, but it takes you to put in a 'word in +season.' The Lord knows I'm a well-meanin' man, but I can't seem to +get much furder. I've had an awful 'fall from grace,' my wife says. I +did try to stop swearin', but that chap there--" + +"Oh, excuse me," interrupted Annie. "Mr. Gregory, this is our friend +and neighbor Mr. Tuggar. I was under the impression that you were +acquainted," she added, with a mischievous look at her companion. + +"We are. I have met this gentleman before," he replied, with a wry +face. "Pardon the interruption, Mr. Tuggar, and please go on with your +explanation." + +"Mr. Gregory, I owe you a 'pology. I'm a well-meanin' man, and if I do +any one a wrong I'm willin' to own it up and do the square thing. But +I meant right by you and I meant right by John Walton when I thought +you was stealin' his apples. I couldn't hit yer with a stun and knock +yer off the fence, as I might a dozen years ago, so I took the next +hardest thing I could lay hands on. If I'd known that you was kinder +one of the family my words would have been rolls of butter." + +"Well, Mr. Tuggar, it has turned out very well, for _I_ would rather +you had fired what you did than either stones or butter." + +"Now my wife would say that that speech showed you was 'totally +depraved.' And this brings me back to my 'fall from grace.' Now, yer +see, to please my wife some and Miss Eulie more, I was tryin' cussed +hard to stop swearin'--" + +"Didn't you try a little for my sake, too?" interrupted Annie. + +"Lord bless you, child; I don't have to try when you're around, for I +don't think swearin'. Most folks rile me, and I get a-thinkin' +swearin', and then 'fore I know it busts right out. _You_ could take +the wickedest cuss livin' to heaven in spite of himself if you would +stay right by him all the time." + +"I should 'rile' you, too, if I were with you long, for I get 'riled' +myself sometimes." + +"Do you, now?" asked Mr. Tuggar, looking at her admiringly. "Well, I'm +mighty glad to hear it." + +"O Daddy! glad to hear that I do wrong?" + +"Can't help it, Miss Annie. I kinder like to know you're a little bit +of a sinner. 'Tain't often I meet with a sinner, and I kind o' like +'em. My wife says she's a 'great sinner,' but she means she's a great +saint. 'Twouldn't do for me to tell her she's a 'sinner.' Then Miss +Eulie says she's a 'great sinner,' and between you and me that's the +only fib I ever caught Miss Eulie in. Good Lord! there's no more sin +in Miss Eulie's heart than there is specks of dirt on the little white +ruff she wears about her neck that looks like the snow we had last +April around the white hyacinths. She's kind of a half-sperit anyhow. +Now your goodness, Miss Annie, is another kind. Your cheeks are so +red, and eyes so black, and arms so round and fat--I've seen 'em when +you was over here a-beatin' up good things for the old man--that you +make me think of red and pink posies. I kinder think you might be a +little bit of a sinner--just enough, you know, to make you understand +how I and him there can be mighty big ones, and not be too hard on us +for it." + +"Mr. Tuggar, you are the man of all others to plead my cause." + +"Now look here, young gentleman, you must do yer own pleadin'. It +would be a 'sinful waste of time' though, as my wife would say--eh, +Miss Annie? I never had no luck at pleadin' but once, and that was the +worst luck of all." + +Annie's face might well suggest "red posies" during the last remarks, +and its expression was divided between a frown and a laugh. + +"But I want you to understand," continued Daddy Tuggar, straightening +himself up with dignity, and addressing Gregory, "that I'm not a mean +cuss. All who know me know I'm a well-meanin' man. I try to do as I'd +be done by. If I'm going through a man's field and find his bars down, +so the cattle would get in the corn, I'd put 'em up--" + +"Yes, Daddy, that is what you always say," interrupted Annie; "but you +can't go through the fields any more and put up bars. You should try +to do the duties that belong to your present state." + +"But I've got the sperit to put up a man's bars, and it's all the same +as if I did put 'em up," answered the old man, with some irritation. +"Miss Eulie and the rest of yer is allers sayin' we must have the +sperit of willingness to give up the hull world and suffer martyrdom +on what looks in the picture like a big gridiron. She says we must +have the sperit of them who was cold and hungry and the lions eat up +and was sawn in two pieces and had an awful time generally for the +sake of the Lord, and that's the way the Christians manage it +nowadays. My wife gets all the money she can and keeps it, but she +says she has the sperit to give up the hull world. I wish she'd give +up enough of it to keep me in good terbacker. Mighty few nice bits +would the old man git wasn't it for you and Miss Eulie. Then I watch +the good people goin' to church. 'Mazin' few out wet Sundays. But no +doubt they've all got the 'sperit' to go. They would jist as lief be +sawn in two pieces 'in sperit' as not, if they can only sleep late in +the mornin' and have a good dinner and save their Sunday-go-to-meetin' +clothes from gettin' wet. It must be so, for the Lord gets mighty +little worship out of the church on rainy Sundays. If it wasn't for +you and Miss Eulie I don't know what would become of the old man and +all the rest of the sick and feeble foiks around here. I ask my wife +why she doesn't go to see 'em sometimes. She says she has the 'sperit +to go,' but she hasn't time and strength. So I have the 'sperit' to +put up a man's bars while I sit here and smoke, and what's more, Miss +Annie, I did it as long as I was able." + +"You did indeed, Daddy, and, though unintentionally, you have given me +a good lesson. We little deserve to be mentioned with those Christians +who in olden times suffered the loss of all things, and life itself." + +"Lord bless you, child, I didn't mean you. Whether you've got the +sperit to do a thing or not yer allers do it, and in a sweet, natteral +way, as if you couldn't help it. When my wife enters on a good work it +makes me think of a funeral. I'm 'mazin' glad you didn't live in old +times, 'cause the lions would have got you sure 'nuff. Though, if it +had to be, I would kinder liked to have been the lion:" and the old +man's eyes twinkled humorously, while Gregory laughed heartily. + +"Oh, Daddy Tuggar!" exclaimed Annie, "that is the most awful +compliment I ever received. If you, with your spirit, were the only +lion I had to deal with, I should never become a martyr. You shall +have some jelly instead, and now I must go home in order to have it +made before Sunday." + +"Wait a moment," said Gregory. "You were about to tell us how I caused +you to 'fall from grace.'" + +"So I was, so I was, and I've been goin' round Robin Hood's barn ever +since. Well, I'd been holdin' in on my swearin' a long time, 'cause I +promised Miss Eulie I'd stop if I could. My wife said I was in quite a +'hopeful state,' while I felt all the time as if I was sort of bottled +up and the cork might fly out any minute. Miss Eulie, she came and +rejoiced over me that mornin', and my wife she looked so solemn (she +allers does when she says she feels glad) that somehow I got nervous, +and then my wife went to the store and didn't get the kind of +terbacker I sent for, and I knew the cork was going to fly out. I was +smokin' and in a sort of a doze, when the first thing I knowed a big +stun rolled into the road, and there I saw a strange chap, as I +thought, a stealin' John Walton's apples and knockin' down the fence. +If they'd a been my apples I might have held in a little longer, but +John Walton's--it was like a dam givin' way." + +"It was, indeed," said Gregory, significantly. "It was like several." + +"I knowed my wife heard me, and if she'd come right out and said, +'You've made a cussed old fool of yourself,' I think I would have felt +better. I knowed she was goin' to speak about it and lament over it, +and I wanted her to do it right away; but she put it off, and kept me +on pins and needles for ever so long. At last she said with solemn +joy, 'Thomas Tuggar, I told Miss Eulie I feared you was still in a +state of natur, and, alas! I am right; but how she'll mourn, how great +will be her disappointment, when she hears'; and then I fell into a +'state of natur' agin. Now, Miss Annie, if the Lord, Miss Eulie, and +you all could only see I'm a well-meanin' man, and that I don't mean +no disrespect to anybody; that it's only one of my old, rough ways +that I learned from my father--and mother too, for that matter, I'm +sorry to say--and have followed so long that it's bred in the bone, it +would save a heap of worry. One must have some way of lettin' off +steam. Now my wife she purses up her mouth so tight you couldn't stick +a pin in it when she's riled. I often say to her, 'Do explode. Open +your mouth and let it all out at once.' But she says it is not +becoming for such as her ter 'explode.' But it will come out all the +same, only it's like one of yer cold northeast, drizzlin', fizzlin' +rain-storms. And now I've made a clean breast of it, I hope you'll +kinder smooth matters over with Miss Eulie; and I hope you, sir, will +just think of what I said as spoken to a stranger and not a friend of +the family." + +"Give me your hand, Mr. Tuggar. I hope we shall be the best of +friends. I am coming over to have a smoke with you, and see if I can't +fill your pipe with some tobacco that is like us both, 'in a state of +natur.'" + +A white-faced woman appeared at the door, and courtesying low to Miss +Walton, called, "Husband, it's too late for you to be out; I fear your +health will suffer." + +"She's bound up in me, you see," said the old man, with a curious +grimace. "Nothing but the reading of my will will ever comfort her +when I die." + +"Daddy, Daddy," said Annie, reproachfully, "have charity. Good-night; +I will send you something nice for to-morrow." + +An amused smile lingered on Gregory's face as they pursued their way +homeward, now in the early twilight; but Annie's aspect was almost one +of sadness. After a little he said, "Well, he is one of the oddest +specimens of humanity I ever met." + +She did not immediately reply, and he, looking at her, caught her +expression. + +"Why is your face so clouded, Miss Annie?" he asked. "You are not +given to Mrs. Tuggar's style of 'solemn joy'?" + +"What a perplexing mystery life is after all!" she replied, absently. +"I really think poor old Daddy Tuggar speaks truly. He is a 'well- +meaning' man, but he and many others remind me of one not having the +slightest ear for music trying to catch a difficult harmony." + +"Why is the harmony so difficult?" asked Gregory, bitterly. + +"Perhaps it were better to ask, Why has humanity so disabled itself?" + +"I do not think it matters much how you put the case. It amounts to +the same thing. Something is required of us beyond our strength. The +idea of punishing that old man for being what he is, when in the first +place he inherited evil from his parents, and then was taught it by +precept and example. I think he deserves more credit than blame." + +"The trouble is, Mr. Gregory, evil carries its own punishment along +with it every day. But I admit that we are surrounded by mystery on +every side. Humanity, left to itself, is a hopeless problem. But one +thing is certain: we are not responsible for questions beyond our ken. +Moreover, many things that were complete mysteries to me as a child +are now plain, and I ever hope to be taught something new every day. +You and I at least have much to be grateful for in the fact that we +neither inherited evil nor were taught it in any such degree as our +poor neighbor." + +"And you quietly prove, Miss Walton, by your last remark, that I am +much more worthy of blame than your poor old neighbor." + +"Then I said more than I meant," she answered, eagerly. "It is not for +me to judge or condemn any one. The thought in my mind was how favored +we have been in our parentage--our start in existence, as it were." + +"But suppose one loses that vantage-ground?" + +"I do not wish to suppose anything of the kind." + +"But one can lose it utterly." + +"I fear some can and do. But why dwell on a subject so unutterably sad +and painful? You have not lost it, and, as I said before to-day, I +will not dwell upon the disagreeable any more than I can help." + +"Your opinion of me is poor enough already, Miss Walton, so I, too, +will drop the subject." + +They had now reached the house, and did ample justice to the supper +awaiting them. + +Between meals people can be very sentimental, morbid, and tragical. +They can stare at life's deep mysteries and shudder or scoff, sigh or +rejoice, according to their moral conditions. They can even grow cold +with dread, as did Gregory, realizing that he had "lost his vantage- +ground," his good start in the endless career. "She is steering across +unknown seas to a peaceful, happy shore. I am drifting on those same +mysterious waters I know not whither," he thought. But a few minutes +after entering the cheerfully lighted dining-room he was giving his +whole soul to muffins. + +These homely and ever-recurring duties and pleasures of life have no +doubt saved multitudes from madness. It would almost seem that they +have also been the innocent cause of the destruction of many. There +are times when the mind is almost evenly balanced between good and +evil. Some powerful appeal or startling providence has aroused the +sleeping spirit, or some vivifying truth has pierced the armor of +indifference or prejudice, and quivered like an arrow in the soul, and +the man remembers that he is a man, and not a brute that perishes. But +just then the dinner-bell sounds. After the several courses, any +physician can predict how the powers of that human organization must +of necessity be employed the next few hours, and the partially +awakened soul is like one who starts out of a doze and sleeps again. +If the spiritual nature had only become sufficiently aroused to +realize the situation, _life_ might have been secured. Thought and +feeling in some emergencies will do more than the grandest pulpit +eloquence quenched by a Sunday dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISS WALTON'S DREAM + + + +The hickory fire burned cheerily in the parlor after tea, and all drew +gladly around its welcome blaze. But even the delights of roasting +chestnuts from the abundant spoils of the afternoon could not keep the +heads of the children from drooping early. + +Gregory was greatly fatigued, and soon went to his room also. + +Sabbath morning dawned dim and uncertain, and by the time they had +gathered at the breakfast-table, a northeast rain-storm had set in +with a driving gale. + +"I suppose you will go to church 'in sperit' this morning, as Mr. +Tuggar would say," said Gregory, addressing Annie. + +"If I were on the sick list I should, but I have no such excuse." + +"You seriously do not mean to ride two miles in such a storm as this?" + +"No, not seriously, but very cheerfully and gladly." + +"I do not think it is required of you, Miss Walton. Even your Bible +states, 'I will have mercy and not sacrifice.'" + +"The 'sacrifice' in my case would be in staying at home. I like to be +out in a storm, and have plenty of warm blood to resist its chilling +effects. But even were it otherwise, what hardship is there in my +wrapping myself up in a waterproof and riding a few miles to a +comfortable church? I shall come back with a grand appetite and a +double zest for the wood fire." + +"But it is not fair on the poor horses. They have no waterproofs or +wood fires." + +"I think I am not indifferent to the comfort of dumb animals, and +though I drive a good deal, father can tell you I am not a 'whip.' Of +all shams the most transparent is this tenderness for one's self and +the horses on Sunday. I am often out in stormy weather during the +week, and meet plenty of people on the road. The farmers drive to the +village on rainy days because they can neither plow, sow, nor reap. +But on even a cloudy Sabbath, with the faintest prospect of rain, +there is but one text in the Bible for them: 'A righteous man +regardeth the life of his beast.' People attend parties, the opera, +and places of amusement no matter how bad the night. It is a miserable +pretence to say that the weather keeps the majority at home from +church. It is only an excuse. I should have a great deal more respect +for them if they would say frankly, 'We would rather sleep, read a +novel, dawdle around _en deshabille_, and gossip.' Half the time when +they say it's too stormy to venture out (oh, the heroism of our +Christian age!), they should go and thank God for the rain that is +providing food for them and theirs. + +"And granting that our Christian duties do involve some risk and +hardship, does not the Bible ever speak of life as a warfare, a +struggle, an agonizing for success? Do not armies often fight and +march in the rain, and dumb beasts share their exposure? There is more +at stake in this battle. In ancient times God commanded the bloody +sacrifice of innumerable animals for the sake of moral and religious +effect. Moral and religious effect is worth just as much now. Nothing +can excuse wanton cruelty; but the soldier who spurs his horse against +the enemy, and the sentinel who keeps his out in a winter storm, are +not cruel. But many farmers about here will overwork and underfeed all +the week, and on Sunday talk about being 'merciful to their beasts.' +There won't be over twenty-five out to-day, and the Christian heroes, +the sturdy yeomanry of the church, will be dozing and grumbling in +chimney-corners. The languid half-heartedness of the church +discourages me more than all the evil in the world." + +Miss Walton stated her views in a quiet undertone of indignation, and +not so much in answer to Gregory as in protest against a style of +action utterly repugnant to her earnest, whole-souled nature. As he +saw the young girl's face light up with the will and purpose to be +loyal to a noble cause, his own aimless, self-pleasing life seemed +petty and contemptible indeed, and again he had that painful sense of +humiliation which Miss Walton unwittingly caused him; but, as was +often his way, he laughed the matter off by saying, "There is no need +of my going to-day, for I have had my sermon, and a better one than +you will hear. Still, such is the effect of your homily that I am +inclined to ask you to take me with you." + +Annie's manner changed instantly, and she smilingly answered, "You +will find an arm-chair before a blazing fire in your room upstairs, +and an arm-chair before a blazing fire in the parlor, and you can +vacillate between them at your pleasure." + +"As a vacillating man should, perhaps you might add." + +"I add nothing of the kind." + +"Will you never let me go to church with you again?" + +"Certainly, after what you said, any pleasant day." + +"Why can't I have the privilege of being a martyr as well as +yourself?" + +"I am not a martyr. I would far rather go out to-day than stay at +home." + +"It will be very lonely without you." + +"Oh, you are the martyr then, after all. I hope you will have +sufficient fortitude to endure, and doze comfortably during the two +hours of my absence." + +"Now you are satirical on Sunday, Miss Walton. Let that burden your +conscience. I'm going to ask your father if I may go." + +"Of course you will act at your pleasure," said Mr. Walton, "but I +think, in your present state of health, Annie has suggested the wiser +and safer thing to do." + +"I should probably be ill on your hands if I went, so I submit; but I +wish you to take note, Miss Walton, that I have the 'sperit to go.'" + +The arm-chairs were cosey and comfortable, and the hickory wood +turned, as is its wont, into glowing and fragrant coals, but the house +grew chill and empty the moment that Annie left. Though Mr. Walton and +Miss Eulie accompanied her, their absence was rather welcome, but he +felt sure that Annie could have beguiled the heavy-footed hours. + +"She has some unexplained power of making me forget my miserable +self," he muttered. + +And yet, left to himself, he had now nothing to do but think, and a +fearful time he had of it, lowering at the fire, in the arm-chair, +from which he scarcely stirred. + +"I have lost my vantage-ground," he groaned--"lost it utterly. I am +not even a 'well-meaning man.' I purpose evil against this freshest, +purest spirit I have ever known since in this house I looked into my +mother's eyes. I am worse than the wild Arab of the desert. I have +eaten salt with them; I have partaken of their generous hospitality, +given so cordially for the sake of one that is dead, and in return +have wounded their most sacred feelings, and now propose to prove the +daughter a creature that I can go away and despise. Instead of being +glad that there is one in the world noble and good, even though by +accident--instead of noting with pleasure that every sweet flower has +not become a weed--I wish to drag her down to my own wretched level, +or else I would have her exhibit sufficient weakness to show that she +would go as far as she was tempted to go. A decent devil could hardly +wish her worse. I would like to see her show the same spirit that +animates Miss Belle St. Glair of New York, or Mrs. Grobb, my former +adored Miss Bently--creatures that I despise as I do myself, and what +more could I say? If I could only cause her to show some of their +characteristics the reproach of her life would pass away, and I should +be confirmed in my belief that humanity's unutterable degradation is +its misfortune, and the blame should rest elsewhere than on us. How +absurd to blame water for running down hill! Give man or woman half a +chance, that is, before habits are fixed, and they plunge faster down +the inclined moral plane. And the plague of it is, this seeming axiom +does not satisfy me. What business has my conscience, with a lash of +scorpion stings, to punish me this and every day that I permit myself +to think? Did I not try for years to be better? Did I not resist the +infernal gravitation? and yet I am falling still. I never did anything +so mean and low before as I am doing now. If it is my nature to do +evil, why should I not do it without compunction? And as I look +downward--there is no looking forward for me--there seems no evil +thing that I could not do if so inclined. Here in this home of my +childhood, this sacred atmosphere that my mother breathed, I would +besmirch the character of one who as yet is pure and good, with a +nature like a white hyacinth in spring. I see the vileness of the act, +I loathe it, and yet it fascinates me, and I have no power to resist. +Why should a stern, condemning voice declare in recesses of my soul, +'You could and should resist'? For years I have been daily yielding to +temptation, and conscience as often pronounces sentence against me. +When will the hateful farce cease? Multitudes appear to sin without +thought or remorse. Why cannot I? It's my mother's doings, I suppose. +A plague upon the early memories of this place. Will they keep me upon +the rack forever?" + +He rose, strode up and down the parlor, and clenched his hands in +passionate protest against himself, his destiny, and the God who made +him. + +A chillness, resulting partly from dread and partly from the wild +storm raging without, caused him to heap up the hearth with wood. It +speedily leaped into flame, and, covering his face with his hands, he +sat cowering before it. A vain but frequent thought recurred to him +with double power. + +"Oh that I could cease to exist, and lose this miserable +consciousness! Oh that, like this wood, I could be aflame with +intense, passionate life, and then lose identity, memory, and +everything that makes _me_, and pass into other forms. Nay, more, if I +had my wish, I would become nothing here and now." + +The crackling of flames and the rush of wind and rain against the +windows had caused the sound of wheels, and a light step in the room, +to be unheard. + +He was aroused by Miss Walton, who asked, "Mr. Gregory, are you ill?" + +He raised his woe-begone face to hers, and said, almost irritably, +"Yes--no--or at least I am as well as I ever expect to be, and perhaps +better." Then with a sudden impulse he asked, "Does annihilation seem +such a dreadful thing to you?" + +"What! the losing of an eternity of keen enjoyment? Could anything be +more dreadful! Really, Mr. Gregory, brooding here alone has not been +good for you. Why do you not think of pleasant things?" + +"For the same reason that a man with a raging toothache does not have +pleasant sensations," he answered, with a grim smile. + +"I admit the force of your reply, though I do not think the case +exactly parallel. The mind is not as helpless as the body. Still, I +believe it is true that when the body is suffering the mind is apt to +become the prey of all sorts of morbid fancies, and you do look really +ill. I wish I could give you some of my rampant health and spirits to- +day. Facing the October storm has done me good every way, and I am +ravenous for dinner." + +He looked at her enviously as she stood before him, with her +waterproof, still covered with rain-drops, partially thrown back and +revealing the outline of a form which, though not stout, was +suggestive of health and strength. She seemed, with her warm, high +color, like a hardy flower covered with spray. Instead of shrinking +feebly and delicately from the harsher moods of nature, and coming in +pinched and shivering, she had felt the blood in her veins and all the +wheels of life quickened by the gale. + +"Miss Walton," he said, with a glimmer of a smile, "do you know that +you are very different from most young ladies? You and nature +evidently have some deep secrets between you. I half believe you never +will grow old, but are one of the perennials. I am glad you have come +home, for you seem to bring a little of yesterday's sunshine into the +dreary house." + +As they returned to the parlor after dinner, Gregory remarked, "Miss +Walton, what can you do to interest me this afternoon, for I am +devoured with ennui?" + +She turned upon him rather quickly and said, "A young man like you has +no business to be 'devoured with ennui.' Why not engage in some +pursuit, or take up some subject that will interest you and stir your +pulse?" + +With a touch of his old mock gallantry he bowed and said, "In you I +see just the subject, and am delighted to think I'm going to have you +all to myself this rainy afternoon." + +With a half-vexed laugh and somewhat heightened color she answered, "I +imagine you won't have me all to yourself long." + +She had hardly spoken the words before the children bounded in, +exclaiming, "Now, Aunt Annie, for our stories." + +"You see, Mr. Gregory, here are previous and counter-claims already." + +"I wish I knew of some way of successfully disputing them." + +"It would be difficult to find. Well, come, little people, we will go +into the sitting-room and not disturb Mr. Gregory." + +"Now, I protest against that," he said. "You might at least let me be +one of the children." + +"But the trouble is, you won't be one, but will sit by criticising and +laughing at our infantile talk." + +"Now you do me wrong. I will be as good as I can, and if you knew how +long and dreary the day has been you would not refuse." + +She looked at him keenly for a moment, and then said, a little +doubtfully, "Well, I will try for once. Run and get your favorite +Sunday books, children." + +When they were alone he asked, "How can you permit these youngsters to +be such a burden?" + +"They are not a burden," she answered. + +"But a nurse could take care of them and keep them quiet." + +"If their father and mother were living they would not think 'keeping +them quiet' all their duty toward them, nor do I, to whom they were +left as a sacred trust." + +"That awful word 'duty' rules you, Miss Walton, with a rod of iron." + +"Do I seem like a harshly driven slave?" she asked, smilingly. + +"No, and I cannot understand you." + +"That is because your philosophy of life is wrong. You still belong to +that old school who would have it that sun, moon, and stars revolve +around the earth. But here are the books, and if you are to be one of +the children you must do as I bid you--be still and listen." + +It was strange to Gregory how content he was to obey. He was surprised +at his interest in the old Bible stories told in childish language, +and as Annie stopped to explain a point or answer a question, he found +himself listening as did the eager little boy sitting on the floor at +her feet. The hackneyed man of the world could not understand how the +true, simple language of nature, like the little brown blossoms of +lichens, has a beauty of its own. + +At the same time he had a growing consciousness that perhaps there was +something in the reader also which mainly held his interest. It was +pleasant to listen to the low, musical voice. It was pleasant to see +the red lips drop the words so easily yet so distinctly, and chief of +all was the consciousness of a vitalized presence that made the room +seem full when she was in it, and empty when she was absent, though +all others remained. + +He truly shared the children's regret when at last she said, "Now I am +tired, and must go upstairs and rest awhile before supper, after which +we will have some music. You can go into the sitting-room and look at +the pictures till the tea-bell rings. Mr. Gregory, will my excuse to +the children answer for you also?" + +"I suppose it must, though I have no pictures to look at." + +She suddenly appeared to change her mind, and said, briskly, "Come, +sir, what you need is work for others. I have read to you, and you +ought to be willing to read to me. If you please, I will rest in the +arm-chair here instead of in my room." + +"I will take your medicine," he said, eagerly, "without a wry face, +though an indifferent reader, while I think you are a remarkably good +one; and let me tell you it is one of the rarest accomplishments we +find. You shall also choose the book." + +"What unaccountable amiableness!" she replied, laughing. "I fear I +shall reward you by going to sleep." + +"Very well, anything so I am not left alone again. I am wretched +company for myself." + +"Oh, it is not for my sake you are so good, after all!" + +"You think me a selfish wretch, Miss Walton." + +"I think you are like myself, capable of much improvement. But I wish +to rest, and you must not talk, but read. There is the 'Schonberg- +Cotta Family.' I have been over it two or three times, so if I lose +the thread of the story it does not matter." + +He wheeled the arm-chair up to the fire for her, and for a while she +listened with interest; but at last her lids drooped and soon closed, +and her regular breathing showed that she was sleeping. His voice sank +in lower and lower monotone lest his sudden stopping should awaken +her, then he laid down his book and read a different story in the pure +young face turned toward him. + +"It is not beautiful," he thought, "but it is a real, good face. I +should not be attracted toward it in a thronged and brilliant drawing- +room. I might not notice it on Fifth Avenue, but if I were ill and in +deep trouble, it is just such a face as I should like to see bending +over me. Am I not ill and in deep trouble? I have lost my health and +lost my manhood. What worse disasters this side death can I +experience? Be careful, Walter Gregory, you may be breaking the one +clew that can lead you out of the labyrinth. You may be seeking to +palsy the one hand that can help you. Mother believed in a special +Providence. Is it her suggestion that now flashes in my mind that God +in mercy has brought me to this place of sacred memories, and given me +the companionship of this good woman, that the bitter waters of my +life may be sweetened? I do not know from whom else it can come. + +"And yet the infernal fascination of evil! I cannot--I will not give +up my purpose toward her. Vain dreams! Miss Walton or an angel of +light could not reclaim me. My impetus downward is too great. + +"Oh, the rest and peace of that face! Physical rest and a quiet, happy +spirit dwell in every line. She sleeps there like a child, little +dreaming that a demon is watching her. But she says that she is +guarded. Perhaps she is. A strong viewless one with a flaming sword +may stand between her and me. + +"Weak fool! Enough of this. I shall carry out my experiment fully, and +when I have succeeded or failed, I can come to some conclusion on +matters now in doubt. + +"I should like to kiss those red parted lips. I wonder what she would +do if I did?" Annie's brow darkened into a frown. Suddenly she started +up and looked at him, but seemed satisfied from his distance and +motionless aspect. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothing. I had a dream," she said, with a slight flush. + +"Please tell it," he said, though he feared her answer. + +"You will not like it. Besides, it's too absurd." + +"You pique my curiosity. Tell it by all means." + +"Well, then, you mustn't be angry; and remember, I have no faith in +sleeping vagaries. I dreamed that you were transformed into a large +tiger, and came stealthily to bite me." + +He was startled as he recalled his thought at the moment of her +awaking, but had the presence of mind to say, "Let me interpret the +dream." + +"Well." + +"You know, I suppose, that dreams go by contraries. Suppose a true +friend wished to steal a kiss in your unconsciousness." + +"True friends do not steal from us," she replied, laughing. "I don't +know whether it was safe to let you read me to sleep?" + +"It's not wrong to be tempted, is it? One can't help that. As Mr. +Tuggar says, I might have the 'sperit to do it,' and yet remain +quietly in my chair, as I have." + +"You make an admission in your explanation. Well, it was queer," she +added, absently. + +Gregory thought so too, and was annoyed at her unexpected clairvoyant +powers. But he said, as if a little piqued, "If you think me a tiger +you had better not sleep within my reach, or you may find your face +sadly mutilated on awaking." + +"Nonsense," she said. "Mr. Gregory, you are a gentleman. We are +talking like foolish children." + +The tea-bell now rang, and Gregory obeyed its summons in a very +perplexed state. His manner was rather absent during the meal, but +Annie seemed to take pains to be kind and reassuring. The day, so far +from being a restraint, appeared one of habitual cheerfulness, which +even the dreary storm without could not dampen. + +"We shall have a grand sing to-night with the assistance of your +voice, I hope, Mr. Gregory," said Mr. Walton, as they all adjourned to +the parlor. + +"I do not sing by note," he replied. "When I can I will join you, +though I much prefer listening to Miss Walton." + +"Miss Walton prefers nothing of the kind, and we shall sing only what +you know," she said, with a smiling glance at him over her shoulder, +as she was making selections from the music-stand. + +Soon they were all standing round the piano, save Mr. Walton, who sat +near in his arm-chair, his face the picture of placid enjoyment as he +looked on the little group so dear to him. They began with the +children's favorites from the Sabbath-school books, the little boy +dutifully finding the place for his grandfather. Many of them were the +same that Gregory had sung long years before, standing in the same +place, a child like Johnny, and the vivid memories thus recalled made +his voice a little husky occasionally. Annie once gave him a quick +look of sympathy, not curious but appreciative. + +"She seems to know what is passing in my soul," he thought; "I never +knew a woman with such intuitions." + +The combined result of their voices was true home music, in which were +blended the tones of childhood and age. Annie, with her sweet soprano, +led, and gave time and key to them all, very much as by the force and +loveliness of her character she influenced the daily harmony of their +lives. The children, with their imitative faculty, seemed to gather +from her lips how to follow with fair correctness, and they chirped +through the tunes like two intelligent robins. Miss Eulie sang a sweet +though rather faint alto that was like a low minor key in a happy +life. Mr. Walton's melody was rather that of the heart, for his voice +was returning to the weakness of childhood, and his ear was scarcely +quick enough for the rapid changes of the air, and yet, unless +"grandpa" joined with them, all felt that the circle was incomplete. + +Gregory was a foreign element in the little group, almost a stranger +to its personnel, and more estranged from the sacred meanings and +feeling of the hour; yet such was the power of example, so strong were +the sweet home-spells of this Christian family, that to his surprise +he found himself entering with zest into a scene that on the Sabbath +before he would have regarded as an unmitigated bore. The thought +flashed across him, "How some of my club acquaintances would laugh to +see me standing between two children singing Sabbath-school hymns!" + +It was also a sad truth that he could go away from all present +influences to spend the next Sabbath at his club in the ordinary +style. + +When the children's hour had passed and they had been tucked away to +peaceful spring-time dreams, though a storm, the precursor of winter, +raged without, Annie returned to the parlor and said, "Now, Mr. +Gregory, we can have some singing more to your taste." + +"I have been one of the children to-day," he replied, "so you must let +me off with them from any further singing myself." + +"If you insist on playing the children's role you must go to bed. I +have some grand old hymns that I've been wishing to try with you." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I am but half a man. At the risk of your +contempt I must say in frankness that my whole physical nature yearns +for my arm-chair. But please do not call my weakness laziness. If you +will sing to me just what you please, according to your mood, I for +one will be grateful." + +"Even a dragon could not resist such an appeal," said Annie, laughing. +She sat down to her piano and soon partially forgot her audience, in +an old Sabbath evening habit, well known to natural musicians, of +expressing her deeper and more sacred feelings in words and notes that +harmonized with them. Gregory sat and listened as the young girl +unwittingly revealed a new element in her nature. + +In her every-day life she appeared to him full of force and power, +practical and resolute. To one of his sporting tastes she suggested a +mettled steed whose high spirit was kept in check by thorough +training. Her conversation was piquant, at times a little brusque, and +utterly devoid of sentimentality. But now her choice of poetic thought +and her tones revealed a wealth of womanly tenderness, and he was +compelled to feel that her religion was not legal and cold, a system +of duties, beliefs, and restraints, but something that seemed to stir +the depths of her soul with mystic longings, and overflow her heart +with love. She was not adoring the Creator, nor paying homage to a +king; but, as the perfume rises from a flower, so her voice and manner +seemed the natural expression of a true, strong affection for God +Himself, not afar off, but known as a near and dear friend. In her +sweet tones there was not the faintest suggestion of the effect or +style that a professional singer would aim at. She thought no more of +these than would a thrush swaying on its spray in the twilight of a +June evening. As unaffectedly as the bird she sang according to the +inward promptings of a nature purified and made lovely by the grace of +God. + +No one not utterly given over to evil could have listened unmoved, +still less Gregory, with his sensitive, beauty-loving, though +perverted nature. The spirit of David's harp again breathed its divine +peace on his sin-disquieted soul. The words of old Daddy Tuggar +flashed across him, and he muttered: + +"Yes, she could take even me to heaven, 'if she stayed right by me.'" + +When finally, with heartfelt sincerity, she sang the following simple +words to an air that seemed a part of them, he envied her from the +depths of his soul, and felt that he would readily barter away any +earthly possession and life itself for a like faith: + + Nearer, nearer, ever nearer, + Come I gladly unto Thee; + And the days are growing brighter + With Thy presence nearer me. + + Though a pilgrim, not a stranger; + This Thy land, and I Thine own; + At Thy side, thus free from danger, + Find I paths with flowers strown. + + Voices varied, nature speaking, + Call to me on every side; + Friends and kindred give their greeting, + In Thy sunshine I abide. + + Though my way were flinty, thorny, + Were I sure it led to Thee, + Could I pass one day forlornly, + Home and rest so near to me? + +Then she brought the old family Bible, indicating that after that hour +she was in no mood for commonplace conversation. In the hush that +followed, the good old man reverently read a favorite passage, which +seemed not to consist of cold, printed words, but to be a part of a +loving letter sent by the Divine Father to His absent children. + +As such it was received by all save Gregory. He sat among them as a +stranger and an alien, cut off by his own acts from those ties which +make one household of earth and heaven. But such was the influence of +the evening upon him that he realized as never before his loss and +loneliness. He longed intensely to share in their feelings, and to +appropriate the words of love and promise that Mr. Walton read. + +The prayer that followed was so tender, so full of heart-felt interest +in his guest, that Gregory's feelings were deeply touched. He arose +from his knees, and again shaded his face to hide the traces of his +emotion. + +When at last he looked up, Mr. Walton was quietly reading, and the +ladies had retired. He rose and bade Mr. Walton good-night with a +strong but silent grasp of the hand. + +The thought flashed across him as he went to his room, that after this +evening and the grasp as of friendship he had just given the father, +he could not in the faintest degree meditate evil against the +daughter. But so conscious was he of moral weakness, so self- +distrustful in view of many broken resolutions, that he dared resolve +on nothing. He at last fell into a troubled sleep with the vain, +regretful thought, "Oh that I had not lost my vantage-ground! Oh that +I could live my life over again!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS + + + +In view of her recent stormy mood, Nature seemed full of regretful +relentings on Monday, and, as if to make amends for her harshness, +assumed something of a summer softness. The sun had not the glaring +brightness that dazzles, and the atmosphere, purified by the recent +rain, revealed through its crystal depths objects with unusual +distinctness. + +"It is a splendid day for a mountain ramble," said Annie, with +vivacity, at the breakfast-table. + +"Why don't you take old Dolly and the mountain wagon, and show Mr. +Gregory some of our fine views this afternoon?" asked Mr. Walton. + +"Nothing would please me more," said his daughter, cordially; "that +is, if Mr. Gregory feels equal to the fatigue." + +"I'd be at my last gasp if I refused such an offer," said Gregory, +eagerly. "It would do me good, for I feel much stronger than when I +first came, and Miss Walton's society is the best tonic I know of." + +"Very well," said she, laughing. "You shall take me this afternoon as +a continuation of the tonic treatment under which you say you are +improving." + +"To carry on the medical figure," he replied, "I fear that I am to you +the embodiment of the depletive system." + +"From my feelings this bright morning you have very little effect. I +prescribe for you a quiet forenoon, as our mountain roads will give +you an awful jolting. You, if not your medicine, will be well shaken +to-day." + +"You are my medicine, as I understand it, so I shall take it according +to the old orthodox couplet." + +"No, the mountain is your medicine, and I anticipate no earthquakes." + +"It is settled then," said Mr. Walton, smiling, "that you adopt +Mahomet's compromise and go to the mountain. I will tell Jeff to fit +you out in suitable style." + +Gregory, in excellent spirits, retired to his room for a quiet +morning. The prospect for the afternoon pleased him greatly, and a +long tete-a-tete with Annie among the grand and beautiful solitudes of +nature had for him an attraction that he could scarcely understand. + +"She is just the one for a companion on such an expedition," he said +to himself. "She seems a part of the scenes we shall look upon. The +free, strong mountain spirit breathes in her every word and act. Old +Greek mythology would certainly make her a nymph of the hills." + +After dinner they started, Gregory's interest centring mainly in his +companion, but Annie regarding him as a mere accessory to a sort of +half-holiday in her busy life, and expecting more enjoyment from the +scenery and the exhilarating air than from his best efforts to +entertain her. And yet in this respect she was agreeably disappointed. +Gregory was in a mood that he scarcely understood himself. If Annie +had been somewhat vain and shallow, though possessing many other good +traits, with the practiced skill of a society man he would have made +the most of these weaknesses, amused himself with a piquant +flirtation, and soon have been ready for his departure for New York +with a contemptuous French shrug at the whole affair. But her +weaknesses did not lie in that direction. Her naturally truthful and +earnest nature, deepened and strengthened by Christian principle, from +the first had foiled his unworthy purposes, and disturbed his +contemptuous cynicism. Then as he was compelled to believe in her +reality, her truth and nobleness, all that was in his own nature +responsive to these traits began to assert itself. Even while he clung +to it and felt that he had no power to escape it, the evil of his life +grew more hateful to him, and he condemned himself with increasing +bitterness. When good influences are felt in a man's soul, evil seems +to become specially active. The kingdom of darkness disputes every +inch of its ill-gotten power. Winter passes away in March storms. It +is the still cold of indifference that is nearest akin to death. + +The visit to his old home, and the influence of Annie Walton, were +creating March weather in Walter Gregory's soul. There were a few +genial moods like gleams of early spring sunshine. There were sudden +relentings and passionate longings for better life, as at times +gentle, frost-relaxing showers soften the flinty ground. There were +fierce spiritual conflicts, wild questionings, doubts, fears, and +forebodings, and sometimes despair, as in this gusty month nature +often seems resolving itself back to primeval chaos. But too often his +mood was that of cold hard scepticism, the frost of midwinter. The +impetus of his evil life would evidently be long in spending itself. + +And yet the quiet influence of the hallowed Sabbath evening, and Annie +Walton's hymns of faith and love, could not readily be lost. The +father's prayer still echoed in his soul, and even to him it seemed +that the heavens could not be deaf to such entreaty. These things +affected him as no direct appeals possibly could. They were like the +gentle but irresistible south wind. + +He was now simply drifting. He had not definitely abandoned his +purpose of tempting Annie, nor did he consciously thrust it from him. +Quite convinced that she was what she seemed, and doubting greatly +whether during his brief visit there would be time to affect her mind +seriously by any evil influences he could bring to bear, and won +unwittingly by her pure spirit to better things himself, he let the +new and unexpected influence have full play. + +He was like a man who finds himself in the current above Niagara, and +gives up in despair, allowing his boat to glide onward to the fatal +plunge. A breeze springs up and blows against the current. He spreads +a sail and finds his downward progress checked. If the wind increases +and blows steadily, he may stem the rushing tide and reach smooth, +safe waters. + +A faint glimmering of hope began to dawn in his heart. An unexpected +gale from heaven, blowing against the current of evil, made it seem +possible that he too might gain the still waters of a peaceful faith. +But the hope dwelt in his mind more as a passing thought, a +possibility, than an expectation. + +In his wavering state the turn of the scales would depend mainly upon +the mood of his companion. If she had been trifling and inclined to +flirt, full of frivolous nonsense, bent upon having a good time in the +frequent acceptation of the phrase, little recking the consequences of +words or acts, as is often the case with girls in the main good- +hearted and well-meaning, Gregory would have fallen in with such a +mood and pushed it to the extreme. + +But Annie was simply herself, bright and exhilarating as the October +sunshine, but as pure and strong. She was ready for jest and repartee. +She showed almost a childish delight in every odd and pretty thing +that met her eye, but never for a moment permitted her companion to +lose respect for her. + +Her cheeks were like the crimson maple-leaves which overhung them. Her +eyes were like the dark sparkle of the little brook as it emerged from +the causeway over which they drove. Her brown hair, tossed by the +wind, escaped somewhat from its restraints and enhanced the whiteness +of her neck, and the thought occurred to Gregory more than once, "If +she is not pretty, I never saw a face more pleasant to look at." + +The wish to gain her esteem and friendship grew stronger every moment, +and he exerted himself to the utmost to please her. Abandoning utterly +his gallantry, his morbid cynicism, he came out into the honest +sunlight of truth, where Annie's mind dwelt, and directed the +conversation to subjects concerning which, as an educated and +travelled man, he could speak frankly and intelligently. Annie had +strong social tastes and the fondness for companionship natural to the +young, and she was surprised to find how he stimulated and interested +her mind, and how much they had in common. He appeared to understand +her immediately, and to lead her thoughts to new and exciting flights. + +It was their purpose to cross a spur of the main mountain range. After +a long and toilsome climb, stopping to give Dolly many a breathing +spell, they at last reached the brow of the wooded height, and turned +to look at the autumn landscape glimmering in the bright October +sunshine. It is impossible by either pen or brush to give a true +picture of wide reaches of broken and beautiful country, as seen from +some of the more favored points of outlook among the Highlands on the +Hudson. The loveliness of a pretty bit of scenery or of a landscape +may be enhanced by art, but the impressive grandeur of nature, when +the feature of vast and varied expanse predominates, cannot be +adequately expressed. The mind itself is oppressed by the +extensiveness of the scene, and tends to select some definite object, +as a village, hamlet, or tree-embowered farmhouse, on which to dwell. +These accord more with the finite nature of the beholder. Spires and +curling wreaths of smoke suggested to Annie and Gregory many a simple +altar and quiet hearth, around which gathered the homely, contented +life, spiritual and domestic, of those who occupied their own little +niche in the great world, and were all unburdened with thought or care +for the indefinite regions that stretched away beyond their narrow +circle of daily acquaintance. Only God can give to the whole of His +creation the all-seeing gaze that we bestow upon some familiar scene. +His glance around the globe is like that of a mother around her +nursery, with her little children grouped at her feet. + +The laden orchards, with men climbing long ladders, and boys in the +topmost branches looking in the distance like huge squirrels, were +pleasant objects to the mountain ramblers. Huskers could be discerned +in the nearer cornfields, and the great yellow ears glistened +momentarily in the light, as they were tossed into golden heaps. There +was no hum of industry as from a manufacturing village, or roar of +turbulent life as from a city, but only the quiet evidence to the eye +of a life kindred to that which nature so silently and beautifully +elaborates. + +"How insignificant we are!" said Gregory, gloomily; "how the great +world goes right on without us! It is the same when one dies and +leaves it, as we left it by climbing this mountain. In the main we are +unknown and uncared for, and even to those who know us it is soon the +same as if we had never been." + +"But the world cannot go on without God. Though forgotten, He never +forgets! His friends need never have the sense of being lost or +lonely--any more than a child travelling with his father in a foreign +land among indifferent strangers. God does not look at us, His +creatures, as we do at the foliage of these forests, seeing only the +general effect. He sees each one as directly as I now look at you." + +"I wish I could believe He looked as kindly." + +"I wish you could, Mr. Gregory. It is sad to me that people can't +believe what is so true. The fondest look your mother ever gave you +was cold compared with the yearning, loving face God turns toward +every one of us, even as we go away from Him." + +He looked at her earnestly for a moment and saw that sincerity was +written on her face. He shook his head sadly, and then said, rather +abruptly, "Those lengthening shadows remind us that we must be on our +way"; and then their thoughts dwelt on lighter subjects as they +ascended another lofty mountain terrace, and paused again to scan the +wider prospect that made the sense of daily life in the valleys below +as remote as the world seems to the hermit in his devotional +seclusion. Then they began to descend the sloping plateau which +inclined toward the brow of the hill overlooking the region of the +Walton residence. + +After one or two hours of broken but very agreeable conversation Annie +suddenly sighed deeply. + +"Now, Miss Walton," said Gregory, "that sigh came from the depths. +What hidden sorrow could have caused it?" + +With a slight flush and laugh, she said, "It was caused by a mere +passing thought, like that cloud there sailing over the mountain +slope." + +"Your simile is so pretty that I should like to know the thought." + +"I hardly know whether to tell it to you. It might have the same +effect as if that cloud should expand and cover the sky." + +"Might not the telling also have the same effect as if the cloud were +dissipated altogether?" + +She looked at him quickly and said, "How apt your answer is! Yes, it +might if you would be sensible. I do not know you so very well yet. +Are you not a little ready to take offence?" + +"You do not look as if about to say anything I should resent very +deeply. But I promise that the cloud shall vanish." + +"I am not so sure about that. The cloud represents my thought; and yet +I hope it may eventually vanish utterly. The thought occurred to me +after the pleasant hours of this afternoon what congenial friends we +_might_ be." + +"And that caused you to sigh so deeply?" + +"I laid emphasis on the word _might_." + +"And why should you, Miss Annie? Why need you?" he asked, eagerly. + +"You have shown a great deal of tact and consideration this afternoon, +Mr. Gregory, in choosing topics on which we could agree, or about +which it is as nice to differ a little. I wish it were the same in +regard to those things that make up one's life, as it were;" and she +looked at him closely to see how he would take this. + +After a moment he said, a little bitterly, "In order to be your +friend, must one look at everything through the same colored glass +that you employ?" + +"Oh, no," she replied, earnestly; "it is not fair to say that. But you +seem almost hostile to all that I love best and think most of, and my +sigh was rather an earnest and oft-recurring wish that it were +otherwise." + +Again he was silent for a short time, then said, with sudden +vehemence, "And I also wish it were otherwise"; adding more quietly, +"but it is not, Miss Walton. You know me too well, even if I wished to +deceive you. And yet I would give a great deal for such a friendship +as you could bestow. Why can you not give it as it is? The Founder of +your faith was a friend of publicans and sinners." + +"He was indeed their friend, and has been ever since," she answered. +"But was it not natural that He found more that was attractive and +congenial in that little group of disciples who were learning to know +and believe in Him?" + +"I understand you, Miss Walton. I was unfortunate in my illustration, +and you have turned it against me. You can be my friend, as the +missionary is the friend of the heathen." + +"You go to extremes, Mr. Gregory, and are hardly fair. I am not a +missionary, nor are you a heathen. I make my meaning clear when I echo +your thought of a moment ago, and wish that just such a friendship +might exist between us as that between your father and mine." + +"I am what I am," he said, with genuine sadness. + +"I wish you had my faith in the possibilities of the future," she +replied, turning brightly toward him. + +But he shook his head, saying, "I have about lost all faith in +everything as far as I am concerned. Still I feel that if any one +could do me any good, you might, but I fear it is a hopeless task." +Then he changed the subject in such a way as to show that it was +painful, and that he preferred it should be dropped. + +After all, the cloud had overcast the sky. The inevitable separation +between those guided by divine principles and those controlled by +earthly influences began to dawn upon him. He caught a glimpse of the +"great gulf," that is ever "fixed" between the good and evil in their +deepest consciousness. The "loneliness of guilt" chilled and oppressed +him, even with the cheery, sympathetic companion at his side. But he +hid his feelings under a forced gayety, in which Annie joined +somewhat, though it gave her a vague shiver of pain. She felt they had +been _en rapport_ for a little while, but now a change had come, even +as the damp and chill of approaching night were taking the place of +genial sunshine. + +Suddenly she said, as they were riding along on the comparatively +level plateau among thick copse-wood and overshadowing trees that +already created a premature twilight, "It is strange we do not come +out on the brow of the mountain overlooking our home. This road does +not seem familiar either, though it is two or three years since I have +been over it, and then Jeff drove. I thought I knew the way well. Can +it be possible we have taken the wrong turning?" + +"I ought to be familiar with these roads, Miss Walton, but I am sorry +to say I too am confused. I hunted over these hills to some extent +when a boy, but did not pay much heed to the roads, as I took my own +courses through the woods." + +"I think I must be right," said Annie, after a little time; "the brow +of the hill must be near;" and they hastened the old horse along as +fast as possible under the circumstances. But the road continually +grew rougher and gave evidence of very little travel, and the evening +deepened rapidly. At last they resolved to turn round at the first +place that would permit of it, but this was not readily found, there +being only a single wheel-track, which now stretched away before them +like a narrow cut between banks of foliage, that looked solid in the +increasing darkness; the road also was full of rocks, loose stones, +and deep ruts, over which the wagon jolted painfully. With a less +sure-footed horse than Dolly they would soon have come to grief. +Gregory was becoming greatly fatigued, though he strove to hide it, +and both were filled with genuine uneasiness at the prospect before +them. To make matters seemingly desperate, as they were descending a +little hill a fore-wheel caught between two stones and was wrenched +sharply off. Quick, agile Annie sprang as she felt the wagon giving, +but Walter was thrown out among the brushwood by the roadside. Though +scratched and bruised, he was not seriously hurt, and as quickly as +possible came to the assistance of his companion. He found her +standing by Dolly's head, holding and soothing the startled beast. +Apparently she was unhurt. They looked searchingly at the dusky +forest, their broken vehicle, and then at each other. Words were +unnecessary to explain the awkwardness of their situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"PROMISE OR DIE" + + + +While they were thus standing irresolute after the accident, suddenly +a light glimmered upon them. It appeared to come from a house standing +a little off from the road. "Shall I leave you here and go for +assistance?" asked Walter. + +"I think I would rather go with you. Dolly will stand, and I do not +wish to be left alone." + +They soon found a grassy path leading to a small house, from which the +light shone but faintly through closely curtained windows. They met no +one, nor were their footsteps heard till they knocked at the door. A +gruff voice said, "Come in," and a huge bull-dog started up from near +the fire with a savage growl. + +They entered. A middle-aged man with his coat off sat at work with his +back toward them. He rose hastily and stared at them with a strangely +blended look of consternation and anger. + +"Call off your dog," said Gregory, sharply. + +"Down, Bull," said the man, harshly, and the dog slunk growling into a +corner, but with a watchful, ugly gleam in his eyes. + +The man's expression was quite as sinister and threatening. + +"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, sternly. + +"We want help," said Gregory, with a quickened and apprehensive glance +around, which at once revealed to him why their visit was so +unwelcome. The man had been counterfeiting money, and the evidences of +his guilt were only too apparent. "We have lost our way, and our wagon +is broken. I hope you have sufficient humanity to act the part of a +neighbor." + +"Humanity to the devil!" said the man, brutally, "I am neighbor to no +one. You have come here to pry into what is none of your business." + +"We have not," said Gregory, eagerly. "You will find our broken wagon +in the road but a little way from here." + +The man's eye was cold, hard, and now had a snake-like glitter as he +looked at them askance with a gloomy scowl. He seemed thinking over +the situation in which he found himself. + +Gregory, in his weak, exhausted state, and shaken somewhat by his +fall, was nervous and apprehensive. Annie, though pale, stood firmly +and quietly by. + +Slowly and hesitatingly, as if deliberating as to the best course, the +man reached up to the shelf and took down a revolver, saying, with an +evil-boding look at them, "If I thought you had come as detectives, +you would have no chance to use your knowledge. You, sir, I do not +know, but I think this lady is Squire Walton's daughter. As it is, you +must both solemnly promise me before God that you will never reveal +what you have seen here. Otherwise I have but one method of self- +protection," and he cocked his pistol. "Let me tell you," he added, in +a blood-curdling tone, "you are not the first ones I have silenced. +And mark this--if you go away and break this promise, I have +confederates who will take vengeance on you and yours." + +"No need of any further threats," said Gregory, with a shrug. "I +promise. As you say, it is none of my business how much of the 'queer' +you make." + +Though naturally not a coward, Gregory, in his habit of self-pleasing +and of shunning all sources of annoyance, would not have gone out of +his way under any circumstances to bring a criminal to justice, and +the thought of risking anything in this case did not occur to him. Why +should they peril their lives for the good of the commonwealth? If he +had been alone and escaped without further trouble, he would have +thought of the matter afterward as of a crime recorded in the morning +paper, with which he had no concern, except perhaps to scrutinize more +sharply the currency he received. + +But with conscientious Annie it was very different. Her father was a +magistrate of the right kind, who sincerely sought to do justice and +protect the people in their rights. From almost daily conversation her +mind had been impressed with the sacredness of the law. When she was +inclined to induce her father to give a lighter sentence than he +believed right he had explained how the well-being and indeed the very +existence of society depended upon the righteous enforcement of the +law, and how true mercy lay in such enforcement. She had been made to +feel that the responsibility for good order and morals rested on every +one, and that to conceal a known crime was to share deeply in the +guilt. She also was not skilled in that casuistry which would enable +her to promise anything with mental reservations. The shock of their +savage and threatening reception had been severe, but she was not at +all inclined to be hysterical; and though her heart seemed to stand +still with a chill of dread which deepened every moment as she +realized what would be exacted of her, she seemed more self-possessed +than Gregory. Indeed, in the sudden and awful emergencies of life, +woman's fortitude is often superior to man's, and Annie's faith was no +decorous and conventional profession for Sabbath uses, but a constant +and living reality. She was like the maidens of martyr days, who +tremblingly but unhesitatingly died for conscience' sake. While there +was no wavering of purpose, there was an agony of fear and sorrow, as, +after the momentary confusion of mind caused by the suddenness of the +occurrence, the terrible nature of the ordeal before her became +evident. + +Through her father she had heard a vague rumor of this man before. +Though he lived so secluded and was so reticent, his somewhat +mysterious movements had awakened suspicion. But his fierce dog and +his own manner had kept all obtrusive curiosity at a distance. Now she +saw her father's worst fears and surmises realized. + +But the counterfeiter at first gave all his attention to her +companion, thinking that he would have little trouble with a timid +girl; and after Gregory's ready promise, looked searchingly at him for +a moment, and then said, with a coarse, scornful laugh, "No fear of +you. You will keep your skin whole. You are a city chap, and know +enough of me and my tribe to be sure I can strike you there as well as +here. I can trust to your fears, and don't wish to shed blood when it +is unnecessary. And now this girl must make the same promise. Her +father is a magistrate, and I intend to have no posse of men up here +after me to-morrow." + +"I can make no such promise," said Annie, in a low tone. + +"What?" exclaimed the man, harshly, and a savage growl from the dog +made a kindred echo to his tone. + +Deathly pale, but with firm bearing, Annie said, "I cannot promise to +shield crime by silence. I should be a partaker in your guilty +secrets." + +"Oh, for God's sake, promise!" cried Gregory, in an agony of fear, but +in justice it must be said that it was more for her than for himself. + +"For God's sake I cannot promise." + +The man stepped menacingly toward her, and the great dog also advanced +unchecked out of his corner. + +"Young woman," he hissed in her ear, "you must promise or die. I have +sworn never to go to prison again if I wade knee-deep in blood." + +There came a rush of tears to Annie's eyes. Her bosom heaved +convulsively a moment, and then she said, in a tone of agony, "It is +dreadful to die in such a way, but I cannot make the promise you ask. +It would burden my conscience and blight my life. I will trust to +God's mercy and do right. But think twice before you shed my innocent +blood." + +Gregory covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud. + +The man hesitated. He had evidently hoped by his threats to frighten +her into compliance, and her unexpected refusal, while it half +frenzied him with fear and anger, made his course difficult to +determine upon. He was not quite hardened enough to slay the +defenceless girl as she stood so bravely before him, and the killing +of her would also involve the putting of Gregory out of the way, +making a double murder that would be hard to conceal. He looked at the +dog, and the thought occurred that by turning them out of doors and +leaving them to the brute's tender mercies their silence might be +effectually secured. + +It is hard to say what he would have done, left to his own fears and +evil passions; but a moment after Annie had spoken, the doors opened +and a woman entered with a pail of water, which she had just brought +from a spring at some little distance from the house. + +"What does this mean?" she asked, with a quick, startled glance +around. + +"It means mischief to all concerned," said the man, sullenly. + +"This is Miss Walton," said the woman, advancing. + +"Yes," exclaimed Annie, and she rushed forward and sobbed out, "save +me from your husband; he threatened to take my life." + +"'My husband!'" said the woman, with intense bitterness, turning +toward the man. "Do you hear that, Vight? Quiet your fears, young +lady. Do you remember the sick, weary woman that you found one hot day +last summer by the roadside? I was faint, and it seemed to me that I +was dying. I often wish to, but when it comes to the point and I look +over into the black gulf, I'm afraid--" + +"But, woman--" interrupted the man, harshly. + +"Be still," she said, imperiously waving her hand. + +"Don't rouse a devil you can't control." Then turning to Annie, she +continued, "I was afraid then; I was in an agony of terror. I was so +weak that I could scarcely do more than look appealingly to you and +stretch out my hands. Most ladies would have said, 'She's drunk,' and +passed contemptuously on. But you got out of your wagon and took my +cold hand. I whispered, 'I'm sick; for God's sake help me.' And you +believed me and said, 'I will help you, for God's sake and your own.' +Then you went to the carriage, and got some cordial which you said was +for another sick person, and gave me some; and when I revived, you +half carried me and half lifted me into your nice covered little +wagon, that kept the burning sun off my head, and you took me miles +out of your way to a little house which I falsely told you was my +home. I heard that you afterward came to see me. You spoke kindly. +When I could speak I said that I was not fit for you to touch, and you +answered that Jesus Christ was glad to help touch any human creature, +and that you were not better than He! Then you told me a little about +Him, but I was too sick to listen much. God knows I've got down about +as low as any woman can. I dare not pray for myself, but since that +day I've prayed for you. And mark what I say, Vight," she added, her +sad, weird manner changing to sudden fierceness, "not a hair of this +lady's head shall be hurt." + +"But these two will go and blab on us," said the man, angrily. "At +least the girl will. She won't promise to keep her secret. I have no +fears for the man; I can keep him quiet." + +"Why won't you promise?" asked the woman, gently, but with surprise. + +"Because I cannot," said Annie, earnestly, though her voice was still +broken by sobs. "When we hide crime, we take part in it." + +"And would you rather die than do what you thought wrong?" + +"It were better," said Annie. + +"Oh that I had had such a spirit in the fatal past!" groaned the +woman. + +"But won't you protect me still?" exclaimed Annie, seizing her hand. +"It would kill my poor old father too, if I should die. I cannot +burden my soul with your secrets, but save me--oh, save me, from so +dreadful a death!" + +"I have said it, Miss Walton. Not a hair of your head shall be hurt." + +"What do you advise then, madam?" asked the man, satirically. "Shall +we invite Mr. Walton and the sheriff up to-morrow to take a look at +the room as it now stands?" + +"I advise nothing," said the woman, harshly. "I only say, in a way you +understand, not a hair of this girl's head shall be hurt." + +"Thank God, oh, thank God," murmured Annie, with a feeling of +confidence and inexpressible relief, for there was that in the woman's +bearing and tone which gave evidence of unusual power over her +associate in crime. + +Then Annie added, still clinging to a hand unsanctified by the +significant plain ring, "I hope you will keep my companion safe from +harm also." + +During the scene between Annie and her strange protector, who was +evidently a sad wreck of a beautiful and gifted woman, Gregory had +sunk into a chair through weakness and shame, and covered his face +with his hands. + +The woman turned toward him with instinctive antipathy, and asked, +"How is it, sir, you have left a young girl to meet this danger +alone?" + +Gregory's white, drawn face turned scarlet as he answered, "Because I +am like you and this man here, and not like Miss Walton, who is an +angel of truth and goodness." + +"'Like _us_,' indeed!" said she, disdainfully. "I don't know that you +have proved us _cowards_ yet. And could you be bad and mean enough to +see this brave maiden slain before your eyes, and go away in silence +to save your own miserable self?" + +"For aught I know I could," answered he, savagely. "I would like to +see what mean, horrible, loathsome thing, this hateful, hated thing I +call myself could not do." + +Gregory showed, in a way fearful to witness, what intense hostility +and loathing a spirit naturally noble can feel toward itself when +action and conscience are at war. + +"Ah," said the woman, bitterly, "now you speak a language I know well. +Why should I fear the judgment-day?" she added, with a gloomy light in +her eyes, as if communing with herself. "Nothing worse can be said of +me than I will say now. But," she sneered, turning sharply to Gregory, +"I do not think I have fallen so low as you." + +"Probably not," he replied, with a grim laugh, and a significant shrug +which he had learned abroad. "I will not dispute my bad pre-eminence. +Come, Vight, or whatever your name is," he continued, rising, "make up +your mind quickly what you are going to do. I am a weak man, morally +and physically. If you intend to shoot me, or let your dog make a meal +of me, let us have it over as soon as possible. Since Miss Walton is +safe, I am as well prepared now as I ever shall be." + +"I entreat you," pleaded Annie, still clinging to the woman, "don't +let any harm come to him." + +"What is the use of touching him?" said the man, gruffly. Then turning +to Gregory he asked, "Do you still promise not to use your knowledge +against me? You might do me more harm in New York than here." + +"I have promised once, and that is enough," said Gregory, irritably. +"I keep my word for good or evil, though you can't know that, and are +fools for trusting me." + +"I'll trust neither of you," said the man, with an oath. "Here, +Dencie, I must talk with you alone. I'm willing to do anything that's +reasonable, but I'm not going to prison again alive, mark" that (with +a still more fearful imprecation). "Don't leave this room or I won't +answer for the consequences," he said, sternly to Gregory and Annie, +at the same time looking significantly at the dog. + +Then he and the woman went into the back room, and there was an +earnest and somewhat angry consultation. + +Gregory sat down and leaned his head on the table in a manner that +showed he had passed beyond despondency and fear into despairing +indifference as to what became of him. He felt that henceforth he must +be simply odious to Miss Walton, that she would only tolerate his +presence as long as it was necessary, veiling her contempt by more +politeness. In his shame and weakness he would almost rather die than +meet her true, honest eyes again. + +Annie had the courage of principle and firm resolve, rather than that +which is natural and physical. The thought of sudden and violent death +appalled her. If her impulsive nature were excited, like that of a +soldier in battle, she could forget danger. If in her bed at home she +were wasting with disease, she would soon submit to the Divine will +with childlike trust. But her whole being shrunk inexpressibly from +violent and unnatural death. Never before did life seem so sweet. +Never before was there so much to live for. She could have been a +martyr in any age and in any horrible form for conscience' sake, but +she would have met her fate tremblingly, shrinkingly, and with intense +longings for life. And yet with all this instinctive dread, her trust +in God and His promises would not fail. But instead of standing calmly +erect on her faith, and confronting destiny, it was her nature, in +such terrible emergencies, to cling in loving and utter dependence, +and obey. + +She therefore in no respect shared Gregory's indifference, but was +keenly alive to the situation. + +At first, with her hand upon her heart to still its wild throbbings, +she listened intently, and tried to catch the drift of the fateful +conference within. This being vain, her eyes wandered hurriedly around +the room. Standing thus, she unconsciously completed a strange picture +in that incongruous place, with her dejected companion on one side, +and the great dog, eying her savagely, on the other. Gregory's +despairing attitude impressed her deeply. In a sudden rash of pity she +felt that he was not as cowardly as he had seemed. A woman with +difficulty forgives this sin. His harsh condemnation and evident +detestation of himself impelled her generous nature instinctively to +take the part of his weak and wronged spirit. She had early been +taught to pity rather than to condemn those whom evil is destroying. +In all his depravity he did not repel her, for, though proud, he had +no petty, shallow vanity; and the evident fact that he suffered so +deeply disarmed her. + +Moreover, companionship in trouble which she felt was partly her +fault, drew her toward him, and, stepping to his side, she laid her +hand on his shoulder and said, gently, "Cheer up, my friend; I +understand you better than you do yourself. God will bring us safely +through." + +He shrunk from her hand, and said, drearily, "With better reason than +younder woman I can say, 'I am not fit for you to touch.' As for God, +He has nothing to do with me." + +She answered, kindly, "I do not think that either of those things is +true. But, Mr. Gregory, what will they do with us? They will not +dare--" + +She was interrupted by the entrance of the strangely assorted couple +into whose crime-stained hands they had so unexpectedly fallen. Both +felt that but little trust could be placed in such perverted and +passion-swept natures--that they would be guided by their fears, +impulses, and interests. Annie's main hope was in the hold she had on +the woman's sympathies; but the latter, as she entered, wore a sullen +and disappointed look, as if she had not been given her own way. Annie +at once stepped to her side and again took her hand, as if she were +her best hope of safety. It was evident that her confidence and +unshrinking touch affected the poor creature deeply, and her hand +closed over Annie's in a way that was reassuring. + +"I suppose you would scarcely like to trust yourselves to me or my +dog," said the man, with a grim laugh. "What's more, I've no time to +bother with you. Since my companion here feels she owes you something, +Miss Walton, she can now repay you a hundred-fold. But follow her +directions closely, as you value your lives;" and he left the house +with the dog. Soon after, they heard in the forest what seemed the +note of the whippoorwill repeated three times, but it was so near and +importunate that Annie was startled, and the woman's manner indicated +that she was not listening to a bird. After a few moments she said, +gloomily: "Miss Walton, I promised you should receive no harm, and I +will keep my word. I hoped I could send you directly home to-night, +but that's impossible. I can do much with Vight, but not everything. +He has sworn never to go to prison again alive, and none of our lives +would be worth much if they stood in the way of his escape. We meant +to leave this region before many months, for troublesome stories are +getting around, and now we must go at once. I will take you to a place +of safety, from which you can return home to-morrow. Come." + +"But father will be wild with anxiety," cried Annie, wringing her +hands. + +"It is the best I can do," said the woman, sadly. "Come, we have no +time to lose." + +She put on a woollen hood, and taking a long, slender staff, led the +way out into the darkness. + +They felt that there was nothing to do but follow, which they did in +silence. They did not go back toward their broken wagon, but continued +down the wheel-track whereon their accident had occurred. Suddenly the +woman left this, taking a path through the woods, and after proceeding +with difficulty some distance, stopped, and lighted a small lantern +she had carried under her shawl. Even with the aid of this their +progress was painful and precarious in the steeply descending rocky +path, which had so many intricate windings that both Annie and Gregory +felt that they were indeed being led into a _terra incognita_. Annie +was consumed with anxiety as to the issue of their strange adventure, +but believed confidence in her guide to be the wisest course. Gregory +was too weary and indifferent to care for himself, and stumbled on +mechanically. + +At last he said, sullenly, "Madam, I can go no further. I may as well +die here as anywhere." + +"You _must_ go," she said, sharply; "for my sake and Miss Walton's, if +not for your own. Besides, it's not much further. What I do to-night +must be done rightly." + +"Well, then, while there is breath left, Miss Walton shall have the +benefit of it." + +"May we not rest a few minutes?" asked Annie. "I too am very tired." + +"Yes, before long at the place where you must pass the night." + +The path soon came out in another wheel-track, which seemed to lead +down a deep ravine. Descending this a little way, they reached an +opening in which was the dusky outline of a small house. + +"Here we part," said their guide, taking Annie's hand, while Gregory +sank exhausted on a rock near. "The old woman and her son who live in +that house will give you shelter, and to-morrow you must find your +best way home. This seems poor return for your kindness, but it's in +keeping with my miserable life, which is as dark and wild as the +unknown flinty path we came. After all, things have turned out far +better than they might have done. Vight was expecting some one, and so +had the dog within doors. He would have torn you to pieces had he been +without as usual." + +"Lead this life no longer. Stay with us, and I will help you to better +things," said Annie, earnestly. + +The look of intense longing on the woman's face as the light of the +flickering lantern fell on it would haunt Annie to her dying day. + +"Oh that I might!" she groaned. "Oh that I might! A more fearful +bondage never cursed a human soul!" + +"And why can you not?" pleaded Annie, putting her hand on the +trembling woman's shoulder. "You have seen better days. You were meant +for a good and noble life. You can't sin unfeelingly. Then why sin at +all? Break these chains, and by and by peace in this life and heaven +in the life to come will reward you." + +The woman sat down by the roadside, and for a moment her whole frame +seemed convulsed with sobs. At last she said, brokenly, "You plead as +my good angel did before it left me--but it's no use--it's too late. I +have indeed seen better days, pure, happy days; and so has he. We once +stood high in the respect of all. But he fell, and I fell in ways I +can't explain. You cannot understand, that as love binds with silken +cords, so crime may bind with iron chains. No more--say no more. You +only torment me," she broke in, harshly, as Annie was about to speak +again. "You cannot understand. How could you? We love, hate, and fear +each other at the same time, and death only can part us. But that may +soon--that may soon;" and she clenched her hands with a dark look. + +"But enough of this. I have too much to do to tire myself this way. +You must go to that house; I cannot. Old Mrs. Tompkins and her son +will give you shelter. I don't wish them to get into trouble. There +will be a close investigation into all this. I know what your father's +disposition is. And now farewell. The only good thing about me is, I +shall still pray for you, the only one who has ever treated me like a +woman since--since--since I fell into hell," she said in a low, hoarse +tone, and printing a passionate kiss on Annie's hand, she blew out her +light, and vanished in the darkness. + +It seemed to swallow her up, and become a type of the mystery and fate +that enshrouded the forlorn creature. Beyond the bare fact that she +took the train the following morning with the man she called "Vight," +Annie never heard of her again. Still there was hope for the wretched +wanderer. However dark and hidden her paths, the eyes of a merciful +God ever followed her, and to that God Annie prayed often in her +behalf. + +NOTE--This chapter has some historic basis. The man called "Vight" is +not altogether an imaginary character, for a desperate and successful +counterfeiter dwelt for a time among the mountains on the Hudson, +plying his nefarious trade. It is said that he took life more than +once to escape detection. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN THE DEPTHS + + + +After the departure of their strange guide, who had befriended them as +best she could, Gregory at once went to the house and knocked. There +was a movement within, and a quavering voice asked, "Who's there?" + +"Friends who have lost their way, and need shelter." + +"I don't know about lettin' strangers in this time o' night," answered +the voice. + +"There are only two of us," said Annie. "Perhaps you know who Miss +Walton is. I entreat you to let us in." + +"Miss Walton, Miss Walton, sartin, I know who she is. But I can't +believe she's here." + +"Our wagon broke down this afternoon, and we have lost our way," +explained Gregory. + +Again there was a stir inside, and soon a glimmer of light. After a +few moments the door was opened slightly, and a woman's voice asked, +apprehensively, "Be you sure it's Miss Walton?" + +"Yes," said Annie, "you need have no fears. Hold the light, and see +for yourself." + +This the woman did, and, apparently satisfied, gave them admittance at +once. + +She seemed quite aged, and a few gray locks straggled out from under +her dingy cap, which suggested anything but a halo around her +wrinkled, withered face. A ragged calico wrapper incased her tall, +gaunt form, and altogether she did not make a promising hostess. + +Before she could ask her unexpected guests any further questions, the +cry of a whippoorwill was again heard three times. She listened with a +startled, frightened manner. The sounds were repeated, and she seemed +satisfied: + +"Isn't it rather late in the season for whippoorwills?" asked Annie, +uneasily, for this bird's note, now heard again, seemed like a signal. + +"I dunno nothin' about whippoorwills," said the woman, stolidly. "The +pesky bird kind o' started me at first. Don't like to hear 'em round. +They bring bad luck. I can't do much for you, Miss Walton, in this +poor place. But such as 'tis you're welcome to stay. My son has been +off haulin' wood; guess he won't be back now afore to-morrow." + +"When do you think he will come?" asked Annie, anxiously. + +"Well, not much afore night, I guess." + +"What will my poor father do?" moaned Annie. "He will be out all night +looking for us." + +"Sure now, will he though?" said the woman, showing some traces of +anxiety herself. "Well, miss, you'll have to stay till my son gits +back, for it's a long way round through the valley to your house." + +There was nothing to do but wait patiently till morning. The woman +showed Gregory up into a loft over the one room of the house, saying, +"Here's where my son sleeps. It's the best I can do, though I s'pose +you ain't used to such beds." + +He threw his exhausted form on the wretched couch, and soon found +respite in troubled sleep. + +Annie dozed away the night in a creaky old rocking-chair, the nearest +approach to a thing of comfort that the hovel contained. The old woman +had evidently been so "started" that she needed the sedative of a +short clay pipe, highly colored indeed, still a connoisseur in +meerschaums would scarcely covet it. This she would remove from her +mouth now and then, as she crouched on a low stool in the chimney- +corner, to shake her head ominously. Perhaps she knew more about +whippoorwills than she admitted. At last it seemed that the fumes, +which half strangled Annie, had their wonted effect, and she hobbled +to her bed and was soon giving discordant evidence of her peace. Annie +then noiselessly opened a window, that she too might breathe. + +When Gregory waked next morning, it was broad day. He felt so stiff +and ill he could scarcely move, and with difficulty made his way to +the room below. The old woman was at the stove, frying some sputtering +pork, and its rank odor was most repulsive to the fastidious habitue +of metropolitan clubs. + +"Where is Miss Walton?" he asked, in quick alarm. + +"Only gone to the spring after water," replied the woman, shortly. +"Why didn't you git up and git it for her?" + +"I would if I had known," he muttered, and he escaped from the +intolerable air of the room to the door, where he met Annie, fresh and +rosy from her morning walk and her toilet at the brook that brawled +down the ravine. + +"Mr. Gregory, you are certainly ill," she exclaimed. "I am so sorry it +has all happened!" + +He looked at her wonderingly, and then said, "You appear as if nothing +had happened. I am ill, Miss Walton, and I wish I were dead. You can +not feel toward me half the contempt I have for myself." + +"Now, honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no contempt for you at all." + +He turned away and shook his head dejectedly. + +"But I mean what I say," she continued, earnestly. + +"Then it is your goodness, and not my desert." + +"As I told you last night, so again I sincerely say, I think I +understand you better than you do yourself." + +"You are mistaken," he answered, with gloomy emphasis. "Your +intuitions are quick, I admit. I have never known your equal in that +respect. But there are some things I am glad to think you never can +understand. You can never know what a proud man suffers when he has +utterly lost hope and self-respect. Though I acted so mean a part +myself, I can still appreciate your nobleness, courage, and fidelity +to conscience. I thought such heroism belonged only to the past." + +"Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make you understand me," said Annie, with +real distress in her tone. "I am not brave; I was more afraid than +you. Indeed, I was in an agony of fear. I refused that man's demand +because I was compelled to. If you looked at things as I do, you would +have done the same." + +"Please say no more, Miss Walton," said he, his face distorted by an +expression of intense self-loathing. "Do not try to palliate my +course. I would much rather you would call my cowardly selfishness and +lack of principle by their right names. The best thing I can do for +the world is to get out of it, and from present feelings, this 'good- +riddance' will soon occur. Will you excuse me if I sit down?" and he +sank upon the door-step in utter weakness. + +Annie had placed her pail of water on the door-step and forgotten it +in her wish to cheer and help this bitterly wounded spirit. + +"Mr. Gregory," she said, earnestly, "you are indeed ill in body and +mind, and you take a wrong and morbid view of everything. My heart +aches to show you how complete and perfect a remedy there is for all +this. It almost seems as if you were dying from thirst with that brook +yonder running--" + +"There is no remedy for me," interrupted he, almost harshly. Then he +added in a weary tone, pressing his hand on his throbbing brow, +"Forgive me, Miss Walton; you see what I am. Please waste no more +thought on me." + +"If yer want any breakfast to-day, yer better bring that water," +called the old woman from within. + +Annie gave him a troubled, anxious look, and then silently carried in +the pail. + +"Have you any tea?" she asked, not liking the odor of the coffee. + +"Mighty little," was the short answer. + +"Please let me have some, and I will send you a pound of our best in +its place," said Annie. + +"I hain't such a fool as to lose that bargain," and the old woman +hobbled with alacrity to a cupboard; but to Annie's dismay the hidden +treasure had been hoarded too near the even more prized tobacco, and +seemed redolent of the rank odor of some unsavory preparation of that +remarkable weed which is conjured into so many and such diverse forms. +But she brewed a little as best she could before eating any breakfast +herself, and brought it to Gregory as he still sat on the step, +leaning against the door-post. + +"Please swallow this as medicine," she said. + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I cannot," he replied. + +"Please do," she urged, "as a favor to me. I made it myself; and I +can't eat any breakfast till I have seen you take this." + +He at once complied, though with a wry face. + +"There," said she, with a touch of playfulness, "I have seldom +received a stronger compliment. After this compliance I think I could +venture to ask anything of you." + +"The tea is like myself," he answered. "You brought to it skilled +hands and pure spring water, and yet, from the nature of the thing +itself, it was a villanous compound. Please don't ask me to take any +more. Perhaps you have heard an old saying, 'Like dislikes like.'" + +She determined that he should not yield to this morbid despondency, +but had too much tact to argue with him; therefore she said, kindly, +"We never did agree very well, Mr. Gregory, and don't now. But before +many hours I hope I can give you a cup of tea and something with it +more to your taste. I must admit that I am ready even for this +dreadful breakfast, that threatens to destroy my powers of digestion +in one fatal hour. You see what a poor subject I am for romance;" and +she smilingly turned away to a meal that gave her a glimpse of how the +"other half of the world lives." + +Before she had finished, the sound of wheels and horses' hoofs coming +rapidly up the glen brought her to the door, and with joy she +recognized a near neighbor of her father's, a sturdy, kind-hearted +farmer, who had joined in the search for the missing ones the moment +he learned, in the dawn of that morning, that they had not returned. + +He gave a glad shout as he saw Annie's form in the doorway, and to her +his broad, honest face was like that of an angel. All are beautiful to +those they help. + +"Your father is in a dreadful state, Miss Annie," said Farmer Jones; +"but I told him if he would only stay at home and wait, I, and a few +other neighbors, would soon find you. He was up at the foot of the +mountain ever since twelve o'clock last night. Then he came home to +see if you hadn't returned some other way. I'm usually out as soon as +it's light, so I hailed him as he passed and asked what on earth he +was up for at that time of day. He told me his trouble, so I hitched +up my light wagon and got to your house as soon as he did. When he +found you hadn't come yet, he was for starting right for the +mountains, but I saw he wasn't fit, so I says, 'Mr. Walton, you'll +just miss 'em. They've taken a wrong road, or the wagon has broken +down, but they'll be home before ten o'clock. Now send Jeff up the +road you expected them on. I'll send Mr. Harris, who lives just beyond +me, out on the road they took first. My horse is fast, and I'll go +round up this valley, and in this way we'll soon scour every road;' +and so with much coaxing I got him to promise to stay till I returned. +So jump in quick, and I'll have you home in little over an hour." + +"But we can't leave Mr. Gregory here. Let him go first. He is ill, and +needs attention immediately." + +"Miss Walton, please return at once to your father," said Gregory, +quickly. "It is your duty. I can wait." + +"No, Mr. Gregory, it would not be right to leave you here, feeling as +you do. As soon as father knows I am safe his mind will be at rest. I +am perfectly well, and you have no idea how ill you look." + +"Miss Walton," said Gregory, in a tone that was almost harsh in its +decisiveness, "I will not return now." + +"I am real sorry," said Mr. Jones, "that my wagon is not larger, but I +took the best thing that I had for fast driving over rough roads. +Come, Miss Walton, your friend has settled it, and if he is sick he +had better come more slowly in an easier carriage." + +After cordially thanking the old woman for such rude hospitality as +she had bestowed, and renewing her promise to send ample recompense, +she turned with gentle courtesy to Gregory and assured him that he +would not have long to wait. + +He gave her a quick, searching look, and said, "Miss Walton, I do not +understand how you can speak to me in this way. But go at once. Do not +keep your father in suspense any longer." + +"I hope we shall find you better when we come for you," she said, +kindly. + +"It were better if you found me dead," he said, in sudden harshness, +but it was toward himself, not her. + +So she understood it, and waving her hand encouragingly, was rapidly +driven away. + +As they rode along she related to Mr. Jones the events already known +to the reader, but carefully shielded Gregory from blame. She also +satisfied her companion's evident curiosity about the young man by +stating so frankly all it was proper for him to know that he had no +suspicion of anything concealed. She explained his last and unusual +expression by dwelling with truth on the fact that Gregory appeared +seriously ill and was deeply depressed in spirits. + +Mr. Walton received his daughter with a joy beyond words. She was the +idol of his heart--the one object on earth that almost rivalled his +"treasures in heaven." His mind had dwelt in agonized suspense on a +thousand possibilities of evil during the prolonged hours of her +absence, and now that he clasped her again, and was assured of her +safety, he lifted his eyes heavenward with overflowing gratitude in +his heart. + +But Annie's success in keeping up before him was brief. The strain had +been a little too severe. She soon gave way to nervous prostration and +headache, and was compelled to retire to her room instead of returning +for Gregory as she had intended. But he was promptly sent for, Miss +Eulie going in her place, and taking every appliance possible for his +comfort. + +She found him in Mrs. Tompkins's hovel, sitting in the creaky arm- +chair that Annie had occupied the night before, and enduring with a +white, grim face the increasing suffering of his illness. He seemed to +have reached the depths of despair, and, believing the end near, +determined to meet it with more than Indian stoicism. + +Many, in their suicidal blindness and remorse, pass sentence upon +themselves, and weakly deliver their souls into the keeping of that +inexorable jailer, Despair, forgetting the possibilities--nay, +certainties--of good that ever dwell in God. If man had no better +friend than himself, his prospects would be sombre indeed. Many a one +has condemned himself and sunk into the apathy of death, but He who +came to seek and to save the lost has lifted him with the arms of +forgiving love, and helped him back to the safety and happiness of the +fold. Satan only, _never the Saviour_, bids the sinner despair. But +poor Gregory was taking advice from his enemy and not from his Friend. +During the long hours of pain and almost mortal weakness of that +dreary morning, he acknowledged himself vanquished--utterly defeated +in the battle of life. As old monkish legends teach, the devil might +have carried him off bodily and he would not have resisted. In his +prostrated nature, but one element of strength was apparent--a +perverted pride that rose like a shattered, blackened shaft, the one +prominent relic of seemingly utter ruin. + +At first he coldly declined the cordial and nourishment Miss Eulie +brought, and said, with a quietness that did not comport with the +meaning of his words, that she had better leave him to himself, for he +would not make trouble for any one much longer. + +Miss Eulie was shocked, finding in these words and in his general +appearance proof that he was more seriously ill than she had +anticipated. + +He was indeed; but his malady was rather that of a morbid mind +depressing an enfeebled body than actual disease. But mental distress +could speedily kill a man like Gregory. + +Miss Eulie soon brought him to terms by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you see +I am alone. Mr. Walton was too exhausted to accompany me, and Annie +did not send any of the neighbors, as she thought the presence of +strangers would be irksome to you." + +"She said she would come herself, but she has had time to think and +judge me rightly," muttered he, interrupting her. + +"No, Mr. Gregory," Miss Eulie hastened to say; "you do her wrong. She +was too ill to come, as she intended and wished to do, and so with +many anxious charges sent me in her place. I am but a woman, and +dependent on your courtesy. I cannot compel you to go with me. But I +am sure you will not wrong my brother's hospitality, and make Miss +Walton's passing indisposition serious, by refusing to come with me. +If you did she would rise from her sick bed and come herself." + +Gregory at once rose and said, "I can make no excuse for myself. I +seem fated to do and say the worst things possible under the +circumstances." + +"You are ill," said Miss Eulie, kindly, as if that explained +everything. + +Declining aid, he tottered to the carriage, into which Jeff, with some +curious surmises, helped him. + +Miss Eulie made good Annie's promises to Mrs. Tompkins fourfold, and +left the shrivelled dame with a large supply of one of the elements of +her heaven--tea, and with the means of purchasing the other--tobacco, +besides more substantial additions to the old woman's meagre larder. + +Gregory was averse to conversation during the long, slow ride. The +jolting, even of the easy cushioned carriage, was exceedingly painful, +and by the time they reached home he was quite exhausted. Leaning on +Mr. Walton's arm he at once went to his room, and at their urgent +entreaties forced himself to take a little of the dainty supper that +was forthcoming. But their kindly solicitude was courteously but +coldly repelled. Acting reluctantly upon his plainly manifested wish, +they soon left him to himself, as after his first eager inquiry +concerning Miss Walton it seemed a source of pain to him to see or +speak to any one. + +At first his arm-chair and the cheery wood-fire formed a pale +reflection of something like comfort, but every bone in his body ached +from the recent cold he had taken. He had just fever enough to +increase the distortion of the images of his morbid and excited mind. +Hour after hour he sat with grim white face and fixed stare, scourging +himself with the triple scorpion-whip of remorse, vain regret, and +self-disgust. But an old and terrible enemy was stealing on him to +change the nature of his torment--neuralgic headache; and before +morning he was walking the floor in agony, a sad type, while the world +slept and nature rested, of that large class, all whose relations, +physical and moral, are a jangling discord. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +MISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS + + + +Simple remedies and prolonged rest were sufficient to restore Annie +after the serious shock and strain she had sustained. She rose even +earlier than usual, and hastily dressed that she might resume her +wonted place as mistress of her father's household. In view of her +recent peril and the remediless loss he might have suffered, she was +doubly grateful for the privilege of ministering to his wants and +filling his declining years with cheer and comfort. + +She had not been awake long before Gregory's irregular steps in the +adjoining room aroused her attention and caused anxious surmises. But +she was inclined to think that his restlessness resulted from mental +distress rather than physical. Still she did not pity him less, but +rather more. Though so young, she knew that the "wounded spirit" often +inflicts the keener agony. Her strong womanly nature was deeply moved +in his behalf. As we have seen, it was her disposition to be helpful +and sustaining, rather than clinging and dependent. She had a heart +"at leisure from itself, to soothe and sympathize." From the depths of +her soul she pitied Gregory and wished to help him out of a state +which the psalmist with quaint force describes as "a horrible pit and +the miry clay." + +She was a very practical reformer, and determined that a dainty +breakfast should minister to the outer man before she sought to apply +a subtler balm to the inner. Trusting not even to Zibbie's established +skill, she prepared with her own hands some inviting delicacies, and +soon that which might have tempted the most exacting of epicures was +ready. + +Mr. Walton shared the delight of the children at seeing Annie bustling +round again as the good genius of their home, and Miss Eulie's little +sighs of content were as frequent as the ripples on the shore. Miss +Eulie could sigh and wipe a tear from the corner of her eye in the +most cheerful and hope-inspiring way, for somehow her face shone with +an inward radiance, and, even in the midst of sorrow and when wet with +tears, reminded one of a lantern on a stormy night, which, covered +with rain-drops, still gives light and comfort. + +Breakfast was ready, but Gregory did not appear. Hannah, the waitress, +was sent to his room, and in response to her quiet knock he said, +sharply, "Well?" + +"Breakfast is waiting." + +"I do not wish any," was the answer, in a tone that seemed resentful, +but was only an expression of the intolerable pain he was suffering. +Hannah came down with a scared look and said she "guessed something +was amiss with Mr. Gregory." + +Annie looked significantly at her father, who immediately ascended to +his guest's door. + +"Mr. Gregory, may I come in?" he asked. + +"Do not trouble yourself. I shall be better soon," was the response. + +The door was unlocked, and Mr. Walton entered, and saw at once that a +gentle but strong will must control the sufferer for his own good. +Mental and nervous excitement had driven him close to the line where +reason and his own will wavered in their decisions, and his irregular, +tottering steps became the type of the whole man. His eyes were wild +and bloodshot. A ghastly pallor gave his haggard face the look of +death. A damp dullness pervaded the heavy air of the room, which in +his unrest he had greatly disordered. The fire had died out, and he +had not even tried to kindle it again. His broodings had been so deep +and painful during the earlier part of the night that he had been +oblivious of his surroundings, and then physical anguish became so +sharp that all small elements of discomfort were unnoted. + +With fatherly solicitude Mr. Waiton stepped up to his guest, who stood +staring at him as if he were an intruder, and taking his cold hand, +said, "Mr. Gregory, you must come with me." + +"Where?" + +"To the sitting-room, where we can take care of you and relieve you. +Come, I'm your physician for the time being, and doctors must be +obeyed." + +Gregory had not undressed the night before, and, wrapped in his rich +dressing-gown and with dishevelled hair, he mechanically followed his +host to the room below and was placed on the lounge. + +"Annie has prepared you a nice little breakfast. Won't you let me +bring it to you?" said Mr. Waiton, cheerily. + +"No," said Gregory, abruptly, and pressing his hands upon his +throbbing temples, "the very thought of eating is horrible. Please +leave me. Indeed I cannot endure even your kindly presence." + +Mr. Walton looked perplexed and scarcely knew what to do, but after a +moment said, "Really, Mr. Gregory, you are very ill. I think I had +better send for our physician at once." + +"I insist that you do not," said his guest, starting up. "What could a +stupid country doctor do for me, with his owl-like examination of my +tongue and clammy fingering of my pulse, but drive me mad? I must be +alone." + +"Father," said Annie, in a firm and quiet voice, "I will be both nurse +and physician to Mr. Gregory this morning. If I fail, you may send for +a doctor." + +Unperceived she had entered, and from Gregory's manner and words +understood his condition. + +"Miss Waiton," said Gregory, hastily, "I give you warning. I am not +even the poor weak self you have known before, and I beg you leave me +till this nervous headache passes off, if it ever does. I can't +control myself at such times, and this is the worst attack I ever had. +I am low enough in your esteem. Do not add to my pain by being present +now at the time of my greatest weakness." + +"Mr. Gregory," she replied, "you may speak and act your worst, but you +shall not escape me this morning. It's woman's place to remove pain, +not fly from it. So you must submit with the best grace you can. If +after I have done all in my power you prefer the doctor and another +nurse, I will give way, but now you have no choice." + +Gregory fell back on the sofa with a groan and a muttered oath. At a +sign from his daughter, Mr. Walton reluctantly and doubtfully passed +through the open door into the parlor, where he was joined by Miss +Eulie. + +Annie quietly stepped to the hearth and stirred the fire to a cheerful +blaze. She then went to the parlor and brought the afghan, and without +so much as saying, "by your leave," spread it over his chilled form. + +Gregory felt himself helpless, but there was something soothing in +this assertion of her strong will, and like a sick child he was better +the moment he ceased to chafe and struggle. + +She left the room a few moments, and even between the surges of pain +he was curious as to what she would do next. He soon learned with a +thrill of hope that he was to experience the magnetism of her touch, +and to know the power of the hand that had seemed alive in his grasp +on the day of their chestnutting expedition. Annie returned with a +quaint little bottle of German cologne, and, taking a seat quietly by +his side, began bathing his aching temples. + +"You treat me like a child," he said, petulantly. + +"I hope for a while you will be content to act like one," she replied. + +"I may, like a very bad one." + +"No matter," she said, with a laugh that was the very antidote of +morbidness; "I am accustomed to manage children." + +But in a very brief time he had no disposition to shrink from her +touch or presence. Her hand upon his brow seemed to communicate her +own strong, restful life; his temples throbbed less and less +violently. Silent and wondering he lay very still, conscious that by +some subtle power she was exorcising the demons of pain. His hurried +breathing became regular; his hands unclinched; his form, which had +been tense and rigid, relaxed into a position of comfort. He felt that +he was under some beneficent spell, and for an hour scarcely moved +lest he should break it and his torment return. Annie was equally +silent, but with a smile saw the effects of her ministry. At last she +looked into his face, and said, with an arch smile, "Shall I send for +Doctor Bludgeon and Sairy Gamp to take my place?" + +He was very weak and unstrung, and while a tremulous smile hovered +about his mouth, his eyes so moistened that he turned toward the wall. +After a moment he said, "Miss Walton, I am not worthy of your +kindness." + +"Nor are you unworthy. But kindness is not a matter of business--so +much for so much." + +"Why do you waste your time on me?" + +"That is a childish question. What a monster I should be if I +heedlessly left you to suffer! The farmers' wives around would mob +me." + +"I am very grateful for the relief you are giving me, even though mere +humanity is the motive." + +"Mere humanity is not my motive. You are our guest, the son of my +father's dearest friend, and for your own sake I am deeply interested +in you." + +"Miss Walton, I know in the depths of your soul you are disgusted with +me. You seek to apply those words to my spirit as you do cologne to my +head." + +"I beg your pardon. It is not the cologne only that relieves your +headache." + +"I know that well. It is your touch, which seems magical." + +"Well then, you should know from my touch that I am not sitting here +telling fibs. If I should bathe your head with a wooden hand, wouldn't +you know it?" + +"What an odd simile! I cannot understand you." "It is not necessary +that you should, but do not wrong me by doubting me again." + +"I have done nothing but wrong you, Miss Walton." + +"I'm not conscious of it, so you needn't worry, and I assure you I +find it a pleasure to do you good." + +"Miss Walton, you are the essence of goodness." + +"Oh, no, no; why say of a creature what is only true of God? Mr. +Gregory, you are very extravagant in your language." + +A scowl darkened his face, and he said, moodily, "God seems to me the +essence of cruelty." + +"'Seems, seems!' An hour since I seemed a torment, and you were +driving me away." + +"Yes, but you soon proved yourself a kind, helpful, pitiful friend. I +once thought my cheek would flame with anger even if I were dying, +should I be regarded as an object of pity. But you, better than any +one, know that I am one." + +"I, better than any one, know that you are not, in the sense you +mean." + +"Come, Miss Walton, you cannot be sincere now. Do you think I can ever +forget the miserable scene of Monday evening, when you placed yourself +beside the martyrs and I sank down among the cowards of any age? I +reached the bottom of the only perdition I believe in. I have lost my +self-respect." + +"Which I trust God will help you regain by showing you the only sure +and safe ground on which self-respect can be maintained. Much that is +called self-respect is nothing but pride. But, Mr. Gregory, injustice +to one's self is as wrong as injustice to another. Answer me honestly +this question. Did you act that evening only from fear--because you +have it not in you to face danger? or did you promise secrecy because +you felt the man's crime was none of your business, and supposed I +would take the same view?" + +Gregory started up and looked at her with a face all aglow with +honest, grateful feeling, and said, "God knows the latter is the +truth." + +"And I know it too. I knew it then." + +"But the world could never be made to see it in that light." + +"Now pride speaks. Self-respect does not depend upon the opinion of +the world. The world has nothing to do with the matter. You certainly +do not expect I am going to misrepresent you before it." + +He bent a look upon her such as she had never sustained before. It was +the look of a man who had discovered something divine and precious +beyond words. It was a feeling such as might thrill one who was +struggling in darkness, and, as he supposed, sinking in the deep sea, +but whose feet touched something which seemed to sustain him. The +thought, "I can trust her--she is true," came to him at that time with +such a blessed power to inspire hope and give relief that for a moment +he could not speak. Then he began, "Miss Walton, I cannot find +words--" + +"Do not find them," she interrupted, laughingly. "See, your temples +are beginning to throb again, and I am a sorry nurse, a true disciple +of Mrs. Gamp, to let you excite yourself. Lie down, sir, at once, and +let your thoughts dwell the next half-hour on your breakfast. You have +much reason for regret that the dainty little tidbits that I first +prepared are spoiled by this time. I doubt whether I can do so well +again." + +"I do not wish any breakfast. Please do not leave me yet." + +"It makes no difference what you wish. The idea of an orthodox +physician consulting the wishes of his patient! My practical skill +sees your need of breakfast." + +"Have you had any yourself?" he asked, again starting up, and looking +searchingly at her. + +"Well, I have had a cup of coffee," she replied, coloring a little. + +"What a brute I am!" he groaned. + +"In that charge upon yourself you strongly assert the possession of an +animal nature, and therefore of course the need of a breakfast." + +"May I be choked by the first mouthful if I touch anything before I +know you have had your own." + +"What an awful abjuration! How can you swear so before a lady, Mr. +Gregory?" + +"No, it is a solemn vow." + +"Then I must take my breakfast with you, for with your disposition to +doubt I don't see how you can 'know' anything about it otherwise." + +"That is better than I hoped. I will eat anything you bring on those +conditions, if it does choke me--and I know it will." + +"A fine compliment to my cooking," she retorted and laughingly left +the room. + +Gregory could not believe himself the haggard wretch that Mr. Walton +had found two hours since. Then he was ready to welcome death as a +deliverer. Insane man! As if death ever delivered any from evil but +the good! But so potent had been the sweet wine of Annie's ministry +that his chilled and benumbed heart was beginning to glow with a faint +warmth of hope and comfort. Morbidness could no more exist in her +presence than shadows on the sunny side of trees. With her full +knowledge of the immediate cause of his suffering, and with her +unusual tact, she had applied balm to body and spirit at the same +time. The sharp, cutting agony in his head had been charmed away. The +paroxysm had passed, and the dull ache that remained seemed nothing in +comparison--merely the heavy swell of the departed storm. + +He forgot himself, the source of all his trouble, in thinking about +Miss Walton. The plain girl, as he had at first regarded her, with a +weak, untried character that he had expected to topple over by the +breath of a little flattery, now seemed divinely beautiful and strong. +She reminded him of the graceful, symmetrical elm, which, though +bending to the tempest, is rarely broken or uprooted. + +He hardly hoped that she would give him credit for the real state of +his mind which had led to his ready promise of secrecy. To the +counterfeiter's wretched companion he had seemed the weakest and +meanest of cowards, and if the story were generally known he would +appear in the same light to the world. To his intensely proud nature +this would be intolerable. And why should it not be known? If Miss +Walton chose to regard his choice as one of cowardice, how could he +prove, even to her, that it was not? + +Moreover, his low estimate of human nature led him to believe that +even Annie would use him as a dark background for her heroism; and he +well knew that when such a story is once started, society's strongest +tendency is to exaggerate man's pusillanimity and woman's courage. He +shuddered as he saw himself growing blacker and meaner in every +fireside and street corner narration of the strange tale, till at last +his infamy should pass into one of the traditions of the place. A man +like Gregory could not long have endured such a prospect. He would +have died, either by every physical power speedily giving way under +mental anguish, or by his own hand; or, if he had lived, reason would +have dropped its sceptre and become the sport of wild thoughts and +fancies. + +Little wonder that Annie appeared an angel of light when she stood +between him and such a future. The ugliest hag would have been +glorified and loved in the same position. But when she did this with +her own peculiar grace and tact, as a matter of justice, his gratitude +and admiration knew no bounds. He was in a fair way to become an +idolater and worship the country girl he had once sneered at, as no +pictured Madonna was ever revered even in superstitious Italy. Besides +placing him under personal obligation, she had, by tests certain and +terrible, proved herself true and strong in a world that he believed +to be, in the main, utterly false at heart. It is one of our most +natural instincts to trust and lean upon something, and Annie Walton +seemed one whose friendship he could value above life. + +He did not even then realize, in his glad sense of relief, that in +escaping the charge of cowardice he fell upon the other horn of the +dilemma, namely, lack of principle--that the best explanation of his +conduct admitted that he was indifferent to right and wrong, and even +to the most serious crime against society, so long as he was not +personally and immediately injured. He had acted on the selfish creed +that a man is a fool who puts himself to serious trouble to serve the +public. The fact that he did not even dream that Annie would make the +noble stand she did proves how far selfishness can take a man out of +his true course when he throws overboard compass and chart and lets +himself drift. + +But in the world's code (which was his) cowardice is the one deadly +sin. His lack of anything like Christian principle was a familiar fact +to him, and did not hurt him among those with whom he associated. + +Even Annie, woman-like, could more readily forgive all his faults than +a display of that weakness which is most despised in a man. But she +too was sufficiently familiar with the world not to be repelled or +shocked by a life which, compared with all true, noble standards, was +sadly lacking. And yet she was the very last one to be dazzled by a +fast, brilliant man of the world. She had been too well educated for +that, and had been early taught to distinguish between solid worth and +mere tinsel. Her native powers of observation were strong, and her +father, and mother also before she died, had given her opportunities +for exercising them. Instead of mere assertions as to what was right +and wrong and general lecturing on the subject, they had aimed to show +her right and wrong embodied in human lives. They made her feel that +God wanted her to do right for the same reason that they did, because +He loved her. First in Bible narrative told in bedtime stories, then +in history and biography, and finally in the experience of those +around them, she had been shown the happy contrast of good, God- +pleasing life with that which is selfish and wicked. So thorough and +practical had been the teaching in this respect, and so impressed was +she by the lesson, that she would as soon have planted in her flower- +bed the seeds of tender annuals on the eve of autumn frosts, and +expected bloom in chill December, as to enter upon a course that God +frowns upon, and look for happiness. Her father often said, "A human +being opposing God's will is like a ship beating against wind and tide +to certain wreck." + +An evil life appeared therefore to her a moral madness, under the +malign influence of which people were like the mentally deranged who +with strange perversity hate their best friends and cunningly watch +for chances of self-destruction. While on one hand she shrunk from +them with something of the repulsion which many feel toward the +unsound in mind, on the other she cherished the deepest pity for them. +Knowing how full a remedy ever exists in Him whose word and touch +removed humanity's most desperate ills, it was her constant wish and +effort to lead as many as possible to this Divine Friend. If she had +been like many sincere but selfish religionists, she would have said +of Gregory, "He is not congenial. We have nothing in common," and, +wrapped in her own spiritual pleasures and pursuits, would have +shunned, ignored, and forgotten him. But she chiefly saw his pressing +need of help, and said to herself, "If I would be like my Master, I +must help him." + +Gregory at first had looked upon himself as immeasurably superior to +the plain country girl. He little imagined that she at the same time +had a profound pity for him, and that this fact would become his best +chance for life. She had not forgotten the merciful conspiracy entered +into the second evening after his arrival, but was earnestly seeking +to carry out its purposes. In order to do this, she was anxious to +gain his good-will and confidence, and now saw with gratitude that +their adventure on the mountain, that had threatened to end in death, +might be the beginning of a new and happy life. She exulted over the +hold she had gained upon him, not as the selfish gloat over one within +their power, whom they can use for personal ends--not as the coquette +smiles when another human victim is laid upon the altar of her vanity, +but as the angels of heaven rejoice when there is even a chance of one +sinner's repentance. + +And yet Annie had no intention of "talking religion" to him in any +formal way, save as the subject came up naturally; but she hoped to +live it, and suggest it to him in such an attractive form that he +would desire it for his own sake. + +But her chief hope was in the fact that she prayed for him; and she no +more expected to be unheard and unanswered than that her kind father +would listen with a stony face to some earnest request of hers. + +But Annie was not one to go solemnly to work to compass an event that +would cause joy in heaven. She would ask one to be a Christian as she +would invite a captive to leave his dungeon, or tell the sick how to +be well. She saw that morbid gloom had become almost a disease with +Gregory, and she proposed to cure him with sunshine. + +And sunshine embodied she seemed to him as she returned, her face +glowing with exercise and close acquaintance with the kitchen-range. +In each hand she carried a dish, while Hannah followed with a tray on +which smoked the most appetizing of breakfasts. + +"Your rash vow," she said, "has caused you long waiting. I'm none of +your ethereal heroines, but have a craving for solids served in +quantity and variety. And while I could have soon got your breakfast +it was no bagatelle to get mine." + +How fresh and bright she looked saying all this! and he ejaculated, +"Deliver me from the ghastly creatures you call 'ethereal heroines.'" + +"Indeed, sir," she retorted, "if you can't deliver yourself from them +you shall have no help from me. But let us at once enter upon the +solemnities, and as you have a spark of gallantry, see to it that you +pay my cookery proper compliment." + +"Your 'cookery,' forsooth!" said he, with something of her own light +tone. "That I should find Miss Walton stealing Zibbie's laurels!" + +"Chuckle when you find her doing it. Hannah, who prepared this +breakfast?" + +"Yourself, miss," answered the woman, with an admiring grin. + +"That will do, Hannah; we will wait upon ourselves. Shame on you, sir! +You are no connoisseur, since you cannot tell a lady's work from a +kitchen-maid's. Moreover, you have shown that wretched doubting +disposition again." + +Now that they were alone, Gregory said, earnestly, "I shall never +doubt you again." + +"I hope you never will doubt that I wish to do you good, Mr. Gregory," +she replied, passing him a cup of tea. + +"You have done me more good in a few brief hours than I ever hoped to +receive. Miss Walton, how can I repay you?" + +"By being a better friend to yourself. Commence by eating this." + +He did not find it very difficult to comply. After a little time he +said, "But my conscience condemns me for caring too much for myself." +"And no doubt your conscience is right. The idea of being a friend to +yourself and going against your conscience!" + +"Then I have ever been my own worst enemy." + +"I can believe that, and so you'll continue to be if you don't take +another piece of toast." + +"And yet there has always seemed a fatal necessity for me to do wrong +and go wrong. Miss Walton, you are made of different clay from me and +most people that I know. It is your nature to be good and noble." + +"Nonsense!" said Annie, with a positive frown. "Different clay indeed! +I imagine you do wrong for the same reason that I do, because you wish +to; and you fail in doing right because you have nothing but your weak +human will to keep you up." + +"And what keeps you up, pray?" + +"Can you even suppose that I or any one can be a Christian without +Christ?" + +He gave one of his incredulous shrugs. + +"Now what may that mean?" she asked. + +"Pardon me if I say that I think yours is a pretty and harmless +superstition. This world is one of inexorable law and necessity down +to the minutest thing. A weed is always a weed. A rose is always a +rose. It's my misfortune to be a weed. It's your good fortune to be a +rose." + +Annie looked as if she might become a briery one at that moment, for +this direct style of compliment, though honest, was not agreeable. +Conscious of many struggles with evil, it was even painful, for it did +her injustice in two aspects of the case. So she said, dryly, "What an +automaton you make me out to be!" + +"How so?" "If I merely do right as the rose grows, I deserve no +credit. I'm but little better than a machine." + +"Not at all. I compared you to something that has a beautiful life of +its own. But I would willingly be a machine, and a very angular, +uncouth one too, if some outside power would only work me right and to +some purpose." + +"Such talk seems to me idle, Mr. Gregory. I know that I have to try +very hard to do right, and I often fail. I do not believe that our +very existence begins in a lie, as it were, for from earliest years +conscience tells us that we needn't do wrong and ought not to. +Honestly now, isn't this true of your conscience?" + +"But my reason concludes otherwise, and reason is above conscience-- +above everything, and one must abide by its decisions." + +For a moment Annie did not know how to answer. She was not versed in +theology and metaphysics, but she knew he was wrong. Therefore she +covered her confusion by quietly pouring him out another cup of tea, +and then said, "Even my slight knowledge of the past has taught me how +many absurd and monstrous things can be done and said in the name of +reason. Religion is a matter of revelation and experience. But it is +not contrary to reason, certainly not to mine. If your reason should +conclude that this tea is not hot, what difference would that make to +me? My religion is a matter of fact, of vivid consciousness." + +"Of course it is. It's your life, your nature, just as in my nature +there is nothing akin to it. That is why I say you are made of +different clay from myself; and I am very glad of it," he added with +an air of pleasantry which she saw veiled genuine earnestness, "for I +wish you the best of everything now and always." + +Annie felt that she could not argue him out of his folly; and while +she was annoyed, she could not be angry with him for expressions that +were not meant as flattery, but were rather the strong language of his +gratitude. "Time will cure him of his delusions," she thought, and she +said, lightly, "Mr. Gregory, from certain knowledge of myself which +you cannot have I disclaim all your absurd ideas in regard to the new- +fangled clay of my composition. I know very well that I am ordinary +flesh and blood, a fact that you will soon find out for yourself. As +your physician, I pronounce that such wild fancies and extravagant +language prove that you are out of your head, and that you need +quieting sleep. I am going to read you the dullest book in the library +as a sedative." + +"No, please, sing rather." + +"What! after such a breakfast! Do you suppose that I would ruin the +reputation of my voice in one fell moment? Now what kind of clay led +to this remark? Do as your doctor says. Recline on the lounge. Close +your eyes. Here is a treatise on the Nebular Hypothesis that looks +unintelligible enough for our purpose." + +"Nebular Hypothesis! Another heavenly experience such as you are ever +giving me." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory, punning is a very bad symptom. You must go to +sleep at once." And soon her mellow voice was finding its way into a +labyrinth of hard scientific terms, as a mountain brook might murmur +among the stones. After a little time she asked of Gregory, whose eyes +remained wide open, "How does it sound?" + +"Like the multiplication table set to music." + +"Why don't you go to sleep?" + +"I'm trying to solve a little nebular hypothesis of my own. I was +computing how many million belles such as I know, and how many ages, +would be required to condense them into a woman like yourself." + +Annie shut the book with a slam, and with an abrupt, half-vexed "good- +by," left the room. For a brief time Gregory lay repenting of his +disastrous levity, and then slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY + + + +When Gregory awoke, the sun had sunk behind the mountains that he +could not even look toward now without a shudder, and the landscape, +as seen from the window, was growing obscure in the early dusk of an +autumn evening. But had the window opened on a vista in Paradise he +would not have looked without, for the one object of all the world +most attractive to him was present. Annie sat near the hearth with +some light crochet-work in her hands. She had evidently been out for a +walk, for she was drying her feet on the fender. How trim and cunning +they looked, peeping from under the white edge of her skirt, and what +a pretty picture she made sitting there in the firelight! The outline +of her figure surely did not suggest the "ethereal heroine," but +rather the presiding genius in a happy home, in which the element of +comfort abounded. She looked as if she would be a sweet-tempered, +helpful companion, in the every-day cares and duties of a busy life: + + "A creature not too bright or good + For human nature's daily food." + +"How dark and lustrous her eyes are in the firelight!" Gregory +thought. "It seems as if another and more genial fire were burning in +them. What can she be thinking of, that such happy, dreamy smiles are +flitting across her face? If I had such a hearth as that, and such a +good angel beside it to receive me after the day's work was over, I +believe I could become at least a man, if not a Christian;" and he +sighed so deeply that Annie looked hastily up, and encountered his +wistful gaze. + +"What a profound remark you just made!" she said. "What could have led +to it?" + +"You." + +"I do not think that I am an object to sigh over. I'm perfectly well, +I thank you, and have had my dinner." + +"You have no idea what a pretty picture you made." + +"Yes, in this poor light, and your disordered imagination. But did you +sigh on that account?" + +"No, but because to me it is only a picture--one that shall have the +chief place in the gallery of my memory. In a few days I shall be in +my cheerless bachelor apartments, with nothing but a dusty register in +the place of this home-like hearth." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory, you are growing sentimental. I will go and see if +supper is ready." + +"Please stay, and I will talk of the multiplication table." + +"No, that led to the 'Nebular Hypothesis.' You had better prepare for +supper;" and she vanished. + +"It's my fate," he said, rising, "to drive away every good and +pleasant thing." + +He went to the fire and stood where she had sat, and again thought was +busy. + +"She seems so real and substantial, and yet so intangible! Her +defensive armor is perfect, and I cannot get near or touch her unless +she permits it. The sincerest compliment glances off. Out of her +kindness she helps me and does me good. She bewitches and sways me by +her spells, but I might as well seek to imprison a spirit of the air +as to gain any hold upon her. I wonder whom or what she was thinking +of, that such dreamy, tender smiles should flit across her face." + +How his face would have darkened with wrath and hate, if he had known +that his detestation, Hunting, had inspired them! + +The tea-bell reminded him how time was passing, and he went to his +room with an elastic step that one would suppose impossible after +seeing him in the morning. But, as is usual with nervous +organizations, he sank or rallied rapidly in accordance with +circumstances. When he appeared at the table, Mr. Walton could hardly +believe his eyes. + +"It is again the result of Miss Walton's witchcraft," explained +Gregory. "The moment I felt her hand upon my brow, there came a sense +of relief. In Italy they would make a saint of her, and bring out the +sick for her to touch." + +"And so soon lose their saint by some contagious disease," said Annie, +laughing. + +"I fear, sir, I was very rude to you this morning, but in truth I was +beside myself with pain." + +"Annie has a wonderful power of magnetism; I don't know what else to +call it," said Miss Eulie. "She can drive away one of my headaches +quicker than all other remedies combined." + +"You are making out," said Annie, "that my proper calling is that of a +nurse. If you don't change the subject, I'll leave you all to take +care of yourselves, and go down to Bellevue." + +"If you do," laughed Gregory, "I'll break every bone in my body, and +be carried into your ward as a homeless stranger." + +The supper-hour passed away in light and cheerful conversation. As if +by common consent, the scenes on the mountain were not mentioned in +the presence of the children, and they evidently had had their +curiosity satisfied on the subject. + +Annie seemed tired and languid after supper and Miss Eulie volunteered +to see the children safely to their rest. Mr. Walton insisted that +Annie should take his easy-chair, and Gregory placed a footstool at +her feet, and together they "made a baby of her," she said. The old +gentleman then took his seat, and seemed to find unbounded content in +gazing on his beloved daughter. Their guest appeared restless and +began to pace the room. Suddenly he asked Mr. Walton, "Have you heard +anything of the fugitives?" + +"Not a word beyond the fact that they bought tickets for New York and +took the train. I have telegraphed to the City Police Department, and +forwarded the description of their persons which Annie gave me. Their +dwelling has been examined by a competent person, but evidently he is +an old and experienced criminal and knows how to cover up his tracks. +I think it extremely providential that they did nothing worse than +send you over on the other side of the mountain in order to clear a +way for escape. Such desperate people often believe only in the +silence of death. They might have caused that dog to tear you to +pieces and have appeared blameless themselves. If caught, only your +testimony could convict them, though I suspect Mrs. Tompkins and her +son. Young Tompkins brought them with their luggage to the depot. He +says the man called 'Vight' met him returning from the delivery of a +load of wood, and engaged his services. As he often does teaming for +people in those back districts his story is plausible; and he swears +he knew nothing against the man. But he is a bad drinking fellow, and +just the one to become an accomplice in any rascality. I fear they +will all escape us, and yet I am profoundly grateful that matters are +no worse." + +While Mr. Walton was talking, Gregory was looking intently at Annie. +She was conscious of his scrutiny, and her color rose under it, but +she continued to gaze steadily at the fire. + +"And I am going to increase that gratitude a hundred-fold, sir," he +said, earnestly. + +Annie looked up at him with a startled, deprecatory air. "No, Miss +Walton," he said, answering her look, "I will not be silent. While it +is due to your generosity that the world does not hear of your heroism +as the story would naturally be told, it is your father's right that +he should hear it, and know the priceless jewel that he has in his +daughter. I know that appearances will be against me. If you can take +her view of the matter, sir, I shall be glad, otherwise I cannot help +it;" and he related the events as they had actually occurred, +softening or palliating his course in not the slightest degree. + +Mr. Walton turned ashen pale as he thus for the first time learned the +desperate nature of his daughter's peril. Then rising with a sudden +impulse of pride and affection he clasped her in his arms. + +Gregory was about to leave the room, when Mr. Walton's voice detained +him. + +"Do not go, sir. You will pardon a father's weakness." + +"Father, I give you my word and honor," cried Annie, eagerly, "that +Mr. Gregory did not act the part of a coward. He scarcely does himself +justice in his story. He did not realize the principle involved, and +saw in the promise he gave the readiest way out of an awkward and +dangerous predicament. He did not think the man's crime was any of our +business--" + +"There is no need of pleading Mr. Gregory's cause so earnestly, my +dear," interrupted her father. "I think I understand his course fully, +and share your view of it. I am too well accustomed to the taking of +evidence not to detect the ring of truth." + +"I cannot tell you, sir, what a relief it is to me that you and Miss +Walton can judge thus correctly of my action. This morning and +yesterday I believed that you and all the world would regard me as the +meanest of cowards, and the bitterness of death was in the thought." + +"No, sir," said Mr. Walton, kindly but gravely; "your course did not +result from cowardice. But permit an old man and your father's friend +to say that it did result from the lack of high moral principle. Its +want in this case might have been fatal, for the world, as you feared, +would scarcely do you justice. Let it be a lesson to you, my dear +young friend, that only the course which is strictly right is safe, +even as far as this world is concerned." + +Gregory's face flushed deeply, but he bowed his head in humility at +the rebuke. + +"At the same time," continued Mr. Walton, "it was manly in you to +state the case frankly to me as you have done; for you knew that you +might shield yourself behind Annie's silence." + +"It was simply your right to know it," said Gregory, in a low tone. + +After a few moments of musing silence, Annie said, earnestly, "I do so +pity that poor woman!" + +"I imagine she is little better than her companion," said Mr. Walton. + +"Indeed she is, father," said Annie, eagerly. "I cannot tell you how I +feel for her, and I know from her manner and words that her guilty +life is a crushing burden. It must be a terrible thing to a woman +capable of good (as she is), and wishing to live a true life, to be +irrevocably bound to a man utterly bad." + +"She is not so bound to him," said her father; "can she not leave +him?" + +"Ah! there comes in a mystery," she replied, and the subject dropped. +Soon after, they separated for the night. + +But Gregory had much food for painful thought. After the experience of +that day his chief desire was to stand well in Miss Walton's esteem. +And yet how did he stand--how could he stand, being what he was? He +was not conscious of love for her as yet. He would have been satisfied +if she had said, "I will be your friend in the truest sense of the +word." He had no small vanity, and understood her kindness. She was +trying to do good to him as she would to any one else. She was sorry +for him as for the wretched woman who also found an evil life bitter, +but she could never think of him as a dear, congenial, trusted friend. +Even her father, in her presence, had rebuked his lack of principle, +asserting that his nature was like the vile weed; and this had been +proved every day of his visit. If she should come to know of his +purpose and effort to tempt her into the display of petty weakness and +lack of principle herself, would she not regard him as "utterly bad," +and shrink with loathing even from the bonds of friendship? + +He was learning the lesson that wrong sooner or later will bring its +own punishment, and that the little experiment upon which he had +entered as a relief from ennui might become the impassable gulf +between him and happiness; for he knew that, if their relations ever +verged toward mutual confidence, she would ask questions that would +render lies his only escape. He could not sink to that resort. It was +late before he found in sleep refuge from painful thoughts. + +The next day he was much alone. The news of their adventure having got +abroad, many because of their sincere regard for Annie, and not a few +out of curiosity, called to talk the matter over. After meeting one or +two of these parties, and witnessing the modesty and grace with which +Annie satisfied and foiled their curiosity at the same time, he was +glad to escape further company in a long and solitary ramble. The air +was mild, so that he could take rest in sunny nooks, and thus he spent +most of the day by himself. His conscience was awakened, and the more +pure and beautiful Annie's character grew in his estimation, the more +dastardly his attempt upon it seemed. Never before had his evil life +appeared so hideous and hateful. + +And yet his remorse had nothing in it of true penitence. It was rather +a bitter, impotent revolt at what he regarded as cruel necessity. Now +that he had been forced to abandon his theory that people are good as +they are untempted, he adopted another, which, if it left him in a +miserable predicament, exonerated him from blame. He had stated it to +Annie when he said, "You are made of different clay from other +people." He tried hard to believe this, and partially succeeded. "It +is her nature to be good, and mine to be evil," he often said to +himself that long and lonely day. "I have had a fatal gravitation +toward evil ever since I can remember." + +But this was not true. Indeed, it could be proved out of his own +memory that he had had as many good and noble impulses as the +majority, and that circumstances had not been more adverse to him than +to numerous others. He was dimly conscious of these facts, though he +tried to shut his eyes to them. + +A man finally gets justice at the bar of his own conscience, but it is +extorted gradually, reluctantly, with much befogging of the case. + +Still this theory would not help him much with Annie Walton, for he +knew that she would never entertain it a moment. + +Thus he wandered for hours amid old scenes and boyish haunts, utterly +oblivious of them, brooding more and more darkly and despondingly over +his miserable lot. He tried to throw off the burden of depressing +thought by asking, in sudden fierceness, "Well, what is Annie Walton +to me? I have only known her a short time, and having lived thus long, +can live the rest of my days--probably few--without her." + +But it was of no use. His heart would not echo the words, but in its +very depths a voice clear and distinct seemed to say, "I want to be +with her--to be near her. With her, the hours are winged; away, they +are leaden-footed. She awakens hope, she makes it appear possible to +be a man." + +He remembered her hand upon his aching brow, and groaned aloud in view +of the gulf that his own life had placed between them. + +"'Neither can they pass to us,'" he said, unconsciously repeating the +words of Scripture. "With her nature what I know it to be, she cannot +in any way ally it to mine." + +As the shadows of evening deepened he sauntered wearily and +despondingly to the house. There were still guests in the parlor, and +he passed up to his room. For the first time he found it chilly and +fireless. It had evidently been forgotten, and he felt himself +neglected; and it seemed that he could drop out of existence unnoted +and uncared for. In what had been his own home, the place where for so +many years he had experienced the most thoughtful tenderness, there +came over him a sense of loneliness and desolation such as he had +never before known or believed possible. He felt himself orphaned of +heaven and earth, of God and man. + +But a process had commenced in Annie's mind that would have surprised +him much. Unconsciously as yet even to herself, she was disproving his +"superior clay" theory. Though carefully trained, and though for years +she had prayerfully sought to do right, still she was a true daughter +of Eve, and was often betrayed by human weakness. She had not the +small, habitual vanity of some pretty women, who take admiration and +flattery as their due, and miss it as they do their meals. Still there +were pride and vanity in her composition, and the causes that would +naturally develop them were now actively at work. She considered +herself plain and unattractive personally, and so she was to the +careless glance of a stranger, but she speedily became beautiful, or, +what was better, fascinating, to those who learned to know her well. +All are apt to learn their strong points rather than their weak ones, +and Annie had no little confidence in her power to win the attention +and then the respect and regard of those whose eyes turned away +indifferently after the first perception of her lack of beauty. She +did not use this power like a coquette, but still she exulted in it, +and was pleased to employ it where she could innocently. She was +amused by Gregory's sublime indifference at first, and thought she +could soon change that condition of his mind. She did not know that +she was successful beyond her expectation or wishes. + +But while she rejected and was not affected by the fulsome flattery +with which he at first plied her, detecting in it the ring of +insincerity, she had noted, with not a little self-gratulation, how +speedily she had made him conscious of her existence and developed a +growing interest. She knew nothing of his deliberate plot against her, +or of its motive. Therefore his manner had often puzzled her, but she +explained everything by saying, "He has lived too long in Paris." + +Still it is justice to her to say that while, from the natural love of +power existing in every breast, she had her own little complacencies, +and often times of positive pride and self-glorification, yet she +struggled against such tendencies, and in the main she earnestly +sought to use for their own good the influence she gained over others. + +But of late there had been enough to turn a stronger head than hers. +Gregory's homage and admiration were now sincere, and she knew it, and +it was no trifling thing to win such unbounded esteem from a man who +had seen so much of the world and was so critical. "He may be bad +himself, but he well knows what is good and noble," was a thought that +often recurred to her. Then, in a moment of sudden and terrible peril, +she had been able to master her strong natural timidity, and be true +to conscience, and while she thanked God sincerely, she also was more +and more inclined to take a great deal of credit to herself. Gregory's +words kept repeating themselves, "You are made of different clay from +others." While she knew that this was not true as he meant it, still +the tempter whispered, "You are naturally superior, and you have so +schooled yourself that you are better than many others." Her father's +intense look of pride and pleasure when he first learned of her +fortitude, and his strong words of thankfulness, she took as incense +to herself. Then came a flock of eager, curious, sympathizing people, +who continued to feed her aroused pride by making her out a sort of +heroine. Chief of all she was complacent in the consciousness of so +generously shielding Gregory when, if she had told the whole story, +she, in contrast with him, would appear to far greater advantage. + +Altogether, her opinion of Annie Walton was rising with dangerous +rapidity; and the feeling grew strong within her that, having coped +successfully with such temptations, she had little to fear from the +future. And this feeling of overweening self-confidence and self- +satisfaction was beginning to tinge her manner. Not that she would +ever show it offensively, for she was too much of a lady for that. But +at the supper-table that evening she gave evident signs of elation and +excitement. She talked more than usual, and was often very positive in +matters where Gregory knew her to be wrong; and she was also a little +dictatorial. At the same time the excitement made her conversation +more brilliant and pointed, and as Gregory skilfully drew her out, he +was surprised at the force and freshness of her mind. + +And yet there was something that jarred unpleasantly, a lack of the +sincere simplicity and self-forgetfulness which were her usual +characteristics. He had never known her to use the pronoun "I" with +such distinctness and emphasis before. Still all this would not have +seemed strange to him in another, but it did in her. + +She did not notice the cloud upon his brow, or that he spoke only in +order to lead her to talk. She was too much preoccupied with herself +for her customary quick sympathy with the moods of others. She made no +inquiries as to how he had spent the day, and seemingly had forgotten +him as completely as he had been absorbed in her. He saw with a deeper +regret than he could understand that, except when he awakened her pity +by suffering, or entertained her by his conversation as any stranger +might, he apparently had no hold upon her thoughts. + +After supper, in answer to the children's demand for stories, she said +almost petulantly that she was "too tired," and permitted Aunt Eulie +to take them with sorrowful faces away to bed earlier than usual. + +"I need a little rest and quiet," she said. + +Gregory was eager for further conversation in order that he might +obtain some idea how mercy would tinge her judgment of him if she +should ever come to know the worst, but she suddenly seemed +disinclined to talk, or give him any attention at all. + +Taking the arm-chair he usually occupied, and leaving the other for +her father, she leaned back luxuriously and gazed dreamily into the +fire. Mr. Walton politely offered Gregory his. Then Annie, suddenly, +as if awakening, rose and said, "Excuse me," and was about to vacate +her seat. + +But Gregory insisted upon her keeping it, saying, "You need it more +than I, after the unusual fatigues of the day. I am no longer an +invalid. Even the ache in my bones from my cold has quite +disappeared." + +She readily yielded to his wish, and again appeared to see something +in the fire that quite absorbed her. After receiving a few courteous +monosyllables he apparently busied himself with a magazine. + +Suddenly she said to her father, "Are you sure the steamer is due to- +day?" + +He replied with a nod and a smile that Gregory did not understand, and +he imagined that she also gave him a quick look of vexed perplexity. + +She did, for by that steamer she expected her lover, Mr. Hunting, who +had been abroad on a brief business visit, and she hoped that in a day +or two he would make his appearance. Conscious of the bitter enmity +that Gregory for some unknown reason cherished toward him, she dreaded +their meeting. As Gregory watched her furtively, her brow contracted +into a positive frown. The following thoughts were the cause: "It will +be exceedingly stiff and awkward to have two guests in the house who +are scarcely on speaking terms, and unless I can make something like +peace, it will be unendurable. Moreover, I don't want any strangers +around, much less this one, while Charles is here." + +Thus in the secret of her soul Annie's hospitality gave out utterly, +and in spirit she had incontinently turned an unwelcome guest out of +doors. Now that she had really won a vantage-ground that could be used +effectively, all her Christian and kindly purposes were forgotten in +the self-absorption that had suddenly mastered her. + +The evening was a painful one to Gregory. His sense of loneliness was +deepened, and nowhere is such a feeling stronger than at a fireside +where one feels that he has no right. Mr. Walton was occupied that +evening with some business papers. He had not a thought of discourtesy +toward his guest. Indeed, in the perfection of hospitality, he had +adopted Gregory so completely into his household that he felt that he +could treat him as one of the family. And yet Mr. Walton was also +secretly uneasy at the prospect of entertaining hostile guests, and, +with his knowledge of the world, was not sure that peace between them +could be made in an hour. + +The disposition of those around us often creates an atmosphere, +nothing tangible but something felt; and the impression on Gregory's +mind, that he belonged not to this household, but to the outside +world--that the circle of their lives did not embrace him, and that +his visit might soon come to an end without much regret on their part +--was not without cause. And yet they would have consciously failed in +no duty of hospitality had he stayed for weeks. + +But never before had Gregory so felt his isolation. He had but few +relatives, and they were not congenial. His life abroad, and neglect, +had made them comparative strangers. But here, in the home of his +childhood, the dearest spot of earth, were those who might become +equally loved with it. In a dim, obscure way the impression was +growing upon him that his best chance for life and happiness still +centred in the place where he had once known true life and happiness. +Annie Walton seemed to him the embodiment of life. She was governed +and sustained by a principle which he could not understand, and which +from his soul he was beginning to covet. + +His good father and mother had been like old Mr. Walton. Their voyage +of life was nearly over as he remembered them, and they were entering +the quiet, placid waters of the harbor. Whether they had reached their +haven of rest through storm and temptation, he did not know, but felt +that they never could have had his unfortunate experience or been +threatened with utter wreck. They belonged to his happier yet vanished +past, which could never return. + +But Annie unexpectedly awakened hope for the present and future. This +eager-eyed, joyous girl, looking forward with almost a child's delight +to the life he dreaded--this patient woman already taking up the cares +and burdens of her lot with cheerful acceptance--this strong, high- +principled maiden, facing and mastering temptation in the spirit of +the olden time--this daughter of nature was full of inspiration. Never +had he found her society a weariness. On the contrary she had stirred +his slow, feeble pulse, and revived his jaded mind, from the first. +Her pure, fresh thought and feeling had been like a breath from an +oasis to one perishing in the desert. But chiefly had her kindness, +delicacy, and generosity, when in his moral and physical weakness he +had been completely at her mercy, won his deepest gratitude. Also he +felt that in all his after life he could never even think of her touch +upon his aching temples without an answering thrill of his whole +nature that appeared to have an innate sympathy with hers. + +And yet the exasperating mystery of it all! While she was becoming the +one source of life and hope for him, while his very soul cried out for +her friendship and sisterly regard (as he would then have said), she +seemed, in her preoccupation, unconscious of his existence, and he +instinctively felt that she would bid him "good-by" on the following +day, perhaps, with a sense of relief, and the current of her life flow +on as smoothly and brightly as if he had never caused a passing +agitation. + +With gnawing remorse he inwardly cursed his evil life and unworthy +character, for these he believed formed the hopeless gulf that +separated them. + +"It is the same," he said, in his exaggerating way, "as if a puddle +should mirror the star just above it, and, becoming enamored, should +wish it to fall and be quenched in its foul depths." + +But he did himself great wrong; for in the fact that Annie so +attracted him he proved that he possessed large capabilities of good. + +He could not bear to see her sitting there so quietly forgetful of +him, and so made several vain attempts during the evening to draw her +into conversation. Finding her disinclined to talk, he at last +ventured to ask her to sing. With something like coldness she replied, +"Really, Mr. Gregory, I am not in the mood for it this evening; +besides, I am greatly fatigued." + +What a careless, indifferent shrug he usually gave when fair ladies +denied his requests! Now, for some unaccountable reason, he flushed +deeply and a sharp pain came into his heart. But he only said, "Pardon +me, Miss Walton, for not seeing this myself. But you know that I am +selfishness embodied, and your former good-nature leads me to +presume." + +Annie gave him a hurried smile, as she answered, "Another time I will +try to keep up my character better"; and then she was absorbed again +in a picture among the hickory coals. + +Like many who live in the country and are much alone, she was given to +fits of abstraction and long reveries. She had no idea how the time +was passing, and meant to exert herself before the evening was over +for the benefit of her father and guest. But her lively imagination +could not endure interruption till it had completed some scenes +connected with him she hoped so soon to see. Moreover, as we have +said, the tendency to self-absorption had been developing rapidly. + +After the last rebuff, Gregory was very quiet, and soon rose and +excused himself, saying that he had taken longer walks than usual and +needed rest. + +Annie awakened, as if out of a dream, with a pang of self-reproach, +and said, "I have been a wretched hostess this evening. I hope you +will forgive me. The fact is, I've been talked out to-day." + +"And I had not the wit to entertain and interest you, so I need +forgiveness more. Good-night." + +Mr. Walton looked up from his business papers and smiled genially over +his spectacles and then was as absorbed as before. + +Annie sat down with a vague sense of discontent. With their guest, her +dreams also had gone, and she became conscious that she had treated +him with almost rude neglect, and that he had borne it in a spirit +different from that which he usually showed. But she petulantly said +to herself, "I can't always be exerting myself for him as if he were a +sick child." + +But conscience replied, "You have so much to make you happy, and he so +little! You are on the eve of a great joy, and you might have given +him one more pleasant evening." + +But she met these accusations with a harshness all unlike herself. +"It's his own fault that he is not happy. He had no business to spoil +his life." + +"Yes," retorted conscience, "but you have promised and purposed to +help him find the true life, and now you wish him out of the way, and +have lost one of your best opportunities and perhaps your last; for he +will not stay after Hunting comes;" and, self-condemned, she felt that +she had spent a very selfish and profitless evening. + +For some reason she did not feel like staying to prayers with her +father and Miss Eulie, who now came in, but, printing a hasty kiss on +Mr. Walton's cheek, said, "Good-night. I'm tired, and going to bed." +Even in her own room there was a malign influence at work that made +her devotion formal and brief, and she went to sleep, "out of sorts." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +PASSION AND PENITENCE + + + +The cloud on her brow had not disappeared on the ensuing morning when +she came down to breakfast. Unless the causes are removed, the bad +moods of one day are apt to follow us into the next. + +Annie was now entering upon one of those periods when, in accordance +with a common expression, "everything goes wrong," and the world +develops a sudden perverseness that distracts and irritates even the +patient. + +The butcher had neglected to fill the order for breakfast, and Jeff, +also under the baleful spell, had killed an ancient hen instead of a +spring chicken, to supply the sudden need. + +"Couldn't cotch nothin' else," he answered stolidly to Annie's sharp +reprimand, so sharp that Gregory, who was walking toward the barn, was +surprised. + +Zibbie was fuming in the broadest Scotch, and had spoiled her coffee, +and altogether it was a sorry breakfast to which they sat down that +morning; and Annie's worried, vexed looks did not make it more +inviting. Gregory tried to appear unconscious, and directed his +conversation chiefly to Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie. + +"Annie," said her father, humorously, "it seems to me that this fowl +must have reminiscences of the ark." + +But she could not take a jest then, and pettishly answered that "if he +kept such a stupid man as Jeff, he could not expect anything else." + +Annie was Jeff's best friend, and had interceded for him in some of +his serious scrapes, but her mood now was like a gusty day that gives +discomfort to all. + +After a few moments she said, suddenly, "O father, I forgot to tell +you. I invited the Camdens here to dinner to-day." + +His face clouded instantly, and he looked exceedingly annoyed. + +"I am very sorry to hear it," he said. + +"Why so?" asked Annie, with an accent that Gregory had never heard her +use toward her father. + +"Because I shall have to be absent, for one reason. I meant to tell +you about it last evening, but you seemed so occupied with your own +thoughts, and disappeared at last so suddenly, that I did not get a +chance. But there is no help for it. I have very important business +that will take me out to Woodville, and you know it requires a good +long day to go and come." + +"It will never do in the world for you to be away," cried Annie. + +"Can't help it, my dear; it's business that must be attended to." + +"But, father," she urged, "the Camdens are new people, and said to be +very wealthy. We ought to show them some attention. They were so +cordial yesterday, and spoke so handsomely of you, expressing a wish +to meet you and be social, that I felt that I could not do otherwise +than invite them. For reasons you understand it may not be convenient +to see them very soon after to-day." + +The old gentleman seemed to share his daughter's vexation, but from a +different cause, and after a moment said, "You are right; they are +'new people' in more senses than one, and appear to me to be assuming +a great deal more than good taste dictates in view of the past. As +mistress of my home I wish you to feel that you have the right to +invite any one you please, within certain limits. The Camdens are +people that I would do any kindness to and readily help if they were +in trouble, but I do not wish to meet them socially." + +Tears of shame and anger glistened in Annie's eyes as she said, "I'm +sure you know very well that I wish to entertain no vulgar, pushing +people. I knew nothing of their 'past.' They seemed pleasant when they +called. They were said to have the means to be liberal if they wished, +and I thought they would be an acquisition to our neighborhood, and +that we might interest them in our church and other things." + +"In my view," replied Mr. Walton, a little hotly, "the church and +every good cause would be better off without their money, for, in +plain English, it was acquired in a way that you and I regard as +dishonorable. I'm very sorry they've come to spend it in our +neighborhood. The fact may not be generally known here, but it soon +will be. I consider such people the greatest demoralizers of the age, +flaunting their ill-gotten wealth in the faces of the honest, and +causing the young to think that if they only get money, no matter how, +society will receive them all the same. I am annoyed beyond measure +that we should seem to give them any countenance whatever. Moreover, +it is necessary that I go to Woodville." + +"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of real distress, "what shall I +do? If I had only known all this before!" Then, turning with sudden +irritation to her father, she asked, "Why did you not tell me about +them?" + +"Because you never asked, and I saw no occasion to. I do not like to +speak evil of my neighbors, even if it be true. I did not know of your +call upon them till after it occurred, and then remarked, if you will +remember, that they were people that I did not admire." + +"Yes," she exclaimed, in a tone of strong self-disgust, "I do remember +your saying so, though I had no idea you meant anything like what you +now state. The wretched mystery of it all is, why could I not have +remembered it yesterday?" + +"Well, my dear," replied the father, with the glimmer of a smile, "you +were a bit preoccupied yesterday; though I don't wonder at that." + +"I see it all now," cried Annie, impetuously. "But it was with myself +I was preoccupied, and therefore I made a fool of myself. I was rude +to you last night also, Mr. Gregory, so taken up was I with my own +wonderful being." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I thought you were thinking of another," said +he, with a keen glance, and she blushed so deeply that he feared she +was; but he added, quickly, "You once told me that it was as wrong to +judge one's self harshly as another. I assure you that I've no +complaints to make, but rather feel gratitude for your kindness. As to +this other matter, it seems to me that in your ignorance of these +people you have acted very naturally." + +"I'm sorry I did not tell you more about them," said her father. "I +did intend to, but somehow it escaped me." + +"Well," said Annie, with a long breath, "I am fairly in the scrape. +I've invited them, and the question now is, what shall we do?" + +The old merchant, with his intense repugnance to anything like +commercial dishonesty, was deeply perturbed. The idea of entertaining +at his board as guest a man with whom he would not have a business +transaction was exceedingly disagreeable. Leaving the unsatisfactory +breakfast half-finished, he rose and paced the room in his perplexity. +At last he spoke, as much to himself as to his daughter. "It shall +never be said that John Walton was deficient in hospitality. They have +been invited by one who had the right, so let them come, and be +treated as guests ever are at our house. This much is due to +ourselves. But after to-day let our relations be as slight as +possible. Mr. Gregory, you are under no obligation to meet such +people, and need not appear unless you wish." + +"With your permission I will be present, sir, and help Miss Walton +entertain them. Indeed, I can claim such slight superiority to these +Camdens or any one else that I have no scruples." + +"How is that?" asked Mr. Walton, with a grave, questioning look. "I +trust you do not uphold the theory that seems to prevail in some +commercial circles, that any mode by which a man can get money and +escape State prison is right?" + +"I imagine I am the last one in the world to uphold such a 'theory,'" +replied Gregory, quickly, with one of his expressive shrugs, "inasmuch +as I am a poor man to-day because this theory has been put in practice +against me. No, Mr. Walton," he continued, with the dignity of truth, +"it is but justice to myself to say that my mercantile life has been +as pure as your own, and that is the highest encomium that I could +pass upon it. At the same time it has been evident to you from the +first day I came under your roof that I am not the good man that you +loved in my father." + +The old gentleman sighed deeply. He was too straightforward to utter +some trite, smooth remark, such as a man of the world might make. +Regarding Gregory kindly, he said, almost as if it were a prayer, "May +his mantle fall on you. You have many traits and ways that remind me +strongly of him, and you have it in you to become like him." + +Gregory shook his head in deep dejection, and said in a low tone, "No, +never." + +"You know not the power of God," said Mr. Walton, gravely. "At any +rate, thank Him that He has kept you from the riches of those who I am +sorry to find must be our guests to-day." + +The children now came in from their early visit to the chestnut-trees, +and the subject was dropped. Mr. Walton left the room, and Gregory +also excused himself. Miss Eulie had taken no part in the discussion. +It was not in her nature to do so. She sat beaming with sympathy on +both Annie and her brother-in-law, and purposing to do all she could +to help both out of the dilemma. She felt sorry for them, and sorry +for the Camdens and Gregory, and indeed everybody in this troubled +world; but such were her pure thoughts and spiritual life that she was +generally on the wing, so far above earthly things that they had +little power to depress her. + +The burden of the day fell upon Annie, and a heavy one she found it. +Her lack of peace within was reflected upon her face, and in her +satellites that she usually managed with such quiet grace. Zibbie was +in one of her very worst tantrums, and when she heard that there was +to be company to dinner, seemed in danger of flying into fragments. +The thistle, the emblem of her land, was a meek and downy flower +compared with this ancient dame. When she took up or laid down any +utensil, it was in a way that bade fair to reduce the kitchen to chaos +before night. Jeff had "got his back up" also about the hen, and was +as stupid and sullen as only Jeff knew how to be; and even quiet +Hannah was almost driven to frenzy by Zibbie reproaching her for being +everything under heaven that she knew she was not. In her usual state +of mind Annie could have partly allayed the storm, and poured oil on +the troubled waters, but now disquietude sat on her own brow, and she +gave her orders in the sharp, decisive tone that compels reluctant +obedience. + +The day was raw and uncomfortable, and Gregory resolved to make his +easy-chair by the parlor fire the point from which he would watch the +development of this domestic drama. He had no vulgar, prying +curiosity, but an absorbing interest in the chief actor; and was +compelled to admit that the being whom he had come to regard as +faultless was growing human faster than he liked. + +This impression was confirmed when the children came tearing through +the main hall past the parlor to the dining-room opposite, which they +entered, leaving the door open. Annie was there preparing the dessert. +Country house-keepers can rarely leave these matters to rural cooks, +and Zibbie could be trusted to sweeten nothing that day. + +With exclamations of delight the children clamored to help, or "muss" +a little in their own way, a privilege often given them at such times. +But Annie sent them out-of-doors again with a tone and manner that +caused them to tip-toe back past the parlor with a scared look on +their faces, and the dining-room door was shut with a bang. + +Gregory was puzzled. Here was one who had foiled his most adroit +temptations, and resisted wrong in a way that was simply heroic, first +showing something very like vanity and selfishness, and then temper +and passion on what seemed but slight provocation. He did not realize, +as many do not, that the petty vexations of life will often sting into +the most humiliating displays of weakness one who has the courage and +strength to be a martyr. Generals who were as calm and grand in battle +as Mont Blanc in a storm have been known to fume like small beer, in +camp, at very slight annoyances. + +Annie's spirit was naturally quick and imperious, brooking opposition +from no one. She was also fond of approbation. She rated Gregory's +hollow French gallantry at its true worth, but his subsequent sincere +respect and admiration, after their mountain adventure, had +unconsciously elated her, especially as she felt that she had earned +them well. + +Thus, when he had not intended it, and had given over as hopeless his +purpose to tempt her, and dropped it in self-loathing that he should +ever have entertained it, he had by his honest gratitude and esteem +awakened the dormant vanity which was more sensitive to tributes to +her character than to mere personal compliments. The attention she had +received the day before had developed this self-complacency still +more, and the nice balance of her moral life had been disturbed. + +It seems that the tempter watches for every vantage. At any rate, as +she expressed it, "everything went wrong" that day. One weakness, one +wrong, prepares the way for another as surely as when one soldier of +Diabolus gets within the city he will open the gates to others; and +Annie's temper, that she had so long and prayerfully schooled, was the +weak point inevitably assailed. She was found with her armor off. She +had closed the preceding day and entered on the present with the form +and not the reality of prayer. Therefore it was Annie Walton alone who +was coping with temptation. She felt that all was wrong without and +within. She felt that she ought to go to God at once in acknowledgment +and penitence, and regain her peace; but pride and passion were +aroused. She was hurried and worried, full of impotent revolt at +herself and everything. She was in no mood for the dreaded self- +examination that she knew must come. She was like a little wayward +child, that, while it loves its parents, yet grieves and wrongs them +by lack of obedience and simple trust, and having wronged them, partly +from pride and partly from fear, does not humbly seek reconciliation. + +The obnoxious guests came, and the dinner followed. Mr. Walton was the +embodiment of stately courtesy, but it was a courtesy due to John +Walton rather than to them, and it somewhat awed and depressed the +Camdens. Zibbie had done her best to spoil the dinner, and, in spite +of Annie, had succeeded tolerably well. Only the dessert, which Annie +had made, did credit to her housekeeping. Hannah waited on them as if +she were assisting at their obsequies. Altogether it was a rather +heavy affair, though Gregory honestly did his best to entertain, and +talked on generalities and life abroad, which the Camdens were glad to +hear about, so incessantly that he scarcely had time to eat. But he +was abundantly rewarded by a grateful look from Annie. + +As for herself, she could not converse connectedly or well. She was +trammelled by her feeling toward the guests; she was so vexed with +herself, mortified at the dinner, and angry with Zibbie, whom she +mentally vowed to discharge at once, that she felt more like crying +than talking graceful nonsense; for the Camdens soon proved themselves +equal only to chit-chat. She sat at her end of the table, red, +flurried, and nervous, as different as possible from the refined, +elegant hostess that she could be. + +Gregory was also much interested in observing how one so truthful +would act under the circumstances, and he saw that she was sorely +puzzled continually by her efforts to be both polite and honest. + +The Camdens were puzzled also, and severely criticised their +entertainers, mentally concluding and afterward asserting, with +countless variations, that Miss Walton was wonderfully overrated--that +she was a poor housekeeper, and, they should judge, but little +accustomed to good society. + +"I never saw a girl so flustered," Mrs. Camden would remark, +complacently. "Perhaps our city style rather oppressed her; and as for +Mr. Walton, he put on so much dignity that he leaned over backward. +They evidently don't belong to our set." + +That was just the trouble, and Mrs. Camden was right and wrong at the +same time. + +Their early departure was satisfactory to both parties. Mr. Walton +drew a long breath of immeasurable relief, and then called briskly to +Jeff, who was coming up from the garden, "Harness Dolly to my buggy." + +"Why, father, where are you going?" exclaimed Annie. + +"To Woodville." + +"Now, father--" began Annie, laying hold of his arm. + +"Not a word, my dear; I must go." + +"But it will be late in the night before you can get back. The day is +cold and raw, and it looks as if it would rain." + +"I can't help it. It's something I can't put off. Hurry, Jeff, and get +ready to go with me." + +"O dear!" cried Annie; "this is the worst of all. Let me go for you-- +please do." + +"I'm not a child," said the old gentleman, irritably. "Since I could +not go this morning, I must go now. Please don't worry me. It's public +business that I have no right to delay, and I promised that it should +be attended to today;" and with a hasty "good-by" he took his overcoat +and started. + +Annie was almost beside herself with vexation and self-reproach, and +her feelings must find vent somewhere. Gregory prudently retired to +his room. + +"There's Zibbie," she thought; "I'll teach her one lesson;" and she +went to the kitchen and discharged the old servant on the spot. + +Zibbie was in such a reckless state of passion that she didn't care if +the world came to an end. The only comfort Annie got in this direction +was a volley of impudence. + +"I hod discharged mesel' afore ye spoke," said the irate dame. "An' ye +think I'm gang to broil an ould hen for a spring chicken in peace and +quietness, ye're a' wrong. An' then to send that dour nagur a speerin' +roun' among my fowl that I've raised from babies--I'll na ston it. +I'll gang, I'll gang, but ye'll greet after the ould 'ooman for a' o' +that." + +Annie then retreated to the sitting-room, where Miss Eulie was +placidly mending Susie's torn apron, and poured into her ears the +story of her troubles. + +"To be sure--to be sure," Aunt Eulie would answer, soothingly; "but +then, Annie dear, it all won't make any difference a hundred years +from now." + +This only irritated Annie more, and at the same time impressed her +with her own folly in being so disturbed by comparative trifles. + +Gregory found his room chill and comfortless, therefore he put on his +overcoat, and started for a walk, full of surprise and painful +musings. As he was descending the stairs, Johnny came running in, +crying in a tone of real distress, "Oh, Aunt Annie, Aunt Annie, I'm so +sorry, so very sorry--" + +Annie came running out of the sitting-room, exclaiming sharply, "What +on earth is the matter now? Hasn't there been trouble enough for one +day?" + +"I'm so sorry," sobbed the little boy, "but I got a letter at the +post-office, and I--I--lost it coming across the lots, and I--I--can't +find it." + +This was too much. This was the ardently-looked-for letter that had +glimmered like a star of hope and promise of better things throughout +this miserable day, and Annie lost all control of herself. Rushing +upon the child, she cried, "You naughty, careless boy! I'll give you +one lesson"; and she shook him so violently that Gregory's indignation +got the better of him, and he said, in a low, deep tone, "Miss Walton, +the child says he is 'very, very sorry.' He has not meant to do +wrong." + +Annie started back as if she were committing sacrilege, and covered +her face with her hands. Her back was toward Gregory, but he could see +the hot blood mantling her very neck. She stood there for a moment, +trembling like a leaf, and he, repenting of his hasty words, was about +to apologize, when she suddenly caught the boy in her arms, and sped +past him up the stairs to her own room. + +To his dying day he would never forget the expression of her face. + +It cannot be described. It was the look of a noble spirit, deeply +wounded, profoundly penitent. Her intense feeling touched him, and the +rough October winds brushed a tear from his own eyes more than once +before he returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NOT A HEROINE, BUT A WOMAN + + + +The cold, cynical man of the world was in a maze. He was deeply and +painfully surprised at Miss Walton, and scarcely less so at himself. +How could he account for the tumult at his heart? When he first saw +that outburst of passion against a trembling, pleading child, he felt +that he wished to leave the house then and forever. The next moment, +when he saw Annie's face as she convulsively clasped the boy to her +breast, and with supernatural strength fled to the refuge of her room, +he was not only instantly disarmed of anger, but touched and melted as +he had never been before. + +Feeling is sometimes so intense that it is like the lightning, and +burns its way instantly to the consciousness of others. Words of +condemnation would have died on the lips of the sternest judge had he +seen Annie's face. It would have shown him that the harshest things +that he could utter were already anticipated in unmeasured self- +upbraidings. + +From anger and disgust Gregory passed to the profoundest pity. The +children's unbounded affection for Annie proved that she was usually +kind and patient toward them. A little thought convinced him that the +act he saw was a sudden outburst of passion for which the exasperating +events of the day had been a preparation. Her face showed as no +language could how sincere and deep would be her repentance. He had +not gone very far into the early twilight of a grove before he was +conscious of a strong and secret exultation. + +"She is not made of different clay from others," he said. "She cannot +condemn me so utterly now; and, in view of what I have seen, she +cannot loftily deny the kinship of human weakness. + +"What a nature she has, with its subterranean fires! She is none of +your cool, calculating creatures, who cipher out from day to day what +is policy to do. She will act rightly till there is an irrepressible +irruption, and then, beware. And yet these ebullitions enrich her life +as the lava flow does the sides of Vesuvius. I shall be greatly +disappointed if she is not ten times more kind, sympathetic, and self- +forgetful than she was before; and as for that boy, she will keep him +in the tallest clover for weeks to come, to make up for this. + +"How piquant she is! I do not fear her quick, flame-like spirit when +it is combined with so much conscience and principle. Indeed, I like +her passion. It warms my cold, heavy heart. I wish she had shaken me, +who deserved it, instead of the child, and if any makings-up like that +in yonder room could follow, I would like to be shaken every day in +the week. It would make a new man of me." + +In the excitement of his feelings, he had gone further than he had +intended, and the dusk was deepening fast when he reached the house on +his return. He felt not a little uneasy as to his reception after the +rebuke he had given, but counted much on Annie's just and generous +disposition. He entered quietly at a side door and passed through the +dining-room into the hall. The lamp in the parlor was unlighted, but +the bright wood fire shed a soft, uncertain radiance throughout the +room. A few notes of prelude were struck on the piano, and he knew +that Miss Walton was there. Stepping silently forward opposite the +open door, he stood in the dark hall watching her as she sung the +following words: + + "My Father, once again Thy wayward child + In sorrow, shame, and weakness comes to Thee, + Confessing all my sin, my passion wild, + My selfishness and petty vanity. + + "O Jesus, gentle Saviour, at Thy feet + I fall, where often I have knelt before; + Thou wilt not spurn, nor charge me with deceit, + Because old faults have mastered me once more. + + "Thou knowest that I would be kind and true, + And that I hate the sins that pierced Thy side; + Thou seest that I often sadly view + The wrong that in my heart will still abide. + + "But Thou didst come such erring ones to save, + And weakness wins Thy strong and tender love; + So not in vain I now forgiveness crave, + And cling to hopes long stored with Thee above. + + "And yet I plead that Thou would'st surely keep + My weak and human heart in coming days; + Though now in penitence I justly weep, + O fill my future life with grateful praise." + +As in tremulous, melting tones she sung this simple prayer with tears +glistening in her eyes, Gregory was again conscious of the strong, +answering emotion which the presence of deep feeling in those bound to +us by some close tie of sympathy often excites. But far more than mere +feeling moved him now. Her words and manner vivified an old truth +familiar from infancy, but never realized or intelligently believed-- +the power of prayer to secure practical help from God. + +How often men have lived and died poor just above mines of untold +wealth! Gaunt famine has been the inmate of households while there +were buried treasures under the hearthstone. So multitudes in their +spiritual life are weak, despairing, perishing, when by the simple +divinely appointed means of prayer they might fill their lives with +strength and fulness. How long men suffered and died with diseases +that seemed incurable, before they discovered in some common object a +potent remedy that relieved pain and restored health! + +As is the case with many brought up in Christian homes, with no one +thing was Gregory more familiar than prayer. For many years he had +said prayers daily, and yet he had seldom in all his life prayed, and +of late years had come to be a practical infidel in regard to this +subject. People who only say prayers, and expect slight, or no results +from them, or are content year after year to see no results--who lack +simple, honest, practical faith in God's word, such as they have in +that of their physician or banker--who only feel that they ought to +pray, and that in some vague, mystical manner it may do them good, are +very apt to end as sceptics in regard to its efficacy and value. Or +they may become superstitious, and continue to say prayers as the poor +Indian mutters his incantation to keep off the witches. God hears +prayer when His children cry to Him--when His faithful friends speak +to Him straight and true from their hearts; and such know well that +they are answered. + +As Gregory looked at and listened to Annie Walton, he could no more +believe that she was expressing a little aimless religious emotion, +just as she would sing a sentimental ballad, than he could think that +she was only showing purposeless filial affection if she were hanging +on her father's arm and pleading for something vital to her happiness. +The thought flashed across him, "Here may be the secret of her power +to do right--the help she gets from a source above and beyond herself. +Here may be the key to both her strength and weakness. Here glimmers +light even for me." + +Annie was about to sing again, but the interest which she had awakened +was so strong that he could not endure delay. Anxiety as to his +personal reception was forgotten, and he stepped forward and +interrupted her with a question. + +"Miss Walton, do you honestly believe that?" + +"Believe what?" said she, hastily, quite startled. + +"What I gathered from the hymn you sung--that your prayer is really +heard and answered?" + +"Why, certainly I believe it," said Annie, in a shocked and pained +tone. "Do you think me capable of mockery in such things? And yet," +she added, sadly, "perhaps after to-day you think me capable of +anything." + +"Now you do both yourself and me wrong," Gregory eagerly replied. "I +do believe you are sincerely trying to obey your conscience. Did I not +see your look of sorrow as you passed me on the stairs?--when shall I +forget it! Remember words that must have been inspired, which you once +quoted to me-- + + "'Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is not of heaven nor earth,' + +and pardon me when I tell you that I have been listening the last few +moments out in the hall. Your tones and manner would melt the heart of +an infidel, and they have made me wish that I were not so unbelieving. +Forgive me for even putting such thoughts in your mind--I feel it is +wicked and selfish in me to do it--but how do you know that your +prayer, though so direct and sincere, was not sound lost in space?" + +"Because it has been answered," she replied, eagerly. "Peace came even +as I spoke the words. Because whenever I really pray to God he answers +me." + +They now stood on opposite sides of the hearth, with the glowing fire +between them. In its light Annie's wet eyes glistened, but she had +forgotten herself in her sincere and newly awakened interest in him +whom she had secretly hoped and purposed before to lead to better +things. It had formed no small part of her keen self-reproach that she +had forgotten that purpose, and wished him out of the way, just as she +was beginning to gain a decided influence over him for good. After +what he had witnessed that afternoon she felt that he would never +listen to her again. + +He would not had he detected the slightest tinge of acting or +insincerity on her part, but her penitence had been as real as her +passion. + +She was glad and grateful indeed when he approached her again in the +spirit he now manifested. + +As she stood there in the firelight, self-forgetful, conscious only of +her wish to say some words that would be like light to him, her large, +humid eyes turned up to his face, she made a picture that his mother +would like to see. + +He leaned against the mantel and looked dejectedly into the fire. +After a moment he said, sadly, "I envy you, Miss Walton. I wish I +could believe in a personal God who thought about us and cared for us +--that is, each one of us. Of course I believe in a Supreme Being--a +great First Cause; but He hides Himself behind the stars; He is lost +to me in His vast universe. I think my prayers once had an effect on +my own mind, and so did me some good. But that's past, and now I might +as well pray to gravitation as to anything else." + +Then, turning to her, he caught her wistful, interested look--an +expression which said plainly, "I want to help you," and it touched +him. He continued, feelingly, "Perhaps you are not conscious of it, +but you now look as if you cared whether I was good or bad, was sad or +happy, lived or died. If I could only see that God cared in something +the same way! He no doubt intends to do what is best for the race in +the long run, but that may involve my destruction. I dread His +terrible, inexorable laws." + +"Alas!" said Annie, tears welling up into her eyes, "I am not wise +enough to argue out these matters and demonstrate the truth. I suppose +it can be done by those who know how." + +"I doubt it," said he, shaking his head decisively. + +"Well, I can tell you only what I feel and know." + +"That is better than argument--that is what I would like. You are not +a weak, sentimental woman, full of mysticism and fancies, and I should +have much confidence in what you know and feel." + +"Do not say that I am not a weak woman; I have shown you otherwise. Be +sincere with me, for I am with you. Well, it seems to me that this +question of prayer is simply one of fact. We know that God answers +prayer, not only because He said He would, but because He does. From +my own experience I am as certain of it as of my existence. I think +that many who sneer or doubt in regard to prayer are very unfair. I +ask you, is it scientific for men to say, 'Nothing is true save what +we have seen and know ourselves?' How that would limit one's +knowledge. If some facts are discovered in Europe and established by a +few proper witnesses, we believe them here. Now in every age +multitudes have said that it was a fact that God heard and answered +their prayers. What right has any one to ignore these truths any more +than any other truths of human experience? I ask my earthly father for +something. The next day I find it on my dressing-table. Is it a +delusion to believe that he heard and granted my request? When I ask +my Heavenly Father for outward things, He sometimes gives them, and +sometimes He does not, as He sees is best for me, just as my parents +did when I was a little child. And I have already seen that He has +often been kinder in refusing. But when I ask for that which will meet +my deeper and spiritual needs I seldom ask in vain. If you should ask +me how I know it, I in return ask how you know that you are ill, or +well, that you are glad or sad, or tired, or anything about yourself +that depends on your own inner consciousness? If I should say unjust, +insulting things to you now, how would you know you were angry? If I +should say, Mr. Gregory, you are mocking me; what I am now saying has +no interest for you; you don't hear me, you don't understand me, you +are thinking of something else, what kind of proof to the contrary +could you offer? Suppose that I should say I want mathematical proof +that you do feel an interest, or physical proof--something that I can +measure, weigh, or see--should I be reasonable? Do I make it clear to +you why I say I know this?" + +"Clearer than it was ever made to me before. I cannot help seeing that +you are sincere and sure about it. But pardon me--I've got in such an +inveterate habit of doubting--are not good Catholics just as sure +about the Virgin and the saints hearing and answering them? and do not +pagans feel the same way about their deities?" + +"Now, Mr. Gregory," said Annie, with a little indignant reproach in +her tone, "do you think it just and reasonable to compare my faith, or +that of any intelligent Christian, with the gross superstitions you +name? Christianity is not embraced only by the ignorant and weak- +minded: multitudes of the best and ripest scholars in the world are +honest believers." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton, I did not mean you to draw any such inference as +that," replied he, hastily and in some confusion. + +"I do not see how any other can be drawn," she continued; "and I know +from what I have read and heard that unbelievers usually seek to give +that impression. But it's not a fair one. The absurdities of paganism, +monkish legends, and even the plausible errors of the Romish Church, +will not endure the light of intelligent education; but the more I +know the more I see the beauty and perfection of the Christian +religion and the reasonableness of prayer, and so it is with far +stronger and wiser heads than mine. Your father and mine were never +men to be imposed upon, nor to believe anything just because they were +told to do so when children." + +"Really, Miss Walton, you said you couldn't argue about this matter. I +think you can, like a lawyer." + +"If you mean that I am using a lawyer's proverbial sleight of hand, +I'm sorry." + +"I don't mean that at all, but that you put your facts in such a way +that it's hard to meet them." + +"I only try to use common-sense. It's about the only sense I have. But +I was in hopes you did not want to meet what I say adversely, but +would like to believe." + +"I would, Miss Walton, honestly I would; but wishes go little way +against stubborn doubt. This one now rises: How is it that scientific +men are so apt to become infidel in regard to the Bible and its +teachings, and especially prayer?" + +"I'm sure I hardly know," she answered, with a sigh; "but I will tell +you what I think. I don't believe the majority of them know much about +either the Bible or prayer. With my little smattering of geology I +should think it very presuming to give an opinion contrary to that +held by the best authorities in that science; and I think it very +presuming in those who rarely look into a Bible and never pray, to +tell those who read and pray daily that they don't know what they do +know. Then again, scientific people often apply gross material tests +to matters of faith and religious experience. The thing is absurd. +Suppose a man should seek to investigate light with a pair of scales +that could not weigh anything less than a pound. There is a spiritual +and moral world as truly as a physical, and spiritual facts are just +as good to build on as any other; and I should think they ought to be +better, because the spirit is the noblest part of us. A man who sees +only one side of a mountain has no right to declare that the other is +just like it. Then again your scientific oracles are always +contradicting one another, and upsetting one another's theories. +Science to-day laughs at the absurdities believed by the learned a +hundred years ago; and so will much that is now called science, and +because of which men doubt the Bible, be laughed at in the future. But +my belief is the same substantially as that of Paul, St. Augustine, +Luther, and the best people of my own age; and Luther, who did more +for the world than any other mere man, said that to 'pray well was to +work well.'" + +When Annie was under mental excitement, she was a rapid, fluent +talker, and this was especially her condition this evening. As she +looked earnestly at Gregory while she spoke, her dark eyes glowing +with feeling and intelligence and lighting her whole face, he was +impressed more than he could have been by the labored arguments of a +cool, logical scholar. Her intense earnestness put a soul into the +body of her words. He was affected more than he wished her to know, +more than was agreeable to his pride. What she had said seemed so +perfectly true and real to her that for the time she made it true to +him; and yet to admit that his long-standing doubts could not endure +so slight an assault as this, was to show that they had a very flimsy +basis. Moreover, he knew that when, left to himself, he should think +it all over, new questions would rise that could not be answered, and +new doubts return. Therefore he could not receive now what he might be +disposed to doubt to-morrow. He was a trifle bewildered, and wanted +time to think. He was as much interested in Miss Walton as in what she +was saying, and when her words proved that she was a thoughtful woman, +and could be the intelligent companion of any man, the distracting +fear grew stronger that when she came to know him well, she would +coldly stand aloof. The very thought was unendurable. In all the +world, only in the direction of Annie Walton seemed there any light +for him. So to gain time he instinctively sought to give a less +serious turn to the conversation, by saying, "Come, Miss Walton, this +is the best preaching I've ever heard. It seems to me quite unusual to +find a young lady so interested and well versed in these matters. You +must have given a good deal of thought and reading to the subject." + +Annie looked disappointed. She had hoped for a better result from her +earnest words than a compliment and a little curiosity as to herself. +But she met him in his own apparent mood, and said, "Now see how +easily imposed upon your sceptical people are! I could palm myself +off, like Portia, as a Daniel come to judgment, and by a little +discreet silence gain a blue halo as a woman of deep research and +profound reading. Just the contrary is true. I am not a very great +reader on any subject, and certainly not on theology and kindred +topics. The fact is I am largely indebted to my father. He is +interested in the subjects and takes pains to explain much to me that +would require study; and since mother died he has come to talk to me +very much as he did to her. But it seems to me that all I have said is +very simple and plain, and you surely know that my motive was not to +air the little instruction I have received." + +Gregory's policy forsook him as he saw her expression of +disappointment; and as he looked at her flushed and to him now lovely +face, acting upon a sudden impulse he asked, "Won't you please tell me +your motive?" + +His manner and tone convinced her in a moment that he was more moved +and interested than she had thought, and answering with a like impulse +on her part, she said, frankly, "Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, +but from the very first day of your visit it seemed clear to me that +you were not living and feeling as those who once made this your home +could wish, and the thought was impressed upon me, impressed strongly, +that perhaps God had sent you in your feeble health and sadness (for +you evidently were depressed in mind also), to this place of old and +holy memories, that you might learn something better than this world's +philosophy. I have hoped and prayed that I might be able to help you. +But when to-day," she continued, turning away her head to hide the +rising tears, "I showed such miserable weakness, I felt that you would +never listen to me again on such subjects, and would doubt more than +ever their reality, and it made me very unhappy. I feel grateful that +you have listened to me so patiently. I hope you won't let my weakness +hurt my cause. Now you see what a frank, guileless conspirator I am," +she added, trying to smile at him through her tears. + +While she spoke Gregory bent upon her a look that tried to search her +soul. But the suspicious man of the world could not doubt her perfect +sincerity. Her looks and words disclosed her thought as a crystal +stream reveals a white pebble over which it flows. He stepped forward +and took her hand with a pressure that caused it pain for hours after, +but he trusted himself to say only, "You are my good angel, Miss +Walton. Now I understand your influence over me," and then abruptly +left the room. + +But he did not understand her influence. A man seldom does when he +first meets the woman whose words, glances, and presence have the +subtle power to fill his thoughts, quicken his pulse, stir his soul, +and awaken his whole nature into new life. He usually passes through a +luminous haze of congeniality, friendship, Platonic affinity, or even +brotherly regard, till something suddenly clears up the mist and he +finds, like the first man, lonely in Eden, that there is but one woman +for him in all the world. + +Gregory was in the midst of the cloud, but it seemed very bright +around him as he paced his room excitedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +GREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION IN REGARD TO MISS WALTON + + + +Annie Walton was now no longer an enigma to Gregory. He had changed +his views several times in regard to her. First, she was a +commonplace, useful member of the community, in a small way, and part +of the furniture of a well-ordered country-house--plain furniture too, +he had said to himself. But one evening in her company had convinced +him that such a Miss Walton was a fiction of his own mind, and he who +had come to regard average society girls as a weariness beyond +endurance was interested in her immediately. + +Then her truth and unselfishness, and the strong religious element in +her character, had been a constant rebuke to him, but he had soothed +himself with the theory that she differed from others only in being +untempted. He then had resolved to amuse himself, ease his conscience, +and feed his old grudge against her sex, by teaching the little saint +that she was only a weak, vain creature. Yet she had sustained not +only his temptations, but another ordeal, so searching and terrible +that it transformed her into a heroine, a being of superior clay to +that of ordinary mortals. "It's her nature to be good, mine to be +bad," he had said; "I'm a weed, she is a flower." But Annie herself +had rudely dispelled this illusion. + +Now he saw her to be a woman who might, did she yield to the evil +within her and without, show all the vanity, weakness, and folly +generally, of which he had at first believed her capable, but who, by +prayer and effort, daily achieved victories over herself. In addition, +she had manifested the most beautiful and God-like trait that can +ennoble human character--the desire to save and sweeten others' lives. +To have been lectured and talked to on the subject of religion in any +conventional way by one outside of his sympathies would have been as +repulsive as useless, but Annie had the tact to make her effort appear +like angelic ministry. + +There is that about every truly refined woman with a large loving +heart which is irresistible. The two qualities combined give a winning +grace that is an "open sesame" everywhere. The trouble is that culture +and polish are too often the sheen of an icicle. + +He believed he saw just her attitude toward him. It reminded him of +Miss Bently's efforts in his behalf, but with the contrast that +existed between Miss Bently and Annie. He now wondered that he could +have been interested in such a vain, shallow creature as Mrs. Grobb +had proved herself, and he excused himself on the ground that he had +idealized her into something that she was not. All that Annie said and +did had the solidity of truth, and not the hollowness of affectation. +And yet there was one thing that troubled him. While her effort to +help him out of his morbid, unhappy state was so sincere, she showed +no special personal interest in himself, such as he had in her. If he +should now go away, she would place him merely in the outer circle of +her friends or acquaintance, and make good the old saying, "Out of +sight, out of mind." But already the conviction was growing strong +that it would be long before she would be out of his mind. Though he +had plenty of pride, as we have seen, he was not conceited, and from +long familiarity with society could readily detect the difference +between the regard she would feel for a man personally attractive and +the interest of aroused sympathies which she might have in any one, +and which her faith and nature led her to have in every one. Of course +he was not satisfied with the latter, and it was becoming one of his +dearest hopes to awaken a personal feeling, though of just what kind +he had not yet even defined to himself. + +When the tea-bell rang, much later than usual on account of the chaos +of the day, he was glad to go down. Her society was far pleasanter +than his own, and future events might make everything clearer. + +His supposition in regard to Johnny was correct. As he descended the +stairs, the boy came out of the sitting-room, holding Annie tightly by +the hand and beaming upon her like the sun after a shower, and when he +found by his plate a huge apple that had been roasted specially for +him, his cup of happiness was full and he was ready for another +shaking. If the apple once caused discord it here confirmed peace. + +The supper was as inviting as the dinner had been forbidding, +indicating a change of policy in the kitchen cabinet. In fact, after +Zibbie cooled off, she found that she was not ready for "the world to +come to an end" (or its equivalent, her leaving the Waltons after so +many years of service and kindness). She had not yet reached the point +of abject apology, though she knew she would go down on her old +rheumatic knees rather than leave her ark of refuge and go out into +the turbulent waters of the world; still she made propitiating +overtures in the brownest of buttered toast, and a chicken salad that +might have been served as ambrosia on Mount Olympus. Zibbie was a +guileless strategist, for in the success of the supper she proved how +great had been her malign ingenuity and deliberation in spoiling the +dinner. She could never claim that it was accidental. Hannah no longer +waited as if it were a funeral occasion, and the domestic skies were +fast brightening up, except in one quarter: Mr. Walton's chair was +vacant, and Gregory noticed that Annie often looked wistfully and +sadly toward it. + +With the sensitiveness of one who habitually hid his deeper feeling +from the world, Gregory tried to act as if his last conversation with +Annie had been upon the weather; and as might be expected of refined +people, no allusion was made to the unpleasant features of the day. +Neither then nor afterward was a word adverse to the Camdens spoken. +They had been guests, and that was enough for the Waltons' nice sense +of courtesy. Only Susie, with a little sigh of relief, gave expression +to the general feeling by saying, "Somehow I feel kind of light to- +night. I felt dreadfully heavy this morning." + +Annie, with a smile on her lips and something like a tear in her eye, +noticed the child's remark by adding, "I think we should all feel +light if grandpa were only here." + +After supper she sung to the children and told them a bedtime story, +and then with a kiss of peace sent them off to their dream-wanderings. + +During Annie's absence from the parlor, Gregory remained in his room. +He was in no mood to talk with any one else. Even Miss Eulie's gentle +patter of words would fall with a sting of pain. + +When Annie came down to the parlor she said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I will +sing as much as you wish, to make up for last evening. Indeed I must +do something to get through the hours till father's return, for I feel +so anxious and self-reproachful about him." + +"And so make happiness for others out of your pain," said he. "Why +don't you complain and fret all the evening and make it uncomfortable +generally?" + +"I have done enough of that for one day. What will you have?" + +An impulse prompted him to say "You," but he only said, "Your own +choice," and walked softly up and down the room while she sung, now a +ballad, now a hymn, and again a simple air from an opera, but nothing +light or gay. + +He was taking a dangerous course for his own peace. As we have seen, +Annie's voice was not one to win special admiration. It was not +brilliant and highly cultivated, and had no very great compass. She +could not produce any of the remarkable effects of the trained +vocalist. But it was exceedingly sweet in the low, minor notes. It was +sympathetic, and so colored by the sentiment of the words that she +made a beautiful language of song. It was a voice that stole into the +heart, and kept vibrating there long hours after, like an Aeolian harp +just breathed upon by a dying zephyr. + +As was often the case, she forgot her auditor, and began to reveal +herself in this mode of expression so natural to her, and to sing as +she did long evenings when alone. At times her tones would be +tremulous with pathos and feeling, and again strong and hopeful. Then, +as if remembering the great joy that soon would be hers in welcoming +back her absent lover, it grew as tender and alluring as a thrush's +call to its mate. + + "O'er the land and o'er the sea + Swiftly fly my thoughts to thee; + Haste thee and come back to me: + I'm waiting. + + "Thou away, how sad my song! + When alone, the days are long; + Soon thou'lt know how glad and strong + My welcome. + + "Haste thee, then, o'er sea and land: + Quickly join our loving band, + Waiting here to clasp thy hand + In greeting." + +"Indeed, Miss Walton," said Gregory, leaning upon the piano, "that +would bring me from the antipodes." + +She did not like his tone and manner, and also became conscious that +in her choice of a ballad she had expressed thoughts that were not for +him; so she tried to turn the matter lightly off by saying, "Where you +probably were in your thoughts. What have you been thinking about all +this long time while I have fallen into the old habit of talking to +myself over the piano?" + +"You, I might say; but I should add, in truth, what you have said to +me this evening." + +"I hope only the latter." + +"Chiefly, I've been enjoying your singing. You have a very peculiar +voice. You don't 'execute' or 'render' anything, any more than a bird +does. I believe they have been your music teachers." + +"Crows abound in our woods," she answered, laughing. + +"So do robins and thrushes." + +Her face suddenly had an absent look as if she did not hear him. It +was turned from the light, or the rich color that was mantling it +would have puzzled him, and might have inspired hope. With some +abruptness and yet hesitation, such as is often noted when a delicate +subject is broached, she said, "Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make peace +between you and Mr. Hunting. I think you are not friendly." + +As she looked to see the effect of her remark the light shone on his +face, and she was again deeply pained to see how instantly it +darkened. For a moment he did not reply; then in a cold, constrained +voice, he said, "He is a friend of the family, I suppose." + +"Yes," she replied, eagerly. + +"I too would like to be regarded as a friend, and especially to you; +so I ask it as a great personal favor that you will not mention that +gentleman's name again during the brief remnant of my visit." + +"Do you mean any imputation against him?" she asked, hotly. + +Policy whispered, "Don't offend her. Hunting may be a near relation;" +so he said, quietly, "Gentlemen may have difficulties concerning which +they do not like to speak. I have made no imputation against him +whatever, but I entreat you to grant my request." + +Annie was not satisfied, but sat still with knit brows. At that moment +she heard her father's step and ran joyfully to meet him. He had come +home chilled from a long ride in the raw wind, and she spent the rest +of the evening in remorseful ministrations to his comfort. As she +flitted around him, served his tea and toast, and petted him +generally, Gregory felt that he would ride for a night after the "Wild +Huntsman" to be so treated. + +He also rightly felt that Annie's manner was a little cool toward him. +It was not in her frank, passionate nature to feel and act the same +toward one who had just expressed such bitter hostility toward her +lover. But the more he thought of it the more determined he was that +there should be no alienation between them on account of Hunting. + +"Curse him!" he muttered, "he has cost me too much already." + +He had the impression that Hunting was a relative of the family. That +he was the accepted lover of the pure and true girl that he himself +was unconsciously learning to love was too monstrous a thought to be +entertained. Still Annie's words and manner caused him some sharp +pangs of jealousy, till he cast the very idea away in scorn as +unworthy of both himself and her. + +"Evil as my life has been, it is white compared with his," he said to +himself. + +In accordance with his purpose to keep the vantage-ground already +gained, he was geniality itself, and so entertained Miss Eulie and Mr. +Walton that Annie soon relented and smiled upon him as kindly as ever. +She was in too humbled and softened a mood that evening to be +resentful, except under great provocation, and she was really very +grateful to Gregory for his readiness to overlook her weakness and +give her credit for trying to do right. Indeed, his sincere admiration +and outspoken desire for her esteem inclined her toward him, for was +she not a woman? + +"After all," she thought, "he has said nothing against Charles. They +have had a quarrel, and he no doubt is the one to blame. He is +naturally very proud and resentful, and would be all the more so in +that degree that he was wrong himself. If I can help him become a +Christian, making peace will be an easy affair; so I will not lose the +hold that I have gained upon him. When Charles comes he will tell me +all about it, and I will make him treat Gregory in such a way that +enmity cannot last." + +How omnipotent girls imagine themselves to be with those who swear +they will do anything under heaven to please them, but who usually go +on in the old ways! + +It was late when the family separated for the night, but later far +when Gregory retired. The conclusion of his long revery was that in +Annie Walton existed his only chance of life and happiness. She seemed +to possess the power to wake up all the man left in him, and if there +were any help in God, she only could show him how to find it. + +Thus his worldly wisdom had taught him, as many others had been +taught, to lean on a human arm for his main support and chief hope, +while possibly in the uncertain future some help from heaven might be +obtained. He was like a sickly plant in the shade saying to itself, +"Yonder ray of sunlight would give me new life," while it has no +thought of the sun from which the ray came. He truly wished to become +a good man for his own sake as well as Annie's, for he had sufficient +experience in the ills of evil; but he did not know that a loving God +does not make our only chance dependent on the uncertain action and +imperfect wisdom of even the best of earthly friends. The One who +began His effort of saving man by dying for him will not afterward +neglect the work, or commit it wholly to weak human hands. + +The next morning, being that of Saturday, brought Annie many duties, +and these, with callers, so occupied her time that Gregory saw but +little of her. The shadow between them seemed to have passed away, and +she treated him with the utmost kindness. But there was a new shadow +on her face that he could not understand, and after breakfast he said +to her as they were passing to the parlor, "Miss Walton, you seem out +of spirits. I hope nothing painful has happened." + +"Jeff found my lost letter this morning," she said, "and I have been +deservedly punished anew, for it brought me unpleasant tidings;" and +she hastily left the room, as if not wishing to speak further on the +matter. + +It had indeed inflicted a heavy disappointment, for it was from +Hunting, stating that business would detain him some days longer in +Europe. But she had accepted it with resignation, and felt that it was +but a light penalty for all her folly of the two preceding days. + +Gregory was not a little curious about it, for he was interested now +in everything connected with her; but as she did not speak of it +again, good taste required that he should not. An uncomfortable +thought of Hunting as the possible writer crossed his mind, but he +drove it from him with something like rage. + +As Gregory sat brooding by his fire, waiting till the sun should grow +higher before starting for a walk, Jeff came up with an armful of +wood, and seemed bubbling over with something. He, too, had suffered +sorely in the storm he had helped to raise the preceding day, and had +tremblingly eaten such dinner as the irate Zibbie had tossed on the +table for him, as a man might lunch in the vicinity of a bombshell. He +seemed to relieve himself by saying, with his characteristic grin, as +he replenished the fire, "It was dreadful 'pestuous yesterday, but de +winds is gone down. I'se glad dat ole hen is done for, but she hatch a +heap ob trouble on her las' day." + +Jeff belonged to that large school of modern philosophers who explain +the evils of the day on very superficial grounds. The human heart is +all right. It's only "dat ole hen" or unfavorable circumstances of +some kind, that do the mischief. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"THE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT"--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST + + + +In his solitary ramble, Gregory again thought long and deeply over the +situation. The impression was growing strong that the supreme hour of +his life, which would decide his destiny for good or evil, was fast +approaching. For years previously he had given up the struggle against +the latter, and had sunk deep in moral apathy, making greater effort +to doubt everything concerning God than to believe. Then he had lost +even his earthly ambition, and become mere driftwood on the tide of +time. But a sweet, true woman was doing a work for him like that of +Elsie for Prince Henry in the Golden Legend. A consciousness of power +to take up his burden again and be a man among men was coming back, +and old Daddy Tuggar's words were growing into a hope-inspiring +prophecy: "She could take the wickedest man livin' to heaven, if she'd +stay right by him." + +And yet his self-distrust was painfully and dangerously great, and he +feared that when Annie came to know the worst about him, and how he +had plotted against her, she would shrink from him. If she despaired +of him he would despair of himself. He was certain that he could not +win even an intimate congenial acquaintance, much less a more tender +regard, unless he became a true, good man, worthy of her confidence. +He could not become such by commencing in deception--by hiding the +past, and trying to appear what he was not. For in the first place she +would certainly find him out and despise him, and in the second place +his own nature now revolted at anything false in his relations with +her. After long anxious thought, he concluded that the only safe, as +well as the only honorable, course was perfect frankness. If he began +wrong, the end would be disastrous. He was no longer subject to +school-boy impulses, but was a mature and thoughtful man, and had +trained himself in business to look far and keenly into the +consequences of present action. He saw in this Walton blood an intense +antipathy to deceit. His own nature was averse to it also, and his +experience with Hunting had made it doubly hateful. His pride revolted +at it, for his lack of hypocrisy had been the one ground of self- +respect that remained in him. If in his folly and wickedness he had +blotted out the possibility of a happy future, he must endure the +terrible truth as he could. To try to steal into heaven, earthly or +celestial, by the back door of specious seeming, only to be discovered +in his true character and cast out with greater ignominy, was a course +as revolting as foolish. Annie knew him to be a man of the world, with +sceptical tendencies, but to her guileless nature and inexperience +this might not mean anything very bad. In the secret of his own soul, +however, he had to meet these terrible questions: + +"Can God receive and pardon a willing unbeliever, a man who has sinned +against the clearest light, a gambler, a libertine, an embodiment of +selfishness? Can it be that Annie Walton will ever receive even +friendship from one so stained, knowing the additional fact that I +plotted against her and sought for my own senseless gratification to +prove that she was a weak, vain woman, who would be no better than +myself if tempted in like manner? It is true that I never betrayed +innocence or wronged a man out of a dollar. It is true that in the +code of the world I have done nothing to lose my character as a +gentleman, and even my design upon Miss Walton would pass as a +harmless flirtation in society; but the code of the world has no force +in her pure mind, and the license it permits is an insult to the law +of God. And now it is not with the world, but with her and Heaven that +I have to deal. Things at which society shrugs its shoulders +indifferently are to them crimes, and black ones too. I might as well +seek her love with a felon's indictment hanging over me as to seek it +hiding my past life. When she came to find me out she would feel that +I had wronged her unutterably, and confidence, the only basis of +lasting esteem, would be gone. + +"Deep in my heart I have never doubted my mother's faith. When I +imagined I did I was self-deceived. Everything here confirms it, and +Miss Walton more than all. I will consult the divine oracle. She shall +be the fair vestal, the gentle priestess. She lives near to heaven, +and knows its mind. If her kind and womanly nature shrinks from me, if +she coldly draws her skirts aside that I pollute them not even with a +touch--if she by word or even manner proves that she sees an +impassable gulf between us--then she need waste no breath in homilies +over repentance and in saying that God can receive those whom man +cannot. I'll not even listen, but go back to the city and meet my +fate. If imperfect human creatures cannot forgive each other--if I +have gone so far beyond the mercy of a tender-hearted woman--then I +need look for nothing from a just and holy God. It's mockery for good +people, with horror and disgust slightly veiled upon their faces, to +tell poor wretches that God will receive them and love them, while +they would no more take them into their confidence and esteem than +they would a pestilence. It's like people saying to one in the last +stage of consumption, 'I hope you will be better soon.' They don't +hope or expect any such thing. The Bible is said to teach that a man +can sin away his day of grace. I had about believed that I had sinned +away mine. This genuine, honest Christian girl has made me think +differently. She has inspired the strong hope that she could lead me +to become a good man--even a Christian. She shall either fulfil that +hope or show it to be false." + +Such was the outline of his thoughts that long day, during which hope +and fear balanced an even scale. But the evening shadows found fear +predominating. His awakened conscience and his recent contact with +true moral standards revealed him to himself in darker and still +darker shadow. At times he was almost ready to despair, to bid his +entertainers a courteous farewell on Monday, and go back to the city +as he came, with the additional wretchedness of having seen the heaven +he could not enter. + +But when he came down to supper, Annie smiled so sweetly and looked so +gentle and kind, that he thought, "She does not seem one to push a +wretch over a precipice. That warm little hand that charmed away my +headache so gently cannot write Dante's inscription over my 'Inferno,' +and bid me enter it as 'my own place'; and yet I dread her sense of +justice." + +In his anxiety and perturbation of mind he was unusually grave and +silent during the meal and evening. Annie exulted secretly over him. + +"He is thinking in earnest now. His old apathy and trifling manner are +gone." + +He was indeed thinking in terrible earnest. Her effort had awakened no +school-girl interest and penitence that she could soothe and reward by +quoting a few sweet promises, but had aroused a spirit like that which +came down from the hills of Gadara, and which no man could bind. + +Men and women in good society may be very polished and refined, and +yet their souls in God's sight and their own be shameful, "naked," +wearing no robe of righteousness, bound by no laws of purity and +right, and "always, night and day, crying and cutting" themselves in +the unrest of remorse. Sad and yet true it was that the demon- +possessed man, the terror of the Gadarenes, was but too true a type of +the gentlemanly and elegant Walter Gregory, as he sat that night in a +torment of dread and hope at the peaceful fireside of a Christian +family. If his fears were realized--if Annie turned from him when he +revealed his true self to her--there seemed to him every probability +that evil evermore would be his master. While she was innocently +hoping and praying that her words and influence might lead him to read +his Bible, go to church, and eventually find his way into the "green +pastures beside the still waters," it seemed that within a few hours +she would either avert or complete that most awful of tragedies--the +loss of a soul. + +He accompanied them to church the following morning, and his manner +was grave even to solemnity. Little wonder. In a certain sense, in +view of his resolution, the Judgment Day had come to him. + +With heavy, contracted brows he listened to a sermon anything but +reassuring. The good old minister inclined to a legal and doctrinal +gospel, and to-day his subject was the perfection and searching +character of the divine law. He showed how God could make no terms +with sin--that he hated it with a terrible and vindictive hatred, +because in all respects it was opposite and antagonistic to His +nature--because it defiled, degraded, and destroyed. He traced all +human wretchedness to this poisonous root, and Gregory trembled and +his face grew dark with despair as he realized how it was inwoven with +every fibre of his heart. Then in simple but strong language the +silver-haired old man, who seemed a type of the ancient prophets, +portrayed the great white throne of God's justice, snowy, too dazzling +for human eyes, and the conscience-stricken man shrunk and cowered. + +He turned to Annie to see how this train of thought, so terrific to +him, affected her. Not a trace of fear was upon her face, but only +serene, reverent awe. He glanced at Mr. Walton, but the old magistrate +sat in his place, calm and dignified, evidently approving the action +of the greater Judge. Miss Eulie's face, as seen between himself and +the light of the window, appeared spirit-like. + +"Thus they will look on the Judgment Day," thought Gregory, "while I +tremble even at its picture. O the vital difference between guilt and +innocence, between faith and unbelief!" + +If the venerable clergyman had been talking personally to Gregory or +any sinful creature, he would not have concluded his subject where he +did. He would have shown how between the throne of justice and the +sinner there stood an Advocate, an Intercessor, a Saviour. But having +logically developed his text, he finished his discourse. Perhaps on +the following Sabbath he might present the mercy of God with equal +clearness. But the sermon of the day, standing alone and confirming +the threatenings of an accusing conscience, depressed Gregory greatly. +It did not anger him, as such truth usually did. He was too weak and +despairing. He now felt the hopelessness and folly of opposition. The +idea of getting into a passion with fate! Only weak natures fume at +the inevitable. There is a certain dignity in silent, passive despair. + +Annie's voice singing the closing hymn beside him sounded like an +angel's voice across the "great gulf." Almost mechanically he walked +down the aisle out into the sunny noon of a warm October day. Birds +were twittering around the porch. Fall insects filled the air with +their cheery chirpings. The bay of a dog, the shrill crowing of a +cock, came softened across the fields from a neighboring farm. Cow- +bells tinkled faintly in the distance, and two children were seen +romping on a hillside, flitting here and there like butterflies. The +trees were in gala dress of crimson and gold, and even the mountains +veiled their stern grandeur in a purple haze, through which the sun's +rays shimmered with genial but not oppressive warmth. + +The people lingered around the door, shaking hands and greeting one +another with the plain but cordial courtesy of the country. Gregory +heard one russet-apple-faced man say that "Betsy was better," and an +old colored woman, with a visage like that apple in black and mottled +decay, said in cheerful tones that "little Sampson was gittin' right +peart." A great raw-boned farmer asked a half-grown boy, "How's yer +mare?" and the boy replied that the animal was better also. All seemed +better that bright day, and from a group near came the expression, +"Crops were good this year." While the wealthier and more cultured +members of the congregation had kindly nods and smiles for all, they +naturally drew together, and there seemed a little flutter of +excitement over the renewal of the sewing society that had been +discontinued during the summer. + +Gregory stood apart from all this, with the heavy contraction still +upon his brow, and asked himself, "What have these simple, cheery, +commonplace people, with their petty earth-born cares and interests, +to do with that 'great white throne' of which we have just heard? and +where in this soft, dreamy landscape, so suggestive of peace, rest, +and everyday life, lurks any hint of the 'wrath of a just and holy +God'?" + +And then the old pastor, who a little before had seemed a prototype of +John, the stern reformer from the wilderness, came out smiling and +benignant, greeting his flock as a father might his children. The very +hand that had been raised in denunciation, and in threatening a doom +that would appall the heart of courage itself, was given to Gregory in +a warm and cordial grasp. The man he had trembled before now seemed +the personification of sweet-tempered human kindness. The contrast was +so sharp that it seemed to Gregory that either what he saw or what he +had heard must be an utter delusion. + +As they were driving home, he suddenly broke the moody silence by +asking Miss Walton, "How do you reconcile the scene at the church +door, so matter-of-fact, cheery, and earthly, with the terrible +pictures suggested by the sermon? If such things are before us, it +seems to me that bright, sunny days like these are mockery." + +She looked at him wistfully. The sermon had not been what she would +have wished, but she trusted it would do him good by cutting away +every hope based on anything in himself or in vague general ideas of +God's indiscriminate mercy. She answered gently, "The contrast was +indeed great, now I think of it, and yet each scene was matter-of-fact +to me in the sense of being real. Besides, that one which our pastor +described was a court of justice. I shall have an Advocate there who +will clear me. As for 'bright days,' I believe they are just what God +means His people to have always." + +"Yes," said he, gloomily, "that is your side of the question." + +"It may be yours also," she replied, in a low tone. + +He shook his head and looked away to hide his pain. + +After a short time he again said, "Do you not think that the view of +God which your minister gave is very depressing to the average man? Is +not His law too perfect for imperfect humanity?" + +"Not at all," she answered, eagerly; but before she could say more, +Mr. Walton, unaware of the subject occupying them, turned from the +front seat and introduced another topic. + +After dinner, Gregory went to his room, which he restlessly paced. + +"Even her creed, her faith, as well as her purity and truth, raises a +wall as high as heaven between us," he exclaimed, bitterly. "She has +only to see me as God sees, to shrink away appalled, disgusted. Well, +she shall," he muttered, grinding his teeth; "I shall not add the +worst torment of all to my perdition by deceiving her." + +As he came down stairs, Annie had just finished reading to the +children, and he said, "Miss Walton, will your ideas of Sabbath- +keeping prevent you from taking a stroll in the garden with me?" + +"Not at all," she replied, smiling. "A garden is a good place to keep +Sunday in." + +He walked silently at her side across the lawn down a shady walk. +Annie hoped much from this interview, and sent a swift, earnest prayer +to Heaven that she might speak wisely. She feared that his dejection +would pass into discouragement and despair. She saw that he was much +depressed, and judged correctly that it was because he had seen only +one side of a great truth. She hoped to cheer and inspire him with the +other side. Moreover, her religion was very simple. It was only +becoming God's friend, instead of remaining indifferent or hostile. To +her, no matter what the burden, it was simply leading the heavy-laden +to the strong Divine Friend as people were brought to Him of old, and +establishing the personal relations of love, faith, and following. + +But she did not realize the desperate nature or the complications of +Gregory's moral infirmity. Still she was a safe adviser, for she did +not propose to cure him herself. She wished to rally and cheer him, to +inspire hope, and to turn his eyes from sin to the Saviour, so she +said, "Mr. Gregory, why do you look as if marching to execution?" + +"Perhaps because I feel as if I were," he said. + +Just then a variegated leaf parted from a spray overhanging the path +somewhat in advance of them, and fluttered to their feet. + +"Poor little leaf!" said Gregory, picking it up, "your bright colors +will soon be lost. Death has come to you too. Why must this wretched +thought of death be thrust on one at every turn? Nature is full of it. +Things only live, apparently, for the sake of dying. Just as this leaf +becomes most beautiful it drops. What a miserable world this is, with +death making havoc everywhere! Then your theology exaggerates the evil +a thousand-fold. If a man must die, let him die and cease to be. But +your minister spoke to-day of a living death, in which one only exists +to suffer. What a misfortune to have existed!" + +As Gregory gloomily uttered these bitter words, they stood looking at +the leaf that had suggested them. Annie's face brightened with a +sudden thought. She turned, and after a few rapid steps sprung lightly +up and caught the twig from which the leaf had fallen. Then turning to +her companion, who regarded with surprise and admiration the agile +grace of the act, she said, "Mr. Gregory, you need lessons in logic. +If the leaf you hold is your theme, as you gave me reason to believe, +you don't stick to it, and you draw from it conclusions that don't +follow the premise. Another thing, it is not right to develop a +subject without regard to its connection. Now from just this place," +she continued, pointing with her finger, "the leaf dropped. What do +you see? What was its connection?" + +"Why, a little branch full of other leaves. These would soon have +dropped off and died also, if you had not hastened their fate." + +"That's a superficial view, like the one you just took of this +'miserable world,' as you call it. I think it is a very good world--a +much better one than we deserve. And now look closely and justly at +your theme's connection, and tell me what you see. Look just here;" +and her finger rested on the little green spot where the stem of the +leaf had joined the spray. + +"I see a very small bud," he said, intelligence of her meaning dawning +in his face. + +"Which will develop next spring into other leaves and perhaps into a +new branch. All summer long your leaf has rustled and fluttered +joyously over the certainty that a richer and fuller life would come +after it, a life that it was providing for through the sunny days and +dewy nights. There is no death here, only change for the better. And +so with everything that has bloomed and flourished in this garden +during the past season, provision has been made for new and more +abundant life. All these bright but falling leaves and fading flowers +are merely Nature's robes, ornaments that she is throwing carelessly +aside as she withdraws for a little time from her regal state. Wait +till she appears again next spring, as young, fresh, and beautiful as +when, like Eve, she saw her first bright morning. Come and see her +upon her throne next June. Nature full of death! Why, Mr. Gregory, she +speaks of nothing but life to those who understand her language." + +"O that you would teach it to me!" he said, with a deeper meaning than +she detected. + +"Again," she continued, "our theology does not represent death as +making havoc anywhere. It is sin that makes the havoc, and death is +only one of its consequences. And even this enemy God compels to work +for the good of His friends. Do not think," she continued, coming a +step nearer in her earnestness, "that I make such allusions to pain +you, but only in my sincere wish to help you, and illustrate my +meaning by something you know so well. Did death make havoc in your +mother's case? Was it not rather a sombre-liveried janitor that opened +for her the gates of heaven?" + +He was deeply touched, and turned away his face. After a moment he +continued his walk, that they might get further away from the house +and the danger of interruption. + +He suddenly startled Annie by saying, in a tone of harsh and intense +bitterness, "Her death made 'havoc' for me. If she had lived I might +have been a good man instead of the wretch I am. If death as janitor +opens the gates of heaven, your religion teaches that it also opens +the gates of hell. How can I love a God who shuts up the sinful in an +inferno--in dungeons of many and varied tortures, and racks them +forever? Can I, just to escape all this, pretend that I love Him, when +in truth I fear and dread Him unspeakably? No, I'll never be a +hypocrite." + +Tears glistened in Annie's eyes as he turned to look at her. + +"You pity me," he said, more gently. "Your God does not. If He wanted +to be loved He should never have revealed a hell." + +"Should He not in mercy, if it really existed? And does it not exist? +Will merely a beautiful place make heaven for anybody? Mr. Gregory, +look around this lovely autumn evening. See the crimson glory of those +clouds yonder in the west. See that brightness shading off into paler +and more exquisite tints. Look, how those many-hued leaves reflect the +glowing sky. The air is as sweet and balmy as that of Eden could have +been. The landscape is beautiful in itself, and especially attractive +to you. To our human eyes it hardly seems as if heaven could be more +perfect than this. And yet, standing in the one spot of all the earth +most beautiful to you, Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, your face +expresses nothing but pain. There is not a trace of happiness in it. +You were not happy when you came here. I saw that the first day. All +the pleasant surroundings of your own home have not made you happy. +Have they given you even peace and quiet? Place does not make heaven, +but something we carry in our own bosoms," she concluded, leaving him +to supply the rest of her thought. + +His face was white with fear, and there was terror in his tone as he +turned and said to her, in a low voice, "Miss Walton, that is what I +have been coming to see and dread, of late, and as you put the +thoughts into words I see that it is true. I carry perdition in my own +heart. When I am alone my imaginings frighten me; and when with +others, impulses arise to do the devil's own work." + +"But it is the nature of God to save from all this. I am so sorry that +you do not understand Him better." + +"He saves some," said Gregory, gloomily. + +"But many will not let Him save them," urged Annie. + +"I should be only too glad to have Him save me, but whether He will or +not is the point at issue, and my hope is very faint. Everything to- +day, but you, seems to confirm my fate. Miss Walton, won't you take +that little rustic seat there by the brook? I wish to tell you +something that will probably settle this question." + +Annie wonderingly complied. This was an experience she had never had +before. She was rapidly realizing the difference between being the +spiritual guide of the girls in her Bible-class and being the adviser +of this strong-minded yet greatly perverted man. But she turned to him +a face full of sympathy and encouragement. + +For a moment it seemed he did not know how to begin, and he paced +restlessly up and down before her. Then he said, "Miss Walton, you +remember that worm-infested chestnut through which you gave me such a +just lesson?" + +"Please do not speak of my foolish words at that time," she replied, +eagerly. + +"Pardon me, they were not foolish. They, with the illustration of my +own choice, revealed me to myself as nothing had ever done before. Had +it not been for your graceful tact, I should have made a fool of +myself by being angry. If you had known what I deserved then you would +not have let me off so easily. But it's true. That lonely, selfish +chestnut, with a worm in its kernel, was a good emblem of myself. Evil +is throned in my heart supreme and malignant. I suppose it's through +my own fault, but be that as it may, it's there, my master. I groan +over and curse the fact, but I do evil and think evil continually, and +I fear I always shall. + +"No, listen to me to the end," he continued, as she was about to +speak. + +"When on that strange mountain expedition, you made the remark, 'What +congenial friends we might be!' Those words have echoed in my heart +ever since, like the refrain of a home-song to a captive. I would give +more than I can express for your friendship--for the privilege of +seeing you and speaking to you frankly on these subjects occasionally, +for you and you only have inspired a faint hope that I might become a +better man. You are making Christianity seem a reality and not a +fashion. Though possessing human weakness, you triumph over it, and +you say it is through prayer to God. I find it impossible not to +believe everything you say, for whatever your faults are you are truth +itself. Through your influence the thought has come that God might +also hear and help me, but I have the fear and almost the belief that +I have placed myself beyond His mercy. At any rate I have almost lost +hope in anything I can do by myself. I was in moral despair when I +came here, and might as well have been dead, but you have led me to a +willingness to make one more struggle, and a great one, if I can see +in it any chance of success. I fear I am deceiving myself, but when +with you, though you are immeasurably better than I, hope steals into +my heart, that before was paralyzed by despair. When you come to know +me as I know myself, I fear that you will shrink in just horror away, +and that I shall see reflected in your face the verdict of heaven. But +you shall know the worst--the very worst. I can never use deceit with +you. If afterward you ever take my stained hand again--" + +He did not finish the sentence, but heaved a great sigh, as if of +longing and hope that words could not utter. + +It was the old truth illustrated, that God must become human to gain +humanity. Abstract truth could not save this lost and guilty man, but +the wanderer hoped that in this sweet human life he had found the clew +back to the divine life. + +Annie trembled at the responsibility that now suddenly burdened her as +she saw this trembling spirit clinging to her as the one frail barrier +between himself and the gulf of utter despair. She nerved herself, by +prayer and the exertion of all her will, to be equal to the emergency. + +And yet it was a fearful ordeal that she was called to go through as +the remorseful and deeply agitated man, his face flushed with shame, +now with impassioned, more often with despairing gesture and accent, +poured out the story of his past life, and laid bare his evil heart, +while he paced up and down the little walk before her. + +The transaction with Hunting he purposely passed over, speaking of it +merely as a business misfortune that had robbed him even of earthly +ambition. She saw a few sin-stained pages of that dreadful book of +human guilt which God must look at every day. + +Gregory did not spare himself, and palliated nothing, softening and +brightening no harsh and dark lines. On the contrary, he was stern and +blunt, and it was strange indeed to hear him charging himself before a +pure, innocent young girl, whose good opinion was life to him, with +what she regarded as crimes. When he at last came to speak of his +designs against herself, of how he had purposed to take the bloom and +beauty from her character that he might laugh at goodness as a dream +and pretence, and despise her as he did himself, his eye flashed +angrily, and he grew vindictive as if denouncing an object of his +hate. He could not even look at her during the last of his confession, +but turned away his face, fearing to see Annie's expression of +aversion and disgust. + +It was with a paling cheek and growing dread that she looked into that +dark and fearful place, a perverted human heart, and her every breath +was a prayer that God would enable her to see and act as Christ would +were some poor creature revealing to Him his desperate need. + +Gregory suddenly paused in his low but passionate flow of words, and +put his hand to his head as if the pain were insupportable. In fact, +his anguish and the intense feeling of the day had again brought on +one of his old nervous headaches. Thus far he had scarcely noticed it, +but now the sharp, quivering pangs proved how a wronged physical +nature could retaliate; how much more the higher and more delicate +moral nature! + +After the paroxysm had passed, he continued, in the hard, weary tone +of utter dejection (for he had dreaded even to look at Annie, and her +silence confirmed his worst fears), "Well, Miss Walton, you now know +the worst. On this peaceful Sabbath evening you have seen more of +perdition than you ever will again. You cannot even speak to me, and I +dare not look at your face. The expression of horror and disgust which +I know must be there would blast me and haunt me forever. It would be +worse than death, for I did have a faint hope--" + +He was interrupted by an audible sob, and turning, saw Annie with her +face buried in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break. He was +puzzled for a moment, and then, in the despairing condition of his +mind interpreted her wrongly. Standing near her with clenched hands, +he said, in the same hard tones which seemed to have passed beyond the +expression of feeling, "I'm a brute and worse. I have been wounding +you as with blows by my vile story. I have been dragging your pure +thoughts through the mire of my wretched life." + +Annie tried to speak, but apparently could not for excess of emotion. + +"Why could I not have gone away and died by myself, like some unclean +beast?" he muttered. Then, in a tone which she never forgot, and with +the manner of one who was indeed leaving hope and life behind him, he +said, "Farewell, Miss Walton; you will be better after I am gone." + +She sprung up, and laying restraining hands upon his arm, sobbed, "No--no. +Why don't you--you--understand me? My heart's--breaking for you--wait +till I can speak." + +He placed her gently on the seat again. A great light was coming into +his eyes, and he stood bending toward her as if existence depended on +her next words. Could it be that her swelling throat and sobs meant +sympathy for him? + +She soon controlled herself, and looking up at him, with a light in +her eyes that shone through her tears as sun-rays through the rain, +said, "Forgive me. I never realized before that so much sin and +suffering could exist in one unhappy life. I do pity you, as God does +far more. I will help you as He will." + +Gregory knelt at her feet, and kissed her hand with the fervor of a +captive who had just received life and liberty. + +"See, I do not shrink from you," she continued. "My Master would not. +Why should I? He came to save just such, and just such we all would be +but for His grace and shielding. I'm so--sorry for you." + +He turned hastily away for a moment to hide his feelings, and said, +slowly, "I cannot trust myself--I cannot trust God yet; but I trust +you, and I believe you have saved a soul from death." + +He stood looking toward the glowing west, and, for the first time in +years, hoped that his life might close in brightness. + +"Mr. Gregory," said Annie, in a voice so changed that he started and +turned toward her hardly knowing what to expect. She stood beside him, +no longer a tender, compassionate woman grieving for him, as if his +sin were only misfortune, but her face was almost stern in its purity +and earnestness. "Mr. Gregory, the mercy which God shows, and which I +faintly reflect, is for _you_ in sharp distinction from your sin. Do +not for a moment think that I can look with any lenience or indulgence +on all the horrible evil you have laid before me. Do not think I can +excuse or pass lightly over it as something of little consequence. I +hate your sin as I hate my own. I can honestly feel and frankly show +the sympathy I have manifested, only in view of your penitence, and +your sincere purpose, with God's help, to root out the evil of your +life. This I am daily trying to do, and this you must do in the one +and only way in which there is any use in trying. It is only with this +clear understanding that I can give you my hand in the friendship of +mutual helpfulness, and in the confidence of respect." + +He reverently took her hand and said, "Your conditions are just, Miss +Walton, and I accept your friendship as offered with a gratitude +beyond words. I can never use deceit where you are concerned, even in +thought. But please do not expect too much of me. I have formed the +habit of doubting. It may be very long before I have your simple, +beautiful faith. I will do just the best I can! It seems that if you +will trust me, help me, pray for me, I can succeed. If I am mistaken, +I will carry my wretchedness where the sight of it will not pain you. +If I ever do reach your Christian life, I will lavish a wealth of +gratitude upon you that cannot be expressed. Indeed, I will in any +case, for you have done all that I could hope and more." + +"I will do all you ask," she said, heartily, giving at the same time +his hand a strong pressure with her warm, throbbing palm, that sent a +subtle current of hope and strength into his heart. Her face softened +into an expression of almost sisterly affection, and with a gleam of +her old mirthfulness she continued, "Take counsel of practical common- +sense, Mr. Gregory. Why talk so doubtfully of success, seeking it as +you purpose to? What right have you even to imagine that God will +bestow upon you the great distinction of making you the first one of +the race He refused to hear and answer? Be humble and believe that He +will treat you like other people." + +He stopped in their slow walk toward the house and said, with glad +animation, "Miss Walton, do you know you have done more to strengthen +me in that little speech than by a long and labored argument?" + +And so they passed in out of the purple twilight, Annie's heart +thrilling with something of the joy of heaven, and Gregory feeling as +if the dawn were coming after Egyptian night. + +As they left the garden a dusky face peered out of some thick +shrubbery and looked cautiously around. Then Jeff appeared and +attributed to the scene just described a very different meaning from +its real significance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF + + + +Gregory made desperate efforts to keep up at the supper-table, but +could not prevent slight evidences of physical pain, which Annie +silently noticed. After tea he hoped to escape to his room, for he +could not endure to show even his physical weakness so soon again. On +the contrary, he was longing intensely for an opportunity to manifest +a little strength of some kind. After his recent interview he felt +that he could even bear one of his nervous headaches alone. But as he +was about to excuse himself, Annie interrupted, saying, "Now, Mr. +Gregory, that is not according to agreement. Do you suppose I cannot +see that you are half beside yourself with one of your old headaches? +Was I such a poor physician the last time that you seek to escape me +now? Come back to the parlor. I will not go out to church this +evening, but devote myself to you." + +"Miss Walton," he replied, in a low tone, "when can I make any return +for all your kindness? I must seem weakness itself in every respect, +and I dread to appear to you always in that light." + +"Your pride needs bringing down, sir; see how towering it is. Here you +would go off by yourself, and endure a useless martyrdom all night +perhaps, when by a few simple remedies I can relieve you, or at least +help you forget the pain. I have not the slightest objection to your +being a martyr, but I want some good to come out of it." "But I shall +spoil your evening." + +"Certainly you will, if I think of you groaning up there by yourself, +while I am singing, perhaps: + + "'I love to steal awhile away + From every cumbering care!'" + +"Then I'm a cumbering care!" + +"Whether you are or not, I'm not going to steal away from you to- +night. Come, do as I bid you." + +He was only too glad to submit to her delicious tyranny. She wheeled +the lounge up to the fire, and placed her chair beside it, while the +rest of the family, seeing that he had his old malady, went to the +sitting-room. + +"I have great pride in my nursing powers," she continued, in her +cheery way. "Now, if I were a man, I'd certainly be a doctor." + +"Thank Heaven you are not!" he said, with a devout earnestness that +quite startled her. + +"What? A doctor?" she asked, quickly. + +"Yes--no; I mean a man, and doctor too." + +"I see no reason why you should show such bitter opposition to my +being a man or a doctor either. Why should you?" + +"O--well--I think you are just right as a woman. You make me believe +in the doctrine of election, for it seems to me that you were destined +from all eternity to be just what you are." + +"What a strange, unfathomable doctrine that is!" said Annie, softly +and musingly. + +"It's nothing but mystery all around us," he replied, wearily and +dejectedly. + +"No, not 'all around us,'" she answered, quickly. "It's clear when we +look up. Faith builds a safe bridge to God, and to Him there are no +mysteries." + +Her touch upon his brow thrilled him, and her presence was both +exhilarating and restful. + +At last she said, "I am sorry you have these dreadful headaches so +often." + +"I shall never be again." + +"Why so?" + +"Because they have led to this evening. It has been so many long, +miserable years since I experienced anything like this." + +"Ah, I see, you have been very lonely. You have had no one to care for +you, and that I believe has been the cause of half your trouble--evil, +I mean. Indeed, they are about the same thing. Don't you see? The +world is too large a place for a home. You need a nook in it, with +some one there to look after you and for you to think about." + +He looked at her searchingly, and then turned away his face in pain. +She could not utter such words in that placid style, were she not +utterly devoid of the feeling that was filling his soul with an +ecstasy of hope and fear. + +"Do not think that even many of our sex are like Miss Bently. You will +see and choose more wisely hereafter, and find that, in exchanging +that wretched club-life for a cosey home of your own, you take a good +step in all respects." + +"Would to Heaven that I had met such a girl as you at first!" he +ventured to say. "How different then all might have been!" + +"There is no use in dwelling on the past," she replied, innocently. +"You are now pledged to make the future right." + +"God helping me, I will. I will use every means in my power," he said, +in a tone of deep earnestness; and, as principal part of the means, +determined to take her advice, but with reference to herself. After a +few moments he said, "Miss Walton, as I promised to be perfectly frank +with you, I want to ask an explanation of something that I do not +understand, and which has been almost a heavenly surprise to me. I was +nearly certain before this afternoon that when you came to know what a +stained, evil man I am--" + +"Was," interrupted Annie. + +"No, what I am. Character is not made in a moment. As yet, I only hope +and purpose to do better. I can hardly understand why you do not +shrink from me in disgust. It seemed that both your faith and your +nature would lead you to do this. I thought it possible that out of +your kindness you might try to stand at a safe distance and give me +some good advice across the gulf. But that which I feared would drive +you from me forever has only brought you nearer. Again I say, it has +been a heavenly surprise." + +"You use the word 'heavenly' with more appropriateness than you +think," she replied, gravely. "All such surprises are heavenly in +their origin, and my course is but a faint reflection of Heaven's +disposition toward you, and was prompted by the duty I owe to God as +well as to you. Self-righteousness would have led me in Pharisaic +pride to say, 'Stand aside, I am holier than thou.' But you have only +to read the life of the perfect One to know that in so doing I should +not have been like Him. He laid His rescuing hands on both the +physical and the moral leper--" + +"As you have upon me," said Gregory, with a look of such intense +gratitude that she was embarrassed. + +"I deserve no great credit, for it was only right that I should do the +utmost in my power to help you. How else could I be a Christian in any +real sense? But there is nothing strange about it. Christianity is not +like false religions, that require unnatural and useless sacrifices. +If I were a true physician, and found you suffering from a terrible +and contagious disease, while I feared and loathed the disease, I +might have the deepest sympathy for you and do my best to cure you. I +do loathe the sin you confessed, inexpressibly. See how near it came +to destroying you. While God hates the sin, He ever loves the sinful." + +"I hope you will always be divine in that respect," he could not +forbear saying, with rising color. + +But her thoughts were so intent on what was uppermost in her heart +that she did not notice his covert meaning, and said, innocently, "I +will give you honest friendship so long as you honestly try to redeem +the pledges of to-day." + +"Then I have your friendship for life, be it long or short," said he, +decisively. + +With more lightness in her tone she continued, "And I too will ask a +question that has a bearing on a little theory of my own. Supposing I +had shrunk from you, and tried to give some good advice from a safe +distance, what would you have done?" + +"Left for New York to-morrow, and gone straight to the devil as one of +his own imps," he replied, without a moment's hesitation. + +She sighed deeply, and said, "I fear you would--that is, if left to +yourself. And the worst of it is, it seems to me that this is the way +the Church is trying to save the world. Suppose a doctor should +address his patients through a speaking-trumpet and hand them his +remedies on the end of a very long rod. Death would laugh at his +efforts. People can be saved only as Christ saved them. We must go +where they are, lay our hands upon them, and look sympathy and hope +right into their eyes. If Christ's followers would only do this, how +many more might be rescued who now seem hopelessly given over to +evil!" + +"Those who won't do it," said Gregory, bitterly, "are in no sense His +true followers, but are merely the 'hangers on' of His army, seeking +to get out of it all they can for self. Every general knows that the +'camp-followers' are the bane of an army." + +"Come, Mr. Gregory," said she, gently, "we are not the general, and +therefore not the judge. After this I shall expect to see you in the +regular ranks, ready to give and take blows." + +They now joined Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie in the sitting-room, and +Gregory professed to feel, and indeed was, much better, and after a +little music they separated for the night. Although still suffering, +Gregory sat by his fire a long time, forgetful of pain. + +High, blustering winds prevailed all the following day, but they only +made the quiet and cosiness of Mr. Walton's fireside more delightful. +Gregory did not care to go out if he went alone. He wished to be where +he could see Annie as often as possible, for every word and smile from +her in the intervals of her duties was precious. He did honestly mean +to become a good man if it were possible, but he saw in her the only +hopeful means. He did not pretend to either faith in God or love for +Him as yet, but only felt a glow of gratitude, a warming of his heart +toward Him in view of His great mercy in sending to his aid such a +ministering spirit as Annie had proved. He took it as an omen that God +meant kindly by him, and through this human hand might save at last. + +And he clung to this hand as the drowning do to anything that keeps +them from sinking into dark and unknown depths. He saw in Annie Walton +earthly happiness certainly, and his best prospect of heaven. What +wonder then that his heart lay at her feet in entire consecration? +Apart from the peculiar fascination that she herself had for him, he +had motives for loving her that actuate but few. If she had saved him +from physical death it would have been a little thing in comparison, +but he shuddered to think of the precipice from which she had drawn +him back. + +He was cautious in revealing himself to her. The presence of others +was a restraint, and he plainly saw that she had no such regard for +him as he felt for her. But he hoped with intense fervor--yes, he even +prayed to that God whom he had so long slighted--that in time she +might return his love. To-day he would close his eyes on the past and +future. She, the sunshine of his soul, was near, and he was content to +bask in her smiles. + +Annie had given her father and aunt to understand that their +conspiracy promised to result in success, and they treated him with +marked but delicate kindness. The day passed in music, reading, and +conversation, and it was to Gregory the happiest he remembered--one of +the sweet May days that, by some happy blunder of nature, occasionally +bless us in March--and he made the very most of it. Its close found +Annie Walton enthroned in his heart. + +As for Annie, he perplexed her a little, but she explained everything +peculiar in his words and manner on the ground of his gratitude only, +and the glow of his newly awakened moral nature. If she had been an +experienced belle, she might have understood his symptoms better, but +she was one of the last in the world to imagine people falling in love +with her. Never having received much admiration from strangers, with +no long list of victims, and believing from her own experience that +love was a gradual growth resulting from long knowledge and intimacy +with its object, she could not dream that this critical man, who had +seen the beauties of two continents, would in a few days be carried +away by her plain face. Nor was he by her face, but by herself. + +Men of mind are rarely captivated by a face merely, however beautiful, +but by what it represents, or what they imagine it does. Woe be to the +beauty who has no better capital than her face! With it she can allure +some one into marrying her; but if he marries for an intelligent +companion, he is likely to prove the most disappointed and indifferent +of husbands on discovering the fraud. The world will never get over +its old belief that the fair face is the index of graces slightly +veiled, and ready to be revealed when the right to know is gained. In +nursery rhymes, fairy tales, and the average novel, the beautiful +heroine is also lovely, and so in spite of adverse experience the +world will ever expect wisdom and truth from red lips, till they say +too much--till the red lips themselves prove the contrary. Then come +the anger and disgust which men ever visit upon those who deceive and +disappoint them. Beauty is a dainty and exquisite vestibule to a +temple; but when a worshipper is beguiled into entering, only to find +a stony, misshapen idol and a dingy shrine, this does not conduce to +future devotion. + +Annie's face would not arrest passers-by, and so she had not been +spoiled by too much homage, which is not good for man or woman. But +after passing the plain, simple portico of externals into the inner +temple of her sweet and truthful life, the heart once hers would +worship with undying faith and love. + +Gregory had come to interest her deeply, not only on the ground of his +need, but because she saw in him great capabilities for good. In all +his evil, his downright honesty and lack of conceit inspired a kind of +respect. She also saw that this excessively fastidious man had learned +to admire and esteem her greatly. It was not in her woman's nature to +be indifferent to this fact. She felt that if he could be redeemed +from his evil he might become a congenial and valuable friend indeed, +and if she could be the means of rescuing the son of her father's +friend it would ever be one of her happiest memories. But with her +heart already occupied by a noble ideal of Hunting, the possibility of +anything more than friendship never entered her mind. The very fact +that her affections were so engaged made her blind to manifestations +on the part of Gregory which might otherwise have awakened suspicion. +Still the confidential relations growing up between them made her wish +that she might reveal to him her virtual engagement to Hunting; and +she would have done so, had he not resented the slightest allusion in +that direction. It now seemed probable that Hunting would return +before Gregory took his departure, and if so, she felt that she could +immediately reconcile them. She came to the conclusion that her best +course was to wait till she could bring them together, and so make the +reconciliation certain by her own presence and influence; for now, in +her increasing regard for Gregory, she was determined that they all +should be on good terms, so that in the city home to which she looked +forward the man she was trying to lead to true life might be a +frequent and welcome visitor. + +But it is a difficult thing to keep such friendships Platonic in their +nature under any circumstances, and in view of Gregory's feelings, +Annie's pretty dreams of the future would be but baseless visions. + +Monday evening brought one of those genial domestic experiences that +make home more satisfying in its pleasures than all the excitements of +the world. Mr. Walton had a slight cold, and Annie was nursing and +petting him, while contributing to the general enjoyment by reading +the daily paper and singing some new ballads which she had just +obtained from New York. Her father's indisposition was so slight that +it merely called for those little attentions which are pleasant for +affection to bestow and receive. The wind howled dismally without, +only to enhance the sense of peace and comfort within, and at the +usual hour all retired to rest, without even the passing thought that +anything might disturb them before they should meet again at the +cheerful breakfast-table. + +Some time during the night Gregory seemed to hear three distinct peals +of thunder, wrathful and threatening, and then a voice like that of +Annie Walton calling him to escape a great danger. But it seemed that +he was paralyzed, and strove in vain to move hand or foot. Again and +louder pealed the thunder, and more urgent came the call of the +warning voice. By a desperate effort he sprung with a bound upon the +floor, and then realized that what seemed thunder in the exaggeration +of his dream was loud knocking at his door. Annie's voice again +called, "Mr. Gregory, awake, dress. There is a fire. There may be +danger." + +He assured her that he would be out in a few moments, and had only to +open a shutter to obtain plenty of light, though he could not see +whence it came. In five minutes he hastened downstairs and found Mr. +Walton just issuing from his room; and all went out on the front +piazza. Gregory then saw that a large factory some distance up the +stream was burning, and that the fire was under such headway that +nothing could save the building. The wind had increased during the +night and fanned the flames into terrific fury. The building was old +and dry, inviting destruction in every part. + +For a while they gazed with that fearful awe which this terrible +element, when no longer servant, but master, always inspires. Susie +had not been well during the night, and in waiting on her, Annie had +discovered the disaster. + +A warning cough from Mr. Walton revealed to Annie the danger of +staying out in the raw winds; but from the windows everything was +apparent, and silently they watched the rapid progress of the flames. +The fire had caught in the lower part of the building, and was +advancing up from floor to floor with its horrid illumination at the +windows. + +"Do you think I can do any good by going there?" asked Gregory. + +"Not at all," said Mr. Walton. "The whole of the New York Fire +Department could not save it now; and from the sounds I hear, there +will soon be throngs of people there. Indeed, I am anxious about my +own place. When that shingle roof begins to burn there is no telling +how far the wind will carry the cinders." + +Annie looked at her father in quick alarm, then drew Miss Eulie aside, +and they immediately went upstairs. + +With a more painful interest, Gregory now watched the scene. The tall +ladders which had first been raised against the building were +withdrawn. They were useless for the whole interior seemed ablaze. +Great tongues of fire began leaping from the windows, mocking every +effort. The rapid steps of those hastening to the scene resounded +along the road, and the startling cry of "Fire! Fire!" was heard up +and down the valley till all merged in the shouts and cries around the +burning building. Mingling with the deeper, hoarser tones of men were +the shrill voices of women, showing that they too had been drawn to +witness a destruction that meant to them loss of bread. The foliage +near was red as blood in the dreadful glare, and the neighboring pines +tossed their tasselled boughs like dark plumes at a torch-light +funeral. With a sudden roar a pyramid of flame shot up through the +roof, and was echoed by a despairing cry from those whose vocation now +indeed was gone. A moment later a fiery storm of flakes and burning +shingles filled the sky. + +To the great joy of our friends the wind was from such a quarter as to +carry this destructive tempest past them into the woodland back of the +house, which happily had been rendered damp by recent rains. + +But a cinder frequently sailed by unpleasantly near, reminding one of +scattering shots in a battle. A slight change of wind would be their +destruction, and a single stray fire-brand would endanger them. + +Just as they began to breathe somewhat freely, hoping that danger was +past, a sudden side-eddy of the gale scattered a shower of sparks and +burning shingles over the house and out-buildings. Mr. Walton +immediately rushed forth, and, with a little whistle which he usually +carried, gave a shrill summons for Jeff, who lived in a cottage near. +But Jeff was off to the fire, and so did not appear. Gregory and Annie +also hastened out, and the former ran to the barn and out-buildings +first, as from their nature they were most inflammable. To his and Mr. +Walton's joy, no traces of fire were seen. One or two smoking brands +lay in the door-yard, where they could cause no injury. But a cry of +alarm from Annie, who had stayed nearer the house, brought Mr. Walton +and Gregory to her side instantly. Pointing to the roof of their +house, she said, in tones of strong excitement, "See there--oh, see +there!" + +A burning piece of wood had caught on the highest part near the ridge, +and was smoking and smouldering in a way that, with the strong wind +fanning it, would surely cause destruction if it were not dislodged. + +"Oh, what shall we do?" she cried, wringing her hands. "Can a ladder +reach it?" + +"The roof is too steep, even if it did," said Mr. Walton. + +"Where is the ladder?" cried Gregory. + +"By the carriage-house. But I fear it is useless." + +"Will you help me bring it, sir?" + +They instantly brought the longest ladder on the place, but saw that +though it might touch the eaves, it would not reach the ridge. The +roof was so steep that one could not keep footing on it; and when they +took time to look and consider, both gentlemen admitted that an effort +in that direction would fail, and probably at the cost of life. + +"Is there no scuttle by which to get out on the roof?" asked Gregory. + +"No. Quick, Annie, get out what you can, for we shall soon be +homeless." + +"Wait," said Gregory. "Is there no way to reach the roof?" + +"None that we can use. A light and daring climber might possibly reach +the ridge by the lighting-rod, after leaving the ladder." + +"Where is it?" cried Gregory, eager to do something to make impossible +even the thought that he was cowardly; for the memory of his course in +the counterfeiter's den rankled deeply. + +"No," cried both Mr. Walton and Annie, laying their hands on him. +"Your life is worth more than the house." + +"My life is my own," he answered. "I _will_ make an effort to save the +old place. Quick, help me. Here, girls" (to Zibbie and Hannah, who now +stood beside them in dismay), "take hold of that end of the ladder and +carry it out there. Now push it up while I hold its foot. There, +that's it. I will do it. You cannot hinder, but only help. Miss +Walton, get me a rope. Hurry, while I prepare to climb." + +With the help of the stout women, whose strength was doubled by their +fears and excitement, he placed the ladder against the lightning-rod +and siding of the house just under the ridge. His tones were +determined and authoritative. + +He was now acting as Annie would if she were a man, and she admired +and respected him as never before. In two or three moments she and her +father returned with a line, but again expostulated. + +"Mr. Gregory, the risk is too great." + +"You can't prevent it," said he, firmly. "I absolve you from all +responsibility. I take the risk in spite of you. Make haste--see how +it's burning. There, that will do. Stand back." + +Even as he spoke he was climbing. + +"Now that's generous," said Annie; "but if you are injured, I shall +never forgive myself." + +He turned, and for a second smiled down upon her. + +The strength of his new-born love made him glad to endanger even life +in her service, and the thought, "I can at last win a little respect, +as well as sympathy," nerved him to double his ordinary powers. Like +most country boys, he had been a bold, active climber, and his +knowledge and former skill made the attempted feat possible. The main +question was whether in his feeble state his strength would hold out. +But the strong excitement of the moment would serve him in place of +muscle. He had thrown off his coat and boots, and, with a small rope +fastened about his waist, he swiftly ascended to the top of the +ladder. But there were three or four feet that he must overhand up the +lightning-rod in order to reach the ridge. It was large and twisted, +and gave him a good hold, but he had to take the risk of its being +strong enough in its fastening to sustain his weight. Fortunately it +was, and he unhesitatingly commenced the perilous effort. He made good +progress till he was within a foot of the ridge. Then his strength +began to fail, and plainly to those below he wavered. + +With white face, clasped hands, and lips moving in prayer, Annie +watched him. Her heart almost stood still with dread; and when toward +the last he slowly and still more slowly overhanded upward, plainly +indicating that his strength was ebbing, she cried, in an agony of +fear, "Come back, oh come back! What is all here to your life?" A +second before it seemed to him that he must fail, that he might +suddenly fall at her feet a crushed and lifeless mass; but her voice +revived him, and the passionate thought came with inspiring power, "I +can do more to win her love now than by years of effort"; and he made +a desperate struggle, gained the ridge, and crawled out upon it, +panting for a moment, and powerless to do more than cling for support. + +The burning cinder was now but little in advance of him, and he saw +that there was not a second to lose. It had charred and blackened the +roof where it had caught, and, fanned by the wind, was a live, glowing +coal. The shingles under it were smoking--yes, smouldering. Had it not +been for their dampness and mossy age, they would have been blazing. +In a few moments nothing could have saved the house. + +As soon as he got his breath, he crept along the ridge within reach of +the fiery flake. There seemed no place where he could lay hold of it +without burning himself. It would not do to simply detach it, as it +might catch further down the steep roof where it could not be reached. +Above all, there was not a moment to spare. He did not hesitate, but +with sufficient presence of mind to use his left instead of his right +hand, he seized the fatal brand and hurled it, a fiery meteor, clear +of the house. It hurt him cruelly, and for a moment he felt sick and +faint; but a round of applause from those below (for now Miss Eulie +and the children were out, looking tremblingly on), and Annie's cry of +joy and encouragement, again gave him strength. + +But as he looked closely at the spot where the cinder had laid, his +fears were realized. It had ignited the roof. A little water would +extinguish it now, but in a few moments, under the wild wind that was +blowing, all would be ablaze. + +He crawled to the end of the ridge and shouted, "Tie a light pail of +water to the cord--not much at a time, or I can't draw it up." + +Annie darted to the house for a lighter pail than Hannah had brought, +and to Gregory's joy he found that he had strength enough to lift it, +though with his burned band it was agony to do so. But with the now +good prospect of finishing his work successfully, his spirits rose. He +grew more familiar and confident in his dangerous position. He did not +look down from his giddy height, and permitted himself to think of +nothing but his task. Indeed, in his strong excitement, he felt that +it would not be a bitter thing to die thus serving the woman he loved; +and in his false philosophy he hoped this brave act might atone for +the wrong of the past. + +It is the nature of noble, generous deeds to exalt a man's soul so +that he can fearlessly face death, when in calm moments he would +shrink back appalled. In the excitement of the hour, and under the +inspiration of his strong human love, Gregory was not afraid to die, +though life seemed, with its new possibilities, sweeter than ever +before. He knew that his strength was failing fast, that reaction +would soon set in, and that he would be helpless, and his great hope +was that he could save the house first. + +He determined therefore not to waste a drop of water, and to make this +one pail answer if possible. He therefore poured it slowly out, and +let it run over the burning part. The continued hissing and smoke +proved that the fire had penetrated deeper than he thought. The last +drop was gone, and still the place smoked. A little more was +absolutely necessary. + +"Will my strength hold out?" he asked himself, in almost an agony of +doubt. + +Crawling back to the end of the ridge, he once more lowered the pail. + +"Fill it again," he cried. + +"Can you stand it?" Mr. Walton asked. + +"I must, or all is useless," was his answer. + +Again, but more slowly and painfully, he pulled the water up. + +Annie wrung her hands in anguish as she saw in the red glare of the +still burning factory how pale and exhausted he was. + +But he once more managed to reach the point above the still +smouldering spot, and caused the water to trickle down upon it. By the +time he had half emptied the pail the smoke ceased. + +After a moment it again faintly exuded, but another little stream of +water quenched the fire utterly. But for five minutes he watched the +place to make sure that there was not a lingering spark, and then let +the rest of the water flow over the place to saturate it completely. + +He was now certain that the house was saved. But he was satisfied from +his sensations that he had but little time in which to save himself. +Reaction was fast setting in. + +He untied the rope from his waist, and let pail and all roll +clattering down the roof. This noise was echoed by a cry of alarm from +those below, who feared for a moment that he was falling. They all had +the sickening dread which is felt when we look at one in great peril, +and yet can do nothing to help. + +At first Gregory thought that he would lie down upon the ridge and +cling to it, thus gaining strength by a little rest. But he soon found +that this would not answer. His overtaxed frame was becoming +nerveless, and his only hope was to escape at once. In trembling +weakness he crawled back to the edge and looked over. Annie stepped +forward to the foot of the ladder and extended her hands as if to +catch him. + +"Stand back," he cried; "if I fall, I shall kill you." + +"I will not stand back," she answered. "You shall not take all the +risk." + +But her father, who still kept his presence of mind in the terrible +excitement of the moment, forced her away, and saved her from the +danger of this useless sacrifice. As soon as she could do nothing, her +fortitude vanished, and she covered her face with her hands and wept +bitterly. + +The chief point of difficulty in Gregory's weak state was to get off +the ridge upon the lightning-rod without losing his hold and falling +at once. If he could turn the edge and begin to descend in safety, his +strength might hold out till he reached the ladder and so the ground. +But he realized the moment of supreme peril, and hesitated. + +Then, with something like a prayer to God and with a wistful look at +Annie, he resolutely swung himself over. His hands held the weight of +his body, and he commenced the descent. Annie's glad cry once more +encouraged him. He gained the ladder and descended till not far from +the ground. + +Suddenly everything turned black before his eyes, and he fell. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CHANGES IN GREGORY + + + +When Gregory became conscious, he was lying on the ground, with his +head in Miss Eulie's lap, and Annie was bending over him with a small +flask. She again gave him a teaspoonful of brandy, and after a moment +he lifted himself up, and, passing his hand across his brow, looked +around. + +"You are not hurt. Oh, please say you are not hurt!" she exclaimed, +taking his hand. + +He looked at her a moment, and then it all came back to him, and he +smiled and said, "Not much, I think; and if I am it does not signify. +You've helped me on my feet once or twice before. Now see if you can +again;" and he attempted to rise. + +As Daddy Tuggar had intimated, there was plenty of muscle in Annie's +round arms, and she almost lifted him up, but he stood unsteadily. Mr. +Walton gave him his arm, and in a few moments he was on the sofa in +the sitting-room, where a fire was soon kindled. Zibbie was told to +make coffee, and to provide something more substantial. + +They were all profuse in expressions of gratitude, in praises of his +heroism, but he waived the whole matter off by saying, "Think of me as +well as you can, for Heaven knows I have need to retrieve my +character. But please do not speak as if I had done more than I ought. +For a young man to stand idly by, and see the home of his childhood, +the place where he had received unbounded hospitality, destroyed, +would be simply base. If I had not been reduced by months of ill +health, the thing would not have been difficult at all. But you, Miss +Walton, displayed the real heroism in the case, when you stood beneath +with your arms out to catch me. I took a risk, but you took the +certainty of destruction if I had fallen. Still," he added, with a +humorous look as if in jest, though he was only too sincere, "the +prospect was so inviting that I should have liked to fall a little +way." + +"And so you did," cried innocent Johnny, eagerly. "You fell ever so +far, and Aunt Annie caught you." + +"What!" exclaimed Gregory, rising. "Is this true? And are you not +hurt?" + +"That's the way with children," said Annie, with heightened color and +a reproachful look at the boy, who in the excitement of the hour was +permitted to stay up for an hour or more; "they let everything all +out. No, I'm not hurt a bit. You didn't fall very far. I'm so thankful +that your strength did not give out till you almost reached the +ground. O dear! I shudder to think what might have happened. Do you +know that I thought, with a thrill of superstitious dread, of your +chestnut-burr omen, when you stained my hand with your blood. If you +had fallen--if--" and she put her hand over her eyes to hide the +dreadful vision her imagination presented. "If anything had happened," +she continued, "my hands would have been stained, in that they had not +held you back." + +"What a tender, innocent conscience you have!" he replied, looking +fondly at her. "I confess I'd rather be here listening to you than +somewhere else." + +She gave him a troubled, startled look. To her that "somewhere else" +had a sad and terrible meaning. She sat near him, and could not help +saying in a low, earnest tone, "How could you, how could you take such +a risk without--" She did not finish the sentence, which was plain +enough in its meaning, however. + +On the impulse of the moment, Gregory was about to reply indiscreetly +--in a way that would have revealed more of his feelings toward her +than he knew would be wise at that time. But just then Hannah came in +with the lunch, and the attention of the others, who had been talking +eagerly on the other side of the room, was directed toward them. He +checked some rash words as they rose to his lips, and Annie, +suspecting nothing of the wealth of love that he was already lavishing +upon her, rose with alacrity, glad to serve one who had just served +her so well. The generous coffee and the dainty lunch, combined with +feelings to which he had long been a stranger, revived Gregory +greatly, and he sprang up and walked the room, declaring that with the +exception of his burned hand, which had been carefully dressed, he +felt better than he had for a long time. + +"I'm so thankful!" said Annie, with glistening eyes. + +"We all have cause for thankfulness," said Mr. Walton, with fervor. +"Our kind Father in heaven has dealt with us all in tender mercy. +Home, and more precious life, have been spared. Before we again seek a +little rest, let us remember all His goodness;" and he led them in a +simple, fervent prayer, the effect of which was heightened by Mr. +Walton saying, after he rose from his knees, "Annie, we must see that +none of our poor neighbors lack for anything, now that their +employment has so suddenly been taken away." + +That is acceptable devotion to God which leads to practical, active +charity toward men, and the most unbelieving are won by such a +religion. + +Annie noticed with some anxiety that her father's voice was very +hoarse, and that he put his hand upon his chest several times, and she +expressed the fear that the exposure would greatly add to his cold. He +treated the matter lightly, and would do nothing more that evening +than take some simple remedies. + +When Gregory bade them good-night, Annie followed him to the foot of +the stairs, and giving his hand one of her warm grasps, said, "Mr. +Gregory, I can't help feeling that your mother knows what you have +done to-night." + +Tears started to his eyes. He did not trust himself to reply, but, +with a strong answering pressure, hastened to his room, happier than +he had been in all his past. + +It was late the next morning when they assembled at the breakfast- +table, and they noted with pain that Mr. Walton did not appear at all +well, though he made a great effort to keep up. He was very hoarse, +and complained of a tightness in his chest. + +"Now, father," said Annie, "you must stay in the house, and let me +nurse you." + +"I am very willing to submit," he replied, "and hope I shall need no +other physician." But he was feverish all day. His indisposition did +not yield to ordinary remedies. Still, beyond a little natural +solicitude, no anxiety was felt. + +Gregory was a different man. Even his sincere human love for so worthy +an object had lifted him out of the miserable depths into which he had +been sinking. It had filled his heart with pure longings, and made him +capable of noble deeds. + +As a general thing a woman inspires love in accordance with her own +character. Of course we recognize the fact that there are men with +natures so coarse that they are little better than animals. These men +may have a passing passion for any pretty woman; but the holy word +Love should not be used in such connection. But of men--of those +possessing true manhood, even in humblest station--the above assertion +I think will be found true. The woman who gains the boundless power +which the undivided homage of an honest heart confers will develop in +it, and quicken into life, traits and feelings corresponding to her +own. If the great men of the world have generally had good mothers, so +as a parallel fact will it be found that the strong, useful, +successful men--men who sustain themselves, and more than fulfil the +promise of their youth--have been supplemented and continually +inspired to better things by the ennobling companionship of true +women. + +Good breeding, the ordinary restraints of self-respect, and fear of +the world's adverse opinion, greatly reduce the outward diversities of +society. Well-bred men and women act and appear very much alike in the +public eye. But there is an inner life, a real character, upon which +happiness here and heaven hereafter depend, which results largely from +that tie and intimacy which is closest of all. A shallow, frivolous +girl, having faith in little else than her pretty face and the +dressmaker's art, may unfortunately inspire a good, talented man, who +imagines her to possess all that the poets have portrayed in woman, +with a true and strong affection, but she will disappoint and dwarf +him, and be a millstone about his neck. She will cease to be his +companion. She may be thankful if, in his heart, he does not learn to +despise her, though a man can scarcely do this and be guiltless toward +the mother of his children. + +What must be the daily influence on a man who sees in his closest +friend, to whom he is joined for life, a passion for the public gaze, +a boundless faith in eternals, a complete devotion to the artificial +enhancing of ordinary and vanishing charms, combined with a +contemptuous neglect of the graces of mind and heart? These alone can +keep the love which outward appearance in part may have won at first. +Mere dress and beauty are very well to skirmish with during the first +approaches; but if a woman wishes to hold the conquered province of a +man's heart, and receive from it rich revenues of love and honor, she +must possess some queenly traits akin to divine royalty, otherwise she +only overruns the heart she might have ruled, and leaves it a blighted +waste. + +As we have seen, Annie's actual character rebuked and humiliated the +evil-minded Gregory from the first. He could not rest in her presence. +To relieve himself from self-condemnation, he must prove her goodness +a sham or an accident--mere chance exemption from temptation. Her +safety and happy influence did not depend upon good resolutions, wise +policy, and careful instruction, but upon her real possession of a +character which had been formed long before, and which met and foiled +him at every point. Lacking this, though a well-meaning, good girl in +the main, she would have been a plaything in the hands of such a man. +Her absolute truth and crystal purity of principle incased her in +heaven's armor, and neither he nor any other evil-disposed person +could harm her. She would not listen to the first insidious suggestion +of the tempter. Thus the man who expected to go away despising now +honored, reverenced, loved her, and through her strong but gentle +ministry had turned his back on evil, and was struggling to escape its +degrading bondage. + +Gregory was right in thinking that such a woman as Annie could help +him to an extent hard to estimate, but fatally wrong in looking to her +alone. The kind Father who regards the well-being of His children for +eternity rather than for the moments of time, must effectually cure +him of this error. + +But those two days were memorable ones to him. The cold and stormy +weather shut them all in the house, and that meant to him Annie's +society. He was seldom alone with her; he noted with pain that her +manner was too frank and kindly, too free from all consciousness, to +indicate anything more than the friendship she had promised; but, not +knowing how her heart was preoccupied, he hoped that the awakening of +deeper feeling was only a question of time. His present peace and rest +were so blessed, her presence was so satisfying, and his progress in +her favor so apparent as he revealed his better nature, that he was +content to call his love friendship until he saw her friendship +turning into love. + +Had not Annie expected Hunting every day she would have told Gregory +all about her relation with him, but now she determined that she would +bring them together under the same roof, and not let them separate +till she had banished every trace of their difficulty. A partial +reconciliation might result in future coolness and estrangement. This +she would regard as a misfortune, even if it had no unfavorable +influence on Gregory, for he now proved himself the best of company. +Indeed, they seemed to have a remarkable gift for entertaining each +other. + +While Wednesday did not find Mr. Walton seriously ill to all +appearance, he was still far from being well. He employed himself with +his papers and seemed to enjoy Gregory's conversation greatly. + +"He now grows very like his father, and reminds me constantly of him," +he said more than once to Annie. + +Mr. Walton's indisposition was evidently not trivial. There was a +soreness about the lungs that made it painful for him to talk much, +and he had a severe, racking cough. They were all solicitude in his +behalf. The family physician had been called, and it was hoped that a +few days of care would remove this cold. + +As he sat in his comfortable arm-chair by the fire he would smilingly +say he was having such a good time and so much petting that he did not +intend to get well very soon. + +Though Gregory's burn was painful, and both hands were bruised and cut +from climbing, he did not regret the suffering, since it also secured +from Annie some of the attention she would otherwise have given her +father. + +Wednesday afternoon was pleasant, and Gregory went out for a walk. He +did not return till rather late, and, coming down to supper, found by +his plate a letter which clouded his face instantly. + +Annie was radiant, for the same mail had brought her one from Hunting, +stating that he might be expected any day now. As she saw Gregory's +face darken, she said, "I fear your letter has brought you unpleasant +news." + +"It has," he replied. "Mr. Burnett, the senior partner, is quite ill, +and it is necessary that I return immediately." + +"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, with such hearty emphasis that he +looked at her earnestly and said, "Are you really?" + +"You shouldn't ask such a question," she answered, reproachfully. + +"Why, Miss Walton, I've made a very long visit." + +"So much has happened that it does seem a long time since you came. +But I wish it were to be longer. We shall miss you exceedingly. +Besides," she added, with rising color, "I have a special reason for +wishing you to stay a little longer." + +His color rose instantly also. She puzzled him, while he perplexed +her. + +"I hope Mr. Gregory's visit has taught him," said Mr. Walton, kindly, +"that he has not lost his former home through our residence here, and +that he can run up to the old place whenever he finds opportunity." + +"I can say sincerely," he responded, "that I have enjoyed the +perfection of hospitality;" adding, in a low tone and with a quick, +remorseful look at Annie, "though little deserving it." + +"You have richly repaid us," said Mr. Walton, heartily. "It would have +been very hard for me at my years to have to seek a new home. I have +become wedded to this old place with my feelings and fancies, and the +aged, you know, dislike change. I wish to make only one more, then +rest will be complete." + +"Now, father," said Annie, with glistening eyes, "you must not talk in +that way. You know well that we cannot spare you even to go to +heaven." + +"Well, my child," answered he, fondly. "I am content to leave that in +our best Friend's hands. But I cannot say," he added, with a touch of +humor, "that it's a heavy cross to stay here with you." + +"Would that such a cross were imposed upon me!" echoed Gregory, with +sudden devoutness. "Miss Walton, did not my business imperatively +demand my presence, I would break anything save my neck, in order to +be an invalid on your hands." + +"Come," cried Annie, half-vexed; "a truce to this style of remark. I +think it's verging toward the sentimental, and I'm painfully matter- +of-fact. Father, you must not think of going to heaven yet, and I +don't like to hear you talk about it. Mr. Gregory can break his little +finger, if he likes, so we may keep him longer. But do let us all be +sensible, and not think of anything sad till it comes. Why should we? +Mr. Gregory surely can find time to run up and see us, if he wishes, +and I think he will." + +Before he could reply, an anxious remark from little Susie enabled +them to leave the table in the midst of one of those laughs that +banish all embarrassment. + +"But we'll be burned up if Mr. Gregory goes away." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +PLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE + + + +Knowing that it was to be Gregory's last day with them, Annie +determined it should be full of pleasant memories. She sung with him, +and did anything he asked. Her heart overflowed toward him in a genial +and almost sisterly regard, but his most careful analysis could find +no trace even of the inception of warmer feelings. She evidently had a +strong and growing liking for him, but nothing more, and she clearly +felt the great interest in his effort to become a man of Christian +principles. This fact gave him his main hope. Her passion to save +seemed so strong that he trusted she might be approached even thus +early upon that side. + +He felt that he must speak--must get some definite hope for the future +before he went away. It seemed to him that he could fairly bring his +great need as a motive to bear upon her. Her whole course encouraged +him to do this, for she had responded to every such appeal. Still with +fear and trembling he admitted that he was about to ask for more now +than ever before. + +But he felt that he must speak. He had no hope that he could ever be +more than his wretched self without her. He would ask nothing +definite--only encouragement that if he could make himself worthy of +her she would give him a chance to win her love. In her almost +sisterly frankness it seemed that the idea of loving him had never +occurred to her, and would not after he had gone. The thought of +leaving her heart all disengaged, for some other to come and make a +stronger impression, was torture. He never could be satisfied with the +closest friendship, therefore he must plainly seek a dearer tie, even +though for a time their frank, pleasant relations should be disturbed. +He resolved to take no denial, but to give fair warning, before it was +too late, that he was laying siege to her heart. He dreaded that +attitude of mind upon her part which enables a woman to say to some +men, "I could be your sister, but never your wife." + +So he said before they separated for the night, "Miss Walton, I'm +going to snatch a few hours from the hurry and grind of business, and +shall not return to town till to-morrow afternoon. Won't you take one +more ramble with me in the morning?" + +"With pleasure," she replied, promptly. "I will devote myself to you +to-morrow, and leave you without excuse for not coming again." + +He flushed with pleasure at her reply, but said, quickly, "By the way +that reminds me. Won't you tell me what your 'special reason' was for +wishing me to stay a little longer?" + +It was her turn to blush now, which she did in a way that puzzled him. +She answered, hesitatingly, "Well, I think I'll tell you to-morrow." + +"Good-night," said Mr. Walton, feelingly retaining Gregory's hand when +he came to his chair. "We are coming to treat you almost as one of the +family. Indeed it seems hard to treat you in any other way now, +especially in your old home, now doubly yours since you have saved it +from destruction. Every day you remind me more of my dear old friend. +For some reason he has seemed very near me of late. If it should be my +lot to see your sainted parents before you do, as it probably will, I +believe it will be in my power to add even to their heavenly joys by +telling them of your present prospects. Good-night, and may the +blessing of your father's and mother's God rest upon you." + +Tears sprung into the young man's eyes, and with a strong responsive +pressure of Mr. Walton's hand, he hastened to his room, to hide what +was not weakness. + +That was the last time he saw his father's friend. + +Annie's eyes glistened as she looked after him, and throwing her arms +around her father's neck, she whispered, "God did send him here I now +truly believe. We have not conspired and prayed in vain." + +Mr. Walton fondly stroked his daughter's brown hair, and said, "You +are right, Annie; he will be a gem in your crown of rejoicing. You +have acted very wisely, very womanly, as your mother would, in this +matter. He was a bad man when he first came here, and if I had not +known you so well, I should not have trusted you with him as I have. +Be as faithful through life, and you may lead many more out of +darkness." + +"Dear father," said Annie, tenderly, "this whole day, with Charles's +good letter, and crowned with these precious words from you, seem like +a benediction. May we have many more such." + +"May God's will be done," said the riper Christian, with eyes turned +homeward. + +Thus in hope, peace, and gladness the day ended for all. + +"Ye know not what shall be on the morrow." + +To Gregory's unfeigned sorrow Mr. Walton was not well enough to appear +at the breakfast-table the following morning. Annie was flitting in +and out with a grave and troubled face. But by ten o'clock he seemed +better and fell asleep. Leaving Miss Eulie watching beside him, she +came and said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I can keep my promise in part, and +take a short walk with you. You can well understand why I cannot be +away long." + +"Please do not feel that you must go," he said. "However great the +disappointment, I could not ask you to leave your father if he needs +you." + +"You may rest assured that nothing would tempt me from father if he +needed me. But I think the worst is now over. He is sleeping quietly. +I can trust aunty even better than myself. Besides, I want to go. I +need the fresh air, and I wish to see more of you before you leave +us." + +He cordially thanked her and said, "I shall wait for you on the +piazza." + +They went down across the lawn through the garden. The sun was shining +brightly, though occasionally obscured by clouds. + +"How beautiful everything is," said Annie, "even now, when the leaves +are half off the trees and falling fast! At any season, the moment I +get out of doors I feel new life and hope." + +"What nature does for you, Miss Annie, you seem to do for others. I +feel 'new life and hope' the moment I am with you." + +She looked at him quickly, for she did not quite like his tone and +manner. But she only said, "You must believe, as I do, in a power +behind nature." + +"But even you believe He works through human agencies." + +"Yes, up to a certain point." + +"But who can say where that point is in any experience? Miss Walton," +he continued, in grave earnestness, stopping and pointing to the +rustic seat where, on the previous Sabbath, he had revealed to her his +evil life, "that place is sacred to me. No hallowed spot of earth to +which pilgrimages are made can compare with it. You know that in some +places in Europe they raise a rude cross by the roadside where a man +has been murdered. Should there not be a monument where one was given +life?" + +As they resumed their walk, he said in a low, meaning tone, "Do you +remember old Daddy Tuggar's words--'You could take the wickedest man +living straight to heaven if you'd stay right by him?'" + +"But he was wrong," she replied. + +"Pardon me if I differ with you, and agree with him. Miss Walton, I've +been in your society scarcely three weeks. You know what I was when I +came. I make no great claims now, but surely if tendencies, wishes, +purposes count for anything, I am very different. How can you argue me +out of the consciousness that I owe it all to you?" + +"You will one day understand," she answered, earnestly, "that God has +helped us both, and how futile my efforts would have been without such +help. But, Mr. Gregory," she continued, looking frankly into his +flushed face (for she was beginning to suspect now something of his +drift, and instinctively sought to ward off words which might disturb +their pleasant relations), "I do not intend to give you up from this +day forth. As our quaint old friend suggests, I do mean to stand right +by you as far as circumstances will allow me. I recognize how isolated +and lonely you are, and I feel almost a _sister_'s interest in you." + +"You emphasize the word 'sister.' I suppose I ought to be more than +satisfied. Believe me I am very grateful that you can so speak. But +suppose the frankness I promised compels me to say that it does not, +and never can satisfy?" + +"Then I shall think you very unreasonable. You have no right to ask +more than one has the power to give," she answered, with a look and +manner that were full of pain. "But surely, Mr. Gregory, we do not +understand each other." + +"But I want you to understand me," he exclaimed, earnestly. "If you +had the vanity and worldly experience of most women, you would have +known before this that I love you." + +Tears rushed into Annie's eyes, and for a few moments she walked on in +utter silence. This was so different an ending from what she had +expected! She felt that she must be very careful or she would undo all +she had attempted. She now dreaded utter failure, utter estrangement, +and how to avoid these was her chief thought. + +They had reached the cedar thicket near which they had first met, and +she sat down upon the rock where she had found Gregory. Her whole aim +was to end this unfortunate matter so that they might still continue +friends. And yet the task seemed wellnigh impossible, for if he felt +as he said, how could she tell him about Hunting without increasing +alienation? But her impression was strong that he was acting under an +exaggerated sense of her services and under a mistaken belief that she +was essential to him. Therefore she tried at first to turn the matter +off lightly by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you are the most grateful man I +ever heard of. You need not think you must reward my slight services +by marrying me." + +"Now you greatly wrong me," he answered. "Did I not say I loved you? +How deeply and truly you can never know. I cannot reward you. I did +not dream of such a thing. My best hope was that some time in the +future, when by long and patient effort I had become truly a man, you +might learn to think of me in the way I wish." + +"Mr. Gregory," said she, in a voice full of trouble, "has my manner or +words led you to hope this? If so, I can never forgive myself." + +"You have no cause for self-reproaches," he said, earnestly. "Though +my suit should ever prove hopeless, in the depths of my heart I will +acquit you of all blame. You have been what you promised--a true +friend, nothing more. But please understand me. I ask nothing now, I +am not worthy. Perhaps I never shall be. If so, I will not bind you to +me with even a gossamer thread. I have too deep a respect for you. But +I am so self-distrustful! I know my weakness better than you can. +Still I am confident that if _you_ could 'reward' me, and give the +hope that you would crown the victory with yourself, I could do +anything. In loving me, you would save me." + +"Pardon me, but you are all wrong. I'm only an oar, but you look upon +me as the lifeboat itself. In that you persist in looking to me, a +weak, sinful creature, instead of to Him who alone 'taketh away the +sin of the world,' you discourage me utterly." + +"I will look to Him, but I want you to lead me to Him, and keep me at +His side." + +"I can do that just as well by being your friend." + +"I can never think so. I shall go away from this place utterly +disheartened unless you give me some hope, no matter how faint, that I +shall not have to struggle alone." + +She sprung up quickly, for he incensed her, while at the same time she +pitied him. She could not understand how he had so soon learned to +love her "deeply and truly." It rather appeared true that he had +formed the mistaken opinion that she was essential to his success, and +that he was bent upon bolstering himself up in his weakness, and +sought to place her as a barrier between him and his old evil life; +and she felt that he might need some wholesome truth rather than +tender sympathy. At any rate her womanly nature took offence at his +apparent motive, as she understood it--a motive that appeared more +selfish and unworthy every moment. He was asking what he had no right +to expect of any one. But she would not misunderstand him, and +therefore said with a grave, searching look, "Only then as I give you +the hope you ask for, will you make the effort you have promised to +make?" + +"Only then can I make it," he replied, in some confusion. "Can effort +of any kind be asked of one utterly disabled?" + +Sudden fire leaped into her dark eyes, but she said, with dignity, +"Mr. Gregory, you disappoint me greatly. You assume a weakness--a +disability--which does not and cannot exist under the circumstances. +You made me a promise, but now impose a new condition which I did not +dream of at the time, and which I cannot accept. You are asking more +than you have a right to ask. However imperfect my efforts have been +in your behalf, they were at least sincere and unselfish, and I was +beginning to have a warm regard for you as a friend. I tell you +frankly that I am most anxious that we should remain friends as +before. If so, this kind of folly must cease now and forever. I have +no right to listen to such words at all, and would not but for your +sake, and in the hope of removing from your mind a very mistaken and +unworthy idea. You are entirely wrong in thinking that your future +depends solely upon me. It cannot--it ought not. It rests between you +and God, and you cannot shift the responsibility. I am willing to do +all you can ask of a sister, but no more. Do you think I have no +needs, no weakness, myself? In a husband I want a man I can lean upon +as well as help. I wish to marry one with a higher moral character +than mine, to whom I can look up. There is the widest difference in +the world between giving help, and even sincere affection to those who +win it, and giving one's self away. Simple justice requires that my +happiness and feelings be considered also. It is selfish in you to ask +of me this useless sacrifice of myself." + +Annie's quick, passionate nature was getting the better of her. It +seemed in a certain sense disloyalty to Hunting to have listened thus +long to Gregory. Moreover, not believing in nor understanding the +latter's love for her, she was indignant that he should seek to employ +her as a sort of stepping-stone into heaven. She would despise the man +who sought her merely to advance his earthly interests, and she was +growing honestly angry at Gregory, who, it seemed, wanted her only as +a guide and staff in his pilgrimage--justly angry, too, if she were +right. + +Gregory became very pale as her words quivered in his heart like +arrows, but in the consciousness of a true and unselfish love, he +looked at her unfalteringly to the last, and said, "In justice to +myself I might again urge that you misunderstand me. I asked for +nothing now, only a hope for the future based on what I possibly might +become. But, as you say, I now know I asked too much--more than I had +a right to. You can never look up to me, and with a sadness you will +never understand, I admit myself answered finally. But there is one +imputation in your words that I cannot rest under. I solemnly assert +before God, and in the name of my mother, that my love for you is as +strong, pure, and unselfish as can exist in my half-wrecked nature." + +"Oh dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of mingled vexation and +distress, "why has it all turned out so miserably? I'm so sorry, so +very sorry; but in kindness I must show you how hopeless it all is. I +am the same as engaged to another." + +Gregory started violently. His despairing words had been not quite +despairing. But now a chill like death settled about his heart. He was +well satisfied that she was one who would be true as steel to all such +ties, and that no man who had learned to know her would ever prove +inconstant. But, with a white face and firmly compressed lips, he +still listened quietly. + +"I came out this morning hoping to tell you a little secret as I might +confide in a brother, and I trusted that your friendship for me would +prove strong enough to enable me to make you his friend also. I wanted +you to stay a little longer, that you might meet him, and that I might +reconcile you, and prepare the way for pleasant companionship in the +future. I am expecting Charles Hunting now every-- + +"What is the matter? What do you mean by that look of horror? What +have you against him, that you should show such deep hostility before, +and now stare at me in almost terror?" + +But he only staggered against a tree for support. + +"Speak," cried she, passionately seizing his arm. "I will not endure +the innuendo of your look and manner." + +"I will speak," he answered, in sudden vehemence. "I've lost too much +by him. Charles Hunting is--" + +But he stopped, clinched his hands, and seemed to make a desperate +effort at self-control. She heard him mutter as he turned away a few +steps, "Stop! stop! All that is left you now is a little self-respect. +Keep that--keep that." + +Annie misunderstood him, and thought he referred to some slander that +he had hesitated to utter against his enemy even in his anger and +jealousy. With flashing eyes she said, "Let me complete the sentence +for you. Charles Hunting is a Christian gentleman. You may well think +twice before you speak one word against him in my presence." + +"Did I say one word against him?" he asked, eagerly. + +"No, but you looked much more than words can express." + +"I could not help that. Your revelation was sudden, Miss Walton." + +"How could it be otherwise?" she asked, indignantly. "The first +evening of your arrival, when his name was mentioned, your face grew +as black as night. When I again sought to speak to you of him, you +adjured me never to mention his name. You taxed my forbearance +severely at that time. But I hoped you would become so changed that +such enmity would be impossible." + +"I see it all now," he groaned--"the miserable fatality of it all. I +must shut off the one way of escape, and then go forward. By my own +act, I must destroy my one chance. If I had only known this in time. +And yet it's through my own act that I did not know. Your God is +certainly one of justice. I'm punished now for all the past. But it +seems a trifle cruel to show one heaven and then shut the door in +one's face. If I had only known!" + +"There," exclaimed Annie, in the deepest distress; "because of this +little thing you fall back into your old scepticism." + +"This 'little thing' is death to me," he said, in a hard, bitter tone. +"Oh no, I'm not at all sceptical. The 'argument from design,' the +nature of the result, are both too clear. I'm simply being dealt with +according to law. Though perfectly sincere, you were entirely too +lenient that Sunday evening when I told you what I was. My conscience +was right after all. I only wish that I had fallen from yonder roof +the other night. I might then have made my exit decently." + +"Mr. Gregory, you shock me," she said, almost sternly. "You have no +right to insult my faith in a merciful God by such words, and your +believing Him cruel and vindictive on this one bit of your experience +is the sheerest egotism. It is the essence of selfishness to think +everything wrong when one does not have one's own way." + +He only bowed his answer, then stepped out to the point of the hill, +and took a long, lingering look at the valley and his old home, sighed +deeply, turned, and said to her, quietly, "Perhaps it is time for you +to return to your father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +WHAT A LOVER COULD DO + + + +Without a word they descended the hill. Gregory was very pale, and +this, with a certain firmness about his mouth, was the only indication +of feeling on his part. Otherwise, he was the same finished man of the +world that he had appeared when he came. Annie's face grew more and +more troubled with every glance at him. + +"He is hardening into stone," she thought; and she was already +reproaching herself for speaking so harshly. "I might have known," she +thought, "that his rash, bitter words were only incoherent cries of +pain and disappointment." + +He perplexed her still more by saying at the foot of the hill, in his +old light tone, "See, Miss Walton, our 'well-meaning friend' has not +been here to put up the bars, and we can take the shorter way through +the orchard. I would like to see them picking apples once more. By the +way, you must say good-by for me to your old neighbor, and tell him +that out of respect for his first honest greeting, I'm going to fill +his pipe for the winter." + +But Annie's heart was too full to answer. + +"How familiar these mossy-trunked trees are!" he continued, determined +that there should be no awkward pauses, no traces to the eyes of +others of what had occurred. "How often I've picked apples from this +one and that one--indeed from all! Good-by, old friends." + +"Do you never expect to come back to these 'old friends,' and others +that would be friends again?" she asked, in low, trembling tones. "Mr. +Gregory, you are cruel. You are saying good-by as if it were a very +ordinary matter." + +He did not trust himself to look at her, but he said, firmly, "Miss +Walton, in a few moments we shall be under the eyes of others, and +perhaps I shall never have another chance to speak to you alone. Let +me say a few plain, honest words before I go. I am not ashamed of my +love for you, nor to have it known. I am glad there was man enough in +me to love such a woman as you are. You are not one of those society +belles who wish to boast of their conquests. I wish merely to leave in +a manner that will save you all embarrassing questions and surmises, +and enable you to go back to your father as if nothing had happened. +The best I can do is to maintain the outward semblance of a gentleman +with which I came. In regard to Charles Hunting--please listen +patiently--I know that you will not believe any statement of mine. It +is your nature to trust implicitly those you love. But since I have +had time to think, even the little conscience I possess will not +permit me to go away in silence in regard to him. Do not think my +words inspired by jealousy. I have given you up. You are as +unattainable by me as heaven. But that man is not worthy of you. Think +well before you--" + +"You are right," she interrupted, hotly. "I will not believe anything +against him whom I have known and loved for years. If sincere, you are +mistaken. But I entreat you, for my own sake as well as yours, never +speak a word against him again. Because, if you do, it will be hard +for me to forgive you. If you place the slightest value on my good +opinion and continued regard, you will not throw them away so +uselessly. I do feel--I ever wish to feel--a deep and friendly +interest in you, therefore speak for yourself, and I will listen with +honest sympathy. Give me hope, if possible, that you will think better +of all this folly--that you will visit your old home and those who +wish to be your true friends--that you will give me a chance to make +you better acquainted with one whom you now greatly wrong. Please give +me something better than this parting promises to end in." + +He merely bowed and said, "I supposed it would be so. It is like you. +As for myself--I do not know what my future will be, save that it will +be full of pain. Rest assured of one thing, however. I can never be a +common, vulgar sinner again, after having loved you. That would be +sacrilege. Your memory will blend with that of my mother, and shine +like a distant star in my long night. But you have no right to ask me +to come here any more. Though you do not believe in my love, it is a +reality nevertheless, and I cannot inflict upon myself the unbearable +pain of seeing you, yet hedged about with that which must ever keep me +at a distance. With my feelings, even my poor sense of honor forbids +my seeking your presence. Can I visit you feigning friendship, while +my heart is consuming with love? Come, Miss Walton, we shall have our +real leave taking here, and our formal one at the house. I don't think +gratitude will ever fade out of my heart for all you have tried to do +for me, wherever I am. Even the 'selfish' Walter Gregory can honestly +wish you happiness unalloyed. And you will have it, too, in spite of-- +well, in spite of everything, for your happiness is from within, not +without. Give me your hand, and say good-by under the old mossy +trees." + +Annie burst into tears and said, "I can't say good-by and have you +leave us so unhappy--so unbelieving. Mr. Gregory, will you never trust +in God?" + +"I fear not--not after what I know to-day. He seems wronging you who +are so true to Him, as well as me. You see I am honest with you, as I +said I would be. Can you take the hand of such as I?" + +She did take it in both of hers, and said, with passionate +earnestness, "O that I could save you from yourself by main force!" + +He was deeply moved, but after a moment said, gently, "That is like +your warm heart. But you cannot. Good-by, Annie Walton. Go on in your +brave, noble life to the end, and then heaven will be the better for +your coming." + +"Will you forgive my harsh words?" + +"They were more true than harsh. They were forgiven when spoken." + +"Mr. Gregory," she cried, "I will not say farewell as you say it. I +have prayed for you, and so has your mother. I will still pray for you +unceasingly. You cannot prevent it, and I will not doubt God's promise +to hear." + +"I cannot share your faith. I am saying good-by in the saddest sense." + +He stooped and kissed her hand, and then said, firmly, "The end has +come. We really part here. I leave you as I came." + +With eyes downcast and blinded with tears she accompanied him out of +the deep shade to the further side of the orchard nearest the house. +Jeff was on a tall ladder that leaned against a heavily laden tree, +and was just about to descend. + +"That's right," cried Gregory; "come down with your basket and give me +a taste of those apples. They look the same as when I used to pick +them sixteen years ago." + +Jeff obeyed with alacrity. Gregory accompanied him a few steps, and +dropped a banknote into the basket, saying, "That's for the jolly +wood-fires you made for me," and then turned quickly toward Annie to +escape the profuse thanks impending. + +He had turned none too soon. The apple-boughs, relieved of the weight +of the fruit and Jeff's solid person, threw out the heavy ladder that +had been placed too nearly in a perpendicular position at first. It +had trembled and wavered a moment, but was now inclining over the very +spot where Annie was standing. + +"Miss Walton!" he cried, with a look of horror; rushed toward her, and +stood with head bent down between her and the falling ladder. + +She heard a rushing sound, and then with a heavy thud the ladder +struck him, glanced to one side, grazing her shoulder, and fell to the +ground. + +He lay motionless beneath it. + +For a moment she gazed vacantly at him, too stunned to think or speak. + +But Jeff ran and lifted the ladder off Gregory, exclaiming, "Lor' +bless him, Miss Annie, he jus' done save your life." + +She knelt at his side and took his hand, but it seemed that of the +dead. She moaned, "The omen's true. His blood is on me now--his blood +is on me now. He died for my sake, and I called him selfish." + +She took his head into her lap, and put her hand over his heart. + +She thought she felt a faint pulsation. + +In a moment all trace of weakness vanished, and her face became +resolute and strong. + +"Jeff," she said, in clear-cut, decided tones, "go to the house, tell +Hannah and Zibbie to come here; tell Hannah to bring brandy and a +strong double blanket. Not a word of this to my father. Go, quick." + +Jeff ran as he had done once before when the bloodhounds were after +him, saying under his breath all the way, "Lor' bless him! He save +Miss Annie's life; he orter have her sure 'nuff." + +Annie was left alone with the unconscious man. She pushed his hair +from his damp brow, and, bending down, impressed a remorseful kiss +upon it. + +"God forgive me that I called you selfish," she murmured. "Where is +your spirit wandering that I cannot call it back? O live, live; I can +never be happy if you die. Can this be the end? God keep my faith from +failing." + +Again she put her hand over his heart, whose love she could doubt no +more. Did it beat? or was it only the excited throbbing of her own +hand? + +Jeff now returned, and, with white, scared faces, the women soon +followed. Annie tried to give Gregory brandy, but he did not seem to +swallow it. They then lifted him on the blanket and carried him to the +house, and up the back stairway to his room, so that Mr. Walton might +not know. + +"Now, Jeff," whispered Annie, "harness the fastest horse to the buggy, +and bring the doctor--mind, bring him. Don't tell him to come. Hannah, +tell Miss Eulie to come here--quietly now. Zibbie, bring hot water." + +Again she poured a teaspoonful of brandy into his mouth, and this time +he seemed to swallow it. She bathed his face and hands with spirits, +while her every breath was a prayer. + +Miss Eulie did not want a long explanation. Annie's hurried words, "A +ladder fell on him," satisfied her, and she set to work, and more +effectively with her riper experience. She took off his collar and +opened his shirt at the throat, and soon, with a look of joy, to +Annie, said, "His heart beats distinctly." + +Again they gave him brandy, and this time he made a manifest effort to +swallow it. + +With eyes aglow with excitement and hope they re-doubled their +exertions, Hannah and Zibbie helping, and at last they were rewarded +by seeing their patient make a faint movement. + +Now with every breath Annie silently sent the words heavenward, "O +God, I thank thee." + +She bent over him, and said, in a low, thrilling tone, "Mr. Gregory." +A happy smile came out upon his face, but this was the only response. + +"Do you think he is conscious?" she whispered to her aunt. + +"I hardly know. Let me give him a little more stimulant." + +After receiving it he suddenly opened his eyes and looked fearfully +around. Then he tried to rise, but fell back, and asked, faintly, +"Where is Miss Walton? Is she safe? I heard her voice." + +"You did. I'm here. Don't you know me?" + +"Are you really here unhurt?" + +"Yes, yes," she answered, eagerly; "thanks to you." + +Again he closed his eyes with a strange and quiet smile. + +"Can't you see me?" she asked. + +"There seems a blur before my eyes. It does not signify. I know your +voice, so true and kind." + +"Why can't he see?" she asked, drawing her aunt aside. + +"I don't know. What I fear most are internal injuries. Did the ladder +strike his head?" + +"O merciful Heaven!" said Annie, again in an agony of fear. "I don't +know. Oh, if he should die--if he should die--" and she wrung her +hands with terror at the thought. + +The doctor now stepped lightly in. Jeff had told him enough to excite +the gravest apprehensions. He made a few inquiries and felt Gregory's +pulse. + +"It's very feeble," he said. "More brandy." + +Then he added, "I must make such examination as I can now without +disturbing him much. Miss Morton, you and Jeff stay and help me." + +Annie went down to her father with a greater anxiety as to the result +of the examination than if the danger had been her own. + +She found her father awake, and wondering at the sounds in the room +above. + +"Annie," he said, feebly, "what is going on in Mr. Gregory's room?" + +As she looked at him, she saw that he was not better, as she hoped, +but that his face had a shrunken look, betokening the rapid failing of +the vital forces. The poor girl felt that trouble was coming like an +avalanche, and in spite of herself she sat down, and, burying her face +in her father's bosom, sobbed aloud. But she soon realized the injury +she might do him in thus giving way, and by a great effort controlled +herself so as to tell him the softened outlines of the accident. But +the ashen hue deepened on the old man's face, as he said, fervently, +"God bless him! God bless him! He has saved my darling's life. What +should I have done in these last days without you?" + +"But, father, don't you think he will get well?" she asked, eagerly. + +"I hope so. I pray so, my child. But I know the ladder, and it is a +heavy one. This is time for faith in God. We cannot see a hand's- +breadth in the darkness before us. He has been very merciful to us +thus far, very merciful, and no doubt has some wise, good purpose in +these trials and dangers. Just cling to Him, my child, and all will be +well." + +"O father, how you comfort me! We must leave everything in His hands. +But, father, you feel better, do you not?" + +"Yes, much better; not much pain now; and yet for some reason I feel +that I shall soon be where pain never comes. How otherwise can I +explain my almost mortal weakness?" + +Annie again hid her tearful eyes on the bedside. Her father placed his +hand upon her bowed head and continued, "It won't break your heart, my +little girl, will it, to have your father go to heaven?" + +But she could not answer him. + +At last the doctor came down, and said, "His injuries are certainly +serious, and may be more so than I can yet discover. The ladder grazed +his head, inflicting some injury, and struck him on the shoulder, +which is much bruised, and the collar-bone is badly broken. The whole +system has received a tremendous shock, but I hope that with good care +he will pull through. But he must be kept very quiet in mind and body. +And so must you, sir. Now you know all, and have nothing to suspect. +It's often injurious kindness to half hide something from the sick." + +"Well, doctor, do your very best by him, as if he were my own son. You +know what a debt of gratitude we owe him. Spare no expense. If he +needs anything, let it be sent for. If I were only up and around; but +the Lord wills it otherwise." + +Annie followed the physician out and said, "You have told us the very +worst then?" + +"Yes, Miss Walton, the very worst. Unless there are injuries that I +cannot now detect I think he will get better. I will send a young man +whom I can trust to take care of him. Best assured I will do all that +is possible, for I feel very grateful to this stranger for saving my +much-esteemed little friend. I suppose you know we all think a great +deal of you in our neighborhood, and I shudder to think how near we +came to a general mourning. You see he was nearer the base of the +ladder than you, Jeff says. The ladder therefore would have struck you +with greater force, and you would not have had a ghost of a chance. +You ought to be very grateful, eh, Miss Annie?" he added, with a +little sly fun in his face. + +But she shook her head sadly, and only said with deep feeling, "I am +very, very grateful." Then she added, quickly, "What about father?" + +The doctor's face changed instantly and became grave. + +"I don't quite understand his case. He was threatened with pneumonia; +but there seems no acute disease now, and yet he appears to be +failing. The excitement and exposure of the other night were too much +for him. You must make him take all the nourishment possible. Medicine +is of no use." + +Agitated by conflicting fears and hopes Annie went to the kitchen to +make something that might tempt her father's appetite. + +Blessed are the petty and distracting cares of the household, the +homely duties of the sick-room. They divert the mind and break the +force of the impending blow. If, when illness and death invade a +house, the fearing and sorrowing ones had naught to do but sit down +and watch the remorseless approach of the destroyer, they might go +mad. + +When Annie stole noiselessly back to Gregory's room he was sleeping, +though his breathing seemed difficult. + +What a poor mockery the dinner hour was! Even the children were +oppressed by the general gloom and talked in whispers. But before it +was over there came a bright ray of light to Annie in the form of a +telegram from Hunting, saying that he had arrived in New York safely, +and would be at the village on the 5 P.M. train. + +"O I am so glad!" cried Annie; "never was he so needed before." + +And yet there was a remorseful twinge at her heart as she thought of +Gregory. But she felt sure of reconciliation now, for would not +Hunting overwhelm her preserver with gratitude, and forgive everything +in the past? + +She said to Jeff, "Have Dolly and the low buggy ready for me at half- +past four." + +Her father seemed peculiarly glad when he heard that his relative, the +man he hoped would soon be his son, was coming. + +"It's all turning out for the best," he said, softly. + +The hour soon came, for it was already late, and Annie slipped away, +leaving both her father and Gregory sleeping. To her great joy Hunting +stepped down from the train and was quickly seated by her side. As +they drove away in the dusk he could not forbear a rapturous kiss and +embrace which she did not resist. + +"O Charles, I'm so glad you've come--so very glad!" she exclaimed +almost breathlessly; "and I've so much to tell you that I hardly know +where to begin. How good God is to send you to me now, just when I +need you most!" + +"So you find that you can't do without me altogether? That's grand +news. How I've longed for this hour! If I'd had my own way I would +have exploded the boilers in my haste to reach port to see you again. +It was real good of you to come, and not send for me. Come Annie, +celebrate my return by the promise that you will soon make a home for +me. I am happy to say that I can now give you the means of making it a +princely one." + +"I haven't the time nor the heart to think about that now, Charles. +Father is very ill. I'm exceedingly anxious about him." + +"Indeed!" said Hunting, "that is bad news;" and yet his grief was not +very deep, for he thought, "If she is left alone she will come to me +at once." + +"What is more," cried Annie, a little hurt at the quiet manner in +which he received her tidings, "suppose, instead of meeting me strong +and well, you had found me a crushed and lifeless corpse to-night?" + +"Annie," he said, "what do you mean?" + +"I mean that this would have been true but for one with whom I am +sorry you are on bad terms. Walter Gregory is at our house." + +He gave a great start at the mention of this name, and even in the +deep twilight his face seemed very white. + +"I don't understand," he almost gasped. + +"I knew you would be deeply affected," said the unsuspicious Annie. +"He stood between me and death to-day, and it may cost him his own +life. He was severely injured--how badly we can hardly tell yet;" and +she rapidly related all that had occurred. "And now, Charles," she +concluded, "no matter what he may have done, or how deeply he may have +wronged you, I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to effect a +complete reconciliation, and cement a lasting friendship. If possible, +you must become his untiring nurse. How much you owe him!" + +She noticed that he was trembling. After a moment he asked, +hesitatingly, "Has he--how long has he been here, did you say?" + +"About three weeks. You know our place was his old home, and his +father was a very dear friend of my father." + +"If I knew it I had forgotten it," he answered, with a chill of fear +growing deeper every moment. "Did he--has he said anything about our +difficulties?" + +"Nothing definite," said she, a little wonderingly at Hunting's +manner. "Father happened to mention your name the first evening of his +arrival, and the bitter enmity that came out upon his face quite +startled me. You know well that I wouldn't hear a word against you. He +once commenced saying something to your prejudice, but I stopped him +and said I would neither listen to nor believe him--that he did not +know you, and was entirely mistaken in his judgment. It was evident to +us that Mr. Gregory was not a good man. Indeed, he made no pretence of +being one; but he has changed since, as yon can well understand, or he +couldn't have sacrificed himself as he has to-day. I told father that +I thought the cause of your trouble arose from your trying to restrain +him in some of his fast ways, but he thought it resulted from business +relations." + +"You were both right," said Hunting, slowly, as if he were feeling his +way along. "He was inclined to be very dissipated, and I used to +remonstrate with him; but the immediate cause was a business +difficulty. He would have kept me out of a great deal of money if he +could." + +His words were literally true, but they gave an utterly false +impression. Annie was satisfied, however. It seemed a natural +explanation, and she trusted Hunting implicitly. Indeed, with her +nature, love could scarcely exist without trust. + +"That's all past now," said Annie, eagerly. "You surely will not let +it weigh with you a moment. Indeed, Charles, I shall expect you to do +everything in your power to make that man your friend." + +"O, certainly, I could not act otherwise," he said, rather absently. +He was scheming with desperate earnestness to meet and avert the +impending dangers. Annie's frank and cordial reception showed him that +so far as she was concerned he was as yet safe. But he knew her well +enough to feel sure that if she detected falsehood in him his case +would be nearly hopeless. He recognized that he was walking on a mine +that at any moment might be sprung. With his whole soul he loved Annie +Walton, and it would be worse than death to lose her. The thought of +her had made every gross temptation fall harmless at his feet, and +even his insatiate love of wealth had been mingled with the dearer +hope that it would eventually minister to her happiness. But he had +lived so long in the atmosphere of Wall Street that his ideas of +commercial integrity had become exceedingly blurred. When a +questionable course opened by which he could make money, he could not +resist the temptation. He tried to satisfy himself that business +required such action, and called his sharp practice by the fine names +of skill, sagacity. But when on his visits to Annie, which, of late, +during the worst of his transactions, had been frequent rather than +prolonged, he had had a growing sense of humiliation and fear. He saw +that she could never be made to look upon his affair with Burnett & +Co. as he regarded it, and that her father was the soul of commercial +honor. Though Mr. Walton's fortune was moderate, not a penny had come +to him stained. After these visits Hunting would go back to the city, +resolved to quit everything illegitimate and become in his business +and other relations just what he seemed to them. But some glittering +temptation would assail him. He would make one more adroit shuffle of +the cards, and then, from being hollow, would become morally and +religiously sound at once. + +During his voyage home, there was time for thought. A severe gale, +while lashing the sea into threatening waves, had also disturbed his +guilty conscience. He had amassed sufficient to satisfy even his greed +of gold for the present, and his calculating soul hinted that it was +time to begin to put away a little stock in heaven as well as on +earth. He resolved that he would withdraw from the whirlpool of Wall +Street speculation and engage in only legitimate operations. Moreover, +he began to long for the refuge and more quiet joys of home, and he +felt, as did poor Gregory, that Annie of all women could do most to +make him happy here and fit him for the future life. Therefore he had +returned with the purpose of pressing his suit for a speedy marriage +as strongly as a safe policy would permit. + +The bright October day of his arrival in New York seemed emblematic of +his hopes and prospects, and now again the deepening night, the rising +wind, and the wildly hurrying clouds but mirrored back himself. + +His safest and wisest course would have been to make an honest +confession to Annie of the wrong he had done Gregory. As his mind +recovered from its first confusion this thought occurred to him. But +he had already given her the impression that he had received the +wrong, or rather that it had been attempted against him. Moreover, by +any truthful confession he would stand convicted of deceiving and +swindling Burnett & Co. He justly feared that Annie would break with +him the moment she learned this. So like all schemers, he temporized, +and left his course open to be decided by circumstances rather than +principle. + +His first course was to learn of Annie all that he could concerning +Gregory and his visit, so that he might act in view of the fullest +knowledge possible. She told him frankly what had occurred, so far as +time permitted during their ride home. But of Gregory's love she did +not speak, and was perplexed as to her proper course. Loyalty to her +lover seemed to require that he should know all, and yet she was sure +that Gregory would not wish her to speak of it, and she owed so much +to him that she felt she could not do what was contrary to his wishes. +But Hunting well surmised that, whether Annie knew it or not, Gregory +could not have been in her society three weeks and go away an +indifferent stranger. + +"Jeff can give me more light," he thought. + +Conscious of deceit himself, he distrusted every one, even crystal- +souled Annie. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +DEEPENING SHADOWS + + + +Mr. Walton received Hunting in a fatherly way. Indeed, he looked upon +the young man as a son, and the thought of leaving Annie to his +protection was an unspeakable comfort. + +Altogether Hunting was reassured by his reception, which proved that +his relations were as yet undisturbed. But in the depths of his soul +he trembled at the presence of Gregory in the house; and when Miss +Eulie came down and said, after an affectionate greeting, that Gregory +was in something like a stupor, he was even base enough to wish that +he might never come out of it. + +At the word "stupor," Annie's face grew pale. She had a growing +dissatisfaction with Hunting's manner in regard to Gregory, and felt +that he did not feel or show the interest or gratitude that he ought; +but there was nothing tangible with which she could tax him. + +The doctor, who came early in the evening, reassured her, and said +that the state of partial consciousness was not necessarily a +dangerous symptom, as it might be the result of a severe shock. The +young man he brought was installed as nurse under Miss Eulie's charge, +and Annie said that Mr. Hunting would also take his turn as watcher. + +Then she, Mr. Hunting, and her father had a long talk over what had +happened in his absence, Mr. Walton dwelling most feelingly on what he +regarded as the providential character of the visit from the son of +his old friend. + +"If he never leaves our house alive, I have a strong assurance that he +will join his father in the better home. Indeed, I may soon be there +with them." + +"Please don't talk so, father," pleaded Annie. + +"Well, my child, perhaps it's best I should, and prepare your minds +for what may be near. It's a great consolation to see Charles again, +and he will help you bear whatever is God's will." + +"You can trust her to me," said Hunting, fervently. "I have ample +means to gratify her most extravagant wish, and my love will shelter +her and think for her even as yours would. But I trust you will soon +share our home with us." + +"I expect to, my children, but it will be our eternal home." + +Annie strove bravely to keep her tears back, for her father's sake, +but they would come. + +"Annie," said Hunting, "won't you please let your father put this ring +on your engagement finger?" and he gave Mr. Walton a magnificent +solitaire diamond. + +Mr. Walton took his daughter's hand, and looked earnestly into her +tearful, blushing face. + +"Annie," he said, in a grave, sweet tone, "I hope for your sake that I +may be wrong, but I have a presentiment that my pilgrimage is nearly +ended. You have made its last stage very happy. A good daughter makes +a good wife, Mr. Hunting; and, Annie, dear, I shall tell your mother +that you supplied her place, as far as a daughter could. It will add +greatly to my peace if I can leave you and my sister, and the dear +little ones, under the care of one so competent to protect and provide +for you all. Mr. Hunting, do you feel that you can take them to your +home and heart, with my daughter?" + +"Certainly," said Hunting. "I had no other thought; and Annie's will +shall be supreme in her future home." + +"But, after all, the chief question is, Does this ring join your +hearts? I'm sure I'm right in thinking so, Annie?" + +"Yes," she said, in a low tone. + +Slowly, with his feeble, trembling hands he put the flashing gem on +Annie's finger, and then placed her hand in Hunting's, and, looking +solemnly to heaven, said, "May God bless this betrothal as your father +blesses it." + +Hunting stooped and kissed her hand and then her lips. With mingled +truth and policy, he said, "This ceremony is more solemn and binding +to me than the one yet to come at the altar." + +Annie was happy in her engagement. It was what she expected, and had +been consummated in a way that seemed peculiarly sweet and sacred; and +yet her thoughts, with a remorseful tinge, would keep recurring to the +man who even then might be dying for her sake. + +After they had sat a little while in silence, which is often the best +expression of deep feeling, she suddenly said, with an involuntary +sigh, "Poor Mr. Gregory! I'm so sorry for him!" + +Thus Hunting knew where her thoughts were, and instantly the purpose +formed itself in his mind to induce her through her father to consent +to an immediate marriage. He saw more plainly than Annie the great +change in her father, and based his hope on the fact that the parent +might naturally wish to give his child a legal protector before he +passed away. + +Mr. Walton now showed such signs of weariness that they left him in +Miss Eulie's care, who seemed to flit like a ministering spirit +between the two patients. + +After the great excitement of the day, Annie, too, was very weary, and +soon the household sought such rest as was possible with two of its +inmates apparently very near the boundaries that separate the known +world from the unknown. Glimmering all night long, like signals of +distress at sea, the faint lights of the watchers reminded late +passers-by of the perilous nature of earthly voyaging. + +Annie had gone with Miss Eulie to take a parting look at Gregory. She +bent over him and said, "Mr. Gregory," but his spirit seemed to have +sunk into such far depths that even her voice could not summon him. + +"Oh, if he should die now!" she moaned, shudderingly, and on the night +of her engagement sobbed herself to sleep. + +The next morning saw little change in the patients, save that Mr. +Walton was evidently weaker. Miss Eulie said that Gregory had roused +up during the night and seemed perfectly conscious. He had inquired +after Mr. Walton and Annie, but toward morning had fallen into his old +lethargy. + +After breakfast Annie took Hunting up to see him, but was pained at +the darkening of her lover's face as he looked at the prostrate and +unconscious man. She could not understand it. He seemed to have no +wish to remain. She felt almost indignant, and yet what could she say +more than she had said? Gregory's condition, and the cause, should +naturally plead for him beyond all words. + +Annie spent most of the day with her father, and purposed watching +with him that night. The doctor came and reported more favorably of +Gregory, but said that everything depended upon his being quiet. Annie +purposed that Hunting should commence the duties of watcher as soon as +possible. Therefore she told her aunt to tell Gregory, as soon as she +thought it would answer, that Hunting had arrived. In the afternoon, +Gregory seemed to come out of his lethargy more decidedly than he had +before, and took some nourishment with marked relish. Then he lay +quietly looking at the fire. + +"Do you feel better now?" Miss Eulie asked, gently. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he answered, wearily. "I have a numb, strange +feeling." + +"Would you like to see Miss Walton?" + +"No, not now; I am satisfied to know she is well." + +"She wished me to tell you that Mr. Hunting had arrived." + +He turned away his face with a deep scowl, but said nothing. + +After some time she came to his side and said, "Is there anything you +would like?" + +"Nothing," he replied, gently. "I appreciate your great kindness." + +Miss Eulie sighed and left the room, feeling dimly that there were +internal injuries after all, but such as were beyond the doctor's +skill. + +Annie echoed her sigh when she heard how he received Miss Eulie's +information. She determined to prepare and take him his supper. + +When she noiselessly entered, he was again looking fixedly at the +fire. But she had not advanced far into the room before he recognized +her step and looked up quickly. + +"See," she said, cheerily, coming to his side, "I've prepared and +brought you this supper with my own hands, and shall expect in return +that you compliment it highly. Now, isn't it a good supper?" she +asked, holding it before him. + +But his eyes fastened on the glittering and significant ring, whose +meaning he too well understood. With an expression of intense pain he +turned his face to the wall without a word. + +"Mr. Gregory," pleaded Annie, "I never thought you would turn away +from me." + +"Not from you, not from you," he said, in a low tone, "but I'm very +weak, and the light of that diamond is too strong for me yet." + +"Forgive me," she said, in a tone of deep reproach; "I did not think." + +"No, forgive me. Please leave me now, and remember in charity how weak +I am." + +She put the tray down and hastened from the room. He ate no supper +that night, neither did she. Hunting watched her gloomily, with both +fear and jealousy at heart. The latter, however, was groundless, for +Annie's feeling was only that of profound sorrow for something she +could not help. But lack of strongly manifested interest and sympathy +for Gregory injured him in her estimation; for woman-like she +unconsciously took the side of the one he wronged. She could +understand Gregory's enmity, but it seemed to her that Hunting should +be full of generous enthusiasm for one who was suffering so much in +her behalf. + +"Men are so strange!" she said, half-vexedly. "They fall in love +without the slightest provocation, and hate each other forever, when a +woman would have sharp words and be over with it. They never do what +you would naturally expect." + +During the day Hunting had found time to see Jeff alone, but had found +him inclined to be sullen and uncommunicative. Jeff had changed sides, +and was now an ardent adherent of Gregory's, who had given him five +dollars without imposing any conditions; and then, what was of far +greater import, had saved the house and Annie's life, and, according +to Jeff's simple views of equity, he ought to have both. And yet a +certain rude element of honesty made him feel that he had made a +bargain with Hunting, and that he must fulfil his part and then they +would be quits. But he was not disposed to do it with a very good +grace. So when Hunting said, "Well, Jeff, I suppose you've seen a good +deal since I was last here." + +"Yes, I've seen a mighty lot," said Jeff, sententiously. + +"Well, Jeff, you remember our agreement. What did you see? Only the +truth now." + +"Sartin, sah, only de truf. I'se belong to de Walton family, and yous +doesn't get nothin' but de truf from dem." + +"All right, Jeff; I'm glad your employers have so good an influence on +you. Well?" + +"I'se seen Misser Gregory on de roof," said Jeff, drawing on his +imagination, as he had only heard about that event through Zibbie's +highly colored story, "where some other folks wouldn't dar go, and now +I'se see dat house dar, which I wouldn't see dar, wasn't it for Misser +Gregory." + +"Well, well," said Hunting, impatiently, "I've heard all about that. +What else?" + +"I'se seen Miss Annie roun' all day bloomin' and sweet as a rose, and +I'se seen how she might have been a crushed white lily," Jeff +continued, solemnly, with a rhetorical wave of the hand. + +There existed in Jeff the raw material of a colored preacher, only it +was very crude and undeveloped. But upon any important occasion he +always grew rhetorical and figurative in his language. + +"Come, come, Jeff, tell me something new." + +"Well," said Jeff, "since I'se promised to tell you, and since I'se +spent de ten dollars, and hasn't got it to give you back again, I'se +seen Misser Gregory las' Sunday evenin', a kneelin' afore Miss Annie +as if he was a sayin' his prayers to her, and I shouldn't wonder if +she heard 'em (with a chuckle); anyhow she wasn't lofty and scornful, +and Misser Gregory he's looked kinder glorified ever since; afore that +he looked glum, and Miss Annie, she's been kinder bendin' toward him +since dat evenin', like a rosebud wid de dew on it." + +Hunting's face darkened with suppressed anger and jealousy. After a +moment he said, "Is that all?" + +"Dat's all." + +"Well, Jeff, here's ten dollars more, and look sharper than ever now." + +"'Scuse me, Misser Hunting. We'se squar' now. I'se done what I agreed, +and now I'se gwine out ob de business." + +"Has Gregory engaged your services?" asked Hunting, quickly. + +"No, sah, he hab not. I reckon Misser Gregory tink he doesn't need any +help." + +"Why won't you do as I wish, then?" + +"Well, Mr. Hunting, it kinder makes me feel bad here," said Jeff, +rubbing his hand indefinitely over several physical organs. "I don't +jes' believe Miss Annie would like it, and after seein' Mr. Gregory +under dat pesky ladder, I couldn't do nothin' dat he wouldn't like. If +it hadn't been for him I'd sorter felt as if I'd killed Miss Annie by +leavin' dat doggoned ladder so straight up, and I nebber could hab +gone out in de dark agin all my life." + +"Why, you old black fool," said Hunting, irritably, "don't you know +I'm going to marry Miss Annie? You'd better keep on the right side of +me." + +"Which is de right side?" Jeff could not forbear saying, with a +suppressed chuckle. + +"Come, sir, no impudence. You won't serve me any more then?" + +"Oh yes, Misser Hunting. I'se black yer boots, make de fire, harness +de hoss, do anything dat won't hurt in here," with a gesture that +seemed to indicate the pit of his stomach. "Anything more, please +'scuse me." + +"You will not speak of what has passed between us?" + +"I'se given my word," said Jeff, drawing himself up, "de word ob one +dat belongs to de Waltons." + +Hunting turned on his heel and strode away. Annie had given one aspect +to the scene on that Sabbath evening, and Jeff had innocently given +another. Hunting was not loyal enough even to such a woman as Annie to +believe her implicitly. But it is the curse of conscious deceit to +breed suspicion. Only the true can have absolute faith in the truth of +others. Moreover, Hunting, in his hidden selfishness and worldliness +could not understand Annie's ardent effort to save a fellow-creature +from sin. Skilled in the subtle impulses of the heart, he believed +that Annie, unconsciously even to herself, was drifting toward the man +he hated all the more because he had wronged him, while the danger of +his presence made him almost vindictive. Yet he realized the necessity +of disguising his feelings, for if Annie discovered them he might well +dread the consequence. But the idea of watching alone with Gregory was +revolting. It suggested dark thoughts which he tried to put from him +in horror, for he was far from being a hardened villain. He was only a +man who had gradually formed the habit of acting from expedience and +self-interest, instead of principle. Such a rule of life often places +us where expedience and self-interest require deeds that are black +indeed. + +But he was saved from the ordeal of spending hours alone with a man +who even in his helplessness might injure him beyond remedy, for on +the following morning Annie again sought Gregory's room bent on +securing reconciliation at once. She felt that she could endure this +estrangement no longer. + +The young man employed as watcher was out at the time. + +Gregory was gazing at the fire with the same look of listless apathy. +A deep flush overspread his deathly pale face as she came and sat down +beside him, but he did not turn from her. + +"Mr. Gregory," she said, very gently, "it seems that I can do nothing +but receive favors from you, and I've come now to ask a great one." + +He suspected something concerning Hunting, and his face darkened +forbiddingly. Though Annie noted this, she would not be denied. + +"Do you think," she said, earnestly, "that, after your sacrifice for +me, I can ever cease to be your friend in the truest and strongest +sense?" + +"Miss Walton," he said, calmly, "I've made no sacrifice for you. The +thought of that episode in the orchard is my one comfort while lying +here, and will be through what is left of life. But please do not +speak of it, for it will become a pain to me if I see the obligation +is a burden to you." + +"It is not," she said, eagerly. "I'm glad to owe my life to you. But +do you think I can go on my way and forget you?" + +"It's the very best you can do, Miss Walton." + +"But I tell you it's impossible. Thank God, it's not my nature to do +it!" + +He turned toward her with a wistful, searching look. + +"We must carry out our old agreement," continued Annie. "We must be +close and lasting friends. You should not blame me for an attachment +formed years ago." + +"I do not blame you." + +"Then you should not punish me so severely. You first make your +friendship needful to me, and then you deny it." + +"I am _your_ friend, and more." + +"How can we enjoy a frank and happy friendship through coming years, +after--after--you feel differently from what you do now, when you will +not even hear the name of him who will one day be my second self?" + +Again his face darkened; but she continued rapidly, "Mr. Hunting is +deeply grateful to you, and would like to express his feelings in +person. He wishes to bury the past--" + +"He will, with me, soon," interrupted Gregory, gloomily. + +"No; please do not speak in that way," she pleaded. "He wishes to make +what little return he can, and offers to watch with you night and +day." + +He turned upon her almost fiercely, and said, "Are you too in league +with my evil destiny, in that you continually persecute me with that +man? Miss Walton, I half doubt whether you know what love means, or +you would not make such a proposition. Let me at least die quietly. +With the memory of the past and the knowledge of the present, his +presence in my room would be death by torture. Pardon me, but let us +end this matter once for all. We have both been unfortunate, you in +inspiring a love that you cannot return; I in permitting my heart to +go from me, beyond recall, before learning that my passion would be +hopeless. I do not see that either of us has been to blame, you +certainly not in the slightest degree. But, however vain, my love is +an actual fact, and I cannot act as if it were not. As well might a +man with a mortal wound smile and say it's but a scratch. I cannot +change my mind merely in view of expedience and invest such feelings +in another way. The fact of my love is now a past disaster, and I must +bear the consequences with such fortitude as I can. But what you ask +would drive me mad. If I should live, possibly in the future I might +meet you often without the torturing regret I now feel. But to make a +smiling member of Charles Hunting's friendly circle would require on +my part the baldest hypocrisy; and I can't do it, and won't try. If +that man comes into my room, I will crawl out if I can." + +He was trembling with excitement, his face flushed and feverish, and +his eyes unnaturally bright. + +"And you banish me too," said Annie, hurt and alarmed at the same +time. + +"Yes, yes; forgive me for saying so. Yes; till I'm stronger. See how +I've spoken to you. I've no self-control." + +She was most reluctant to go, and stood a moment, hesitating. Timidly +she ventured to quote the line: + +"Earth has no sorrows that Heaven cannot cure." + +"That's a comforting fact for those who are going there," he said, +coldly. + +With a sudden burst of passionate grief she stooped and kissed his +hand, then fled to her own room, and cried as if her heart would +break. It seemed as if he were lost to her and heaven, and yet he was +capable of being so noble and good! + +Miss Eulie entered Gregory's room soon after, and was alarmed at his +feverish and excited appearance. She decided that Annie's visits must +cease for the present. However, she took no apparent notice of his +disturbed condition, but immediately gave a remedy to ward off fever, +and a strong opiate, which, with the reaction and his weakness, caused +him to sink back into something like his old lethargy. + +Hunting had spent the morning with Mr. Walton, preparing his mind for +the plan of immediate marriage. He found the failing man not averse to +the project, as his love ought to secure to Annie every help and +solace possible. + +After Annie had removed from her face, to the best of her ability, +every trace of her emotion, she came down and took her place at her +father's side, intending to leave it only when compelled to. Hunting +knew of her mission to Gregory, and looked at her inquiringly, but she +sadly shook her head. He tried to look hurt, but only succeeded in +looking angry. He soon controlled himself, however, though he noted +with deep uneasiness Annie's sad face and red eyes. Mr. Walton +fortunately was dozing and needed no explanation. + +That night he was much worse, and had some very serious symptoms. +Annie did not leave his side. But toward morning he rallied and fell +into a quiet sleep. Then she took a little rest. + +The next day she was told that there was a gentleman in the parlor who +wished to see her. The stranger proved to be one of Gregory's +partners, Mr. Seymour, who courteously said, "I should have been here +before, but the senior partner, Mr. Burnett, is unable to attend to +business at present, and I came away the first moment I could leave. I +felt sure also that everything would be done that could be. I hope the +injury is not so serious as was first supposed." + +"You may rest assured that we have tried to do everything," said +Annie, gravely, "but Mr. Gregory is in a very precarious condition. +You would like to see him, I suppose." + +"If I can with safety to him." + +"I think a brief interview may do him good. He needs rallying." + +At that moment Hunting, not knowing who was present, entered. Both +gentleman started, but Mr. Seymour gave no sign of recognition, nor +did Hunting, though he could not at first hide a certain degree of +nervous agitation. Annie presented him. Mr. Seymour bowed stiffly, and +said, rather curtly, "We have met before," and then gave him no +further attention, but continuing to address Annie, said, "I well +understand that Mr. Gregory needs rallying. That has been just his +need for the last few months, during which time his health has been +steadily failing. I was in hopes he would come back--" and then he +stopped, quite puzzled for a moment by the sudden change in Annie's +manner, which had become freezingly cold toward him, while there was a +look of honest indignation upon her face. + +"Excuse me, sir," she said, briefly. "I will send you my aunt, who +will attend to your wishes;" and she left Mr. Seymour standing in the +middle of the room, both confused and annoyed; but he at once surmised +that it was on account of his manner toward Hunting, who sat down with +a paper at the further side of the room, as if he were alone. + +But when, a moment later, Miss Eulie entered with her placid, +unruffled face, Mr. Seymour could not be otherwise than perfectly +polite, and after a few words, followed her to Gregory's room. + +Annie at once came to Hunting and asked, "Why did that man act so?" + +"Why, don't you see?" answered he, hastily. "Mr. Seymour is Mr. +Gregory's partner. They all have the same reason for feeling hostile +toward me, though perhaps Gregory has special reasons," he added, with +a searching look. + +Annie blushed deeply at this allusion, but said with emphasis, "No man +shall treat you in that way in my presence and still receive courtesy +from me." + +But his jealous spirit had noticed her quick blush more than her +generous resentment of the insult she supposed offered him. Therefore +he said, "Mr. Gregory would treat me worse if he got a chance." + +"But his case is different from any one's else," she said, with +another quick flush. + +"Evidently so in your estimation." + +Then for the first time she noted his jealousy, and it hurt her +sorely. She took a step nearer and looked very gravely into his face +for a moment without speaking, and then said, with that calmness which +is more effective than passion, "Charles, take care. I'm one that will +be trusted. Though it seems a light matter to you that he has saved my +life, at perhaps the cost of his own, it does not to me." + +The cool and usually cautious man had for once lost his poise, and he +said, with sudden irritation, "I hear that and nothing else. What else +could he have done? If you had stayed at your father's side you would +have been safe. He took you out to walk, and any man would have risked +his life to bring you back safely." + +He now saw in Annie a spirit he could never control as he managed +people in Wall Street, for, with a sudden flash in her eyes, she said, +hotly, "I do not reason thus coldly about those to whom I owe so +much," and abruptly left him. + +In bitterness of fear and self-reproach he at once realized his +blunder. He followed her, but she was with her father, and he could +not speak there. He looked imploringly at her, but could not catch her +eye, for she was deeply incensed. Had she not heard him she would not +have believed that he could be so ungenerous. + +He wrote on a scrap of paper, "Annie, forgive me. I humbly ask your +pardon. I'm not myself to-day, and that man's conduct, which you so +nobly resented in my behalf, vexed me to that degree that I acted like +a fool. I am not worthy of you, but you will perceive that my folly +arises from my excess of love for you. I'm going for a walk. Please +greet me with pardon in your face on my return." + +Impulsive, loving, warm-hearted Annie could not resist such an appeal. +She at once relented, and began to make a thousand better excuses for +her lover than he could for himself. But she had taught him a lesson, +and proved that she was not a weak, willowy creature that would cling +to him no matter what he was or did. He saw that he must seem to be +worthy of her. + +Gregory greeted his partner with a momentary glow of gratitude that he +had come so far to see him, and began talking about his business. + +"Not a word of that, old fellow," said Mr. Seymour. "Your business is +to get well. It seems to me that you have everything here for comfort +--good medical attendance, eh?" + +"Yes; if anything, too much is done for me." + +"I don't understand just how it happened." + +Gregory told him briefly. + +"By Jove! this Miss Walton ought to be very grateful to you." + +"She is too grateful." + +"I don't know about that. I met that infernal Hunting downstairs. Of +course I couldn't treat him with politeness, and do you know the +little lady spunked up about it to that degree that she almost turned +her back upon me and left the room." + +"Of course," said Gregory, coolly, shielding his secret by a desperate +effort; "they are engaged." + +"Oh, I understand now. Well, I rather like her spirit. Does she know +how accomplished her lover is in Wall Street?" + +"No. Hunting is a distant relative of the family. They believe him to +be a gentleman, and would not listen to a word against him." + +"But they ought to know. He lied like a scoundrel to us, and in your +trying all summer to make up the losses, he has nearly been the death +of you. I wouldn't let my daughter marry him though he had enough +money to break the Street: and it is a pity that a fine girl, as this +Miss Walton seems, should throw herself away on him." + +"Well, Seymour, that's not our affair," said Gregory, pale and faint +from his effort at self-control. "They would listen to nothing." + +"Well, good-by, old fellow. I see it won't do to talk with you any +more. Get well as soon as you can, for we want you woefully in town. +Get well, and carry off this Miss Walton yourself. It would be a neat +way of turning the tables on Hunting." + +"Don't set your heart on seeing me at the office again," said Gregory, +feelingly. "I have a presentiment that I shan't pull through this, and +I don't much care. Give my kindest regards to Mr. Burnett, and tell +him I shall think of him to the last as among my best friends." + +Seymour made a few hearty remonstrances against such a state of mind, +and took his departure with many misgivings. Gregory relapsed into his +old dreary apathy. Life had so many certain ills that upon the whole +he felt he would rather die. But he was too stunned and weak to think +much, save when Annie came to him. Her presence was always life, but +now it was a sharp revival of the consciousness of his loss. Left to +himself, his mind sank down into a sort of painless lethargy, from +which he did not wish to be aroused. + +Mr. Walton passed a quieter night, but was clearly failing fast. He +sent frequent messages of love and sympathy to Gregory, and had an +abiding faith that all would be well with him in the next life, if not +in this. Annie had not the heart to undeceive him. When he thought it +a little strange that Hunting was not with Gregory, Annie explained by +saying that the doctor insisted on perfect quiet of mind, and the +presence of Hunting might unpleasantly revive old memories, and so +unduly excite him. + +After the physician saw his patients the following morning, he looked +grave and dissatisfied. Annie followed him to the door, and said, +"Doctor, I don't like the expression of your face." + +"Well, Miss Annie," said the doctor, discontentedly, "I've a difficult +task on my hands, in trying to cure two patients that make no effort +to live. Your father seems homesick for heaven, and mere drugs can't +rouse Mr. Gregory out of his morbid, gloomy apathy. I could get him +ashore if he would strike out for himself, but he just floats down +stream like driftwood. But really I'm doing all that can be done, I +think." + +"I believe you are," she said, sadly. "Good-by." + +"O merciful God!" she exclaimed when alone. "What shall I do--what +shall I do to save him? Father's going to heaven and mother. Where is +_he_ going?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +KEPT FROM THE EVIL + + + +With the light of the following day Annie gave up all hope of her +father's recovery. He was sinking fast, and conscious himself that +death was near. But his end was like the coming into harbor of a +stately ship after a long, successful voyage. He looked death in the +face with that calmness and dignity, that serene certainty that it was +a change for the better, which Christian faith alone can inspire. His +only solicitude was for those he was leaving, and yet he had no deep +anxiety, for his strong faith committed them trustingly to God. + +Annie tried to feel resigned, since it was God's will. But the tie +that bound her to him was so tender, so interwoven with every fibre of +her heart, that she shrunk with inexpressible pain from its sundering. +She knew that she was not losing her father, that the worst before +them was but a brief separation, but how could she, who had lived so +many happy years at his side, endure even this? It seemed as if she +could not let him go, and in the strong, passionate yearning of her +heart, she was almost ready to leave youth, friends, lover, and all, +to go with him. + +She was one who lived in her affections rather than her surroundings. +The latter would matter little to her could she keep her heart- +treasures. It would have touched the coldest to see how she clung to +him toward the last. All else was forgotten, even Gregory, who might +be dying also. The instinct of nature was strong, and her father was +first. + +Moreover, the relation between this parent and child was peculiarly +close, for they were not only in perfect sympathy in views, character, +and faith, but Annie had stepped to the side of the widowed man years +before and sought successfully to fill the place of one who had +reached home before him. Though so young, she had been his companion +and daily friend, interesting herself in that which interested him, +and thus he had been saved from that terrible loneliness which often +breaks the heart even in the midst of a household. It was therefore +with a love beyond words that his eyes rested most of the time on her +and followed her every movement. + +She also had a vague and peculiar dread in looking forward to her +bereavement. An anticipating sense of isolation and loneliness chilled +her heart. + +Though she would not openly admit it to herself, Hunting had +disappointed her since his return. She did not get from him the +support and Christian sympathy she expected. She tried to excuse him, +and charged herself with being too exacting, and yet the sense of +something wanting pained her. She had hoped that in these dark days he +would be serene and strong, and yet abounding in the tenderest +sympathy. She had expected words of faith and consolation that would +have sustained her spirit, fainting under a double and peculiar +sorrow. She had felt sure that before this his just gratitude, like a +torrent, would have overwhelmed and destroyed Gregory's enmity. But +all had turned out so differently! Instead of being a help, he had +almost added to her burden by his hostile feeling toward her +preserver, which he had not been able wholly to disguise. Such a +feeling on his part seemed both unnatural and wrong. He professed +himself ready to do anything she wished for Gregory, but it was in a +half-hearted way, to oblige her, and not for the sake of the injured +man. When she went to him for Christian consolation, his words, though +well-chosen, lacked heartiness and the satisfying power of truth. + +Why this was so can be well understood. Hunting could not give what he +did not possess. Of necessity there would be a hollow ring when he +spoke of that which he did not understand or feel. During his brief +visits, and in his carefully written letters, he could appear all she +wished. He could honestly show his sincere love for her, and there was +no special opportunity to show anything else. In her vivid, loving +imagination she supplied all else, and she believed that when they +were more together, or in affliction, he would reveal more distinctly +his deeper and religious nature, for such a nature he professed to +have; and his letters, which could be written deliberately, abounded +in Christian sentiment. Self-deceived, he meant to be honestly +religious as soon as he could afford to give up his questionable +speculations. + +But when a man least expects it the test and strain will come, that +clearly manifest the character of his moral stamina. It had now come +to Hunting, and though he strove with all the force and adroitness of +a resolute will and though he was a practiced dissembler, he was not +equal to the searching demands of those trying days, and steadily lost +ground. The only thing that kept him up was his sincere love for +Annie. That was so apparent and honest that, loving him herself, she +was able to forgive the rest. But it formed no small part of her +sorrow at that dark time, that she must lower her lofty ideal of her +lover. Hunting and Gregory seemed nearer together morally than she +could have believed possible. Thus she already had the dread that she +would not be able to "look up" to Hunting as she had expected, and +that it would be her mission to deepen and develop his character +instead of "leaning" upon it. + +It seemed strange to her as she thought of it, during her long hours +of watching, that after all she would have to do for Hunting something +like what poor Gregory had asked her to do for him. She prayerfully +purposed to do it, for the idea of being disloyal to her engagement +never entered her mind. + +"Unless men have a Christian home, in which their religious life can +be daily strengthened and fostered, they cannot be what they ought," +she said to herself. "In continual contact with the world, with +nothing to counteract, it's not strange that they act and feel as they +do." + +Thus she was more disposed to feel sorry for both Hunting and Gregory +than to blame them. And yet she looked upon the two men very +differently. She regarded Hunting as a true Christian who simply +needed warming and quickening into positive life, while she thought of +Gregory with only fear and trembling. Her hope for the latter was in +the prayers stored up in his behalf. + +But now upon this day that would ever be so painfully memorable she +had thoughts only for her father, and nothing could tempt her from his +side. + +Hunting also saw that the crisis was approaching, and made but a +formal semblance of a breakfast. He then entered the sick-room, and +was thinking how best to broach the subject of an immediate marriage, +when a thumping of crutches was heard in the hall. + +Miss Eulie entered and said that Daddy Tuggar had managed to hobble +over, and had set his heart upon seeing his old friend. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Walton; "he shall come in at once." + +"Caution him to stay but a few minutes," warned Annie. + +Miss Eulie helped the old man in, and he sat down by Mr. Walton's +side, with a world of trouble on his quaint, wrinkled face. + +But he said abruptly, as if he expected an affirmative answer, "Yer +gettin' better this mornin'--yer on the mend?" + +"Yes, my kind old neighbor," said Mr. Walton, feebly. "I shall soon be +well. It was kind of you, in your crippled state, to come over to see +me." + +"Well, now," said Mr. Tuggar, greatly relieved, "there _is_ use of +prayin'. I ain't much of a hand at it, and didn't know how the Lord +would take it from me; but when I heard you was sick, I began to feel +like prayin', and when I heard you was gettin' wuss, I couldn't help +prayin'. When I heard how that city chap as saved the house--(what an +old fool I was to cuss him when he first came! The Lord knew what He +was doin' when He brought him here)--when I heard how he kept the +ladder from falling on Miss Annie, I prayed right out loud. My wife, +she thought I was gettin' crazy. But I didn't care what anybody +thought. I've been prayin' all night, and it seemed as if the Lord +must hear me, and I kinder felt it in my bones that He had. So I +expected to hear you say you was goin' to get well; and Mr. Gregory, +he's better too--ain't he?" + +There was no immediate answer. Neither Miss Eulie nor Annie seemed to +know how to reply to the old man at first. But Mr. Walton reached +slowly out and took his neighbor's hand, saying, "Your prayers will be +answered, my friend. Honest prayer to God always is. I shall be well +soon, never to be old, feeble, and sick any more. I'm going where +there's 'no more pain.' Perhaps I've seen my last night, for there is +'no night there.'" + +"But the Lord knows I didn't mean nothin' of that kind. We need you +here, and He orter know it. What's the use of prayin' if you get just +the opposite of what you pray for?" + +"Suppose the opposite is best? I'm an old man--a shock of corn fully +ripe. I'm ready to be gathered." + +"Are yer goin' to die?" asked the old man, in an awed whisper. + +"No, Mr. Tuggar; I've been growing old and feeble, I've been dying for +a long time. Now I'm going to live--to be strong and well, forever and +ever. So don't grieve, but rather rejoice with me." + +The old man sat musing a moment, and then said softly to himself, +"This is what the Scripter means when it tells about the 'death of the +righteous.'" + +"Yes," continued Mr. Walton, though more feebly; "and the Scripture is +true. The dear Lord doesn't desert His people. He who has been my +friend and helper so many years now tells me that my sins, which are +many, are all forgiven. It seems that I have also heard Him say, 'To- +day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.'" + +Tears gathered in Daddy Tuggar's eyes, and he said, brokenly, "The +Lord knows--I've allers been a sort--of well-meanin' man--but I +couldn't talk that way--if I was where you be." + +"Mr. Tuggar," said Mr. Walton, "I'm too weak to say much more, but I +want to ask you one question. You have read the Bible. Whom did the +Lord Jesus come to save?" + +"Sinners," was the prompt response. + +"Are you one?" + +"What else be I?" + +"Then, old neighbor, you are safe, if you will just receive Him as +your Saviour. If you were sure you were good enough and didn't need +any Saviour, I should despair of you. But according to the Bible you +are just such as He came after. If you feel that you are a sinner, all +you have to do is to trust Him and do the best you can." + +"Is that all you did?" + +"All. I couldn't do anything more. And now, good-by. Remember my last +words--Whom did Jesus come to save?" + +"Why, He come to save me," burst out the old man, rising up. "What a +cussed old fool I was, not to see it afore! I was allers thinkin' He +came after the good folks, and I felt that no matter how I tried I +could not be good enough. Good-by, John Walton. If they are goin' to +let sinners into heaven who are willin' to come any way the Lord will +let 'em come, I'll be yer neighbor again 'fore long;" and with his +withered, bronzed visage working with an emotion that he did not seek +to control, he wrung the dying man's hand, and hobbled out. + +But he pleaded with Miss Eulie to let him stay. "I want to see it +out," he said, "for if grim Death ain't goin' to get one square knock- +down now, then he never had it, I want to see the victory. 'Pears to +me that when the gates open the glory will shine out upon us all." + +So she installed him in Mr. Walton's arm-chair by the parlor fire, and +made him thoroughly at home. + +"I'm a waitin' by the side of the river," he said. "I wish I could go +over with him. 'Pears I'd feel sure they wouldn't turn me back then." + +"Jesus will go over the river with you," she said, gently, "and then +they can't turn you back." + +"I hope so, I hope so," said this old, child-like man, "for I'm an +awful sinner." + +After this interview, which greatly fatigued him, Mr. Walton dozed for +an hour, and then brightened up so decidedly that Annie had faint +hopes that he was better. + +The children were brought to him, and he kissed and fondled them very +tenderly. Then, in a way that would make a deep impression on their +childish natures, he told them how he was going to see their father +and mother, and would tell what good children they had been, and how +they always meant to be good, and how all would be waiting for them in +heaven. + +Thus the little ones received no grim and terrible impressions at that +death-bed, but rather memories and hopes that in all their future +would hold them back, like angel hands, from evil. + +Hunting now believed that the time for him to act had come. He had +told Jeff to have the horse and buggy ready so that he might send for +the old pastor at once. + +He came to Annie's side, and taking her hand and her father's, thus +seeming a link between them, said very gently, very tenderly, "Annie, +your father has told me that it would be a great consolation to him to +leave me in charge of you all as his son, legally and in the eyes of +the world, as I feel I am in reality. I could then do everything for +you, relieve you of every care, and protect with unquestionable right +all the interests of the household. Again, the marriage tie, like that +of our betrothal, consummated here at his side, would ever seem to us +peculiarly tender and sacred. It will almost literally be a marriage +made in heaven. I hope you will feel that you can grant this, your +father's last wish." + +Annie felt a sudden and strong repugnance to the plan. In that hour of +agonized parting she did not wish to think of marriage, even to one +she loved. Her thoughts immediately recurred to Gregory, and she felt +that such an act might, in his weak state, cause disastrous results. +And yet if it were her father's wish--his last wish--how could she +refuse him--how could she refuse him anything? The marriage day would +eventually come. If by making this the day she could once more show +her filial love and add to his dying peace, did she not owe him her +first duty? The dying are omnipotent with us. Who can refuse their +last requests? + +She looked inquiringly, but with tear-blinded eyes, at her father. + +"Yes, Annie," he said, answering her look, "it would be a great +consolation to me, because I can see how it will be of much advantage +to you--more than you can now understand. It will enable Charles to +step in at once as head of the household, and so you will be relieved +of many perplexities and details of business which would be very +trying to you, as you will feel. I want to spare you and sister all +this, and you have no idea how much it will save your feelings, and +add to your comfort, to have one like Charles act for you with such +power as he would have as your husband. After seeing you all thus +provided for, it seems to me that I could depart in perfect peace." + +"Dear father," said Annie, tenderly, "how can I deny you anything! +This seems to me no time for marriage, but, since you wish it, your +will shall be mine. It must be right or you would not ask it; and +yet--" She did not finish the sentence, but buried her face in her +hands, weeping. + +"That's my noble Annie," Hunting exclaimed, with a glad exultation in +his voice that he could not disguise; and, hastening out, he told Jeff +to bring the minister as speedily as possible. + +Miss Eulie was called, and acquiesced in her brother's opinion, and +hovered around Annie in a tender flutter of maternal love. + +Hunting now felt that he was master of destiny, and in his heart bade +defiance to Gregory and all his own fears. His elation and self- +applause were great, for had he not snatched the prize out of the hand +of death itself, and made events that would have awed and disheartened +other men combine for his good? He had schemed, planned, and +overreached them all, though, in this case, for their interests as +well as his own, he believed. While he would naturally wish the +marriage to take place as soon as possible, his chief reason was to +forestall any revelations which might come through Gregory; and this +motive made his whole course, though apparently dictated by the purest +feeling, a crafty trick. Yet such was the complex nature of the man +that he honestly meant to fulfil all Mr. Walton's expectations, and +become Annie's loving shield from every care and trial, and a faithful +guardian of the household. Nay, more, as soon as he was securely +intrenched, with all his coveted possessions, he purposed that Annie +should help him to be a true, good man--a Christian in reality. + +Well may the purest and strongest pray to be kept from the evil of the +world. It lurks where least suspected, and can plot its wrongs in the +chamber of death, and on the threshold of heaven. Annie and her father +might at least suppose themselves safe now. Were they so, with God's +minister on his way to join truth with untruth--a pure-hearted maiden +to a man from whom she would shrink the moment she came to know him? +Not on the human side. They were safe only as God kept them. If Annie +Walton had found herself married to a swindler, hers would have been a +life-long martyrdom. But unconsciously she drew momentarily nearer the +edge of the precipice. Time was passing, and their venerable pastor +would soon be present. Annie had welcomed him every day previously, as +he came to take sweet counsel with her father rather than prepare him +for death, but now she had a strange, secret dread of his coming. + +Her father suddenly put his hand to his heart. + +"Have you pain there?" asked Annie. + +"It's gone," he replied, after a moment. "They will soon be all past, +Annie dear. How does Mr. Gregory seem now?" he asked of Miss Eulie. + +"Greatly depressed, I'm sorry to say," she answered. "He knows that +you are no better, and it seems to distress him very much." + +"God bless him for saving my darling's life!" he said, fervently; "and +He will bless him. I have a feeling that he will see brighter and +better days. I can send him almost a father's love and blessing, for +he now seems like a son to me. Say to him that I shall tell his father +of his noble deeds. Be a sister to him, Annie. Carry on the good work +you have so wisely begun. May the friendship of the parents descend to +the children. And you, Charles, my son, will surely feel toward him as +a brother, whatever may have been the differences of the past." + +Innocent but deeply embarrassing words to both Hunting and Annie. + +Again Mr. Walton put his hand to his heart. + +Hunting left the room, for it was surely time for Jeff to return. With +a gleam of exultant joy he saw him driving toward the house with the +white-haired minister at his side. He returned softly to the sick- +room. + +Mr. Walton had just taken Annie's hands, and after a look of +unutterable fondness, said, "Before I give you to another--while you +are still my own little girl--let me thank you for having been all and +more than a father could ask. How good God was to give me such a +comfort in your mother's place!" + +"Dear father!" was all that Annie could say. + +Even then the minister was entering the house. + +"I bless thee, my child," the father continued; then turning his eyes +heavenward he reverently closed them in prayer, saying, "and God bless +thee also, and keep thee from every evil." + +God answered him. + +His grasp on Annie's hand relaxed; without even a sigh he passed away. + +Annie started up with a look of alarm, and saw the same expression on +the faces of her aunt and Hunting. They spoke to him; he did not +answer. Hunting felt his pulse. Its throb had ceased forever. The +chill of a great dread turned his own face like that of the dead. + +Miss Eulie put her hand on her brother's heart. It was at rest. Annie +stood motionless with dilating eyes watching them. But when her aunt +came toward her with streaming eyes she realized the truth and fell +fainting to the floor. + +Just then the old minister crossed the threshold, but Hunting said to +him, almost savagely, "You are too late." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +"LIVE! LIVE!"--ANNIE'S APPEAL + + + +Annie's swoon was so prolonged that both her aunt and Hunting were +alarmed. It was the reaction from the deep and peculiar excitement of +the last few days. Every power of mind and body had been under the +severest strain, and nature now gave way. + +The doctor, when he came to make his morning call, was most welcome. +He said there was nothing alarming about Miss Walton's symptoms, but +added very decisively that she would need rest and quiet of mind for a +long time in order to regain her former tone and health. + +When Annie revived he gave something that would tend to quiet her +nervous system and produce sleep. + +"I now understand Mr. Walton's case," he said to Miss Eulie. "I could +not see why his severe cold, which he had apparently cured, should +result as it did. But now it's plain that it was complicated with +heart difficulties." + +His visit to Gregory was not at all satisfactory, for his patient's +depression was so great that he was sinking under it. Mr. Walton's +death, leaving Annie defenceless, as it were, in the hands of a man +like Hunting, seemed another of the dark and cruel mysteries which to +him made up human life. The death that had given Daddy Tuggar such an +impulse toward faith and hope only led him to say with intense +bitterness, "God has forgotten His world, and the devil rules it." + +"Mr. Gregory," said the physician, gravely, "do you know that you are +about the same as taking your own life? All the doctors in the world +cannot help you unless you try to live. Drugs cannot remove your +apathy and morbid depression." + +"Very well, doctor," he replied; "do not trouble yourself to come any +more. I absolve you from all blame." + +"But I cannot absolve myself. Besides, it's not manly to give up in +this style." + +"I make no pretence of being manly or anything else. I am just what +you see. Can a broken reed stand up like a sturdy oak? Can such a +thing as I reverse fate? Thank you, doctor, for all you have done, but +waste no more time upon me. I knew, weeks ago, that the end was near, +and I would like to die in the old place." + +The doctor looked at him a moment in deep perplexity, and then +silently left the room. + +"Internal injuries that I can't get at," he muttered, as he drove +away. + +Miss Eulie came to Gregory's side, and laying her hand gently on his +brow said, "You are mistaken, my young friend. You are going to live." + +"Why do you think so?" he asked. + +"The dying often have almost prophetic vision;" and she told him all +that Mr. Walton had said, though nothing of the contemplated marriage. +She dwelt with special emphasis on the facts that he had told Annie to +be a sister to Gregory and had gone to heaven with the assurance to +his old friend that his son would join him there. + +Gregory was strongly moved, and turning his face upon the pillow, gave +way to a passion of tears; but they were despairing, bitter, regretful +tears. He soon seemed ashamed of them, and when he again turned his +face toward Miss Eulie, it had a hard, stony look. + +Almost with sternness he said, "If the dying have supernatural +insight, why could not Mr. Walton see what kind of a man Hunting is? +Please leave me now. I know how kind and well-meant your words are, +but they are mockery to me;" and he turned his face to the wall. + +Miss Eulie sighed very deeply, but felt that his case was beyond her +skill. + +Daddy Tuggar was at first grievously disappointed. He had wrought +himself up into the hope of a celestial scene, and the abrupt and +quiet termination of Mr. Walton's life seemed inadequate to the +occasion. But Miss Eulie comforted him by saying that "the Christian +walked by faith, and not by sight--that God knew what was best, better +than we, His little children. + +"Death had not even the power to cause him a moment's pain," she said. +"God gave him a sweet surprise, by letting him through the gates +before he was aware." + +Thus she led the strange old man to think it was for the best after +all. The Rev. Mr. Ames, who had come on such a different mission, also +tried to make clearer what Mr. Walton had said to him. But Daddy +Tuggar would not permit his mind to wander a moment from the simple +truth, which he kept saying over and over to himself, "I'm an awful +sinner, and the good Lord come after just such." + +Another thing that greatly perplexed the old man was that Mr. Walton +had not been permitted to live long enough to see his daughter +married. As an old neighbor, and because of his strong attachment to +Annie, he had been invited to be present. + +"'Pears to me that the Lord might have spared him a few minutes +longer," he said. + +"It _appears_ to you so," replied Mr. Ames, "but the Lord _knows_ why +he did not." + +"Well, parson," said Daddy Tuggar, "I thank you very kindly for what +you have said, but John Walton has done the business for me. I'm just +goin' to trust--I'm just goin' to let myself go limber and fall right +down on the Lord Jesus' word. I don't believe it will break with me. +Anyhow, it's all I can do, and John Walton told me to do it and I +allers found he was about right." And thus late in the twilight of +life the old man took his pilgrim's staff and started homeward. + +As soon as Hunting recovered from his bitter disappointment and almost +superstitious alarm at the sudden thwarting of his purpose, his wily +and scheming mind fell to work on a new combination. If he still could +induce Annie to be married almost immediately, as he greatly hoped, +all would be well. If not, then he would assume that they were the +same as married, and at once take his place so far as possible at the +head of the household, in accordance with Mr. Walton's wish. On one +hand, by tender care and thoughtfulness for them all, he would place +Annie under the deepest obligation; on the other, he would gain, to +the extent he could, control of her affairs and property. In the +latter purpose Mr. Walton had greatly aided by naming him one of the +executors of his will; and only Miss Eulie, the sister-in-law, was +united with him as executrix. Thus he would substantially have his own +way. Indeed, Mr. Walton, in his perfect trust, meant that he should. + +Having seen Annie quietly sleeping, he started for New York to make +arrangements for the funeral, and look after some personal matters +that had already been neglected too long. + +His feelings on the journey were not enviable. He had enough faith to +fear God, but not to trust and obey. The thought recurred with +disheartening frequency, "If God is against this, He will thwart me +every time." + +The day had closed in thick darkness and a storm before Annie awoke +from the deep sleep which the sedative had prolonged. Though weak and +languid, she insisted on getting up. Her aunt almost forced her to +take a little supper, and then she went instinctively and naturally to +that room which had always been a place of refuge, but which now was +the chamber of death. + +She turned up the light that she might look at the dear, _dear_ face. +How calm and noble it was in its deep repose! It did not suggest +death--only peaceful sleep. + +With a passionate burst of sorrow she moaned, "O father, let me sleep +beside you, and be at rest!" + +Then she took his cold hand, and sat down mechanically to watch, as in +the days and nights just passed. But as she became composed and +thought grew busy, the deep peace of the sleeper seemed imparted to +her. In vivid imagination she followed him to the home and greetings +that he had so joyously anticipated. She saw him meet her mother and +sister, and other loved ones who had gone before. She saw him at his +Saviour's feet, blessed and crowned. She heard the wild storm raging +without in the darkness, and then thought of his words "There is no +night there." + +"Dear father," she murmured, "I would not call you back if I could. +God give me patience to come to you in His own appointed way." + +Then she dwelt upon the strange events of the day. How near she had +come to being a wife! Why had she not become one? That the marriage +should have been so suddenly and unexpectedly prevented on the very +eve of consummation, caused some curious thoughts to flit through her +mind. + +"It is enough to know that it was God's will," she said; "and my +future is still in His hands. Poor Charles! it will be a +disappointment to him; and yet what difference will a few weeks or +months make?" + +Then her father's words, "Be a sister to Gregory," recurred to her, +and she reproached herself that she had so long forgotten him. "Father +is safe home," she said, "and I am leaving him to wander further and +further away. Father told me to be a sister to him, and I will. When +he gets well and strong, if he ever does, he will feel very +differently; and if he is to die (which God forbid), what more sacred +duty can I have than to plead with him and for him to the last?" + +Pressing a kiss on her father's silent lips, she went to fulfil one of +their last requests. She first asked her aunt if it would be prudent +to visit Gregory. "I hardly know, Annie, what to say," said Miss +Eulie, in deep perplexity; and she told her what had occurred in +relation to Gregory, the doctor, and herself, omitting all reference +to Hunting. "If he is not roused out of his gloom and apathy, I fear +he will die," concluded her aunt; "and if you can't rouse him, I don't +know who can." + +Annie gave her a quick, questioning glance. + +"Yes, Annie, I understand," she said, quietly. "He received his worst +injury before the ladder fell." + +"O aunty, what shall I do?" + +"Indeed, my dear child, I can hardly tell you. You are placed in a +difficult and delicate position. Perhaps your father's words were +wisest, 'Be a sister to him.' At any rate, you have more power with +him than any one else, and you owe it to him to do all you can to save +him." + +"I am ready to do anything, aunty, for it seems as if I could never be +happy if he should die an unbeliever." + +Annie stole noiselessly to Gregory's side, and motioned to the young +man who was in charge to withdraw to the next room. Gregory was still +asleep. She sat down by him and was greatly shocked to see how +emaciated and pale he was. It seemed as if he had suffered from an +illness of weeks rather than days. + +"He will die," she murmured, with all her old terror at the thought +returning. "He will die, and for me. Though innocent, I shall always +feel that his blood is upon me;" and she buried her face in her hands, +and her whole frame shook with a passion of grief. + +Her emotion awoke him, and he recognized with something like awe the +bowed head at his side. + +Her grief for her father, as he supposed it to be, seemed such a +sacred thing! And yet he could not bear to see her intense sorrow. His +heart ached to comfort her, but what words of consolation could such +as he offer? Still, had she not come to him as if for comfort? This +thought touched him deeply, and he almost cursed his unbelieving soul +that made him dumb at such a time. What could he say but miserable +commonplaces in regard to a bereavement like hers? + +He did not say anything, but merely reached out his hand and gently +stroked her bowed head. + +Then she knew he was awake, and she took his hand and bowed her head +upon it. + +"Miss Walton," he said, in a husky voice, "it cuts me to the heart to +see you grieve so. But, alas! I do not know how to comfort you, and I +can't say trite words which mean nothing. After losing such a father +as yours, what can any one say?" + +She raised her head and said, impetuously, "It's not for father I am +grieving. He is in heaven--he is not lost to me. It's for you--you. +You are breaking my heart." + +"Miss Walton," he began, in much surprise, "I don't understand--" + +"Why don't you understand?" she interrupted. "What do you think I am +made of? Do you think that you can lie here and die for me and I go +serenely on? Do you not see that you would blight the life you have +saved?" + +His apathy was gone now. But he was bewildered, so sudden and +overpowering was her emotion. He only found words to say, "Miss +Walton, God knows I am yours, body and soul. What can I do?" + +"Live! live!" she continued, with the same passionate earnestness. "I +impose no conditions, I ask nothing else. Only get well and strong +again. If you will do this, I have such confidence in your better +nature, and the many prayers laid up for you, as to feel sure that all +will come out right. But if you will just lie here and die, you will +imbitter my life. What did the doctor tell you this morning? And yet I +shall feel that I am partly the cause. O, Mr. Gregory, you may think +me foolish, but that strange little omen of the chestnut burr is in my +mind so often! I never was superstitious before, but it haunts me. +Don't you remember how you stained my hand with your blood? I can't +get it out of my mind, and it has for me now a strange significance. +If I had to remember through coming years that you died for me all +hopeless and unbelieving, do you think so poorly of me as to imagine I +could be happy? Why can't you be generous enough to brighten the life +you have saved? Among my father's last words he said I must be a +sister to you. How can I if you die? You would make this dear old +place, that we both love, full of terrible memories." + +He was deeply moved, and after a moment said, "I did not know that you +felt in this way. I thought the best thing that I could do was to get +out of the world and out of the way. I thought I knew you, but I do +not half understand your large, generous heart. For your sake I will +try and get well, nor will I impose any conditions whatever. But +pardon me: I am going to ask one thing, which you can grant or not as +you choose. Please do not wrong me by thinking that I have any +personal end in view. I have given all that up as truly as if I were +dead. I ask that you do not speedily marry Charles Hunting--not till +you are sure you know him." + +"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in real distress, "this dreadful quarrel! +What trouble it makes all around!" + +"If your father," continued Gregory, with grave earnestness, "told you +to be a sister to me, then I have some right to act as a brother +toward you. But as an honest man, with all my faults, and with your +interests nearest my heart, I entreat you to heed my request. Nay, +more: I am going to seem ungenerous, and refer for the first and last +time to the obligation you are under to me. By all the influence I +gained by that act, I beg of you to hesitate before you marry Charles +Hunting. Believe me, I would not lay a straw in the way of your +marrying a good man." + +"Your words pain me more than I can tell you," said Annie, sadly. "I +do not understand them. Once they would have angered me. But, however +mistaken you are, I cannot do injustice to your motive. + +"I do not see how your request can injure Charles," she continued, +musingly. "I have no wish to marry now for a long time--not till these +sad scenes have faded somewhat from memory. If you will only promise +to live I will not marry him till you get strong and well--till you +can look upon this matter as a man--as a brother ought. But your +hostility must not be unreasonable or implacable. I _know_ you do Mr. +Hunting great injustice. And yet such is my solicitude for you that I +will do what seems to me almost disloyal. But I know that I owe a +great deal to you as well as Charles." + +"What I ask is for your sake, not mine. I only used the obligation as +a motive." + +"Well," said Annie, "I yield; and surely a sister could do no more +than I have done to-night." + +"And I have simply done my duty," he answered, quietly. "And yet I +thank you truly. You also may see the time when you will thank me more +than when I interposed my worthless person between you and danger." + +"Please never call yourself 'worthless' to me again. We never did +agree, and I fear we shall be gray before we do. But mark this: I am +never going to give you up, whatever happens. I shall obey dear +father's last words from both duty and inclination. But let us end +this painful conversation. What have you eaten to-day?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," he said. + +"Will you eat something if I bring it?" + +"I will do anything you ask." + +"Now you give me hope," and she vanished, sending the regular watcher +back to his post. + +Gregory found it no difficult task to eat the dainty little supper she +brought. She had broken the malign spell he was under. As we have +seen, his was a physical nature peculiarly subject to mental +conditions. + +Soon after she said, in a low tone meant only for his ear, "Good- +night, my poor suffering brother. We all three shall understand each +other better in God's good time." + +"I hope so," he said, with a different meaning. "You have made me feel +that I am not alone and uncared for in the world, though I cannot call +you sister yet. Good-night." + +Annie went back to her father's side, and remained till her aunt +almost forced her away. + +It is not necessary to dwell on the events of the next few days. Such +is our earthly lot, nearly all can depict them by recalling their own +sad experience: the hushed and solemn household, even the children +speaking low and treading softly, as if they might awake one whom only +"the last trump" could arouse. + +John Walton's funeral was no formal pageant, but an occasion of +sincere and general mourning. Even those whose lives and characters +were the opposite of his had the profoundest respect for him, and the +entire community united in honoring his memory. + +Perhaps the most painful time of all to the stricken family was the +evening after their slow, dreary ride to the village cemetery. Then, +as not before, they realized their loss. + +Annie felt that her best solace would be in trying to cheer others. +She had seen Gregory but seldom and briefly since the interview last +described, but had been greatly comforted by his decided change for +the better. He had kept his word. Indeed, it was only the leaden hand +of despondency that kept him down, and he rallied from the moment it +was lifted. This evening he was dressed and sitting by the fire. As +she entered, in her deep mourning, his look was so wistful and kind, +so eloquent with sympathy, that instead of cheering him, as she had +intended, she sat down on a low ottoman, and burying her face in her +hands, cried as if her heart would break. + +"Oh that I knew how to comfort you!" said Gregory, in the deepest +distress. "I cannot bear to see you suffer." + +He rose with difficulty and came to her side, saying, "What can I do, +Miss Walton? Would that I could prevent you, at any cost to myself, +from ever shedding another tear!" + +His sympathy was so true and strong that it was a luxury for her to +receive it; and she had kept up so long that tears were nature's own +relief. + +At last he said timidly, hesitatingly, as if venturing on forbidden +ground, "I think the Bible says that in heaven all tears will be wiped +away. Your father is surely there." + +"Would that I were there with him!" she sobbed. + +"Not yet, Annie, not yet," he said, gently. "Think how dark this world +would be to more than one if you were not in it." + +"But will you never seek this dear home of rest?" she asked. + +"The way of life is closed to me," he said, sadly. + +"O, Mr. Gregory! Who is it that says, 'I am the way?'" + +"But He says to me, 'Depart.'" + +"And yet I, knowing all--I, a weak, sinful creature like yourself-- +say, Come to Him. I am better and kinder than He who died for us all! +What strange, sad logic! Good-night, Walter. You will not always so +wrong your best Friend." + +Gregory's despairing conviction that his day of mercy was past was +hardly proof against her words and manner, but he was in thick +darkness and saw no way out. + +Annie went down to her aunt and Hunting in the parlor. "Why will Mr. +Gregory be so hard and unbelieving?" she said, tearfully. + +"If you knew him as well as I do you would understand," said Hunting, +politicly, and then changed the conversation. + +He was consumed by a jealousy which he dared not show. Annie's manner +toward him was all that he could ask, and he felt sure of her now. But +it was the future he dreaded, for he was satisfied that Gregory had +formed an attachment for Annie, whether she knew it or not, and, +unless he could secure her by marriage, the man he had wronged might +find means of tearing off his mask. With desperate earnestness he +resolved to press his suit. + +His course since Mr. Walton's death had been such as to win Annie's +sincerest gratitude. When action rather than moral support was +required, he was strong, and no one could be more delicately +thoughtful of her feelings and kinder than he had been. + +"Dear Charles," said Annie, when they were alone. "What should I have +done without you in all these dreary days! How you have saved me from +all painful contact with the world!" + +"And so I ever wish to shield you," said Hunting. "Will you not, as +your father purposed, give me the right at once?" + +"You have the right, Charles. I ask no more than you have done and are +doing. But do not urge marriage now. I yielded then for father's sake, +not my own. My heart is too sore and crushed to think of it now. After +all, what difference can a few months make to you? Be generous. Give +me a respite, and I will make you a better wife and a happier home." + +"But it looks, Annie, as if you could not trust me," he said, +gloomily. + +"No, Charles," she said, gravely, "it looks rather as if you +distrusted me; and you must learn to trust me implicitly. Out of both +love for you and justice to myself, I exercise my woman's right of +naming the day. In the meantime I give you my perfect confidence. No +words of others--nothing but your own acts can disturb it, and of this +I have no fear." + +He did not seek to disguise his deep disappointment. While she felt +sorry for him, she remained firm, and he saw that it would not be wise +to urge her. + +Annie would not carelessly give pain to any one, much less to those +she loved. And yet her mind was strong and well-balanced. She knew it +was no great misfortune to Hunting to wait a few months when her own +feelings and the duty she owed another required it. "When Mr. Gregory +gets strong and well and back to business," she thought, "he will +wonder at himself. I have no right almost to destroy him now in his +weakness by doing that which can be done better at another time; and +indeed, for my own sake, I should have required delay." + +The next day Hunting was reluctantly compelled to go to the city. +Somewhat to Annie's surprise, Gregory made no effort to secure her +society. In her frank, sisterly regard she was slow in understanding +that her presence caused regretful pain to him. But he seemed +resolutely bent upon getting well, and was gaining rapidly. He walked +out a little while during the middle of the day, and her eyes followed +him wistfully as he moved slowly and feebly along the garden walk. She +saw, with quickly starting tears, that he went to the rustic seat by +the brook where they had spent that memorable Sunday afternoon, and +that he stood in long, deep thought. + +When he came back she offered to read to him. + +"Not now--not yet," he said, sadly. "I know my own weakness, and would +be true to my word." + +"Why do you shun me?" she asked. + +"May you never understand from experience," he said with a smile that +was sadder than tears, and passed on up to his room. + +And yet, though he did not know it, his course was the best policy, +for it awakened stronger respect and sympathy on her part. + +The next morning ushered in the first of the dreamy Indian-summer +days, when Nature, as if grieved over the havoc of the frost, would +hide the dismantled trees and dead flowers by a purple haze, and seek +as do fading beauties to disguise the ravages of time by drawing over +her withered face a deceptive veil. + +Gregory felt so much better that he thought he could venture to make a +parting call on Daddy Tuggar. He found the old man smoking on his +porch, and his reception was as warm and demonstrative as his first +had been a month ago, though of a different nature. Gregory lighted a +cigar and sat down beside him. + +"I'm wonderful glad to see you," said Mr. Tuggar. "To think that I +should have cussed you when it was the good Lord that brought you +here!" + +"Do you think so?" asked Gregory. + +"Certain I do. Would that house be there? Wouldn't all our hearts be +broke for Miss Annie if it wasn't for you?" + +Gregory felt that his heart was "broke" for her as it was, but he +said, "It was my taking her out to walk that caused her danger. So you +wouldn't have lost her if I had not come." + +"You didn't knowin'ly git her in danger, and you did knowin'ly git her +out, and that's enough for me," said the old man. + +"Well, well, Mr. Tuggar, if I had broken my neck it would have been a +little thing compared with saving the life of such a woman as Miss +Walton. Still, I fear the Lord has not much to do with me." + +"And have you been all this time with John Walton and Miss Annie and +still feel that way?" + +"It's not their fault." + +"I believe that. Are you willin' to say you are a great sinner?" + +"Of course. What else am I?" + +"That's it--that's it," cried the old man, delightedly. "Now you're +all right. That's just where I was. When John Walton bid me good-by, +he asked me one question that let more light into my thick head than +all the readin' and preachin' and prayin' I ever heard. He asked, +'Whom did Jesus Christ come to save?' Answer that." + +"The Bible says He came to save sinners," replied Gregory, now deeply +interested. + +"Well, I should think that meant you and me," said Mr. Tuggar, +emphatically. "Anyhow, I know it means me. John Walton told me that +all I had to do was to just trust the Saviour--not of good people--but +of sinners, and do the best I could; and I have just done it, and I'm +all right, Mr. Gregory, I'm all right. I don't know whether I can stop +swearin', but I'm a tryin'. I don't know whether I can ever get under +my old ugly temper, but I'm a tryin' and a prayin'. But whether I can +or not, I'm all right, for the good Lord came to save sinners; and if +that don't mean me, what's the use of words?" + +"But can you trust Him?" asked Gregory. + +"Certain I can. Wasn't John Walton an honest man? Wasn't Jesus Christ +honest? Didn't he know what He come for?" + +"Admitting that He came to save sinners, how can you be sure He will +save all? He might save you and not me." + +"Well," said Mr. Tuggar, "I hadn't been home long before that question +come up to me, and I thought on it a long time. I smoked wellnigh a +hundred pipes on it afore I got it settled, but 'tis settled, and when +I settle a thing I don't go botherin' back about it. But like enough +'twon't satisfy you." + +"At any rate, I should like to hear your conclusion." + +"Well, I argued it out to myself. I says, 'Suppose there's some +sinners too bad, or too somethin' or other, for the Lord to save, and +suppose you are one of them, ain't ''lected,' as my wife says. If I +could be an unbelievin' sinner for eighty years, it seemed to me that +if anybody wasn't 'lected I wasn't. I was dreadfully down, I tell yer, +for I'd set my heart on bein' John Walton's neighbor again. After I'd +smoked a good many pipes, I cussed myself for an old fool. 'There, +you've brought your case into court,' I says, 'and you're goin' to +give it up afore it's argued.' Then I argued it. I was honest, you may +be sure. It wouldn't do me any good to pettifog in this matter. First +I says, if there was any doubt about the Lord savin' all sinners who +wanted Him to, John Walton orter have spoken of it, and from what I +know of the man he would. Then I says, arter all, it's the Lord I've +got to deal with. Now what kind of a Lord is He? Then I commenced +rememberin' all that Miss Eulie and Miss Annie had read to me about +Him, and all I'd heard, and I got my wife to read some, and my hopes +grew every minute. I tell you what, Mr. Gregory, it was a queer crowd +He often had around Him. I'd kinder felt at home among 'em, 'specially +with that swearin' fisherman Peter. + +"Well, the upshot of it was, I couldn't find that He ever turned one +sinner away. Then why should He me? Then my wife, as she was readin', +come across the words, 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast +out.' I had heard them words afore often, but it seemed now as the +first time, and I just shouted, 'I've got His word for it,' and my +wife thought I was crazy, sure 'nuff, for she didn't know what I was +drivin' at. And now, Mr. Gregory, you're just shut up to two things, +just two things. Either the Lord Jesus will save every sinner that +comes to Him, or he ain't honest, and don't mean what he says, and +won't do as he used to. I tell yer I'm settled, better settled than +yonder mountain. I just let myself go limber right down upon the +promise, and it's all right. I'm going to be John Walton's neighbor +again." + +Gregory was more affected by the old man's quaint talk than he would +have believed possible. It seemed true that he was "shut up" to one or +the other of the alternatives presented. He commenced pacing up and +down the little porch in deep thought. Mr. Tuggar puffed away at his +pipe with such vigor that he was exceedingly beclouded, however clear +his mind. At last Gregory said, "I shall think over what you have +said, very carefully, for I admit it has a great deal of force to my +mind." + +"That's right," said Mr. Tuggar; "argue it out, just as I did. Show +yourself no favors, and be fair to yourself, and you can't get away +from my conclusion. You've got to come to it." + +"I should be very glad to come to it," said Gregory, gravely. + +"I should think you would. There'll be some good neighbors up there, +Mr. Gregory; these Waltons are all bound to be there. Miss Annie would +be kinder good company--eh, Mr. Gregory?" + +In spite of himself he flushed deeply under the old man's keen +scrutiny. + +"There's one thing that's mighty 'plexing to me," said Mr. Tuggar, led +to the subject by its subtle connection with Gregory's blush, "and +that's why the Lord didn't keep John Walton alive a few minutes +longer, so that the marriage could take place." + +Gregory gave a great start. "What marriage?" he asked. + +"Why, don't you know about it?" said Mr. Tuggar, in much surprise. + +"No, nothing at all." + +"Then perhaps I ortn't ter speak of it." + +"Certainly not, if you don't think it right." + +"Well, I've said so much I might as well say it all," said the old +man, musingly. "It's no secret, as I knows of;" and he told Gregory +how near Annie came to being a wife. + +Gregory drew a long breath and looked deathly pale and faint. + +"Well, now, I'd no idea that you'd be so struck of a heap," said the +old man, in still deeper surprise. + +"God's hand was in that," murmured Gregory; "God's hand was in that." + +"Do you think so, now? Well, it does seem kinder cur'us, and per'aps +it was, for somehow I never took to that Hunting, though he seems all +right." + +"Good-by, Mr. Tuggar," said Gregory, rising; "you have given me a good +deal to think about, and I'm going to think, and act, too, if I can. I +am going to New York to-morrow, and one of the first things I do will +be to fill your pipe for a long time;" and he pressed the old man's +hand most cordially. + +"Let yourself go limber when you come to trust, and it will be all +right," were Daddy Tuggar's last words, as he balanced himself on his +crutches in parting. + +Gregory found Annie in the parlor, and he said, "I have good news for +you; Daddy Tuggar is a Christian." + +Annie sprang joyfully up and said, "I'm going over to see him at +once." + +When she returned, Gregory was quietly reading in the parlor, showing +thus that he had no wish to avoid her. + +She came directly to him and said, "Daddy Tuggar says that you propose +going home to-morrow." + +"Well, really, Miss Walton, I have no home to go to; but I expect to +return to the city." + +"Now I protest against it." + +"I'm glad you do." + +"Then you won't go?" + +"Yes, I must; but I'm glad you don't wish me to go" + +"Why need you go yet? You ought not. You should wait till you are +strong." + +"That is just why I go--to get _strong_. I never could here, with you +looking so kindly at me as you do now. You see I am as frank as I +promised to be. So please say no more, for you cannot and you ought +not to change my purpose." + +"O dear!" cried Annie, "how one's faith is tried! Why need this be +so?" + +"On the contrary," he said, "what little faith I ever had has been +quite revived this afternoon. Daddy Tuggar has been 'talking religion' +to me, and, pardon me for saying it, I found his words more convincing +than even yours." + +"I am not jealous of him," said Annie, gladly. + +"I can't help thinking that God does see and care, in that He +prevented your marriage." + +Annie blushed deeply, and said, coldly, "I am sorry you touched upon +that subject," and she left the room. + +Gregory went quietly on with his reading, or seemed to do so. Indeed, +he made a strong effort, and succeeded, for he was determined to +master himself outwardly. + +She soon relented and came back. When she saw him apparently so +undisturbed, the thought came to her, "He has truly given me up. There +is nothing of the lover in that calmness, and he makes no effort to +win my favor," but she said, "Mr. Gregory, I fear I hurt your +feelings. You certainly did mine. I cannot endure the injustice you +persist in doing Mr. Hunting." + +"I only repeat your own words, 'We all three shall understand each +other in God's good time'; and after what I heard to-day, I have the +feeling that He is watching over you." + +"Won't you promise not to speak any more on this subject?" + +"Yes, for I have done my duty." + +She took up his book and read to him, thus giving one more hour of +mingled pain and pleasure; though when he thought how long it would be +before he heard that sweet voice again, if ever, his pain almost +reached the point of anguish. As she turned toward him and saw his +look of suffering, she realized somewhat the effort he had made to +keep up before her. + +She came to him and said, "I was about to ask a favor, but perhaps +it's hardly right." + +"Ask it, anyway," he said, with a smile. + +"I don't urge it, but I expect Mr. Hunting this evening. Won't you +come down to supper and meet him?" + +"For your sake I will, now that I have gained some self-control. I am +not one to quarrel in a lady's parlor under any provocation. For your +sake I will treat Mr. Hunting like a gentleman, and make my last +evening with you as little of a restraint as possible." + +"Thank you--thank you. You now promise to make it one of peculiar +happiness." + +Annie drove to the depot for Hunting, and told of Gregory's consent to +meet him. She said, "Now is your opportunity, Charles. Meet him in +such a way as to make enmity impossible." + +His manner was not very reassuring, but, in his pleasure at hearing +that Gregory was soon to depart, and that in his absence Annie's +confidence in him had not been disturbed, he promised to do the best +he could. She was nervously excited as the moment of meeting +approached, and, somewhat to her surprise, Hunting seemed to share her +uneasiness. + +Gregory did not come down till the family were all in the supper-room. +Annie was struck with his appearance as he entered. Though his left +arm was in a sling, there was a graceful and almost courtly dignity in +his bearing, a brilliancy in his eyes and a firmness, about his mouth, +which proved that he had nerved himself for the ordeal and would +maintain himself. Instantly she thought of the time when he had first +appeared in that room, a half-wrecked, blase man of the world. Now he +looked and acted like a nobleman. + +Hunting, on the contrary, had a shuffling and embarrassed manner; but +he approached Gregory and held out his hand, saying, "Come, Mr. +Gregory, let by-gones be by-gones." + +But Gregory only bowed with the perfection of distant courtesy, and +said, "Good-evening, Mr. Hunting," and took his seat. + +Both Hunting and Annie blushed deeply and resentfully. After they were +seated, Annie looked toward Hunting to say "grace" as usual, but he +could not before the man who knew him so well, and there was another +moment of deep embarrassment, while a sudden satirical light gleamed +from Gregory's eyes. Annie saw it, and it angered her. + +Then Gregory broke the ice with quiet, well-bred ease. In natural +tones he commenced conversation, addressing now one, now another, in +such a way that they were forced to answer him in like manner. He +asked Hunting about the news and gossip of the city as naturally as if +they had met that evening for the first time. He even had pleasant +repartee with Johnny and Susie, who had now come to like him very +much, and his manner toward Miss Eulie was peculiarly gentle and +respectful, for he was deeply grateful to her. Indeed, that good lady +could scarcely believe her eyes and ears; but Gregory had always been +an enigma to her. At first he spoke to Annie less frequently than to +any one else, for he dreaded the cloud upon her brow and her outspoken +truthfulness, and he was determined the evening should pass off as he +had planned. Though so crippled that his food had to be prepared for +him, he only made it a matter of graceful jest, and gave ample proof +that a highly bred and cultivated man can be elegant in manners under +circumstances the most adverse. + +Even Annie thawed and relented under his graceful tact, and felt that +perhaps he was doing all she could expect in view of the simple +promise to "treat Hunting like a gentleman, for her sake." But it had +pained her deeply that he had not met Hunting's advances; and she saw +that, though perfectly courteous, he was not committing himself in the +slightest degree toward reconciliation. + +Moreover, she was excessively annoyed that Hunting acted so poor a +part. It is as natural for a woman to take pride in her lover as to +breathe, but she could have no pride in Hunting that evening. He +seemed annoyed beyond endurance with both himself and Gregory, though +he strove to disguise it. He knew that he was appearing to +disadvantage, and this increased his embarrassment, and he was most +unhappy in his words and manner. Yet he could take exception at +nothing, for Gregory, secure in his polished armor, grew more +brilliant and entertaining as he saw his adversary losing ground. + +All were glad when he supper-hour was over and they could adjourn to +the parlor. Here Gregory changed his tactics, and drawing the children +aside, told them a marvellous tale as a good-by souvenir, thus causing +them to feel deep regret for his departure. He next drew Miss Eulie +into an animated discussion upon a subject he knew her to be +interested in. From this he made the conversation general, and +continued to speak to Hunting as naturally as if there were no +differences between them. But all saw that he was growing very weary, +and early in the evening he quietly rose and excused himself, saying +that he needed rest for his journey on the morrow. There was the same +polite, distant bow to Hunting as at first, and in deep disappointment +Annie admitted that nothing had been gained by the interview from +which she had hoped so much. They were no nearer reconciliation. While +Gregory's manner had compelled respect and even admiration, it had +annoyed her excessively, for he had made her lover appear to +disadvantage, and she was almost vexed with Hunting that he had not +been equal to the occasion. She was sorry that she had asked Gregory +to come down while Hunting was present, and yet courtesy seemed to +require that he should be with them, since he was now sufficiently +well. Altogether it was a silent little group that Gregory left in the +parlor, as all were busy with their own thoughts. + +Hunting determined to remain the following day and see Gregory off and +out of the way forever, he hoped. + +The next morning Gregory did not come down to breakfast. But at about +ten o'clock he started for a short farewell stroll about the old +place. Annie joined him in the garden. + +"I do not think you were generous last evening," she said. "Mr. +Hunting met you half-way." + +"Did I not do just what I promised?" + +"But I was in hopes you would do more, especially when the way was +opened." + +"Do you think, Miss Walton, that Mr. Hunting's manner and feelings +toward me were sincerely cordial and friendly? Was it the prompting of +his heart, or your influence, that led him to put out his hand?" + +Annie blushed, in conscious confusion. "I fear I shall never reconcile +you," she said, sadly. + +"I fear not," he replied. "There must be a great change in us both +before you can. Though the reason I give you was a sufficient one for +not taking his hand in friendly feeling, it was not the one that +influenced me. I would not have taken it under any circumstances." + +"Mr. Gregory, you grieve me most deeply," she said, in a tone of real +distress. "Won't you, when you come to part, take his hand for my +sake, and let a little of the ice thaw?" + +"No," he said, almost sternly; "not even for your sake, for whom I +would die, will I be dishonest with myself or him; and you are not one +to ask me to act a lie." + +"You wound me deeply, sir!" she said, coldly. + +"Faithful are the wounds of a friend," he replied. She did not answer. + +"We shall not part in this way, Annie," he said, in a low, troubled +voice. + +"The best I can do is to give you credit for very mistaken sincerity," +she answered, sadly. + +"That is all now, I fear," replied he, gently. "Good-by, Annie Walton. +We are really parting now. My mission to you is past, and we go our +different ways. You will never believe anything I can say on this +painful subject, and I would not have spoken of it again of my own +accord. Keep your promise to me, and all will yet be well, I believe. +As that poor woman who saved us in the mountains said, 'There will at +least be one good thing about me. Whether I can pray for myself or +not, I shall daily pray for you'; and I feel that God who shielded you +so strangely once, will still guard you. Do not grieve because I go +away with pain in my heart. It's a better kind of suffering than that +with which I came, and lasting good may come out of it, for my old +reckless despair is gone. If I ever do become a good man--a Christian +--I shall have you to thank; and even heaven would be happier if you +were the means of bringing me there." + +"When you speak that way, Walter," she said, tears starting to her +eyes, "I must forgive everything; and when you become a Christian you +will love even your enemy. Please take this little package from me, +but do not open it till you reach the quiet and seclusion of your own +rooms. Good-by, my brother, for as such my father told me to act and +feel toward you, and from my heart I obey." + +He looked at her with moistened eyes, but did not trust himself to +answer, and without another word they returned to the house. + +Gregory's leave-taking from the rest of the household was no mere +form. Especially was this true of Miss Eulie, to whom he said most +feelingly, "Miss Morton, my mother could not have been kinder or more +patient with me." + +When he pressed Zibbie's hand and left a banknote in it, she broke out +in the broadest Scotch, "Maister Gregory, an' when I think me auld +gray head would ha' been oot in the stourm wi' na hame to cover it, I +pray the gude God to shelter yours fra a' the cauld blasts o' the +wourld." + +Silent Hannah, alike favored, seemed afflicted with a sudden attack of +St. Vitus's dance, so indefinite was the number of her courtesies; +while Jeff, on the driver's seat, looked as solemn as if he were to +drive Gregory to the cemetery instead of the depot. + +At the moment of final parting, Gregory merely took Annie's hand and +looked into her eyes with an expression that caused them speedily to +droop, tear-blinded. + +To Hunting he had bowed his farewell in the parlor. + +When the last object connected with his old home was hidden from his +wistful, lingering gaze, he said, with the sorrow of one who watches +the sod placed above the grave of his dearest, "So it all ends." + +But when in his city apartments, which never before had seemed such a +cheerless mockery of the idea of home, he opened the package Annie had +given him--when he found a small, worn Bible, inscribed with the +words, "To my dear little daughter Annie, from mother," and written +beneath, in a child's hand, "I thank you, dear mother. I will read it +every day"--he sprang up, and exclaimed it strongest feeling, "No, all +has not ended yet." + +When he became sufficiently calm he again took up the Bible, and found +the leaves turned down at the 14th chapter of St. John, with the +words, "Begin here." + +He read, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe +also in me. + +"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would +have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." + +"How sweetly--with what exquisite delicacy--she points me beyond the +shadows of time!" he said, musingly. "I believe in God. I ever have. +Then why not _trust_ the 'Man of Sorrows,' who also must be God? Both +Annie and her quaint old friend are right. He never turned one away +who came sincerely. In Him who forgave the outcast and thief there +glimmers hope for me. How thick the darkness as I look elsewhere. Lord +Jesus," he cried, with a rush of tears, "I am palsied through sin: +lift me up, that I may come to Thee." + +Better for him that night than a glowing hearth with genial friends +around it was Annie's Bible. + +Looking at it fondly, he said, "It links me to her happy childhood +before that false man came, and it may join me to her in the 'place' +which God is preparing, when he who now deceives her is as far removed +as sin." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +AT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER + + + +Immediately after Mr. Walton's funeral Miss Eulie had written to a +brother-in-law, then, in Europe, full particulars of all that had +occurred. This gentleman's name was Kemp, and he had originally +married a sister of Miss Eulie and Mrs. Walton. But she had died some +years since, and he had married as his second wife one who was an +entire stranger to the Walton family, and with whom there could be but +little sympathy. For this reason, though no unfriendliness existed, +there had been a natural falling-off of the old cordial intimacy. Mr. +Walton had respected Mr. Kemp as a man of sterling worth and +unimpeachable integrity, and his feelings were shared by Miss Eulie +and Annie, while Mr. Kemp himself secretly cherished a tender and +regretful memory of his earlier marriage connection. When he heard +that his niece, Annie, was orphaned, his heart yearned toward her, for +he had always been fond of her as a child. But when he came to read of +her relations with Hunting, and that this man was in charge of her +property, he was in deep distress. He would have returned home +immediately, but his wife's health would not permit his leaving her. +He wrote to Miss Eulie a long letter of honest sympathy, urging her +and Annie to come to him at Paris, saying that the change would be of +great benefit to both. + +This letter was expressed in such a way that it could be shown to +Annie. But he inclosed another under seal to the aunt, marked private, +in which by strong and guarded language he warned her against Hunting. +He did not dare commit definite charges to writing, not knowing how +much influence Hunting had over Miss Eulie. He felt sure that Annie +would not listen to anything against her lover, and justly feared that +she would inform him of what she heard, thus putting him on his guard, +and increasing his power for mischief. Mr. Kemp's hope was to act +through Miss Eulie, and get both her and Annie under his protection as +soon as possible. He knew that when he was face to face with Annie he +could prove to her the character of her lover, and through her compel +him to resign his executorship. Therefore he solemnly charged Miss +Eulie, as she loved Annie, not to permit her marriage with Hunting, +and, as executrix, to watch his financial management closely. + +Miss Eulie was greatly distressed by the contents of this letter. Mr. +Kemp's words, combined with Gregory's manner, destroyed her confidence +in Hunting, and made her feel that he might cause them irretrievable +disaster. She knew her brother to be a man of honor, and when he wrote +such words as these, "If Mr. Walton had known Hunting as I do he would +rather have buried his daughter than permit her to marry him," she was +sure that he did not speak unadvisedly. + +"Moreover," Mr. Kemp wrote, "I am not giving my mere opinion of +Hunting. I have absolute proof of what he is and has done." + +But it was his opinion that it would not be safe to reveal to Annie +the contents of this letter, as Hunting, in the desperation of his +fears, might find means to compass a hasty marriage, or disastrously +use his power over her property. + +As we have seen, in quiet home-ministerings Miss Eulie had no +superior, but she felt peculiarly timid and self-distrustful in +dealing with matters like these. Her first impulse and her growing +desire were that she and Annie might reach the shelter and protection +of her brother. She did not understand business, and felt powerless to +thwart Hunting. + +Annie's spirits greatly flagged after her father's death. Hunting did +not seem to have the power to comfort and help her that she had +expected to find in him. She could not definitely find fault with a +single act, save his treatment of Gregory; he was devotion itself to +her, but it was to her alone. He proved no link between her and God. +Even when in careful phrases he sought to use the "language of +Canaan," he did not speak it as a native, and ever left a vague, +unsatisfied pain in her heart. He was true and strong when he spoke of +his own love. He was eloquent and glowing when his fancy painted their +future home, but cold and formal in comparison when he dwelt on that +which her Christian nature most needed in her deep affliction. + +When Annie found that she could leave the children in charge of a +careful, trustworthy relative, she was readily persuaded into the plan +of going abroad. She felt the need of change, for her health had begun +to fail, and she was sinking into one of those morbid states which are +partly physical and partly mental. + +Hunting, also, strongly approved of the project. Business would +require him to visit Europe during the winter, and in having Annie as +a companion he thought himself fortunate indeed. He felt sure that as +soon as she regained her health and spirits she would consent to their +marriage; moreover, it would place the sea between her and Gregory, +thus averting all danger of disclosure. A trip abroad promised to +further his interests in all respects. He knew nothing of Mr. Kemp +save as a New York business man, and supposed that Mr. Kemp had only a +general and favorable knowledge of himself. + +For Annie's sake and her own Miss Eulie tried to prevent any marked +change in her manner toward Hunting, and though she was not a very +good actress he did not care enough about her to notice her occasional +restraints and formality of manner. But Annie did, and it was another +source of vague uneasiness and pain, though the causes were too +intangible to speak of. She thought it possible that Gregory had +prejudiced her aunt slightly. But it was her nature to prove all the +more loyal to Hunting, especially when he was so devoted to her. + +Before they could complete arrangements for departure, Annie was taken +seriously ill, and January of the ensuing year had nearly passed +before she was strong enough for the journey. During her illness no +one could have been more kind and attentive than Hunting, and Annie +felt exceedingly grateful. Still, in their prolonged and close +intimacy since her father's death, something in the man himself had +caused her love for him to wane. She had a growing consciousness that +he was not what she had supposed. She reproached herself bitterly for +this, and under the sense of the wrong she felt herself doing him, was +disposed to show more deference to his wishes, and in justice to him +to try to make amends. When, therefore, he again urged that the +marriage take place before they sailed, giving as his reasons that he +could take better care of her, and that henceforth she could be with +him, and that he would not be compelled to leave her so often on +account of his business, she was half inclined to yield. She felt that +the marriage-tie would confirm her true feelings as a wife, and that +it was hardly fair to ask him to be away from his large and exacting +business so much, especially when he had appeared so generous in the +time he had given her, which must have involved to him serious loss +and inconvenience. She said to herself, "I shall be better and +happier, and so will Charles, when I cease secretly finding fault with +him, and devote myself unselfishly to making a good wife and a good +home." + +Hunting exultantly thought that he would carry his point, but Miss +Eulie proved she was not that nonentity which, in his polite and +attentive indifference, he had secretly considered her. With quiet +firmness she said that, as Annie's natural guardian, she would not +give her consent to the marriage. As a reason she said, "I think it +would show a great lack of respect and courtesy to Annie's uncle and +my brother, who is so fond of her, and has been so kind. I see no +pressing need for the marriage now, for I am going with Annie and can +take care of her as I have done. If it seems best, you can be married +over there, and I know that Mr. Kemp would feel greatly hurt if we +acted as if we were indifferent to his presence at the ceremony." + +The moment her aunt expressed this view Annie agreed with her, and +Hunting felt that he could not greatly complain, as the marriage would +be delayed but a few weeks. + +Annie felt absolved from her promise to Gregory by an event that +occurred not very long after his departure. Gregory had sent a box, +directed to Miss Eulie's care, containing some toys and books for the +children, and the promised tobacco for Daddy Tuggar, also a note for +Annie, inclosed in one to Miss Eulie, in which were these words only, +"If you had searched the world you could not have given me anything +that I would value more." + +In his self-distrust, and in his purpose not to give the slightest +ground for the imputation that he had sought her promise of delay to +obtain time to gain a hearing himself, he had said no more. But Annie +thought that he might have said more. The note seemed cold and brief +in view of all that had passed between them. Still, she hoped much +from the influence of her Bible. + +One evening Hunting came up from the city evidently much disturbed. To +her expressions of natural solicitude he replied, "I don't like to +speak of it, for you seem to think that I ought to stand everything +from Mr. Gregory. And so I suppose I ought, and indeed I was grateful, +but one can't help having the natural feelings of a man. I was with +some friends and met him face to face in an omnibus. Knowing how great +was your wish that we should be friendly, I spoke courteously to him, +but he looked at me as if I were a dog. He might as well have struck +me. I saw that my friends were greatly surprised, but of course I +could not explain there, and yet it's not pleasant to be treated like +a pickpocket, with no redress. I defy him," continued Hunting, +assuming the tone and manner of one greatly wronged, "to prove +anything worse against me than that I compelled him and his partners +to pay money to which I had a legal right, and which I could have +collected in a court of law." + +The politic Hunting said nothing of moral right, and innocent Annie +was not on the lookout for such quibbles. + +Her quick feelings were strongly stirred, and on the impulse of the +moment she sat down and wrote: + +"Mr. Gregory--I think your course toward Mr. Hunting to-day was not +only unjust, but even ungentlemanly. You cannot hurt his feelings +without wounding mine. I cannot help feeling that your hostility is +both 'unreasonable and implacable.' In sadness and disappointment, +"Annie Walton." + +"There," she said, "read that, and please mail it for me." + +"That's my noble Annie," he said, gratefully. "Now you prove your love +anew, and show you will not stand quietly by and see me insulted." + +"You may rest assured I will not," she said, promptly; adding very +sadly after a moment, "I cannot understand how Mr. Gregory, with all +his good qualities, can act so." + +"You do not know him so well as I do," said Hunting; "and yet even I +feel grateful to him for his services to you, and would show it if he +would treat me decently." + +"He shall treat you decently, and politely too, if he wishes to keep +my favor," said she, hotly. + +But the next day, when she thought it all over quietly, she regretted +that she had written so harshly. "My words will not help my Bible's +influence," she thought in self-reproach, "and only when he becomes a +Christian will he show a different disposition." + +Her regret would have been still deeper, if she had known that Hunting +had sent her note with one from himself to this effect: + +"You perceive from the inclosed that you cannot insult me as you did +yesterday and still retain the favor of one whose esteem you value +_too highly_ perhaps. My only regret is that you were not a witness to +the words and manner which accompanied the act of writing." + +Still stronger would have been her indignation had she known that +Hunting had greatly exaggerated his insult. Gregory had merely acted +as if unconscious of his presence, and there had been no look of +scorn. + +When Gregory received the missives he tossed Hunting's contemptuously +into the fire, but read Annie's more than once, sighed deeply, and +said, "He keeps his ascendency over her. O God! quench not my spark of +faith by permitting this great wrong to be consummated." Then he +indorsed on her note, "Forgiven, my dear, deceived sister. You will +understand in God's good time." + +But he felt that God must unravel the problem, for Annie would listen +to nothing against her lover. + +She hoped that Gregory would write an explanation, or at least some +words in self-defence, and then she meant to soften her hasty note, +but no answer came. This increased her depression, and she was +surprised at her strong and abiding interest in him. She could not +understand how their eventful acquaintance should end as it promised +to. Then came her illness, and through many long, sleepless hours, she +thought of the painful mystery. + +As she recovered strength of body and mind she felt that it was one of +those things that she must trustingly put in God's hands and leave +there. This she did, and resolutely and patiently addressed herself to +the duties of her lot. + +As for Gregory, from the first evening of his return to the city, he +adopted the resolution in regard to Annie's Bible which she, as a +little child, had written in it so many years ago, "I will read it +every day." + +It became his shrine and constant solace. Instead of going to his +club, as was his former custom, he spent the long, quiet evenings in +its study. The more he read the more fascinated he became by its rich +and varied truths. Sometimes as he was tracing up a line of thought +through its pages, so luminously and beautifully would it develop that +it seemed to him that Annie and his mother, with unseen hands, were +pointing the way. Though almost alone in the great city, he grew less +and less lonely, and welcomed the shades of evening, that he might +return to a place now sacred to him, where the gift Bible, like a +living presence, awaited him. + +His doubts and fears vanished slowly. His faith kindled even more +slowly; but the teachings of that inspired Book gave him principle, +true manhood, and strength to do right, no matter how he felt. He had +honestly and sturdily resolved to be guided by it, and it did guide +him. He was a Christian, though he did not know it, and would not +presume to call himself such even to himself. In view of his evil past +he was exceedingly humble and self-distrustful. As Mr. Walton had told +poor old Daddy Tuggar, he was simply trying to "trust Jesus Christ and +do the best he could." + +But those associated with him in business, and many others, wondered +at the change in him. Old Mr. Burnett, his senior partner, was +especially delighted, and would often say to him, "I thank God, Mr. +Gregory, that you nearly had your neck broken last October"; for the +good old man associated this accident with the change. + +Gregory also began attending church--not a gorgeous temple on Fifth +Avenue, where he was not needed; but he hunted up an obscure and +struggling mission, and said to the minister, "I am little better than +a heathen, but if you will trust me I will do the best I can to help +you." + +Within a month, through his liberal gifts and energetic labors, the +usefulness of the mission was almost doubled. It was touching to see +him humbly and patiently doing the Lord's lowliest work, as if he were +not worthy. He hoped that in time he might receive the glad assurance +that he was accepted; but whether it came or not, he purposed to do +the best he could, and leave his fate in God's hands. At any rate God +seemed not against him, for both his business and his Christian work +prospered. + +One bright morning late in January, Annie, Miss Eulie, and Hunting +were driven down, to the steamer, and having gone to their state-rooms +and seen that their luggage was properly stowed away, they came up on +deck to watch the scenes attending the departure of the great ship, +and observe the views as they sailed down the bay. Hunting had told +them to make the most of this part of the voyage, for in a winter +passage it might be long before they could enjoy another promenade. + +Annie was intensely interested, for all was new and strange. She had a +keen, quick eye for character, and a human interest in humanity, even +though those around her did not belong to her "set." Therefore it was +with appreciative eyes that she watched the motley groups of her +fellow-passengers waving handkerchiefs and exchanging farewells with +equally diversified groups on the wharf. + +"It seems," she said to her aunt, "as if all the world had sent their +representatives here. It makes me almost sad that there is no one to +see us off." + +Then her eye rested upon a gentleman who evidently had no one to see +him off. He was leaning on the railing upon the opposite side of the +ship, smoking a cigar. His back was toward all this bustle and +confusion, and he seemed to have an air of isolation and of +indifference to what was going on about him. His tall person was clad +in a heavy overcoat, which seemed to combine comfort with elegance, +and gave to him, even in his leaning posture, a distingue air. But +that which drew Annie's attention was the difference of his manner +from that of all others, who were either excited by their +surroundings, or were turning wistfully and eagerly toward friends +whom it might be long before they saw again. The motionless, apathetic +figure, smoking quietly, with his hat drawn down over his eyes, and +looking away from everything and everybody, came to have a fascination +for her. + +The steamer slowly and majestically moved out into the stream. Shouts, +cries, final words, hoarse orders from the officers--a perfect babel +of sounds--filled the air, but the silently-curling smoke-wreaths were +the only suggestion of life from that strangely indifferent form. He +seemed like one so deeply absorbed in his own thoughts that he would +have to be awakened as from sleep. + +Suddenly he turned and came toward them with the air of one who feels +himself alone, though jostled in a crowd, and instantly, with a +strange thrill at heart, Annie recognized Walter Gregory. + +Hunting saw him also, and Annie noted that, while the blackest frown +gathered on his brow, he grew very pale. + +In his absorption, Gregory would have passed by them, but Annie said, +"Mr. Gregory, are you not going to speak to us?" + +He started violently, and his face mantled with hot blood, and Annie +also felt that she was blushing unaccountably. But he recovered +instantly, and came and shook her hand most cordially, saying, "This +is a strangely unexpected pleasure. And Miss Morton, also! When was I +ever so fortunate before?" + +Then he saw Hunting, to whom he bowed with his old, distant manner, +and Hunting returned the acknowledgment in the most stiff and formal +way. + +"Do you know," said Annie, "I have been watching you with curiosity +for some time past, though I did not know who you were till you +turned. I could not account for your apathy and indifference to this +scene, which to me is so novel and exciting, and which seems to find +every one interested save yourself. I should hardly have thought you +alive if you had not been smoking." + +"Well," he said, "I have been abroad so often that it has become like +crossing the ferry, and I was expecting no one down to see me off. But +you do not look well;" and both she and Miss Eulie noticed that he +glanced uneasily from her to Hunting, and did not seem sure how he +should address her. + +"Miss Walton has just recovered from a long illness," said Miss Eulie, +quietly. + +His face instantly brightened, and as quickly changed to an expression +of sincerest sympathy. + +"Not seriously ill, I hope," he said, earnestly. + +"I'm afraid I was," replied Annie, adding, cheerfully, "I am quite +well now, though." + +His face became as pale as it had been flushed a moment before, and he +said, in a low tone, "I did not know it." + +His manner touched her, and proved that there was no indifference on +his part toward her, though there might be to the bustling world +around him. + +Then he inquired particularly after each member of the household, and +especially after old Daddy Tuggar. + +Annie told him how delighted the children had been with the toys and +books. "And as for Daddy Tuggar," she said, smiling, "he has been in +the clouds, literally and metaphorically, ever since you sent him the +tobacco. Whenever I go to see him he says, most cheerfully, 'It's all +settled, Miss Annie. It grows clearer with every pipe' (while I can +scarcely see him), 'I'm all right, 'cause I'm an awful sinner.'" + +She was rather surprised at the look of glad sympathy which Gregory +gave her, but he only said, "He is to be envied." + +Then at her request he began to point out the objects of interest they +were passing, and with quiet courtesy drew Hunting into the +conversation, who rather ungraciously permitted it because he could +not help himself. + +Annie again, with pain, saw the unfavorable contrast of her lover with +this man, who certainly proved himself the more finished gentleman, if +nothing else. + +With almost a child's delight she said, "You have no idea how novel +and interesting all this is to me, though so old and matter-of-fact to +you. I have always wanted to cross the ocean, and look forward to this +voyage with unmingled pleasure." + +"I'm sincerely sorry such a disastrous change is so soon to take place +in your sensations, for it will be rough outside to-day, and I fear +you and Miss Morton will soon be suffering from the most forlorn and +prosaic of maladies." + +"I won't give up to it," said Annie, resolutely. + +"I have no doubt," he replied, humorously, "as our quaint old friend +used to say, that you are 'well meanin',' but we must all submit to +fate. I fear you will soon be confined to the dismal lower regions." + +"Are you sick?" + +"I was at first." + +His prediction was soon verified. From almost a feeling of rapture and +a sense of the sublime as they looked out upon the broad Atlantic with +its tumultuous waves, the ladies suddenly became silent, and glanced +nervously toward the stairway that led to the cabin. + +Gregory promptly gave his arm to Miss Eulie, while Hunting followed +with Annie, and that was the last appearance of the ladies for three +days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO + + + +On the morning of the fourth day, as the sea had become more calm, the +ladies ventured upon deck for a short time. Gregory immediately joined +them and complimented their courage in coming out during a winter +voyage. + +"Nature and I are friends all the year round," said Annie, with a +faint attempt at a smile, for she was still sick and faint. "I rather +like her wild, rough moods. It has been a great trial to my patience +to lie in my berth, helpless and miserable from what you well term a +'prosaic malady,' when I was longing to see the ocean. Now that we +have made a desperate attempt to reach deck, there is nothing to see. +Do you think this dense fog will last long?" + +"I hope not, especially for your sake. But do not regret coming out, +for you will soon feel better for it." + +"I do already; I believe I could live out of doors. Have you been +ill?" + +"O no; I should have been a sailor." + +"Mr. Hunting has fared almost as badly as we," said Annie, determined +that they should make one group. + +"Indeed! I'm sorry," said Gregory, quietly. + +"I hate the ocean," snarled Hunting, with a grim, white face; "I'm +always sick." + +"And I'm afraid of it," said Miss Eulie. "How can they find their way +through such a mist? Then, we might run into something." + +"In any case you are safe, Miss Morton," said Gregory, with a smile. + +She gave him a bright look and replied, "I trust we all are. But the +sea is rough, boisterous, treacherous, and mysterious, just the +qualities I don't like. What a perfect emblem of mystery this fog is +through which we are going so rapidly!" + +"Well," said Gregory, with one of his expressive shrugs, "I find all +these experiences equally on the land, especially the latter." + +Annie gave him a quick, inquiring look, while color came into even +Hunting's pale face. + +Annie felt no little curiosity as to Gregory's developing character, +for though he had said nothing definite, his softened manner and quiet +dignity made him seem very unlike his old self. + +"How do you pass your time?" she asked. + +"Well, I read a great deal, and I take considerable exercise, for I +wish fully to regain my health." + +She gave him a grateful look. He was keeping his promise. She said, +"You look very much better than I expected to see you, and I'm very +glad, for you were almost ghostly when you left us. What do you find +so interesting to read?" + +His color rose instantly, but he said with a smile, "A good old book +that I brought with me." + +The expression of his face answered her swift, questioning look. It +was her Bible. Neither Miss Eulie nor Hunting understood why she +became so quiet; but the latter, who was watching them closely, +thought he detected some secret understanding. In his jealous egotism +it could only mean what was adverse to himself, and he had an attack +of something worse than sea-sickness. + +Gregory quietly turned the conversation upon ocean travel, and for a +half-hour entertained the ladies without any effort on their part, and +then they went back to their state-rooms. + +By evening the ship was running so steadily that they all came out to +supper. Gregory, who was a personal friend of the captain, had secured +them a place near the head of the table, where they received the best +of attention. Annie, evidently, was recovering rapidly, and took a +genuine interest in the novel life and scenes around her. She found +herself vis-a-vis and side by side with great diversities of +character, and listened with an amused, intelligent face to the brisk +conversation. She noted with surprise that Gregory seemed quite a +favorite, but soon saw the reason in his effort to make the hour pass +pleasantly to his fellow-passengers. The captain had given him a seat +at his right hand, and appealed to him on every disputed point that +was outside of his special province. + +She was also pleased to see how Gregory toned up the table-talk and +skilfully led it away from disagreeable topics. But he had a rather +difficult task, for, sitting near her, was a man whose ostentatious +dress reflected his character and words. + +Some one was relating an anecdote of a narrow escape, and another +remarked, "That's what I should call a special Providence." + +"Special Providence!" said Annie's loud neighbor, contemptuously. "A +grown man is very weak-minded to believe in any Providence whatever." + +There was a shocked, pained expression on many faces, and Annie's eyes +flashed with indignation. She turned to Hunting, expecting him to +resent such an insult to their faith, but saw only a cold sneer on his +face. Hunting was decidedly English in his style, and would travel +around the world and never speak to a stranger, or make an +acquaintance, if he could help it. Then, instinctively, she turned to +Gregory. He was looking fixedly at the man, whose manner had attracted +general attention. But he only said, "Then I am very weak-minded." + +There was a general expression of pleased surprise and sympathy on the +faces of those who understood his reply, while the captain stared at +him in some astonishment. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "I meant nothing personal. It +was only a rather blunt way of saying that I didn't believe in any +such things myself." + +"I give you credit for your honesty, but some of us do." + +"Then you pretend to be a Christian?" + +"I should not _pretend_ to be one under any circumstances," said +Gregory, with the perfection of quiet dignity, "and I am very sorry to +say that I am not so favored. But I have full belief in a Providence, +both special and general." + +"I like your honesty, too," said the man, seemingly anxious for an +argument. "By the word 'pretend' I only meant claim, or assert. But it +seems to me that the facts in the case are all against your belief. I +find nothing but law in the universe. You might as well say that this +ship is run by special Providence, when, in fact, it is run by +accurately gauged machinery, system, and rules." + +"Now your argument is lame," said the captain, laughing. "We have +plenty of good machinery, system, and rules aboard, but if I wasn't +around, looking after everything all the time, as a special +Providence, I'm afraid you'd find salt water before Liverpool." + +A general laugh followed this sally, and Gregory said: "And so I +believe that the Divine Providence superintends His own laws and +system. I think my friend the captain has given a most happy +illustration of the truth, and I had no idea he was so good a +theologian." + +"That's not an argument," said the man, considerably crestfallen. +"That's only a joke." + +"By the way, Mr. Gregory, it seems to me that your views have changed +since you crossed with me last," remarked the captain. + +"I frankly admit they have," was the prompt reply. "Perhaps I can +explain myself by the following question: If you find, by a careful +observation, that you are heading your ship the wrong way, what do you +do?" + +"Put her about on the right course." + +"That is just what I have tried to do, sir. I think my meaning is +plain?" + +"Nothing could be clearer, and I'd rather be aboard now than when you +were on the old tack." + +Annie gave Gregory a glance of glad, grateful approval that warmed his +heart like sunshine. + +Hunting said, enviously, _sotto voce_, "I think such conversation at a +public table wretched taste." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Annie, decidedly; "but, granting it, +Mr. Gregory did not introduce the subject, and I wish you had spoken +as he did when every Christian at the table was insulted." + +He colored deeply, but judiciously said nothing. + +With increasing pain she thought, "He who says he is not a Christian +acts more like one than he who claims the character." + +But she now had the strongest hopes for Gregory, and longed for a +private talk with him. + +The next day it blew quite a gale, and Hunting and Miss Eulie were +helplessly confined to their staterooms. But Annie had become a +sailor, and having done all she could for her aunt, came upon deck, +where she saw Gregory walking back and forth with almost the +steadiness of one of the ship's officers. + +She tried to go to him, but would have fallen had he not seen her and +reached her side almost at a bound. With a gentleness and tenderness +as real as delicate, he placed her in a sheltered nook where she could +see the waves in their mad sport, and said, "Now you can see old ocean +in one of his best moods. The wind, though strong, is right abaft, +filling all the sails they dare carry, and we are making grand +progress." + +"How wonderful it is!" cried Annie, looking with a child's interest +upon the scene. "Just see those briny mountains, with foam and spray +for foliage. If our own Highlands with their mingled evergreens and +snow were changed from granite to water, and set in this wild motion, +it could hardly seem more strange and sublime. Look at that great +monster coming so threateningly toward us. It seems as if we should be +engulfed beyond a chance." + +"Now see how gracefully the ship will surmount it," said Gregory, +smiling. + +"O dear!" said she, sighing, "if we could only rise above our troubles +in the same way!" Then, feeling that she had touched on delicate +ground, she hastened to add, "This boundless waste increases my old +childish wonder how people ever find their way across the ocean." + +"The captain is even now illustrating your own teaching and practice +in regard to the longer and more difficult voyage of life," said +Gregory, meaningly. "He is 'looking up'--taking an observation of the +heavens, and will soon know just where we are and how to steer." + +Annie looked at him wistfully, and said, in a low tone, "I was so glad +to learn, last evening, that you had taken an observation also, and I +was so very grateful, too, that you had the courage to defend our +faith." + +"I have to thank you that I could do either. It was really you who +spoke." + +"No, Mr. Gregory," she said, gently, "my work for you reached its +limit. God is leading you now." + +"I try to hope so," he said; "but it was your hand that placed in mine +that by which He is leading me. He surely must have put it into your +heart to give me that Bible. When I reached my cheerless rooms in New +York I felt so lonely and low-spirited that I had not the courage to +go a single step further. But your Bible became a living, comforting +presence from that night. What exquisite tact you showed in giving me +that little worn companion of your childhood, instead of a new gilt- +leaved one, with no associations. I first hoped that you might with it +give me also something of your childhood's faith. But that does not +come yet. That does not come." + +"It will," said she, earnestly, and with moistened eyes. + +"That, now, is one of my dearest hopes. But after what I have been, I +am not worthy that it should come soon. But if I perish myself I want +to try to help others." + +Then he asked, in honest distrustfulness, "Do you think it right for +one who is not a Christian to try to teach others?" + +"Before I answer that question I wish to ask a little more about +yourself;" and she skilfully drew him out, he speaking more openly in +view of the question to be decided than he would otherwise have done. +He told of the long evenings spent over her Bible; of his mission +work, and of his honest effort to deal justly with all; at the same +time dwelling strongly on his doubts and spiritual darkness, and the +unspent influences of his old evil life. + +The answer was different from what he expected; for she said: "Mr. +Gregory, why do you say that you are not a Christian?" + +"Because I feel that I am not." + +"Does feeling merely make a Christian?" she asked. "Is not action more +than feeling? Do not trusting, following, serving, and seeking to +obey, make a Christian? But suppose that even with your present +_feeling_ you were living at the time of Christ's visible presence on +earth, would you be hostile or indifferent, or would you join His band +even though small and despised?" + +"I think I would do the latter, if permitted." + +"I know you would, from your course last night. And do you think Jesus +would say, 'Because you are not an emotional man like Peter, you are +no friend of mine'? Why, Mr. Gregory, He let even Judas Iscariot, +though with unworthy motive, follow Him as long as he would, giving +him a chance to become true." + +"Miss Walton, do not mislead me in this matter. You know how +implicitly I trust you." + +"And I would rather cast myself over into those waves than deceive +you," she said; "and if I saw them swallowing you up I should as +confidently expect to meet you again, as my father. How strange it is +you can believe that Jesus died for you and yet will not receive you +when you are doing just that which He died to accomplish." + +He took a few rapid turns up and down the deck and then leaned over +the railing. She saw that he brushed more than one tear into the +waves. At last he turned and gave his hand in warm pressure, saying, +"I cannot doubt you, and I will doubt Him no longer. I see that I have +wronged Him, and the thought causes me sorrow even in my joy." + +"Now you are my brother in very truth," she said, gently, with glad +tears in her own eyes. "All that we have passed through has not been +in vain. How wonderfully God has led us!" + +It was a long time before either spoke again. + +At last he said, with a strange, wondering smile, "To think that such +as I should ever reach heaven! As Daddy Tuggar says, 'there will be +good neighbors there.'" + +She answered him by a happy smile, and then both were busy with their +own thoughts again. Annie was thinking how best to introduce the +subject so near her heart, his reconciliation with Hunting. + +But that gentleman had become so tortured with jealousy and so alarmed +at the thought of any prolonged conference between Annie and Gregory, +that he dragged himself on deck. As he watched them a moment before +they saw him, he was quite reassured. Gregory was merely standing near +Annie, and both were looking away to sea, as if they had nothing +special to say to each other. Annie was pained to see that Gregory's +manner did not change toward Hunting. He was perfectly polite, but +nothing more; soon he excused himself, thinking they would like to be +alone. + +In the afternoon she found a moment to say, "Mr. Gregory, will you +never become reconciled to Mr. Hunting? You surely cannot hate him +now?" + +He replied, gravely, "I do not hate him any longer. I would do him any +kindness in my power, and that is a great deal for me to say. But Mr. +Hunting has no real wish for reconciliation." + +In bitter sorrow she was compelled to admit to herself the truth of +his words. After a moment he added, "If he does he knows the exact +terms on which it can be effected." + +She could not understand it, and reproached herself bitterly that so +many doubts in regard to her affianced would come unbidden, and force +themselves on her mind. The feeling grew stronger that there was wrong +on both sides, and perhaps the more on Hunting's. + +That was a memorable day to Gregory. It seemed to him that Annie's +hand had drawn aside the sombre curtain of his unbelief, and shown the +path of light shining more and more unto the perfect day. Though +comparatively lonely, he felt that his pilgrimage could not now be +unhappy, and that every sorrow would at last find its cure. In regard +to her earthly future he could only hope and trust. It would be a +terrible trial to his faith if she were permitted to marry Hunting, +and yet he was sure it would all be well at last; for was it not said +that God's people would come to their rest out of "great tribulation"? +She had given him the impression that, under any circumstances, her +love for him could only be sisterly in its character. + +But he was too happy in his new-born hope to think of much else that +day; and, finding a secluded nook, he searched Annie's Bible for +truths confirmatory of her words. On every side they glowed as in +letters of light. Then late that night he went on deck, and in his +strong excitement felt as if walking on air in his long, glad vigil. + +At last, growing wearied, he leaned upon the railing and looked out +upon the dark waves--not dark to him, for the wanderer at last had +seen the light of his heavenly home, and felt that it would cheer his +way till the portals opened and received him into rest. + +Suddenly, upon the top of a distant wave, something large and white +appeared, and then sank into an ocean valley. Again it rose--a sail, +then the dark hull of a ship. + +In dreamy musing he began, wondering how, in mid-ocean, with so many +leagues of space, two vessels should cross each other's track so near. +"It's just the same with human lives," he thought. "A few months or +years ago, people that I never knew, and might have passed on the +wider ocean of life, unknowing and uncaring, have now come so near! +Why is it? Why does that ship, with the whole Atlantic before it, come +so steadily toward us?" + +It did come so steadily and so near that a feeling of uneasiness +troubled him, but he thought that those in charge knew their business +better than he. + +A moment later he started forward. The ship that had come so silently +and phantom-like across the waves seemed right in the path of the +steamer. + +Was it not a phantom? + +No; there's a white face at the wheel--the man is making a sudden, +desperate effort--it's too late. + +With a crash like thunder the seeming phantom ship plows into the +steamer's side. + +For a moment Gregory was appalled, stunned; and stared at the fatal +intruder that fell back in strong rebound, and dropped astern. + +Then he became conscious of the confusion, and awakening uproar on +both vessels. Cries of agony, shouts of alarm, and hoarse orders +pierced the midnight air. He ran forward and saw the yawning cavern +which the blow had made in the ship's side, and heard the rush of +water into the hold. Across the chasm he saw the captain's pale face +looking down with a dismay like his own. + +"The ship will sink, and soon," Gregory shouted. + +There was no denial. + +Down to the startled passengers he rushed, crying, "Awake! Escape for +your lives!" + +His words were taken up and echoed in every part of the ship. + +He struck a heavy blow upon the door of Annie's stateroom. "Miss +Walton!" + +"Oh, what has happened?" she asked. + +"You and Miss Morton come on deck, instantly; don't stop to dress; +snatch a shawl--anything. Lose not a moment. What is Hunting's +number?" + +"Forty, on the opposite side." + +"I will be back in a moment; be ready." + +Hunting's state-room was so near where the steamer had been struck +that its door was jammed and could not be opened. + +"Help! help! I can't get out," shrieked the terrified man. + +Gregory wrenched a leaf from a dining-room table and pried the door +open. + +"Come," he said, "you've no time to dress." + +Hunting wrapped his trembling form in a blanket and gasped, as he +followed, "I'll pay you back every cent of that money with interest." + +"Make your peace with God. We may soon be before Him," was the awful +response. + +Miss Eulie and Annie stood waiting, draped in heavy shawls. + +"I'm sorry for the delay; Hunting's door was jammed and had to be +broken open. Come;" and putting his arm around Miss Eulie and taking +Annie's hand, he forced them rapidly through the increasing throng of +terror-stricken passengers that were rushing in all directions. + +Even then, with a strange thrill at heart, Annie thought, "He has +saved his enemy's life." + +He took them well aft, and said, "Don't move; stand just here until I +return," and then pushed his way to the point where a frantic crowd +were snatching for the life preservers which were being given out. The +officer, knowing him, tossed him four as requested. + +Coming back, he said to Hunting, "Fasten that one on Miss Morton and +keep the other." Throwing down his own for a moment, he proceeded to +fasten Annie's. He would not trust the demoralized Hunting to do +anything for her, and he was right, for Hunting's hands so trembled +that he was helpless. Having seen that Annie's was secured beyond a +doubt, Gregory also tied on Miss Eulie's. + +In the meantime a passenger snatched his own preserving-belt, which he +had been trying to keep by placing his foot upon it. + +"Stop," Annie cried. "O Mr. Gregory! he has taken it and you have +none. You shall have mine;" and she was about to unfasten it. + +He laid a strong grasp upon her hands. "Stop such folly," he said, +sternly. "Come to where they are launching that boat. You have no +choice;" and he forced her forward while Hunting followed with Miss +Eulie. + +They stood waiting where the lantern's glare fell upon their faces, +with many others more pale and agonized. + +Annie clung to him as her only hope (for Hunting seemed almost +paralyzed with fear), and whispered, "Will you the same as die for me +again?" + +"Yes, God bless you! a thousand times if there were need," he said, in +tones whose gentleness equalled the harshness of his former words. + +She looked at him wonderingly. There was no fear upon his face, only +unspeakable love for her. + +"Are you not afraid?" she asked. + +"You said I was a Christian to-day, and your Bible and God's voice in +my heart have confirmed your words. No, I am at peace in all this +uproar, save anxiety for you." + +She buried her face upon his shoulder. + +"My darling sister!" he murmured in her ear. "How can I ever thank you +enough?" + +Then he started suddenly, and tearing off the cape of his coat, said +to Hunting, "Fasten that around Miss Morton;" and before Annie quite +knew what he was doing he had taken off the body part and incased her +in it. + +"Here, Hunting, your belt is not secure"; and he tightened the straps. + +"Pass the women forward," shouted the captain. + +Of course those nearest were embarked first. The ladies in Gregory's +charge had to take their turn, and the boat was about full when Miss +Eulie was lowered over the side. + +At that moment the increasing throng, with a deeper realization of +danger, as the truth of their situation grew plainer, felt the first +mad impulse of panic, and there was a rush toward the boat. Hunting +felt the awful contagion. His face had the look of a hunted wild +beast. Annie gazed wonderingly at him, but as he half-started with the +others for the boat she understood him. Laying a restraining hand upon +his arm, she said, in a low tone, "If you leave my side now, you leave +it forever." + +He cowered back in shame. + +The officer in charge of the boat had shouted, "This boat is for women +and children; as you are men and not brutes, stand back." + +This checked the desperate mob for a moment, and Gregory was about to +pass Annie down when there was another mad rush led by the blatant +individual who had scouted the idea of Providence. + +"Cut away all," shouted the captain from the bridge, and the boat +dropped astern. + +It was only by fierce effort that Gregory kept himself and Annie from +being carried over the side by the surging mass, many of whom leaped +blindly over, supposing the boat to be still there. + +Pressing their way out they went where another boat was being +launched. Hunting followed them like a child, and was as helpless. He +now commenced moaning, "O God! what shall I do? what shall I do?" + +"Trust Him, and be a man. What else should you do?" said Gregory, +sternly, for he was deeply disgusted at Hunting's behavior. + +Around this boat the officer in charge had placed a cordon of men to +keep the crowd away, and stood pistol in hand to enforce his orders. +But the boat was scarcely lowered before there was the same wild rush, +mostly on the part of the crew and steerage passengers. The officer +fired and brought down the foremost, but the frenzied wretches +trampled him down with those helping, together with women and +children, as a herd of buffaloes might have done. They poured over +into the boat, swamped it, and as the steamer moved slowly ahead, were +left struggling and perishing in the waves. + +Gregory had put his arm around Annie and drawn her out of the crush. +Fortunately they had been at one side, so that this was possible. + +"The boats are useless," he said, sadly. "There will be the same +suicidal folly at every one, even if they have time to lower any more. +Come aft. That part will sink last, and there will be less suction +there when the ship goes down. We may find something that will keep us +afloat." + +Annie clung to his arm and said, quietly, "I will do just as you say," +while Hunting followed in the same maze of terror. + +They had hardly got well away before a mast, with its rigging, fell +where they had stood, crushing many and maiming others, rendering them +helpless. + +"Awful! awful" shuddered Hunting, and Annie put her hands before her +eyes. + +An officer, with some men, now came toward them with axes, and +commenced breaking up the after wheelhouse. + +"Here is our best chance," said Gregory. "Let us calmly await the +final moment and then do the best we can. All this broken timber will +float, and we can cling to it." + +The ship was settling fast, and had become like a log upon the water, +responding slowly and heavily to the action of the waves. But under +the cold, pitiless starlight of that winter night, what heartrending +scenes were witnessed upon her sinking deck! Death had already laid +its icy finger on many, and many more were grouped near in despairing +expectation of the same fate. + +While many, like Hunting, were almost paralyzed with fear, and others +shrieked and cried aloud in agony--while some prayed incoherently, and +others rushed back and forth as if demented--there were not wanting +numerous noble examples of faith and courage. Fortunately, there were +not many ladies on board, and most of these proved that woman's +fortitude is not a poetic fiction. One or two family groups stood near +in close embrace, and some men calmly folded their arms across their +breasts, and met their fate as God would have them. + +Annie was conscious of a strange peace and hopefulness. She thrilled +with the thought which she expressed to Gregory--"How soon I may see +father and mother!" + +She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at that +supreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while she +wondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her hand +in both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both father +and mother are awaiting me--and, Annie," he whispered, tenderly, "you, +too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors,' soon." + +Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words? + +"O God! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but was +not. + +"Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently. + +Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking toward +the bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave came +rolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized faces +and struggling forms. + +Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turned +heavenward, in calm and noble trust. + +Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others, +but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +UNMASKED + + + +It seemed that they passed through miles of water that roared around +them like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other in +their strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise with +her to the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near; +Gregory swam for it, and pushing it to Annie helped her upon it. +Hunting also grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of all +three, especially as Gregory had no preserver on. + +One must leave it that the other two might escape. + +"Good-by, Annie, darling," said Gregory. "We will meet again in heaven +if not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boat +may pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you." + +"What are you going to do?" gasped Annie. + +"Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to find +something else." + +"No, no," cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you go +I will too." + +"I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself; +but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reach +home first, I'll watch and wait till you come." + +She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, and +then he disappeared in the darkness. + +"Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have a +preserver on?" + +"O God, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man. + +Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. She +was almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best- +loved ones were in heaven. + +She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense of +duty to live until God took her life kept her firm. But every moment +it seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbed +hands loosen their hold. + +"But," she murmured in the noblest triumph of faith, "I shall sink, +not in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms." + +Toward the last, when alone in the very presence of death, He seemed +nearest and dearest. She could not bear to look at the dark, angry +waters strewn with floating corpses. She had a sickening dread that +Gregory's white face might float by. So she closed her eyes, and only +thought of heaven, which was so near that its music seemed to mingle +with the surging of the waves. + +She tried to say a comforting word to Hunting, but the terror-stricken +man could only groan mechanically, "God have mercy on me!" + +Soon she began to grow numb all over. A dreamy peace pervaded her +mind, and she was but partially conscious. + +She was aroused by hearing her name called. Did the voice come from +that shore beyond all dark waves of earthly trouble? At first she was +not sure. + +Again and louder came the cry, but too full of human agony to be a +heavenly voice-- + +"Annie! Annie!" + +"Here!" she cried, faintly, while Hunting, helpful for once, shrieked +aloud above the roar of the waves. + +Then she heard the sound of oars, and a moment later strong hands +lifted her into the boat, and she found herself in Gregory's arms, her +head pillowed on his breast. Then all grew dark. + +When she again became conscious she found herself in a small cabin, +with many others in like pitiable plight. Her aunt was bending over +her on one side and Gregory on the other, chafing her hands. At first +she could not remember or understand, and stared vacantly at them. + +"Annie, darling," said Miss Eulie, "don't you know me?" + +Then glad intelligence dawned in her face, and she reached out her +arms, and each clasped the other as one might receive the dead back to +life. + +But quickly she turned and asked, "Where is Mr. Gregory?" + +"Here, safe and sound," he said, joyously, "and Hunting, too. I shall +bless him all the days of my life, for his cries drowned old ocean's +hoarse voice and brought us right to you." + +Hunting looked as if he did not exactly relish the tribute, but he +stooped down and kissed Annie, who permitted rather than received the +caress. + +"How did you escape?" she asked Gregory, eagerly. + +"Well, I swam toward the ship that struck us, whose lights I saw +twinkling in the distance, till almost exhausted. I was on the point +of giving up, when a small piece of the wreck floated near. By a great +effort I succeeded in reaching it. Then a little later a boat from +this ship picked me up and we started after you or any others that +could be found. I am glad to say that quite a number that went down +with the ship were saved." + +She looked at him in a way to bring the warm blood into his face, and +said, in a low tone, "How can I ever repay yon?" + +"By doing as you once said to me, 'Live! get strong and well.' Good-by +now. Miss Morton will take care of you." + +Her eyes followed him till he disappeared, then she turned and hid her +face on Miss Eulie's shoulder. The good old lady was a little puzzled, +and so was Hunting, though he had dismal forebodings. But he was so +glad to have escaped that he could not indulge in very bitter regrets +just then. As his mind recovered its poise, however, and he had time +to think it all over, there came a sickening sense of humiliation. + +In a few minutes Gregory returned and said to Annie, "See how honored +you are. I've been so lucky as to get the captain's best coat for you, +and those wet things that would chill you to death can be taken off. +You can give my coat to Hunting. You see I was up at the time of the +accident, and so am dressed." + +"If I am to wear the captain's coat," said Annie, "then, with some of +his authority, I order you to go and take care of yourself. You have +done enough for others for a little while." + +"Ay, ay, captain," said Gregory, smiling, as he again vanished. + +It would only be painful to dwell on the dreary days and nights during +which the comparatively small sailing vessel was beating back against +a stormy wind to the port from which she had sailed. She had been much +injured by the collision, and many were doubtful whether, after all, +they would ever see land. Thus, to the manifold miseries of the +rescued passengers, was added continued anxiety as to their fate. It +was, indeed, a sad company that was crowded in that small cabin, half- +clothed, bruised, sick, and fearful. What seemed to them an endless +experience was but a long nightmare of trouble, while some, who had +lost their best and dearest, refused to be comforted and almost wished +they had perished also. + +Annie's gratitude that their little party had all been spared grew +stronger every hour, and the one through whose efforts they had been +saved grew daily dearer. + +At first she let her strong affection go out to him unchecked, not +realizing whither she was drifting; but a little characteristic event +occurred which revealed her to herself. + +Her exposure had again caused quite a serious illness, and she saw +little of Gregory for a few days. Hunting claimed his right to be with +her as far as it was possible. Though she would not admit it to +herself, she almost shrunk from him. Of course the sailing ship had +been provisioned for only a comparatively small crew, and the sudden +and large accession to the number threatened to add the terrors of +famine to their other misfortunes. + +Annie had given almost all of her allowance away. Indeed she had no +appetite, and revolted at the coarse food served. But she noticed that +Hunting ate all of his, or else put some quietly away, in view of +future need. She said to him, upon this occasion, "Can't you spare a +little of your portion for those poor people over there? They look +half-famished." + +"I will do so if you wish," he replied, "but it would hardly be wise. +Think what tremendous business interests I represent, and it is of the +first importance that I keep up." + +"Mr. Gregory is almost starving himself," said Miss Eulie, quietly. "I +feel very anxious about him." + +"I represent a business of thousands where Mr. Gregory does hundreds," +said Hunting, complacently. + +"I wish you represented something else," said Annie, bitterly, turning +away. + +Her words and manner jostled him out of himself. A principle that +seemed to him so sound and generally accepted appeared sordid and +selfish calculation to Annie and she felt that Gregory represented +infinitely greater riches in his self-denial for others. + +Hunting saw his blunder and instantly carried all his portion to those +whom Annie had pointed out. But it was too late. He had shown his +inner nature again in a way that repelled Annie's very soul. She +turned sick at the thought of being bound to such a man. + +At first she had tried to excuse his helpless terror on the ship by +thinking it a physical trait; but this was a moral trait. It gave a +sudden insight into the cold, dark depths of his nature. + +Immediately after the disaster she had been too sick and bewildered to +realize her situation. Her engagement was such an old and accepted +fact that at first no thought of any other termination of it than by +marriage entered her mind. Yet she already looked forward to it only +as a duty, and she felt that her love for Hunting would be that of +pity rather than trust and honor. But she was so truthful--so chained +by her promises--that her engagement rested upon her like a solemn +obligation. Again, it had been entered into under circumstances so +tenderly sacred that even the wish to escape from it seemed like +sacrilege. Still, she said, in intense bitterness, "Dear father was +deceived also. We did not know him as we should." + +Yet she had nothing against Hunting, save a growing lack of +congeniality and his cowardice at a time when few men could be heroic. +In her strong sense of justice she felt that she should not condemn a +man for an infirmity. But her cheeks tingled with shame as she +remembered his weakness, and she felt that a Christian ought to have +done a little better under any circumstances. When, in the event above +described, she saw his hard, calculating spirit, her whole nature +revolted from him almost in loathing. + +After a brief time she told him that she wanted to be alone, and he +went away cursing his own folly. Miss Eulie, thinking she wished to +sleep, also left her. + +"How can I marry him?" she groaned; "and yet how can I escape such an +engagement?" + +When her aunt returned she found her sobbing as if her heart would +break. + +"Why, Annie, dear, what is the matter?" she asked. + +"Don't ask me," she moaned, and buried her face in her pillow. + +Then that judicious lady looked very intelligent, but said nothing +more. She sat down and began to stroke Annie's brown, dishevelled +hair. But instead of showing very great sympathy for her niece, she +had an unusually complacent expression. Gregory had a strong but +discreet friend in the camp. + +When Annie became calmer, she said, hesitatingly, "Do you think--is +Mr. Gregory--doesn't he eat anything?" + +"No; he is really wronging himself. I heard it said that the captain +had threatened, jokingly, to put him in irons if he did not obey +orders and eat his allowance." + +"Do you think I could make--do you think he would do better if I +should ask him?" inquired Annie, with her face buried in her pillow. + +"Well," said Miss Eulie, gravely, though with a smile upon her face, +"Mr. Gregory is very self-willed, especially about some things, but I +do think that you have more power over him than any one else." + +"Won't you tell him that I want to see him?" + +He was very glad to come. Annie tried hard to be very firm and +composed, but, with her red eyes and full heart, did not succeed very +well. + +At first he was a little embarrassed by her close scrutiny, for she +had wrought herself up into the expectation of seeing a gaunt, famine- +stricken man. But his cheeks, though somewhat hollow, were ruddy, and +his face was bronzed by exposure. Instead of being pained by his +cadaverous aspect, she was impressed by his manly beauty; but she +said, "I have sent for you that I might give you a scolding." + +"I'm all meekness," he said, a little wonderingly. + +"Aunty tells me that you don't eat anything." + +"That is just what she says of you." + +"But I'm ill and can't eat." + +"Neither can I." + +"Why not?" + +"How can a man eat when there are hungry women aboard? It would choke +me." + +Instead of scolding him, she again buried her face in her pillow, and +burst into tears. + +He was a little perplexed, but said, gently, "Come, my dear little +sister, I hope you are not worrying about me. I assure you there is no +cause. I never felt better, and the worst that can happen is a famine +in England when I reach. It grieves me to the heart to see you so pale +and weak. The captain says I have a bad conscience, but it's only +anxiety for you that makes me so restless." + +"Do you stay upon deck all night this bitter weather?" + +"Well, I want to be ready if anything should happen." + +"O Walter, Walter! how I have wronged you!" + +"No, beg your pardon, you have righted me. What was I when I first +knew you, Annie Walton? There is some chance of my being a man now. +But come, let me cheer you up. I have good news for you. If I had lost +every dollar on that ship I should still be rich, for your little +Bible (I shall always call it yours) remained safe in my overcoat +pocket, and you brought it aboard. Now let me read you something that +will comfort you. I find a place where it is written, 'Begin here.' +Can you account for that?" + +And he read that chapter, so old but inexhaustible, beginning, "Let +not your heart be troubled." + +Having finished it, he said, "I will leave my treasure with you, as +you may wish to read some yourself. In regard to the subject of the +'scolding,' which, by the way, I have not yet received, if Miss Morton +here can tell me that you are eating more, I will. Good-by." + +Annie's appetite improved from that hour. She seized upon the old +Bible and turned its stained leaves with the tenderest interest. As +she did so, her harsh note to Gregory, written when Hunting complained +that he had been insulted, dropped out. How doubly harsh and unjust +her words seemed now! Then she read his words, "Forgiven, my dear, +deceived sister." She kissed them passionately, then tore the note to +fragments. + +Miss Eulie watched her curiously, then stole away with another smile. +She liked the spell that was acting now, but knew Annie too well to +say much. Miss Eulie was one of those rare women who could let a good +work of this kind go on without meddling. + +Annie did not read the Bible, but only laid it against her cheek. Then +Hunting came back looking very discontented, for he had managed to +catch glimpses of her interview with Gregory. + +"Shall I read to you from that book?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"You seemed to enjoy having Mr. Gregory read it to you," he said, +meaningly. + +Color came into her pale face, but she only said, "He did not stay +long. I'm ill and tired." + +"It's rather hard, Annie," he continued, with a deeply injured air, +"to see another more welcome at your side than I am." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, in a sudden passion. "How much time has +Mr. Gregory been with me since he saved both our lives? You heard my +father say that I should be a sister to him; and yet I believe that +you would like me to become a stranger. Have you forgotten that but +for him you would have been at the bottom of the Atlantic? There, +there, leave me now, I'm weak and ill--leave me till we both can get +into better moods." + +Pale with suppressed shame and anger, he went away, wishing in the +depth of his soul that Gregory was at the bottom of the Atlantic. + +Again she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed and moaned, "How +can I marry that man! He makes my very flesh creep." + +Then for the first time came the swift thought, "I could marry +Gregory; I'm happy the moment I'm near him;" and her face burned as +did the thought in her heart. + +Then she turned pale with fear at herself. A sudden sense of guilt +alarmed her, for she had the feeling that she belonged to Hunting. So +solemn had been her engagement that the thought of loving another +seemed almost like disloyalty to the marriage-tie. With a despairing +sigh, she murmured, "Chained, chained." + +Then strongly arose the womanly instinct of self-shielding, and the +purpose to hide her secret. An hour before, Gregory could not come too +often. He might have stooped down and as a brother kissed her lips, +and she would not have thought it strange or unnatural. Now she +dreaded to see him. And yet when would he be out of her thoughts? She +hoped and half-believed that he was beginning to regard her as a +sister, and still, deep in her soul, this thought had an added sting +of pain. + +Ah, Annie! you thought you loved before, but a master-spirit has now +come who will stir depths in your nature of which neither you nor +Hunting dreamed. + +Hunting, seemingly, had no further cause to be jealous of Gregory +during the rest of the voyage. With the whole strength of her proud, +resolute nature, Annie guarded her secret. She sent kind messages to +Gregory, and returned the Bible, but did not ask him to visit her +again. Neither did she come on deck herself till they were entering +the harbor of an English port. + +When Gregory came eagerly toward her, though her face flushed deeply, +she greeted him with a kind and gentle dignity, which, nevertheless, +threw a chill upon his heart. All the earnest words he meant to say +died upon his lips, and gave way to mere commonplaces. Drawing her +heavy shawl about her, she sat down and looked back toward the sea as +if regretting leaving it with all its horrors. He thought, "When have +I seen such a look of patient sorrow on any human face? She saw the +love I could not hide at our last interview. I did not deceive her by +calling her 'sister.' Her great, generous heart is grieving because of +my hopeless love, while in the most delicate manner she reminds me how +vain it is. Now I know why she did not send for me again." + +He walked away from the little group pale and faint, and she could not +keep back the hot tears as she watched him. Miss Eulie was also +observant, and saw how they misunderstood each other. But she acted as +if blind, feeling that quickly coming events would right everything +better than any words of hers. + +Gregory went to another part of the vessel, and leaned over the +railing. Annie noticed with an absorbing interest that he seemed as +indifferent to the delight of the passengers at the prospect of soon +being on land, and the bustle on the wharf, as he had appeared at the +commencement of the voyage. But she rightly guessed that there was +tumult at his heart. There certainly was at hers. When the vessel +dropped anchor and they would soon go ashore, he turned with the +resolve, "I will show her that I can bear my hard lot like a man," and +again came toward them, a proud and courteous gentleman. + +Annie saw and understood the change, and her heart was chilled by a +sense of loneliness and isolation greater than if the stormy Atlantic +had rolled between them. And yet his manner toward her was very +gentle, very considerate. + +He took charge of Miss Eulie, and soon they were at the best hotel in +the place. The advent of the survivors caused great excitement in the +city, and they were all overwhelmed with kindness and sympathy. + +After a few hours Gregory returned to the hotel, dressed in quiet +elegance, and he seemed to Annie the very ideal of manhood; while she, +in her mourning robes, seemed to him the perfection of womankind. But +their manner toward each other was very quiet, and only Miss Eulie +guessed the subterranean fires that were burning in each heart. + +"Are you sure that you will be perfectly comfortable here?" he asked. + +"Entirely so," Annie replied. "Mr. Hunting has telegraphed to my +uncle, and we will await him here. I do not feel quite strong enough +to travel yet." + +"Then I can leave you for a day or two with a quiet mind. I must go to +Liverpool." + +She turned a shade paler, but only said, "I am very sorry you must +leave us so soon." + +"I missed a note from your Bible," he said, in a low tone. + +"Forgive me! I destroyed it," and she turned and walked to the window +to hide her burning face. + +Just then Hunting entered, and a few moments later Gregory bade them a +quiet farewell. + +"How wonderful is her constancy!" he sighed as he went away. "How can +she love and cling to that man after what he has shown himself!" + +He had utterly misunderstood her and believed that she had destroyed +the note, not because of her own harsh words, but of his reflecting on +Hunting. + +Annie thought she knew what sorrow was, but confessed to herself in +bitterness, after he had gone, that such had not been the case before. + +If Hunting secretly exulted that Gregory was out of the way, and had +been taught by Annie that he must keep his distance, as he would +express it, he was also secretly uneasy at her manner toward him. She +merely endured his lavish attentions, and seemed relieved when he was +compelled to leave her for a time. "She will feel and act +differently," he thought, "when she gets well and strong, and will be +the same as before." Thus the harassing fears and jealousy that had +tortured him at sea gave way to complacent confidence. But he was +greatly provoked that he could scarcely ever see Annie without the +embarrassing presence of Miss Eulie. + +He had a growing antipathy for that lady, while he felt sure that she +did not like him. Annie was very grateful to her aunt for quietly +shielding her from caresses that every hour grew more unendurable. + +Gregory was detained for some time in Liverpool, and on his return to +the city where he had left Annie and Miss Eulie he met Mr. Kemp, whom +he had known well in New York, also seeking them. This gentleman +greeted him most warmly, for he had read in the papers good accounts +of Gregory's behavior. In a few moments they entered the hotel +together. Fortunately, as Gregory thought, but most unfortunately, has +he learned afterward, Hunting was out at the time. + +The warm color came into Annie's face as he greeted her, and she +seemed so honestly and eagerly glad to see him that his sore heart was +comforted. + +Mr. Kemp's manner toward his niece and sister was affectionate in the +extreme. Indeed, the good old man seemed quite overcome by his +feelings, and Gregory was about to retire, but he said, "No, please +stay, sir. Forgive my weakness, if it is such. You don't know how dear +these people are to me, and when I think of all they have passed +through I can hardly control myself." + +"We should not be here, uncle," said Annie, in a low, thrilling voice, +"had it not been for Mr. Gregory." + +Then the old gentleman came and gave Gregory's hand such a grasp that +it ached for hours after. "I have been reading," he said, "warm +tributes to his conduct in the papers, but I did not know that we were +all under such deep personal obligations to him. Come, Annie, you must +tell me all about it." + +"Not now, please," said Gregory. "I start in a few moments for Paris, +and must even now say good-by for a little time. I warn you, Mr. Kemp, +that Miss Walton will exaggerate my services. She has a way of +overvaluing what is done for her, and undervaluing what she does for +others." + +"Well," said Mr. Kemp, with a significant nod, "that's a trait that +runs in the Walton blood." + +"I long ago came to regard their blood as of the truest blue," said +Gregory, laughing. + +"Must you leave us again so soon?" said Annie, with a slight tremble +in her voice. + +"Yes, Miss Walton, even now I should be on the way to the train. But +you are surrounded by those who can best take care of you. Still I +earnestly hope that, before many days, I shall see you in Paris, and +in greatly improved health. So I won't say good-by, but only good- +morning." + +Ah, he did not know, or he would have said "farewell" with a heavy +heart. + +His parting from her was most friendly, and the pressure of his hand +warm and strong, but Annie felt, with a deep, unsatisfied pain at +heart, that it was all too formal. Mr. Kemp was exceedingly +demonstrative, and said, "Wait till I see you in Paris, and I will +overwhelm you with questions, especially about your partner, my dear +old friend, Mr. Burnett." + +But staid, quiet Miss Eulie surprised them all. She just put her arms +about his neck, and gave him a hearty kiss, saying, "Take that, Mr. +Gregory, from one who loves you like a mother." + +He returned the caress most tenderly, and hastened away to hide his +emotion. + +Then envious Annie bitterly reproached herself that she had been so +cold, and, to make amends, began giving a glowing account of all that +Gregory had done for them. + +The old gentleman listened with an amused twinkle in his eyes, +secretly exulting over the thought, "It is not going to break her +heart to part with Hunting." + +In the midst of her graphic story that unfortunate man entered, and +her words died upon her lips. She rose quietly, and said, "Charles, +this is my uncle, Mr. Kemp." + +But she was amazed to see Mr. Kemp, who thus far had seemed geniality +itself, acknowledge her affianced with freezing coldness, and Hunting +turned deathly pale with a presentiment of disaster. + +"Be seated, sir," said Mr. Kemp, stiffly; "I wish to make a brief +explanation, and after that will relieve you of the care of these +ladies." + +Hunting sank into a chair, and Annie saw something of the same terror +on his face which had sickened her on the sinking ship. "Annie," said +her uncle, very gravely, "have you entire confidence in me? Your +father had." + +"Certainly," said Annie, wondering beyond measure at this most +unaccountable scene. + +"Will you take my word for it, that this man, who seems most conscious +of his guilt, deceived--yes, lied to Burnett & Co., and swindled them +out of so large a sum of money that the firm would have failed but for +me? Because, if you cannot take my word, I can give you absolute +proof." + +Annie buried her face in her hands and said, "Now I understand all +this wretched mystery. How I have wronged Mr. Gregory!" + +"You could not do other than wrong him while Mr. Hunting had any +influence over you. I know Mr. Gregory well. He is an honorable +business man, and always was, with all his faults. And now, sir, for +your satisfaction, let me inform you that Mr. Burnett is one of my +most intimate friends. He told me all about it, and gave ample proof +of the nature of the entire transaction. I am connected with the bank +with which the firm deposited, and through my influence I secured them +such accommodation as tided them over the critical time in their +affairs which your villany had occasioned." + +Hunting now recovered himself sufficiently to say, "I did nothing +different from what often occurs in business. I had a legal right to +every cent that I collected from Burnett & Co." + +"But how about _moral right?_ Do we not all know that often the most +barefaced robberies take place within the limits of the law? And such +was your act. Even the hardened gamblers of the Street were +disgusted." + +"You have no right to speak to me in this way, sir," said Hunting, +trying to work up a little indignation. "Mr. Walton trusted me, and I +became engaged to Miss Walton under circumstances the most solemn and +sacred; we are the same as married." + +"Come, sir," interrupted Mr. Kemp, hotly, "don't make me lose my +temper. John Walton was the soul of Christian honor. He would have +buried his daughter rather than have her marry you, if he had known +you as I do. I now insist that you resign your executorship and +relieve us of your presence." + +"Annie," cried Hunting, in a voice of anguish, "can you sit quietly by +and hear me so insulted?" + +She sat motionless--her face, burning with shame, buried in her hands. +With her intense Walton hatred of deceit, the thought that she had +come so near marrying a swindler and liar scorched her very soul. + +He came to her side and tried to take her hand, but she shrunk from +him in loathing, and, springing up, said passionately, "When I think, +sir, that with this guilty secret you would have tricked me into +marriage by my father's death-bed, I am perfectly appalled at your +wickedness. God in mercy snatched me then from a fate worse than +death." + +She turned away for a moment and pressed her hands upon her throbbing +heart. Then turning her dark and flashing eyes to where he stood, +pale, speechless, and trembling, she said, more calmly, "May God +forgive you. I will when I can. Go." + +She proved what is often true, that the gentle, when desperately +wronged, are the most terrible. + +He slunk cowering away without a word, and to avoid exposure Mr. Kemp +at once compelled him to sign papers that took from him all further +power of mischief. Mr. Kemp eventually became executor in his stead. + +As soon as Annie grew calmer she had a glad sense of escape greater +than that which had followed her rescue from the wrecked ship. Her +heart sprung up within her bosom and sung for joy. Then again she +would shudder deeply at what she had so narrowly avoided. Stronger +than her gratitude for life twice saved was her feeling of obligation +to Gregory for his persistent effort to shield her from this marriage. +She was eager to start for Paris at once that she might ask +forgiveness for all her injustice toward him. But in the excess of her +feelings she was far more unjust toward herself, as he would have told +her. + +Still, even if Hunting's dishonesty had not been revealed to her, +Annie would have broken with him. As soon as she gained her mental +strength and poise--as soon as she realized that her love was +hopelessly gone from him--her true, strong nature would have revolted +from the marriage as from a crime, and she would have told him, in +deepest pity, but with rock-like firmness, that it could not be. + +The next day she greatly relented toward him, and, in her deep pity, +sent a kind farewell message which it would nave been well for him to +heed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME + + + +When Gregory reached Paris, to his grief and consternation he found a +despatch informing him of the sudden death of old Mr. Burnett, and the +illness of Mr. Seymour, the other partner. "Return instantly," it +read; "the senior clerk is coming out to take your place." + +At first it appeared a double grief that he could scarcely endure, for +it seemed that if he went back now Annie would be lost to him beyond +hope. But after thinking it all over he became calmer, "It may be best +after all, for as my wife she is lost to me beyond hope, and God sees +that I am not strong enough to meet her often yet and sustain myself, +and so snatches me from the temptation." + +Thus little children guess at the meaning of an earthly father, but +Gregory did what a child should--he trusted. + +He wrote a warm but hasty note to Annie, which through some +carelessness was never delivered, attended to some necessary matters, +and was just in time to catch the French steamer outward bound. + +When Annie reached Paris, she learned in dismay that he had sailed for +New York. Seemingly he had left no message, no explanation; all they +could learn at his hotel was that he had received a despatch summoning +him instantly home. Annie was deeply wounded, though she tried to +believe that he had written and that the letter had been missent or +lost. A thousand conjectures of evil ran in her mind, and the thought +of his being again on the ocean, which she now so dreaded, at the +stormiest season of the year, was a source of deep anxiety. In her +morbid fears she even thought that the scheming Hunting might have +something to do with it. She gave way to despondency. Then her aunt +tried to comfort her by saying, "Annie, I am sure I understand you +both better than you do each other, and I think I can write Mr. +Gregory a line which will clear up everything." + +But the quiet little lady was quite frightened by the way in which +Annie turned upon her. + +"As you love me, aunty," she said, "never write a line on this +subject. I am not one to seek, but must be sought, even by Gregory. +Not one line, I charge you, containing a hint of my feelings." + +"Well, Annie, darling," she said, gently, "it's all going to come out +right." + +But Annie, in her weak, depressed state, saw only the dark side. As +with Gregory there was nothing for her but patient trust. + +But when, in due time, there came a despatch from him announcing his +safe arrival, she was greatly reassured. The light came back into her +eyes and the color to her cheeks. + +"What kind of medicine have you been taking to-day?" asked her uncle, +slyly. + +"She has been treated with electricity," Miss Eulie remarked, quietly. + +"O, aunty!" said Annie, with a deep blush, "when did I ever hear you +indulge in such a witticism before?" + +And when, some days later, she received a cordial, brotherly letter +from Gregory, relating all that had occurred, a deep content stole +into her heart, and she felt, with Miss Eulie, that all would +eventually be well. She replied scrupulously, in like vein with +himself, and thus began a correspondence that to each became a source +of the truest happiness. Their letters were intensely brotherly and +sisterly in character, but Annie felt almost sure that, under his +fraternal disguise, she detected the warmth and glow of a far stronger +affection; and, before many months had passed, he hoped the same of +her dainty letters, though he could not lay his finger on a single +word and say, "This proves it." But Annie's warm heart unconsciously +colored the pages, nevertheless. + +Of Hunting he briefly wrote, "God pity him." + +In May, Gregory was glad to find that he would have to go to Europe +again, and purposed to give Annie a surprise. But he received only a +very sad one himself, for, on arriving at Paris, he learned, to his +intense disappointment, that Mr. Kemp and his party had suddenly +decided to return home. He was eventually comforted by receiving a +letter from Annie, showing clearly that she had been as greatly +disappointed as himself; but, woman-like, most of the letter was an +effort to cheer him. + +Still he was growing almost superstitious at the manner in which she +seemed to elude his loving grasp, and sighed, "I fear she will always +prove to me a spirit of the air." + +One bright morning, in the ensuing October, Gregory again greeted, +like the face of a friend, the shores of his native country, and the +thought that Annie was beyond that blue line of land thrilled his +heart with impatient expectation. + +As they approached Sandy Hook, the pilot brought abroad a New York +paper, and as he was carelessly glancing over it, his eyes were caught +by an advertisement of the sale by auction of the Walton estate, his +old home. He saw by the date that the sale would not take place till +the following day, and he now felt sure that he could give Annie a +double surprise, for he had not written of his return. He had learned +from Annie that her father must have intrusted large sums to Hunting +which could not be accounted for, and that beyond the country-place +not much had been left. He rightly guessed that this place was about +to be sold to provide means for the support of the family. He was +surprised that Annie had not written to him about the sale, and indeed +she had wished to, thinking that he might like to buy it. But Mr. Kemp +had dissuaded her, saying that it was not at all probable that Gregory +had the means to buy so large a property, and judging Gregory by +himself, he added, "A business man does not want a country-place +anyway. Besides, Annie, if you should suggest it, it might be a source +of much pain to him to feel that he could not." + +But as soon as Gregory was ashore he hunted up one of his senior +clerks, and instructed him to go up the following morning and buy the +place at any cost, but not to let any one know it was for him. He also +told him to assure the family that they need not vacate the place in +any haste. + +It soon became evident at the sale that the stranger from the city was +determined to have the property, and the other bidders gave way. + +When the clerk returned that evening Gregory plied him with questions, +and learned that Miss Walton seemed to have great regret at leaving, +and was very grateful when told that she could take her own time for +departure. In fact, Annie grudged every October day at the old place, +that brought back the past so vividly. Gregory could not forbear +asking, with a slight flush, "How did Miss Walton look?" + +"Like her surroundings," said the clerk, politely blind, "and not like +a city belle. Mr. Gregory, I congratulate you on possessing the most +home-like place on the river." + +Gregory took the earliest train the following morning, and at noon +found himself by the cedar thicket again, with a strange thrill, as he +recalled all that had occurred there and since. He sat down to rest +for a moment on the rock where Annie had first found him more than a +year before. Beneath him lay his home--his now in truth--embowered in +crimson and golden foliage, that seemed doubly bright in the genial +October sunlight, while at his very feet were the orchard's laden +boughs, beneath which he had proved to Annie the reality and depth of +his love; and there beyond was the cottage of Daddy Tuggar, with that +old man smoking upon the porch. But, chief of all, he could mark the +very spot by the brook in the garden where Annie's hand, like an +angel's, had plucked him from the brink of despair, and given the +first faint hope of immortal life. Tears blinded his eyes, but the bow +of promise shone in them as he looked heavenward, and said, "Merciful +Father! how kind of Thee, in view of my past, to give me this dear +earnest of my heavenly home!" + +The sound of approaching steps aroused him, and springing up he saw +through the thicket, with an emotion so deep that it made him tremble, +the one woman of the world to him. + +With an expression of deep sadness, and the manner of one taking a +lingering leave of a very dear friend, Annie came slowly toward him +along the brow of the hill. He tried to still even the beating of his +heart, for he would not lose one moment of exquisite anticipation. And +yet he was deeply agitated, for he knew that he could not maintain the +brotherly disguise an hour longer. + +Suddenly she looked toward the cedar thicket, and, as if recalling +what had occurred there, covered her face with her hands, to hide the +painful scene. Then he saw that she would not even come to the place, +but was turning to go to the house by another way. + +He darted out from his concealment and rushed toward her. At first, in +wild alarm, she put her hand to her side, and leaned against a +chestnut-tree for support. Then recognizing him, with a glad cry, she +permitted him to take her in his arms, while she hid her face on his +shoulder. A moment later they recoiled from each other in blushing +confusion. + +"Well?" said Gregory, stupidly. + +She was the first to recover herself, and said, "O, Walter, I'm so--so +glad you have come at last!" + +"Do I look sorry?" he asked, taking her hand. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed; "this is too good to be true!" + +"That's what I think, I feared you would take flight the moment I +appeared." + +"When did you arrive? Come, tell me everything." + +"Not all at once, dear--Annie. But let me give you a seat on the rock +by the thicket, and then I will say the catechism." + +"Please, no, Walter; not there," she said, drawing back. + +"Yes, there; we will give that place a new association." + +But she was glad to reach the seat, for she trembled so she could +hardly stand. + +Then he told her how he purposed to surprise her, and answered every +eager question. + +"O, Annie!" he concluded, "how I have longed for this hour! Never did +that dreadful ocean seem so wide before." + +She looked at him more fondly than she knew, and said, "Ah, Walter! +your blood is not on my hands after all." + +"Let me see," he said. + +"I know it is not," she replied, putting them behind her back; "don't +I see you there well and happy?" + +"I don't know but it will be on your hands yet," he said, half- +tragically, springing up. + +She gave him a swift look of inquiry, but her eyes dropped as quickly +beneath his eager gaze, while her deep blush caused her to vie with +the sugar-maple on the lawn in very truth. But he said after a moment, +"Annie, dear, won't you let me interpret another chestnut burr for +you?" + +"Certainly, Walter," she tried to say innocently, "all that are on the +tree." + +"Now don't make fun of me, because I'm desperately in earnest. I don't +want one like that I chose with a great lonely worm-infested chestnut +in it. What a good, wholesome lesson you gave me then! Thank you, +Annie, darling." + +"Brothers don't use such strong language toward their sisters," said +Annie, looking on the ground. + +"I can't help it. To tell the honest truth I'm not much of a brother. +Neither do I want one like that which you chose with three chestnuts +in it. _Three_, faugh! I've had enough of that. I want to find one +like that which you brought me the first day I met you here." + +"You will never find it if you stand talking forever." + +"You won't go away?" + +"Perhaps not." + +He looked at her doubtfully, but she would not meet his eye. Then he +started on his search, but kept looking back so often that she +laughed, and said, "I'm not a chestnut burr." + +"I'm afraid of you." + +"Then you had better run away." + +"Sisters shouldn't tease their brothers." + +"Well, forgive me this time." + +He caught a branch full of half-open burrs, and peered eagerly in them +till he found one to his mind, and pulled it off regardless of the +pricking spines, then came and kneeled at her side, and said, "Now, +Annie, dear, look into it carefully. This is nature's oracle. You see +two solid, plump chestnuts." + +"Well?" she said, faintly. + +"And you see this false, empty form of shell between them?" + +"Yes"--with a touch of sadness. + +"That's Hunting, poor wretch! How unspeakable was his loss!" and he +tossed the worthless emblem away. + +"And now, Annie, loved beyond all words I can ever find to tell you, +see how near these two chestnuts are together--as near as you and I +are in heart, I trust. Surely my poor pretence of brotherly character +has not deceived you for a moment. Won't you please put your dainty +fingers down into the burr and join the two together?" + +She lifted her drooping eyes a moment to the more eloquent pleading of +his face, but they fell as speedily. + +In a low, thrilling tone she said, "No, Walter, but you may." + +He dropped the burr and sealed the unspoken covenant upon her lips. + +After a few moments he said, very gently and gravely, "Annie, do you +remember when my arm last encircled you?" + +The crimson face turned pale as she recalled that awful midnight when +he rescued her from death. + +Both breathed fervently, "How good God has been to us!" + +In their joy, as in fear and sorrow, they remembered Him. + +"O, see!" cried Annie, "your hands are bleeding where the burr pricked +them, and you have stained my hands again. Your blood is on them," she +added, almost in fear. + +"Yes, and the best blood of my heart ever will be. Is not the 'blood +upon us' the deepest and most sacred hope of our hearts? Is it not the +proof of the strongest love the world has known? Let mine there be the +pledge that my life is as nothing when it can shield and shelter you." + +And so he changed the meaning of the omen. + +The hours passed unheeded. At last they went across the orchard as +before, and stopped and looked at the place where the ladder fell, and +then at each other. + +"Walter," said Annie, shyly, "I gave you my first kiss here." + +"I am repaid then." + +Before going to the house, they called on Daddy Tuggar. He was so +amazed that he could only ejaculate, "Evenin'." + +"Mr. Tuggar, I have acted on your suggestion," said Gregory. "I +thought Miss Walton would be good company forever, and I have the +promise of it." + +"To think that I should have cussed you!" said the old man, in an awed +tone. + +"But you will give us your blessing, now?" said Annie, smiling. + +"My blessin' ain't worth nothin'; but I know the good Lord will bless +you both, even if Miss Annie never was an awful sinner." + +"Mr. Tuggar," said Gregory, "I own that place over there. Will you +take me for a neighbor till you are ready to be Mr. Walton's?" + +"O, Walter!" said Annie, with a glad cry, "is that really true?" + +"Yes, it became mine yesterday; or, rather, it remained yours." + +"Mr. Gregory," said Daddy Tuggar, his quaint face twitching strangely, +"if anybody steals your apples, I'm afraid I'll swear at 'em, even +yet." + +"No, you won't, Daddy," said he. "But I'm going to bring you over to +spend an evening with us soon. Good-by!" + +They found Miss Eulie in the parlor, pensively packing up some dear +little relics of a home she supposed lost. Gregory put his arm around +her and said, "Aunty, I'm going to claim relationship right away; put +those things back where you found them, and sit down here in the +cosiest corner of the hearth, your place from this time forth." + +"How is this?" she exclaimed, in breathless astonishment. + +"Well, Annie owns me, and therefore this place." + +Johnny came bounding in, and Gregory caught him, and said, "Here is +the prophet of my fate. How did you tell me your Aunt Annie managed +people, the morning after my first arrival here?" + +"I said she kinder made people love her, and then they wanted to do as +she said," replied the boy, timidly. + +"Let me tell you a secret," and he drew the boy and whispered in his +ear, "she is going to manage me on just those terms." + +Then little Susie came sidling in, and Gregory took her in his arms, +saying, "So dimpled, yet so false, you renounced me for a chipmonk; +and now I am going to be Aunt Annie's beau till I'm gray." + +Jeff next appeared with a basket of wood. Gregory gave his black hand +an honest shake, and said, "Why, Jeff, old fellow, what is the matter +with you to-night? The last time I saw you you looked as if you were +driving me to the cemetery." + +"Well, Misser Gregory," said Jeff, ducking and shuffling. "Ise did +come mighty neah takin' de turnin' to de cem'try dat day. I tho't you +looked as if you wanted to go dar." + +As they sat down to tea, Zibbie put her head in at the door, and said, +"The gude God bless ye, for ye ha' kept the auld 'ooman fra the cauld +wourld yet." + +Delighted Hannah could not pass a biscuit without a courtesy. + +That evening the hickory fire glowed and turned to bright and fragrant +coals as in the days past, but Annie looked wistfully toward her +father's vacant chair, and sighed, "If father were only here!" + +"Don't grieve, darling," said Gregory, tenderly. "He is at home, as we +are." + +A few evenings later Gregory brought up from the city a large, square +bundle. + +"What have you there?" said Annie, greeting him as the reader can +imagine. + +"Your epitaph." + +"O, Walter! so soon?" + +His answer was a smile, and quickly opening the pack age, he showed a +rich, quaint frame containing some lines in illuminated text. Placing +it where the light fell clearly, he drew her to him and said, "Read +that." + + "God sent His messenger of faith, + And whispered in the maiden's heart, + 'Rise up and look from where thou art, + And scatter with unselfish hands + Thy freshness on the barren sands + And solitudes of death.'" + + "O beauty of holiness, + Of self-forgetfulness!" + +With a caress of unspeakable tenderness he said, "You are the maiden, +and God sent you to me." + +THE END + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR *** + +This file should be named ocbrr10.txt or ocbrr10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ocbrr11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ocbrr10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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