THE WAY OUT
"'You see you will need to find a way out for yourself.'"
Deborah was in the rear of the house, busily engaged with a big washing.
Denny had gone up town on some errand. Much to Miss Farwell's surprise
Dan did not, as usual, take the path leading to the garden, but kept
straight ahead to the porch, and his face was very grave as he asked if
he might come in. She welcomed him with frank pleasure, and took up at
once the thread of conversation which the visit of the Elders had
interrupted the day before. But it was clear that her big friend's mind
was busy with other thoughts, and soon they were facing an embarrassing
silence. The young woman gazed thoughtfully at the monument across the
street, while Dan moved uneasily. At last the man broke the silence.
"Miss Farwell I don't know what you will think of me for coming to you
upon the errand that brought me, but I feel that I--I mean, I want you
to believe that I am trying to do what is best."
She looked at him questioningly.
Dan went on. "I learned something yesterday, that I am sure you ought to
know, and there seems to be no one else to tell you, so I--I came."
Miss Farwell's cheeks and brow grew crimson, but in a moment she was her
own calm self again.
"Go on, please."
Then he told her.
While he was speaking of the Elders' visit and his talk with Dr. Abbott,
she watched him closely. Two or three times she smiled. When he had
finished she asked with a touch of sarcasm in her voice, "And do you wish
to see my letters of recommendation? Shall I give you a list of people to
whom you might write?"
"Miss Farwell!" Dan's voice brought the hot color again to her cheek.
"Forgive me! That was unkind," she said.
"Well rather. You might see that I did not come to you with this
for--well for fun," he finished with a grim smile.
"You don't seem to be enjoying it greatly," she agreed critically. "I can
easily understand how this talk might result in something very serious
for you. You will remember, I think, that I warned you, you could not
leave the preacher on the other side of the fence." She was deliberately
trying him. "But of course you can easily avoid any trouble with your
people, you have only to--"
She stopped, checked by the expression on his face.
His voice rang out sharply with a quality in its tone that sent a thrill
to the heart of the woman. "I did not come here to discuss the
possibility of trouble for me. Please believe this--even if I am a
servant of the church."
He spoke the last words with a shade of bitterness, she thought, and as
she looked at him--his powerful form tense for a moment, with firm-set
lips and square jaw and stern eyes--she found herself wondering what
would happen if this servant should ever decide to be the master.
"Don't you see how this idle, silly, wicked talk is likely to harm you?"
he asked almost roughly. "You know what the same thing did for Grace
Conner. It is really serious, Miss Farwell--believe me it is, or I should
not have told you about it at all. Already Dr. Harry--" He checked
himself. His reference to his friend was unintentional.
She finished the sentence quietly, "--has found some people who will not
employ me because of the things that are being said. I knew something
was wrong, for--instead of telling me of possible cases and assuring me
of work, he has been saying lately, 'I will let you know if anything
turns up.'"
Dan broke in eagerly, "Dr. Abbott has done everything he could, Miss
Farwell. I ought not to have mentioned him at all. You must not think--"
She interrupted him with quiet dignity. "Certainly I do not think of any
such thing. You and Dr. Abbott are both very kind to consider me in this
way, but really you must not be troubled about this silly gossip. I am
not exactly dependent upon the good people of Corinth, you know. I can go
back to the city at any time. Perhaps," she added slowly, "considering
everything that would be the wisest thing to do, after all. It was only
for Grace Conner's sake I have remained."
Dan spoke eagerly again, "But you do not need to leave Corinth. This talk
you know, is all because of your companion's reputation."
"You mean," she said quietly, "the reputation that people have given my
companion."
"So far as the situation goes it amounts to the same thing," he answered.
"It is your association with her. If you could arrange to board with some
family now--"
Again she interrupted him. "Grace needs me, Mr. Matthews."
"But it is all so unjust," he argued lamely. "The sacrifice is too great.
You can't afford to place yourself before the community in such a wrong
light."
The young woman's face revealed her surprise and disappointment. She had
grown to think of Dan as being big and fine in spirit as in body, and
now, to hear him voice, what she believed to be the spirit and policy of
his profession, was a shock that hurt. She would have flashed out at him
with scornful, cutting words, but she felt, intuitively, that he was not
being true to himself in this--that he was forced, as it were, into a
false position by something deep down in his life. This feeling robbed
her of the power to reply in stinging words, and instead gave her answer
a note of sadness.
"Are you not advocating the doctrines and policy of the people who are
responsible for the 'wrong light' rather than the teachings of Christ?
Are you not now speaking professionally, having forgotten our agreement
to leave the preacher on the other side of the fence?"
The big fellow's embarrassment was evident as he said, "Miss Farwell,
you must not--you must not misunderstand me again. I did not mean--I
cannot stand the thought of your being so misjudged because of this
beautiful Christian service. I was only seeking a way out."
"No," she said gently, "I will not misunderstand you, but there is only
one way out, as you put it."
"And that?"
"My ministry."
Dan sprang to his feet and crossed the room to her side.
"What a woman you are!" he exclaimed impulsively.
She arose, trembling; always when he came near--something about this man
moved her strangely.
"But my way out will not help you," she said. "You must think of your
ministry."
"I thought we agreed not to talk of that," he returned.
"But we must. You must consider what the result will be if you are seen
with me--with Grace and me." She caught herself quickly. "Can the pastor
of Memorial Church afford to associate with two women of such doubtful
reputation? What will your church think?" She was smiling as she spoke,
but beneath the smile there was much of earnestness. She was determined
that he should know how well she understood his position. She wondered
if he himself understood it. "You see you will need to find a way out for
yourself," she insisted.
"I am not looking for a way out," he growled.
"Ah, but you should. You must consider your influence. Consider the great
harm your interest in Grace Conner will do your church. You must remember
your position in the community. You cannot afford to--to risk your
reputation."
Under her skillfully chosen words, he again assumed an air of indignant
reserve. She saw his hands clench, and the great muscles in his arms and
shoulders swell.
Unconsciously--or was it unconsciously?--she had repeated almost the
exact words of Elder Jordan. The stock argument sounded strange coming
from her. Deliberately she went on. "Really there is no reason why you
should suffer from this. It is not necessary for you to continue our
little friendship. You can stay on the other side of the fence. I--we
will understand. You have too much at stake. You--"
He interrupted. "Miss Farwell, I don't know what you think of me that
you can say these things. I had hoped that you were beginning to look
upon me as a man, not merely as a preacher. I had even dared think that
our friendship was growing to be something more than just a little
friendly acquaintance. If I am mistaken, I will stay on the other side
of the fence. If I am right--if you do care for my friendship," he
finished slowly, "I will try to serve my people faithfully, but I will
not willingly shape my life by their foolish, wicked whims. Denny's
garden may get along without me, and you may not need what you call 'our
little friendship' but I need Denny's garden, and--I need you."
Her face shone with gladness. "Forgive me," she said. "I only wished to
be sure that you understood some things clearly."
At her rather vague words, he said, "I am beginning to understand a good
many things."
"And understanding, you will still come to--" she smiled, "to work in
Denny's garden?"
"Yes," he answered with a boyish laugh, "just as if there were no other
place in all the world where I could get a job."
She watched him as he swung down the walk, through the gate and away up
the street under the big trees.
And as she watched him, she recalled his words, "I need you;--just as
though there were no other place in all the world." The words repeated
themselves in her mind.
How much did they mean, she wondered.