UNDER THE OLD ELM TREE.
She was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously--his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony.
--_Byron_.
On Monday morning he resumed his attendance at Brudenell Hall. He was
received very kindly by the family, and permitted to go up to the empty
schoolroom and take his choice among all the vacant seats, and to make
the freest use of the school library, maps, globes, and instruments.
Ishmael moved his own desk up under one of the delightful windows, and
there he sat day after day at hard study. He did not trouble Mr.
Middleton much; whenever it was possible to do so by any amount of labor
and thought, he puzzled out all his problems and got over all his
difficulties alone.
He kept up the old school hours; punctually, and exactly at noon, he
laid aside his books and went out on the lawn for an hour's recreation
before lunch.
There he often met his young friends, and always saw Claudia. It was
Miss Merlin's good pleasure to approve and encourage this poor but
gifted youth; and she took great credit, to herself for her
condescension. She seemed to herself like some high and mighty princess
graciously patronizing some deserving young peasant. She often called
him to her side; interested himself in his studies and in his health,
praised his assiduity, but warned him not to confine himself too closely
to his books, as ambitious students had been known before now to
sacrifice their lives to the pursuit of an unattainable fame. She told
him that she meant to interest her father in his fortunes; and that she
hoped in another year the judge would be able to procure for him the
situation of usher in some school, or tutor in some family. Although she
was younger than Ishmael, yet her tone and manner in addressing him was
that of an elder as well as of a superior; and blended the high
authority of a young queen with the deep tenderness of a little mother.
For instance, when he would come out at noon, she would often beckon him
to her side, as she sat in her garden chair, under the shadow of the
great elm tree, with a book of poetry or a piece of needlework in her
hands. And when he came, she would make him sit down on the grass at her
feet, and she would put her small, white hand on his burning forehead,
and look in his face with her beautiful, dark eyes, and murmur softly:
"Poor boy; your head aches; I know it does. You have been sitting under
the blazing sun in that south window of the schoolroom, so absorbed in
your studies that you forgot to close your shutters."
And she would take a vial of eau-de-cologne from her pocket, pour a
portion of it upon a handkerchief, and with her own fair hand bathe his
heated brows; at the same time administering a queenly reprimand, or a
motherly caution, as pride or tenderness happened to predominate in her
capricious mood.
This royal or maternal manner in this beautiful girl would not have
attracted the hearts of most men; but Ishmael, at the age of seventeen,
was yet too young to feel that haughty pride of full-grown manhood which
recoils from the patronage of women, and most of all from that of the
woman they love.
To him, this proud and tender interest for his welfare added a greater
and more perilous fascination to the charms of his beautiful love; it
drew her nearer to him; it allowed him to worship her, though mutely; it
permitted him to sit at her feet, and in that attitude do silent homage
to her as his queen; it permitted him to receive the cool touch of her
fingers on his heated brow; to hear the soft murmur of her voice close
to his ear; to meet the sweet questioning of her eyes.
And, oh, the happiness of sitting at her feet, under the green shadows
of that old elm tree! The light touch of her soft fingers on his brow
thrilled him to his heart's core; the sweet sound of her voice in his
ears filled his soul with music; the earnest gaze of her beautiful dark
eyes sent electric shocks of joy through all his sensitive frame.
Ishmael was intensely happy. This earth was no longer a commonplace
world, filled with commonplace beings; it was a paradise peopled with
angels.
Did Mr. and Mrs. Middleton fear no harm in the close intimacy of this
gifted boy of seventeen and this beautiful girl of sixteen?
Indeed, no! They believed the proud heiress looked upon, the peasant boy
merely as her protégé, her pet, her fine, intelligent dog! they
believed Claudia secure in her pride and Ishmael absorbed in his
studies. They were three-quarters right, which is as near the correct
thing as you can expect imperfect human nature to approach; that is,
they were wholly right as to Claudia and half right as to Ishmael.
Claudia was secure in her pride; and half of Ishmael's soul--the mental
half--was absorbed in his studies; his mind was given to his books; but
his heart was devoted to Claudia. And in this double occupation there
was no discord, but the most perfect harmony.
But though Claudia, whom he adored, was his watchful patroness, Bee,
whom he only loved, was his truest friend. Claudia would warn him
against danger; but Bee would silently save him from it. While Claudia
would be administering a queenly rebuke to the ardent young student for
exposing himself to a sunstroke by reading under the blazing sun in an
open south window, Bee, without saying a word, would go quietly into the
schoolroom, close the shutters of the sunny windows, and open those of
the shady ones, so that the danger might not recur in the afternoon.
In September the school was regularly reopened for the reception of the
day pupils. Their parents were warned, however, that this was to be the
last term; that the school must necessarily be broken up at Christmas,
as the house must be given up on the first of February. The return of
the pupils, although they filled the schoolroom during study hours, and
made the lawn a livelier scene during recess, did not in the least
degree interrupt the intimacy of Ishmael and Claudia. He still sat at
her feet beneath the green shadows of the old elm tree, often reading to
her while she worked her crochet; or strumming upon his old guitar an
accompaniment to her song. For long ago the professor had taught Ishmael
to play, and loaned him the instrument.
It is not to be supposed that Claudia's favor of Ishmael could be
witnessed by his companions without exciting their envy and dislike of
our youth. But the more strongly they evinced their disapproval of her
partiality for Ishmael, the more ostentatiously she displayed it.
Many were the covert sneers leveled at "Nobody's Son." And often Ishmael
felt his heart swell, his blood boil, and his cheek burn at these
cowardly insults. And it was well for all concerned that the youth was
"obedient" to that "heavenly vision" which had warned him, in these sore
trials, not to ask himself--as had been his boyish custom--what Marion,
Putnam, Jackson, or any of the "great battle-ax heroes" would have done
in a similar crisis; but what Christ, the Prince of Peace, would have
done; for Ishmael knew that all these great historical warriors held the
"bloody code of honor" that would oblige them to answer insult with
death; but that the Saviour of the world "when reviled, reviled not
again"; and that he commended all his followers to do likewise,
returning "good for evil," "blessings for cursings."
All this was very hard to do; and the difficulty of it finally sent
Ishmael to study his Bible with a new interest, to seek the mystery of
the Saviour's majestic meekness. In the light of a new experience, he
read the amazing story of the life, sufferings, and death of Christ. Oh,
nothing in the whole history of mankind could approach this, for beauty,
for sublimity, and for completeness; nothing had ever so warmed,
inspired, and elevated his soul as this; this was perfect; answering all
the needs of his spirit. The great heroes and sages of history might be
very good and useful as examples and references in the ordinary trials
and temptations of life; but only Christ could teach him how to meet the
great trial from the world without, where envy and hate assailed him; or
how to resist the dark temptations from the world within, in whose deep
shadows rage and murder lurked! Henceforth the Saviour became his own
exemplar and the gospel his only guidebook. Such was the manner in which
Ishmael was called of the Lord. He became proof against the most
envenomed shafts of malice. The reflection: What would Christ have done?
armed him with a sublime and invincible meekness and courage.