THE STRANGER GUEST.
IT happened very fortunately that Mose could stay at home all winter,
for Mr. Greyson’s health began to fail him, so that he could not work
as formerly, and therefore every cent that Mose earned, went to support
the family. Hesper also took in plain sewing, which, with the time
she devoted to the education of her younger brothers, kept her always
busy. The interchange of letters between her and Harry, was as frequent
as time and distance would allow, and so grateful did the poor fellow
seem for her kindness, so tender and delicate in his expressions of
affection, and so hopeful for the future, that the thought of him
became to her a continual inspiration and joy. His name was mingled
in her prayers, and she thanked God most sincerely for this new and
beautiful phase in her experience.
The spring of that year was very mild and early, and as soon as
possible, the whole Greyson family commenced gardening operations.
Hesper reserved the front yard for herself, and soon converted it into
a most flourishing flower-garden. Her tulips and daffodils, hyacinths
and pansies, were the admiration of the whole village, and especially
of aunt Betsey, who helped herself from them freely.
One evening, about sunset, as she was very busy among the flowers, she
was startled by the sound of a footstep, and turning, she beheld a
strange gentleman, very tall and pale, just entering the front gate. He
slightly raised his hat, and bowed coldly, as he said--
“Good evening, Miss. Is Moses Greyson--your brother, I suppose--at
home?”
“No, sir,” replied Hesper, “he went down to the village about half an
hour since, but said he should be back soon. Will you please step in
and wait for him?”
“No, I thank you,” said the stranger, “I prefer walking till he
returns, and perhaps I may meet him.”
He raised his hat, with another stiff bow, and then turned away. Hesper
looked after him with curiosity and surprise. His face, though so very
pale, was handsome, on account of the regular features, large dark eyes
and high forehead, but then the expression of his countenance was of
a marble coldness, and his whole manner stiff and formal. She felt
quite certain that she had seen his face before, but where, she could
not tell. She perplexed herself a long time over this dim memory, when
suddenly it occurred to her that this person must be Mr. Clyde, the
friend of Mose, whose likeness he had given to aunt Nyna by mistake, on
the day of his return.
“Dear me!” said Hesper to herself, with a half shudder, “I don’t see
what Mose can fancy in him, for I am sure I don’t like him at all.”
It was about dark when Mose returned, and then he came alone.
“Hesper,” said he, “I have seen my friend, Mr. Clyde. He is stopping at
the hotel down in the village, and after a deal of persuasion, he has
at length consented to take his baggage and come here, so I thought I
would run home and tell you that you might prepare for him.”
“O dear!” said Hesper, with a look of dismay, “I’m almost sorry, for
he is so cold and formal, that I never shall be able to get acquainted
with him.”
“Well”--replied Mose, with some hesitation, “I suppose, to tell the
truth, that the less notice you take of him, the better. He was always
very peculiar, but he is more so now, for this reason. When he came
home, about six months ago, he was engaged to a very beautiful and
accomplished lady, whom he was to marry soon after his arrival. But
you can judge of his feelings, when he found that only a few weeks
previous she had married another, and the only excuse she made, was,
that she loved this one better, and therefore felt it was right for her
to marry him.”
“How heartless!” exclaimed Hesper.
“Well, in consequence of this,” resumed Mose, “Mr. Clyde has become
bitter against the whole sex. He believes they are all false hearted
and designing, and does not wish to have any dealings with them. I
think he will feel differently about this, however, when time has taken
away the sting of his disappointment; but at present he is in a very
unhappy frame of mind, and I think is almost sick.”
“Poor fellow,” said Hesper, in a sympathizing tone. “I am glad you have
invited him here. I will do all I can to make him comfortable, and at
the same time will be very careful not to trouble him in any way. What
a sad thing it must be to have one’s brightest and best hopes in life
disappointed.” She thought of Harry, and inwardly rejoiced that no such
dark shadow lay between them.
With all possible haste she made ready the best chamber, for the
expected guest, and placed a small bouquet of her choicest flowers upon
the stand. An hour afterwards, Mr. Clyde entered with Mose, and retired
directly to his chamber. Hesper saw nothing of him that night, but
when, at a late hour, she sought her own quiet pillow, she lay awake
and listened a long time to the measured footsteps of the unhappy man
who paced the floor in the chamber beyond. Her heart sorrowed deeply
for him, and she besought the great Father earnestly, that a blessing
of peace might fall upon “the stranger within their gates.”
Very early the next morning--just as the first peep of daylight began
to crimson the eastern sky, Mose stepped quietly into Hesper’s chamber,
and awakened her.
“Hesper,” he said, “Mr. Clyde is really quite sick. Just now, when I
awoke, I heard him moan as if in pain, and I hurried at once into his
room. I found him yet dressed, lying upon the outside of the bed, as
though he had only thrown himself down for a short nap. He breathed
quick and heavily--his face and hands were burning with fever, and
he talked constantly in his sleep. I managed with a great deal of
difficulty to arouse him, and gave him some water. I asked him if
he felt sick, it was some time before he understood me, and then he
said--’Yes, Mose, sick in every bone of my body. I have tried to throw
off these terrible feelings, for the last three weeks, but now they
have fairly got possession of me. Let them come though, I say, for the
sooner I die the better.’”
“Then he dropped into the same troubled sleep again, and I left
him. Now I want you to get up and dress you, while I run over to Dr.
Smiley’s, for I think this matter should be attended to directly.”
“By all means,” said Hesper, whose sympathies were at once awakened.
“Poor fellow, how I do pity him.”
Mose left her, and she arose and dressed herself immediately. As she
listened, she too could hear the quick, heavy breathing, in the room
beyond, and the broken sentences he uttered in his sleep. It was not
long before Mose and the doctor arrived. Upon going up to see the sick
man, the doctor ordered him to be put to bed at once, and to be kept
there. He said that he was evidently threatened with a fever, but by
proper care and attention, it might be broken up at once. His whole
nervous system appeared to be very much disordered, and therefore he
must of necessity be sick for a time, before he could recover--that the
best way for him was to lie still and take it as quietly as possible,
and in the end, it might prove a benefit to him. He gave him very
little medicine--put him on low, simple diet, and advised Mose to sit
with him through the day, as his mind seemed to wander greatly.
It was no small tax upon the time and attention of the brother and
sister, to have the care of a sick person added to their other
responsibilities, but instead of murmuring, they rejoiced that they
were able to meet this new demand upon their sympathies, and spared
no exertions to make the sufferer comfortable. Mose remained with him
through the whole of three days and nights, during which time the sick
man only sat up long enough to have his bed made, which Hesper did as
quickly and quietly as possible. She put the whole room in order in a
very few moments--brought him his breakfast of nicely prepared gruel
or some other light food, and then, like a good fairy, vanished till
she was needed again. She never spoke one word to him or Mose while she
was in the room, and scarcely glanced towards the sick man, who usually
sat pale and motionless in his high backed chair, seemingly unmindful
of all things. But he was not so, by any means, for he watched Hesper
closely, as she stole so quietly about his room, and finally slipped
out like a frightened bird.
Upon the fourth morning he was so much better, that after his bed was
made, he proposed taking his pillow and lying down upon the sofa which
was very comfortable. With the doctor’s consent Hesper had raised one
window a little way, and thrown open the blinds to let in the sunshine
and warm air. This seemed to refresh the invalid at once, and of his
own accord he mentioned how very beautiful and fragrant the running
roses and jessamines were, which peeped in at the window.
This encouraged Hesper, and upon the strength of it, she gathered a
small bouquet, and placed it on his table. He glanced at it as she did
so, and said in a pleasant tone--
“I see you are quite fond of flowers, Miss Hesper.”
“Yes sir,” she replied with a startled look, for these were the first
words he had addressed to her since he entered the house--“I like them
very well, though I do not make much talk about them.”
“That is just as it should be,” said Mr. Clyde. “People care very
little for things which they are continually talking about. When a
woman pretends to be in love, one can easily judge by her nonsensical
prattle, as to the quality of her affections, though it takes some time
to find it out.”
As he said this, there was the same expression to his countenance,
which Hesper disliked so much, she felt uncomfortable, and hastened to
get out of the room, but just as she was crossing the threshold, he
called her back.
“Miss Hesper,” he said, “your brother informs me that he cannot be with
me to-day; allow me therefore to ask the favor of a book, to wile away
my time with.”
“I have only one that I think will interest you,” said Hesper,
thoughtfully--“and that is ‘Brothers and Sisters,’ by Miss Bremer. Did
you ever read it?”
“No,” he replied. “Please bring it, for I don’t care what it is, if it
will only take up my mind.” She brought the book directly, for which he
thanked her very courteously, and placed himself in a position to read.
About half an hour afterwards, however, when she went in to give him
his medicine, she found him lying there with the volume closed, in his
hand.
“Don’t you find the book interesting?” she asked, timidly.
“Yes,” he replied, “but my head is weak, and my eyes get tired so soon,
that I find an attempt to read is useless.”
Hesper turned quickly, as though she would speak, but she checked
herself, and again proceeded towards the door. He had observed her
movement however, and called after her.
“Hesper,” he said, “what was you about to remark?”
“Only sir,” she replied very meekly, “that if you wished, I would
gladly read to you, as I am at leisure at present. But then I feared
you would think me too officious.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “I should be very grateful, if you would read
to me a while, for my mind is full of troublesome thoughts to-day.
Only,” he added, as the unpleasant expression came again over his
countenance--“sit where I cannot see you.”
Hesper took her chair and placed it a little way from the end of the
sofa, where his head lay, so that he could not observe her. When she
first commenced reading, her voice trembled a little, but she soon
gained confidence, and as she became interested in the story, she quite
forgot who she was reading to. She read on, chapter after chapter, for
a long time, till suddenly Mr. Clyde interrupted her.
“Stop, my kind friend,” he said; “I had quite forgotten, while
listening so intently, that you were mortal, and subject to weariness.
I will trespass no farther upon your good will, at present, but must
beg of you to favor me in a like manner, another time. Your kindness
has been of great benefit to me, and I thank you, most sincerely.”
Hesper’s face brightened with a pleasant smile of satisfaction. “I am
very glad,” she said, “if I have been of the least service, and shall
be happy to read to you again, whenever you wish.”
That very afternoon Mr. Clyde intimated to her, that if it would not be
asking too much, he should be glad to hear a little more of the story.
The next day he made the same request, and the next also, though now he
was so much better that he was able to walk about the room, and even
to go down into the yard among the flowers, which he greatly admired.
He pleaded weariness, however, when he desired her to read, and so
she continued till the book was finished. Towards the last, as they
became better acquainted, he would sit beside her while she read, and
no longer desired her to keep out of his sight.
At one such time, aunt Betsey happened in, and she regarded them with
indignation and surprise. Her call was very short, and upon leaving
she proceeded directly to aunt Nyna’s, in a state of great excitement,
and informed her of what she had seen. She said she thought such
things were scandalous, and ought to be attended to immediately, more
especially as report said that Hesper was already engaged to Harry. She
wondered, too, what Hesper’s mother could be thinking of, to allow such
doings right before her eyes.
“But then,” she added, “Susan always was a strange woman, and always
would be to the end of time,” therefore she advised aunt Nyna to go
down that very night, and give Hesper “a real talking to.”
To her great disappointment, however, the good lady replied, that she
didn’t see any harm in such things, and that she thought Hesper did
perfectly right. She added still more to aunt Betsey’s vexation, by
calling in Fred Greyson, who was at work in her garden, and sending him
to ask Mose and Hesper, with Mr. Clyde, to tea, which invitation was
very promptly accepted.
At the end of three weeks, as Mr. Clyde’s health seemed to be fully
re-established, he began to talk of leaving, to which proposition both
Mose and Hesper listened with regret, for although he was often silent
and reserved, yet there were hours when all his better nature shone
forth, and then he seemed to Hesper a man whom any one might respect
and admire. The day of his departure was not set, but he was awaiting
the answer to a letter which would determine it. He proposed starting
immediately for Europe, where he intended travelling for a few years,
to restore his wasted energies, both of mind and body.
“But,” he added seriously, as they were conversing together concerning
his plans--“I have met with so many crosses and disappointments in
life, that I cannot expect much for the future. At best, the remainder
of my days will be but a staying, and not a cheerful, actual existence.”
Shortly after this conversation Mr. Clyde went out with Mose, and
left Hesper at her sewing. She became at length very weary with her
monotonous toil; so she took her gipsey hat and strolled away into the
woods beyond the old Rolling Mill. After wandering about among the
hills and hollows for some time, gathering ferns and wild flowers, she
struck at length into the deeply shaded path which led by the side of
the brook. She continued musingly on her way, till she came to the
great rock where she had talked with Mose, just before he went to sea.
Here she seated herself, and gathering up the violets and tender green
leaves which grew profusely about her, commenced forming them into a
wreath. She became very much interested in her employment, but just as
she was giving the finishing touches to her work, she heard the sound
of footsteps, and looking along the green pathway, she beheld Mr. Clyde
coming towards her. He did not smile when he saw her, and she thought
he looked paler and more serious than ever.
“Ah, Hesper!” he said, “I am glad that I have found you at last, for
I have received a letter, saying that I must be in the city to-night,
therefore, in the course of an hour or so, I shall be on my way.”
“O, I am so sorry!” said Hesper, with the instinctive utterance of an
innocent heart. She let the violet wreath fall upon her lap, and gazed
up at him as he leaned silently against a tree. The changing light and
shadow which came through the green leaved boughs, played fitfully over
his countenance. He held his hat in his hand, and had brushed back
the masses of dark hair from his high pale brow. His eyes were turned
from her, yet she could see in them a look of unutterable sorrow, and
around his mouth a quivering expression of anguish, as though he felt
obliged to compress his lips firmly, to keep back a rush of contending
emotions. She could not behold that expression unmoved. Her kindly
heart beat in sympathy, and her eyes filled with tears. He turned and
looked at her one moment, and then threw himself upon the grass beside
her.
“Hesper, my sweet sister,” he said, “I cannot leave you without telling
you how much I have to thank you for--more than you can realize in
yourself--nay, nay, do not shrink from me like a frightened dove. I am
not quite an ice-berg, though oftentimes my cold exterior would make
you think so. Circumstances have made me what I am, and given me this
mask of formality, which I wear before the world, where curious eyes
are ever ready to prey upon a bleeding heart, but before the never
failing charity of your pure soul, I dare appear as I am. Not only must
I thank you for your kindly services during my sickness, but also for
saving me from an utter disbelief in woman’s truth and goodness, for
when a man loses his faith in woman, the brightest star in the heaven
of his existence is quenched. Had you intruded in the least upon my
feelings--had you by word, or look, or sign, overstepped the boundary
which my jealous soul had placed for you, I should have hated you.
But no: it was not thus, for ever gentle, helpful and retiring, you
manifested your sympathy for my stricken heart in the simplest, most
unobtrusive way, and always conducted towards me with that cheerful,
pure-hearted simplicity, which is the greatest charm of the true woman.
From this and from what I have learned of your past history, you have
shown me, that however much I may have been disappointed, yet my
cherished ideal of woman is not altogether false, and so I go forth to
the world again, with the faint hope in my heart, that somewhere on the
face of the earth, I may find that ideal, and make it the altar for my
yearning affections.”
The tears streamed down Hesper’s cheeks as he spoke. “O, Mr. Clyde!”
she said earnestly, “believe me, although there is so much of deception
in the worlds that you will find many, many women much better than my
own poor self. There are many pure and faithful hearts filled with
a never failing fountain of affection, scattered up and down in the
world, but you will find that they scarce ever beat beneath silken
garments and glancing jewels. Look for true love rather among those who
serve humbly and suffer long, for the heart grows tender and truthful
under the discipline of sorrow. I have not lived long in the world, but
I have seen enough of it to know that.”
“You are right, good angel,” said Mr. Clyde, as he regarded her with
an earnest, sorrowful look. “What I could not learn through years of
varied experience, has come to you through your own intuitions, and now
your speak it to my shame. I know myself, now, after the first feeling
of bitterness has passed, that heretofore I have worshipped false
deities, and laid my soul’s best offerings upon shrines wholly unworthy
of them, but while the arrow of disappointment still rankles in my
heart that thought can give me little consolation. Time alone can heal
the wound, and teach me that indifference which shall turn my heart to
stone.”
“O no! no!” said Hesper, quickly, as she laid her hand upon his
shoulder, and looked him earnestly in the face--“not to stone, for is
there not much in the world to live for and enjoy, even though one
particular affection cannot be gratified?”
Mr. Clyde shook his head seriously. “Put the question to your own
heart,” he said. “An earnest, joyful love for the companion of your
childhood, gladdens and inspires your whole being. You are sitting in
the sunshine of a great hope, and your whole future is radiant with the
golden hues which your own soul casts before you. Tell me, should these
hopes be disappointed, should this light go out in darkness, would you
turn unmoved to the world, and find much there, even then, to make you
happy? If so, then you have not the tender, sympathizing nature, which
I had ascribed to you.”
For the first time did it cross Hesper’s mind, that such a shadow might
fall upon her pathway, and her deep sympathy for her friend made her
feel how terrible it would be. She laid her hand for an instant upon
her heart, while an expression of pain crossed her countenance. Then
the cloud passed, and the calm sweet look returned again.
“I know,” she said frankly, “that I should not be indifferent. I know
it would almost crush me to the earth, but I trust it would only be for
a while, and when I arose again, my soul would be stronger and better
for the trial. Mr. Clyde, the only sure refuge from any such sorrow, is
to forget one’s self entirely, and live only for the sake of others.
That is what I think I should do, and it would be my only chance of
safety.”
For one moment Mr. Clyde held her clasped hands in his own, and looked
searchingly into her face.
“I know, you good, true soul,” he said, “that you would do thus, for it
is precisely the turn which such natures as yours would take, but it
would be a hard task for me.”
“It is always easier to advise than to do,” replied Hesper, “and
especially in such cases--but Mr. Clyde,” she added, with great
earnestness, “I believe you have a nature equal to any such thing, and
that the reason of your disappointment, is because God has something
better in reserve for you, than a union with a vain, false-hearted
woman.”
Her words seemed to have a powerful effect upon him, for he closed
his eyes and compressed his lips firmly, while that same quivering
expression of anguish which she had so often observed, played around
them. It was but for a moment however, and then he started up suddenly.
“Hesper,” he said, “I must not tarry longer, for time flies rapidly.
Let me bid you farewell here. I may never see you again, and therefore
when I think of you, I want to picture you in my memory as you sit
here, like a wood-nymph, with this back ground of moss-covered hills,
and the spring violets blooming at your feet.”
He laid his hand upon her head, and gently smoothed away the tresses of
soft, brown hair. “God grant,” he continued, “that the blight of wasted
affection may never fall upon you, for of all the trials that rend the
human heart, there are none which wound it so deeply as those which
come through the avenues of the affections.” As he spoke, he bowed his
head and imprinted a light kiss upon her forehead. A tear-drop fell
upon her cheek, and she knew that his manly heart must be stirred with
deep emotions, or it would never manifest itself thus. She glanced up
at him timidly. He clasped her hand warmly in his own for a moment,
then he suddenly dropped it--took the little violet wreath from her
lap, and without casting one backward glance, hastened along the green
pathway.
Hesper was bewildered by her feelings. She could not understand
herself, and yielding to her motions, she laid her face upon the mossy
hill-side and wept like a child. She did not know before, how much
she cared for Mr. Clyde, but now it seemed as though one, dear as a
brother, was taken from her. Musing deeply upon “life’s mysterious
destinies,” she wandered slowly along the wood-path, and then, not
wishing to meet him again, she took her way across the hills to the
cottage of aunt Nyna.