THE SHADE OF MR. JONATHAN
Old Reuben, seated in his chair on the porch, watched Molly come up the
flagged walk over the bright green edgings of moss. Her eyes, which
were like wells of happiness, smiled at him beneath the blossoming apple
boughs. Already she had forgotten the quarrel and remembered only the
bliss of the reconciliation.
"I've had visitors while you were out, honey," said the old man as she
bent to kiss him. "Mr. Chamberlayne and Mr. Jonathan came up and sat a
bit with me."
"Was it on business, grandfather?"
"'Twas on yo' business, Molly, an' it eased my mind considerable
about what's to become of you when I'm dead an' gone. It seems old Mr.
Jonathan arranged it all befo' he died, an' they've only been waitin'
till you came of age to let you into the secret. He left enough money in
the lawyer's hands to make you a rich woman if you follow his wishes."
"Did they tell you his wishes?" she asked, turning from Reuben to Spot
as the blind dog fawned toward her.
"He wants you to live with Miss Kesiah and Mr. Jonathan when I'm taken
away from you, honey, an' you're to lose all but a few hundred if you
ever marry and leave 'em. Old Mr. Jonathan had sharp eyes, an' he saw
I had begun to fail fast befo' he died. It's an amazin' thing to think
that even after all the morality is wrung out of human natur thar'll
still be a few drops of goodness left sometimes at the bottom of it."
"And if I don't do as he wished? What will come of it, then,
grandfather?"
"Then the bulk goes to help some po' heathens over yonder in China to
the Gospel. He was a strange man, was old Mr. Jonathan. Thar warn't
never any seein' through him, livin' or dead."
"Why did he ever come here in the beginning? He wasn't one of our
people."
"The wind blew him this way, pretty, an' he was never one to keep goin'
against the wind. When the last Jordan died childless an' the place was
put up to be sold, Mr. Jonathan read about it somewhar, an' it looked to
him as if all he had to do was to come down here an' bury himself alive
to git rid of temptation. But the only way to win against temptation is
to stand square an' grapple with it in the spot whar it finds you, an'
he came to know this, po' sinner, befo' he was done with it."
"He was a good soldier, wasn't he?" asked Molly.
"So good a soldier that he could fight as well on one side as on
t'other, an' 'twas only an accident that sent him into the army with
me instead of against me. I remember his telling me once when I met him
after a battle that 'twas the smell of blood, not the cause, that made
him a fighter. Thar's many a man like that on both sides in every war, I
reckon."
"I wonder how you can be so patient when you think of him!" she said
passionately as he stopped.
"You'll understand better when you're past seventy," he answered gently.
"Thar's a softness like a sort of green grass that springs up an' covers
you when you begin to git old an' worn out. I've got it an' Spot's
got it--you can tell by the way he won't trouble to git mad with the
chickens that come peckin' around him. As soon as it's safely spread
over you, you begin to see that the last thing to jedge anybody by is
what you've known of the outside of 'em."
"I can't feel about him as you do, but I don't mind takin' his money as
long as you share it," returned the girl in a softer voice.
"It's a pile of money such as you've never heard of, Molly. Mr.
Chamberlayne says thar'll be an income of goin' on ten thousand dollars
a year by the time you're a little older."
"Ten thousand dollars a year just for you an' me!" she exclaimed,
startled.
"Thar warn't so much when 'twas left, but it's been doublin' on itself
all the while you were waitin'."
"We could go everywhere an' see everything, grandfather."
"It ain't for me, pretty. Mr. Jonathan knew you wouldn't come into it
till I was well on my way to the end of things."
Kneeling at his side, she caught his hands and clung to him sobbing.
"Don't talk of dying! I can't bear to think of your leaving me!"
His trembling and knotted hands gathered her to him. "The young an' the
old see two different sides of death, darlin'. When you're young an'
full of spirit, it looks powerful dark an' lonely to yo' eyes, but when
you're gittin' along an' yo' bones ain't quite so steady as they once
were, an' thar seem to be mo' faces you're acquainted with on the other
side than on this one--then what you've been so terrible afeared of
don't look much harder to you than settlin' down to a comfortable rest.
I've liked life well enough, but I reckon I'll like death even better
as soon as I've gotten used to the feel of it. The Lord always appears
a heap nearer to the dead, somehow, than He does to the livin', and
I shouldn't be amazed to find it less lonely than life after I'm once
safely settled."
"You've seen so many die that you've grown used to it," said Molly
through her tears.
For a moment he gazed wistfully at the apple boughs, while his face
darkened, as if he were watching a procession of shadows. In his seventy
years he had gained a spiritual insight which penetrated the visible
body of things in search of the truth beneath the ever-changing
appearance. There are a few blameless yet suffering beings on whom
nature has conferred a simple wisdom of the heart which contains
a profounder understanding of life than the wisdom of the mind can
grasp--and Reuben was one of these. Sorrow had sweetened in his soul
until it had turned at last into sympathy.
"I've seen 'em come an' go like the flakes of light out yonder in the
orchard," he answered almost in a whisper. "Young an' old, glad an'
sorry, I've seen 'em go--an' never one among 'em but showed in thar face
when 'twas over that 'twas the best thing had ever happened. It's hard
for me now to separate the livin' from the dead, unless it be that the
dead are gittin' closer all the time an' the livin' further away."
"And you're never afraid, grandfather?"
"Well, when it comes to that, honey, I reckon if I can trust the Lord in
the light, I can trust him in the darkness. I ain't as good a Christian
as my ma was--she could beat Sarah Revercomb when it came to sayin' the
Bible backwards--but I've yet to see the spot of natur, either human
or clay, whar we couldn't find the Lord at work if we was to dig deep
enough."
He stopped at sight of a small figure running under the apple trees,
and a minute later Patsey, the Gay's maid, reached the flagged walk
and panted out a request that Miss Molly should come to the house for a
birthday present which awaited her there.
"Won't you go with me, grandfather?" asked the girl, turning to Reuben.
"I ain't at home thar, Molly," answered the old man. "It's well enough
to preach equality an' what not when you're walking on the opposite side
of the road, as Abel would say, but it don't ring true while yo' feet
are slippin' an' slidin' over a parlour floor."
"Then I shan't go without you. Where you aren't welcome is a place I can
stay away from."
"Thar, thar, honey, don't be runnin' arter Abel's notions till you find
out whar they're leadin' you. Things are better as they are or the Lord
wouldn't have made 'em so, an' He ain't goin' to step a bit faster or
slower on o' count of our ragin'. Some folks were meant to be on top an'
some at bottom, for t'otherwise God Almighty wouldn't have put 'em thar.
Abel is like Sarah, only his generation is different."
"Do you really think he's like his mother?" asked Molly a little
wistfully.
"As haw is like haw. They're both bent on doin' the Lord's job over
again an' doin' it better, an' thar manner of goin' to work would be
to melt up human natur an' pour it all into the same pattern. It ain't
never entered Sarah's head that you can't fit the same religion to every
man any mo' than you can the same pair of breeches. The big man takes
the big breeches an' the little man takes the small ones, an' it's jest
the same with religion. It may be cut after one pattern, but it's mighty
apt to get its shape from the wearer inside. Why, thar ain't any text so
peaceable that it ain't drawn blood from somebody."
"All the same I shan't go a step without you," persisted the girl.
"Then find my stick an' straighten my collar. Or had I better put on my
Sunday black?"
"No, I like you as you are--only let me smooth your hair a little. Run
ahead, Patsey, and say we're both coming."
Slipping her arm in his, she led him through the orchard, where the
bluebirds were fluting blissfully in the apple-trees. To the heart of
each spring was calling--but to Molly it meant promise and to Reuben
remembrance. Though the bluebirds sang only one song, they brought to
the old man and to the girl a different music.
"I've sometimes thought Mr. Mullen better suited to you than Abel,
Molly," said Reuben presently, uttering an idea that had come to him
more than once. "If you'd been inclined to fancy him, I don't believe
either Mrs. Gay or Miss Kesiah could have found any fault with him."
"But you know I couldn't care for him, grandfather," protested Molly
impatiently. "He is like one of Mrs. Bottom's air plants that grow
without any roots."
"Well, he's young yet an' his soul struts a trifle, but wait till
he's turned fifty an' he'll begin to be as good a Christian as he is a
parson. It's a good mould, but he congealed a bit too stiff when he was
poured into it."
They reached the grape arbour as he finished, and a minute later
Abednego lead them into the library, where Kesiah placed Reuben in a
comfortable chair and hastened to bring him a glass of wine from the
sideboard. At Molly's entrance, Gay and Mr. Chamberlayne came forward to
shake hands with her, while Mrs. Gay looked up from her invalid's couch
and murmured her name in a gentle, reproachful voice. The pale blue
circles around the little lady's eyes and faintly smiling mouth were the
only signs of the blighting experience through which she had passed. As
she turned her angelic gaze on old Jonathan's daughter there was not an
instant's doubt in the minds of those about her that she would accept
the blow with the suffering sweetness that enhanced her beauty.
"We wanted to give you a little reminder of us on your birthday, Molly,"
she said, taking up an amethyst cross on a slender chain from the table
beside her, "and Jonathan thought you would like a trinket to wear with
your white dresses."
"I was right, wasn't I, cousin?" asked Gay, with his genial smile.
Mrs. Gay flushed slightly at the word, while Reuben cast a grateful
glance at him over the untasted glass of wine in his hand.
Without drawing a step nearer, Molly stood there in the centre of the
room, nervously twisting her handkerchief in and out of her fingers.
She was physically cramped by her surroundings, and the reproachful
gentleness in Mrs. Gay's face embarrassed her only less than did the
intimate pleasantry of Jonathan's tone. Every detail of the library--the
richness and heaviness of the furniture, the insipid fixed smiles in the
family portrait, the costly fragility of the china ornaments--all these
seemed to unite in some occult power which overthrew her self-possession
and paralyzed her emotions.
Pitying her shyness, Gay took the chain from his mother's hand, and,
slipping it around Molly's neck, fastened it under the bunch of curls
at the back. Then he patted her encouragingly on the shoulder, while he
spoke directly to Reuben.
"It looks well on her don't you think, Mr. Merryweather," he inquired.
"Yes, it's a pretty gift an' she's much obliged to all of you," replied
Reuben, with the natural dignity which never deserted him. "She's a good
girl, Molly is," he added simply. "For all her quick words an' ways
thar ain't a better girl livin'."
"We are very sure of that," said Mr. Chamberlayne, speaking in Gay's
place. "She is a kinswoman any of us may be proud of owning." And going
a step nearer to her, he began explaining her father's wishes in the
shortest words at his command.
They were all kind--all honestly anxious to do their duty in aiding the
atonement of old Jonathan. Their faces, their voices, their gestures,
revealed an almost painful effort to make her appear at ease. Yet in
spite of their irreproachable intentions, each one of them was perfectly
aware that the visit was very far from being a success. They admired her
sincerely, but with the exception of Gay, who was bothered by few moral
prejudices, they were one and all nervously constrained in manner. To
Mr. Chamberlayne she represented merely an attractive object of charity;
to Kesiah she appeared as an encroaching member of the inferior order;
to Mrs. Gay she embodied the tragic disillusionment of her life. In time
they would either forget these first impressions or grow accustomed to
them; but while she stood there, awkward and blushing, in the middle of
the library, where old Jonathan had worked out his repentance, even the
lawyer found his legal eloquence tripping confusedly on his tongue, and
turned at last in sheer desperation to stare with a sensation of relief
at the frowning countenance of Kesiah. When, after a hesitating word of
thanks, the girl held out her hand to Reuben, and they went away arm in
arm, as they had come, a helpless glance passed from Jonathan to Mrs.
Gay and from Mrs. Gay into vacancy.
"Like most eccentric bequests made in moments of great moral purpose,
it was, of course, a mistake," said the lawyer. "Had Jonathan known the
character of the miller, he would certainly have had no objection to
Molly's choice--if she has, indeed, a serious fancy for the young man,
which I doubt. But in his day, we must remember, the Revercombs had
given little promise of either intelligence or industry except in the
mother. Granting this," he added thoughtfully, "it might be possible
to have the conditions set aside, but not without laying bare a scandal
which would cause great pain to sensitive natures---"
He glanced sympathetically at Mrs. Gay, who responded almost
unconsciously to the emotional suggestion of his ideal of her.
"Oh, never that! I could not bear that!" she exclaimed.
"The whole trouble comes of the insane way people arrange the future,"
remarked Jonathan with irritation. "He actually believed, I dare say,
that he was assuring the girl's happiness by that ridiculous document.
But for mother I'd fight the thing in the courts and then give Molly her
share outright and let her marry the miller."
The lawyer shook his head slowly, with his eyes on Mrs. Gay. "Before all
else we must consider your mother," he answered.
For the first time Kesiah spoke. "I am quite willing to take the girl
when Reuben dies," she said, "but why in the world did he put in that
foolish clause about her living with Jonathan and myself?"
Without looking at her Mr. Chamberlayne answered almost sharply. "The
whole truth of the matter is that there was a still more absurd idea
in his mind, dear lady," he replied. "I may as well let you know it
now since I combated it uselessly in my last interview with him. At the
bottom of his heart Jonathan remained incorrigibly romantic until his
death, and he clung desperately to the hope that if Molly received
the education he intended her to have, her beauty and her charm, which
seemed to him very remarkable, might win his nephew's affections, if
she were thrown in his way. That in short, is the secret meaning of this
extraordinary document."
The uncomfortable silence was broken by a laugh as Gay rose to his feet.
"Well, of all the ridiculous ideas!" he exclaimed in the sincerity of
his amusement.