Evidently, this was Reality to Maude. And had it not been one of my
dreams of marriage, this preparing for the children's Christmas,
remembering the fierce desires of my own childhood? It struck me, after I
had kissed her good night and retired to my dressing-room, that fierce
desires burned within me still, but the objects towards which their
flames leaped out differed. That was all. Had I remained a child, since
my idea of pleasure was still that of youth? The craving far excitement,
adventure, was still unslaked; the craving far freedom as keen as ever.
During the whole of my married life, I had been conscious of an inner
protest against "settling down," as Tom Peters had settled down. The
smaller house from which we had moved, with its enforced propinquity,
hard emphasized the bondage of marriage. Now I had two rooms to myself,
in the undisputed possession of which I had taken a puerile delight. On
one side of my dressing-room Archie Lammerton had provided a huge closet
containing the latest devices for the keeping of a multitudinous
wardrobe; there was a reading-lamp, and the easiest of easy-chairs,
imported from England, while between the windows were shelves of Italian
walnut which I had filled with the books I had bought while at Cambridge,
and had never since opened. As I sank down in my chair that odd feeling
of uneasiness, of transience and unreality, of unsatisfaction I had had
ever since we had moved suddenly became intensified, and at the very
moment when I had gained everything I had once believed a man could
desire! I was successful, I was rich, my health had not failed, I had a
wife who catered to my wishes, lovable children who gave no trouble and
yet--there was still the void to be filled, the old void I had felt as a
boy, the longing for something beyond me, I knew not what; there was the
strange inability to taste any of these things, the need at every turn
for excitement, for a stimulus. My marriage had been a disappointment,
though I strove to conceal this from myself; a disappointment because it
had not filled the requirements of my category--excitement and mystery: I
had provided the setting and lacked the happiness. Another woman
Nancy--might have given me the needed stimulation; and yet my thoughts
did not dwell on Nancy that night, my longings were not directed towards
her, but towards the vision of a calm, contented married happiness I had
looked forward to in youth,--a vision suddenly presented once more by the
sight of Maude's simple pleasure in dressing the Christmas tree. What
restless, fiendish element in me prevented my enjoying that? I had
something of the fearful feeling of a ghost in my own house and among my
own family, of a spirit doomed to wander, unable to share in what should
have been my own, in what would have saved me were I able to partake of
it. Was it too late to make that effort?.... Presently the strains of
music pervaded my consciousness, the chimes of Trinity ringing out in the
damp night the Christmas hymn, Adeste Fideles. It was midnight it was
Christmas. How clear the notes rang through the wet air that came in at
my window! Back into the dim centuries that music led me, into candle-lit
Gothic chapels of monasteries on wind-swept heights above the firs, and
cathedrals in mediaeval cities. Twilight ages of war and scourge and
stress and storm--and faith. "Oh, come, all ye Faithful!" What a strange
thing, that faith whose flame so marvellously persisted, piercing the
gloom; the Christmas myth, as I had heard someone once call it. Did it
possess the power to save me? Save me from what? Ah, in this hour I knew.
In the darkness the Danger loomed up before me, vague yet terrible, and I
trembled. Why was not this Thing ever present, to chasten and sober me?
The Thing was myself.
Into my remembrance, by what suggestion I know not, came that March
evening when I had gone to Holder Chapel at Harvard to listen to a
preacher, a personality whose fame and influence had since spread
throughout the land. Some dim fear had possessed me then. I recalled
vividly the man, and the face of Hermann Krebs as I drew back from the
doorway....
When I awoke my disquieting, retrospective mood had disappeared, and yet
there clung to me, minus the sanction of fear or reward or revealed
truth, a certain determination to behave, on this day at least, more like
a father and a husband: to make an effort to enter into the spirit of the
festival, and see what happened. I dressed in cheerful haste, took the
sapphire pendant from its velvet box, tiptoed into the still silent
schoolroom and hung it on the tree, flooding on the electric light that
set the tinsel and globes ablaze. No sooner had I done this than I heard
the patter of feet in the hallway, and a high-pitched voice--Biddy's
--crying out:--"It's Santa Claus!"
Three small, flannel-wrappered figures stood in the doorway.
"Why, it's father!" exclaimed Moreton.
"And he's all dressed!" said Matthew.
"Oh-h-h!" cried Biddy, staring at the blazing tree, "isn't it beautiful!"
Maude was close behind them. She gave an exclamation of delighted
surprise when she saw me, and then stood gazing with shining eyes at the
children, especially at Biddy, who stood dazzled by the glory of the
constellation confronting her.... Matthew, too, wished to prolong the
moment of mystery. It was the practical Moreton who cried:--"Let's see
what we've got!"
The assault and the sacking began. I couldn't help thinking as I watched
them of my own wildly riotous, Christmas-morning sensations, when all the
gifts had worn the aura of the supernatural; but the arrival of these
toys was looked upon by my children as a part of the natural order of the
universe. At Maude's suggestion the night before we had placed my
presents, pieces de resistance, at a distance from the tree, in the hope
that they would not be spied at once, that they would be in some sort a
climax. It was Matthew who first perceived the ship, and identified it,
by the card, as his property. To him it was clearly wonderful, but no
miracle. He did not cry out, or call the attention of the others to it,
but stood with his feet apart, examining it, his first remark being a
query as to why it didn't fly the American flag. It's ensign was British.
Then Moreton saw the locomotive, was told that it was his, and took
possession of it violently. Why wasn't there more track? Wouldn't I get
more track? I explained that it would go by steam, and he began
unscrewing the cap on the little boiler until he was distracted by the
man-of-war, and with natural acquisitiveness started to take possession
of that. Biddy was bewildered by the doll, which Maude had taken up and
was holding in her lap. She had had talking dolls before, and dolls that
closed their eyes; she recognized this one, indeed, as a sort of
super-doll, but her little mind was modern, too, and set no limits on
what might be accomplished. She patted it, but was more impressed by the
raptures of Miss Allsop, who had come in and was admiring it with some
extravagance. Suddenly the child caught sight of her stocking, until now
forgotten, and darted for the fireplace.