ISHMAEL'S WOE.
And with another's crime, my birth
She taunted me as little worth,
Because, forsooth, I could not claim
The lawful heirship of my name;
Yet were a few short summers mine,
My name should more than ever shine,
With honors all my own!
--_Byron_.
Ishmael sat in the shadows of his room overwhelmed with shame and sorrow
and despair. He had heard every cruel word; they had entered his ears
and pierced his heart. And not only for himself he bowed his head and
sorrowed and despaired, but for her; for her, proud, selfish, sinful,
but loving, and oh, how fatally beloved!
It was not only that he worshiped her with a blind idolatry, and knew
that she returned his passion with equal strength and fervor, and that
she would have waited for him long years, and married him at last but
for the cloud upon his birth. It was not this--not his own misery that
crushed him, nor even her present wretchedness that prostrated him--no!
but it was the awful, shapeless shadow of some infinite unutterable woe
is Claudia's future, and into which she was blindly rushing, that
overwhelmed him. Oh, to have saved her from this woe, he would gladly
have laid down his life!
The door opened and Jim, his especial waiter, entered with two lighted
candles on a tray. He sat them on the table and was leaving the room,
when Ishmael recalled him. What I am about to relate is a trifle
perhaps, but it will serve to show the perfect beauty of that nature
which, in the midst of its own great sorrow, could think of the small
wants of another.
"Jim, you asked me this morning to write a letter for you, to your
mother, I think."
"Yes, Master Ishmael, I thank you, sir; whenever you is at leisure, sir,
with nothing to do; which I wouldn't presume to be in a hurry, sir, nor
likewise inconvenience you the least in the world."
"It will not inconvenience me, Jim; it will give me pleasure, whenever
you can spare me half an hour," replied Ishmael, speaking with as much
courtesy to the poor dependent as he would have used in addressing his
wealthiest patron.
"Well, Master Ishmael, which I ought to say Mr. Worth, and I beg your
pardon, sir, only it is the old love as makes me forget myself, and call
you what I used to in the old days, because Mr. Worth do seem to leave
me so far away--"
"Call me what you please, Jim, we are old friends, and I love my old
friends better than any new distinctions that could come between us, but
which I will never allow to separate us. What were you about to say,
Jim?"
"Well, Master Ishmael, and I thank you sincere, sir, for letting of me
call you so, I was going for to say, as I could be at your orders any
time, even now, if it would suit you, sir; because I have lighted up all
my rooms and set my table for dinner, which it is put back an hour
because of Master Walter, who is expected by the six o'clock train this
evening; and Sam is waiting in the hall, and I aint got anything very
partic'lar to do for the next hour or so."
"Very well, Jim; sit down in that chair and tell me what you want me to
write," said Ishmael, seating himself before his desk and dipping his
pen in ink.
Yes, it was a small matter in itself; but it was characteristic of the
man, thus to put aside his own poignant anguish to interest himself in
the welfare of the humblest creature who invoked his aid.
"Now then, Jim."
"Well, Master Ishmael," said the poor fellow. "You know what to say a
heap better'n I do. Write it beautiful, please."
"Tell me what is in your heart, Jim, and then I will do the best I can,"
said Ishmael, who possessed the rare gift of drawing out from others the
best that was in their thoughts.
"Well, sir, I think a heap o' my ole mother, I does; 'membering how she
did foh me when I was a boy and wondering if anybody does for her now,
and if she is comfortable down there at Tanglewood. And I wants her to
know it; and not to be a-thinking as I forgets her."
Ishmael wrote rapidly for a few moments and then looked up.
"What else, Jim?"
"Well, sir, tell her as I have saved a heap of money for her out'n the
presents the gemmen made me o' Christmas, and I'll bring it to her when
I come down--which the ole 'oman do love money, sir, better than she do
anything in this world, 'cept it is me and old marster and Miss Claudia.
And likewise what she wants me to bring her from town, and whether she
would like a red gownd or a yallow one."
Ishmael set down this and looked up.
"Well, Jim?"
"Well, sir, tell her how she aint got no call to be anxious nor likewise
stressed in her mind, nor lay 'wake o' nights thinking 'bout me, fear I
should heave myself 'way, marrying of these yer trifling city gals as
don't know a spinning wheel from a harrow. And how I aint seen nobody
yet as I like better'n my ole mother and the young lady of color as she
knows 'bout and 'proves of; which, sir, it aint nobody else but your own
respected aunt, Miss Hannah's Miss Sally, as lives at Woodside."
"I have put all that down, Jim."
"Well, sir, and about the grand wedding as is to be to-morrow, sir; and
how the Bishop of Maryland is going to 'form the ceremony; and how the
happy pair be going to go on a grand tower, and then going to visit
Tanglewood afore they parts for the old country; and how she will see a
rale, livin' lord as she'll be 'stonished to see look so like any other
man; and last ways how Miss Claudia do talk about taking me and Miss
Sally along of her to foreign parts, because she prefers to be waited on
by colored ladies and gentlemen 'fore white ones; and likewise how I
would wish to go and see the world, only I won't go, nor likewise would
Miss Claudia wish to take me, if the ole 'oman wishes otherwise."
Ishmael wrote and then looked up. Poor Jim, absorbed in his own affairs,
did not notice how pale the writer's face had grown, or suspect how
often during the last few minutes he had stabbed him to the heart.
"Well, sir, that is about all I think, Master Ishmael. Only, please,
sir, put it all down in your beautiful language as makes the ladies cry
when you gets up and speaks afore the great judges theirselves."
"I will do my best, Jim."
"Thank you, sir. And please sign my name to it, not yourn--my
name--James Madison Monroe Mortimer."
"Yes, Jim."
"And please direct it to Mistress Catherine Maria Mortimer, most in
general called by friends, Aunt Katie, as is housekeeper at Tanglewood."
Ishmael complied with his requests as far as discretion permitted.
"And now, sir, please read it all out aloud to me, so I can hear how it
sound."
Ishmael complied with this request also, and read the letter aloud, to
the immense delight of Jim, who earnestly expressed his approbation in
the emphatic words:
"Now--that--is--beautiful! Thank y', sir! That is ekal to anything as
ever I heard out'n the pulpit--and sides which, sir, it is all true,
true as gospel, sir. It is just exactly what I thinks and how I feels
and what I wants to say, only I aint got the words. Won't mother be
proud o' that letter nyther? Why, laws, sir, the ole 'oman 'll get the
minister to read that letter. And then she'll make everybody as comes to
the house as can read, read it over and over again for the pride she
takes in it, till she'll fairly know it all by heart," etc., etc., etc.
For Jim went on talking and smiling and covering the writer all over
with gratitude and affection, until he was interrupted by the stopping
of a carriage, the ringing of a door bell, and the sound of a sudden
arrival.
"There's Master Walter Middleton now, as sure as the world! I must run!
Dinner'll be put on the table soon's ever he's changed his dress. I'm a
thousand times obleeged to you, sir. I am, indeed, everlasting obleeged!
I wish I could prove it some way. Mother'll be so pleased." And talking
all the way downstairs, Jim took himself and his delight away.
Ishmael sighed, and arose to dress for dinner. His kindness had not
been without its reward. The little divertisement of Jim's letter had
done him good. Blessed little offices of loving-kindness--what
ministering angels are they to the donor as well as the receiver! With
some degree of self-possession Ishmael completed his toilet and turned
to leave the room, when the sound of someone rushing up the stairs like
a storm arrested his steps.
Then a voice sounded outside:
"Which is Ishmael's room? Bother! Oh, here it is!" and Bee's door was
opened. "No! calico! Ah! now I'm right."
And the next instant Walter Middleton burst open the door and rushed in,
exclaiming joyfully, as he seized and shook the hands of his friend:
"Ah, here you are, old fellow! God bless you! How glad I am to see you!
You are still the first love of my heart, Ishmael. Damon, your Pythias
has not even a sweetheart to dispute your empire over him. How are you?
I have heard of your success. Wasn't is glorious! You're a splendid
fellow, Ishmael, and I'm proud of you. You may have Bee, if you want
her. I always thought there was a bashful kindness between you two. And
there isn't a reason in the world why you shouldn't have her. And so her
Royal Highness, the Princess Claudia, has caught a Lord, has she? Well,
you know she always said she would, and she has kept her word. But, I
say, how are you? How do you wear your honors? How do the toga and the
bays become you? Turn around and let us have a look at you." And so the
affectionate fellow rattled on, shaking both Ishmael's hands every other
second, until he had talked himself fairly out of breath.
"And how are you, dear Walter? But I need not ask; you look so well and
happy," said Ishmael, as soon as he could get in a word.
"Me? Oh, I'm well enough. Nought's never in danger. I've just graduated,
you know; with the highest honors, they say. My thesis won the great
prize; that was because you were not in the same class, you know. I have
my diploma in my pocket; I'm an M.D.; I can write myself doctor, and
poison people, without danger of being tried for murder! isn't that a
privilege? Now let my enemies take care of themselves! Why don't you
congratulate me, you--"
"I do, with all my heart and soul, Walter!"
"That's right! only I had to drag it from you. Well, so I'm to be 'best
man' to this noble bridegroom. Too much honor. I am not prepared for it.
One cannot get ready for graduating and marrying at the same time. I
don't think I have got a thing fit to wear. I wrote to Bee to buy me
some fine shirts, and some studs, and gloves, and handkerchiefs, and
hair oil, and things proper for the occasion. I wonder if she did?"
"I don't know. I know that she has been overwhelmed with care for the
last month, too much care for a girl, so it is just possible that she
has had no opportunity. Indeed, she has a great deal to think of and to
do."
"Oh, it won't hurt her; especially if it consists of preparations for
the wedding."
A bell rang.
"There now, Ishmael, there is that diabolical dinner-bell! You may look,
but it is true: a dinner-bell that peals out at seven o'clock in the
evening is a diabolical dinner-bell. At college we dine at twelve
meridian, sharp, and sup at six. It is dreadful to sit at table a whole
hour, and be bored by seeing other people eat, and pretending to eat
yourself, when you are not hungry. Well, there's no help for it. Come
down and be bored, Ishmael."
They went down into the drawing room, where quite a large circle of near
family connections were assembled.
Walter Middleton was presented to the Viscount Vincent, who was the only
stranger, to him, present.
Claudia was there, looking as calm, as self-possessed and queenly, as if
she had not passed through a storm of passion two hours before.
Ishmael glanced at her and saw the change with amazement, but he dared
not trust himself to look again.
The dinner party, with all this trouble under the surface, passed off in
superficial gayety. The guests separated early, because the following
morning would usher in the wedding day.