THE ENCOUNTER AT ST. MARK'S.
I did not forget through the week Mrs. Le Grande's eagerness for Mr.
Winthrop to attend church, and although not permitting myself, if
possible, to impute false motives to others, I concluded it was not
anxiety for his spiritual well-being that prompted the desire on her
part. However I resolved to ask him, and was very anxious that he should
grant my request. The day dawned bright and clear, one of those hopeful
days with promise of the coming summer in the clear shining of the
February sun. At breakfast Mr. Winthrop spoke of the rare loveliness of
the morning; the blue of the sky, soft and tender as a mother's eye, with
here and there a fleecy cloud such as painters love to put on their
canvas. Away to the south, the sea was dimpling and sparkling in ten
thousand broken ripples, with here and there a brave vessel sailing away
over the cold, heaving waters.
Mr. Winthrop seemed in more genial mood than he had been for a week; and
when he left the table I followed him to the door, where he stood gazing
with eyes trained to take in intelligently the charming scene. I stood
silent, entering in a very half-hearted manner into his keen enjoyment
of the picture painted by God's own hand, spread out before us.
"It is no use for a man to attempt copying that living, throbbing scene,
nor yet to describe it," he said, with an air of dissatisfaction.
"To copy would be easy, compared with creating it," I suggested timidly.
"Yes; but when, and by whom done? That is the question that maddens one,"
he answered after a long pause.
"The Bible says the same hand that was nailed to the cross on Calvary
created it. 'By whom also the worlds were made,'" I murmured.
"Ah, if we only had some evidence of that; but it is all dark, dark, on
the other side of death, and on the other side of life too. Whence came
we--whither do we tend? What power sent Sirius and all that galaxy of
suns marching serenely through space? We, in our little planet-ship,
falling into line, going like comets one day, and then vanishing; but the
worlds moving on unconscious of our departure, and yet some power
controls them and us. Medoline, to have my faith anchored as yours is, to
a beneficent, all-powerful God, I would be willing to die this instant if
I might be absorbed into Him, or be taken into his presence forever. You
who can calmly accept your religion as you do the atmosphere you inhale,
should live as far above earthly passions and entanglements, as those
light clouds hanging in yonder vault are above the earth; nay, rather
like the stars which only touch us by that law of the universe that
holds the remotest stars together."
"Have you tried any more earnestly to find the God of the Bible than you
have done Boodh or Vishnu, or other man-created deities?" I asked.
He turned to me in his keen, incisive way:--"No, Medoline, I cannot say
that I have--not since boyhood, at least, when my mother, who loved the
God whom Israel served so indifferently, endeavored to train my
rebellious will to His service."
"You have lived all these years Godless?"
"In plain English, yes."
"Then that great star, Sirius, you just spoke of, and all the other suns,
and their systems, as well as the humblest created things, have fulfilled
the purposes of their Maker's will, save the last supreme effort of His
power--man, originally made a 'little lower than God.' I wonder that I
honor you as I do, when you deny the existence of my God and Saviour."
He looked down at me with a gentleness at which I was surprised, and his
next question did not lessen this.
"Would you be terrified if death, in some form, were suddenly to seize
you, dismissing you from your present environments into the unclothed
state, could you trust, to the uttermost, this mighty Being whose
friendship you so confidently claim?"
I paused before replying. Certainly death just then did not seem welcome.
I loved life and enjoyed it, and longed for its fuller experiences. As I
studied his question, there came a fear that, since I clung with such
desire to life, I could not be fitted for higher places. No doubt he saw
the pained, uncertain look on my face, which his question had caused.
"If God wished for me to leave this world," I said, slowly, "no doubt he
would give me the necessary grace and fortitude to do so patiently; but
I do not want to die now, unless it is His will. I love my life, and
would like to serve my generation for a good many years. There are such
grand opportunities to be useful to others."
"That is a more healthy type of piety than I would have given you credit
for. I am glad you are not anxious to leave us. The Superior powers are
apt to humor such fancies in the young, and remove them from this
distasteful world."
I saw that a lighter mood was taking the place of his more serious one of
a few minutes before, and I hastened to make my request. "Won't you come
to church with me this bright morning, Mr. Winthrop?"
He looked at me with that clear, honest gaze that always seemed to
penetrate my deepest thoughts.
"Why do you make that request? You have never asked me before."
A guilty blush crimsoned my face, and I murmured something about wanting
him to go particularly that morning, and then hastily entered the house.
As I put on my bonnet and cloak for church, I made up my mind never to
make a request of him again without being able to give a good, honest
reason for it.
The bell of St. Mark's began ringing as I went down the broad staircase.
I paused a moment at the library door, and then went on to the
drawing-room, where Mrs. Flaxman usually awaited me. I was surprised to
find her sitting near the fire, a book in her hand, and no preparation
made for church.
"You must go alone this morning, I fear."
"Are you not well?"
"No, dear; I cannot even plead a headache. I might go deeper, though; for
I have had a heartache of late."
"Have you got bad news from Hubert?"
"On the contrary, I have had better news than usual from him in his last
few letters; but, dear, I may have other anxieties than merely personal
ones."
"Our anxieties should send us to God's house, and not keep us away--don't
you think?"
"Yes, in most cases. Some day I may explain all this to you, Medoline;
but not now."
"Good-bye, then," I said, kissing the sweet, gentle face, and thinking I
knew what was keeping her at home. As I passed into the hall, I saw Mr.
Winthrop coming down from his own room; but I did not pause to speak,
thinking he was on his way to the library. My hand was on the door, when
he called me back.
"After inviting me to church, are you going without me?"
I turned and saw that he was taking his hat.
"Are you really going?"
"Yes, really. I would be rude, indeed, to slight your first invitation."
"Do you come this morning merely because I invited you?" I asked,
incredulously.
"Do you consider it courteous to inquire too minutely into the motives of
your friends?"
I was silent while I stood for a few seconds regarding him closely. I
wondered if he had not taken special pains with his toilet; for I had
never seen him look so regally handsome before. He may have detected my
admiring gaze; for he said, lightly:
"What is wrong, that you favor me with such scrutinizing glances?"
"There is nothing wrong, Mr. Winthrop, so far as my eyes can penetrate. I
trust that to clearer vision than mine what lies deeper than human gaze
can pierce, is equally perfect."
"Is it your custom, little one, to pay your male acquaintances such open
compliments?"
"It was not a compliment. I only spoke the truth," I said, quietly, as we
walked side by side down the lilac-bordered footpath, the way we always
went to church when we walked, as it cut off a-half mile or more. It was
a charming walk in summer; but now the low bushes looked common and
ungraceful, stripped of their foliage; but the ground was high, and over
their tops we could see the distant hills and the sun-kissed sea. And
this morning as I tripped lightly by my guardian's side, I fancied I had
never seen this quiet pathway even in its midsummer glory look so
perfect.
"It is a wise plan not to tell your friends the truth always. Masculine
vanity is occasionally as strongly developed as feminine," he said after
we had gone some time in silence.
"But you are not vain, Mr. Winthrop; I never saw any one so free from
it," I said, gravely.
"You are determined to overwhelm me with your flattery. We must change
our conversational topics altogether."
"First, let me ask if flattery is not half-sister to falsehood?"
"Probably they are pretty closely related; but why are you anxious to get
that matter settled?"
"Because I do not want you to believe I ever tell you what is not true.
I do not think I could, if I tried."
"You reserve that privilege, then, for your other friends."
"Oh, no; I am never tempted to be untruthful with them."
"And are you so tempted in your relation with me?" he asked, a little
sternly.
"Sometimes."
"Why, Medoline, you astonish me. Tell me what reason you have for being
so tempted?"
"You make me afraid of you; that is my only reason," I murmured,
trembling already with a touch of my natural fear of him.
"I am sorry to know that I stand in the relation of an ogre to you."
"You do not, and I never meant to tell you that. I am afraid of you. By
and bye, when I get a little older, I do not think that I shall be; but
you make me tell you everything."
"If that is the case I am surprised you have so little wrong-doing to
confess. I believe you will ultimately convince me that a few of your sex
have escaped the taint of their evil inheritance."
His words caused such a thrill of delight that, remembering what a
tell-tale face I had, I turned my head to watch intently the white sails
of a ship far away to the left; but I presently bethought myself to
inquire what our special inheritance was.
"That which Eve left her daughters--deceit."
"But, Mr. Winthrop, we are alike descendants of hers; and the sons as
often take after their mother as their father."
"That is not a bad hit. It never occurred to me before. Men and women,
however, are different; whether created so originally we do not know.
But sometimes we meet a woman combining the best qualities of both sexes;
but so far as my experience goes, they are the rarest product of creative
skill. I dare say there are men occasionally combining the same beautiful
qualities."
"I think Mr. Bowen does."
"Have you ever told him as much?" Mr. Winthrop asked, with an odd smile.
"No, I have scarcely said anything to him about his goodness. I like best
to let him do the talking when we are together."
"I am getting curious to see that man."
"Oh, Mr. Winthrop, if you would only come with me to their church. They
are having wonderful meetings, and people are getting converted."
"What church is it?"
"Beech Street, I heard the minister pray at Mrs. Blake's funeral, and
once since at the Larkums. I have longed to hear him again. I never heard
anything like it in my life. It reminded me of a beautiful poem or
oratorio."
"Why, have you not gone to his church, then, to hear him?"
"I feared you might be displeased."
We walked on some distance in silence. I stole a quick look once at his
face to see if he was angry, but he seemed in one of his abstracted
moods, and I reflected that by this time, he had probably forgotten
my existence. But I was mistaken; for all at once he said abruptly, as he
stood holding open the gate that led from the footpath into the main
street. "You have been a more obedient girl than I expected any of your
sex could be, especially one with your keen, impetuous nature. To reward
your fidelity I will go to the Beech Street church whenever you wish." I
looked up at him, the grateful tears in my eyes, but some way my feelings
had got beyond my control, and I dared not attempt to thank him. We
joined the crowds on the sidewalk and after a while he said:--
"You have not thanked me, Medoline; don't you appreciate my offer?"
I tried to speak; but my lip quivered, and I remained silent.
"You have thanked me very eloquently, little one; more so than if you had
used set phrases."
The remainder of our walk was completed mostly in silence. I scarce knew
why, but my heart was as glad as if June roses and song birds had been
about us as we went. I looked at some staid people,--old looking to me,
though few of them were past fifty,--and pitied them that they too were
not young and glad-hearted like me. As we neared the church, the sunshine
and gladness suddenly grew dim, for there, in all her perfect loveliness,
Mrs. Le Grande was approaching St. Mark's from the opposite direction.
Impulsively I turned to Mr. Winthrop, hoping he would not see her; for
usually he was quite oblivious of the presence of those who might be on
the street with him. A glance assured me that he was looking at her, and
that her desire was gratified. He took no notice, however, of my abrupt
movement, and without change of expression or voice, said: "There seems
a good many strangers on their way to church this morning. Some unusual
circumstance must have occurred to bring out so many curious
worshippers." I could not help smiling at the veiled irony in voice and
words. Fortunately we were considerably nearer the church than Mrs. Le
Grande, and without quickening our steps gained its shelter before she
overtook us, although I saw she moved more quickly after she saw us. St.
Mark's was an ancient church, built in old colonial days. One could
easily fancy themselves in a country church in some quiet English
village, as their eyes fell on the high-backed pews, narrow, stained
glass-windows, and walls covered with memorial tablets, and the other
peculiarities of a church over a century old. The Winthrop pew was near
the pulpit. A large square one, and commanding an excellent view of the
congregation. When Mrs. Le Grande entered, she paused for a moment,
apparently taking a rapid survey of the church; when her eye fell on our
pew. Without paying any attention to the usher, she glided to the nearest
vacant seat to ours. Directly, I was conscious that very many eyes were
upon us. Opening my Bible, I read mechanically the words before me; but
no more conscious of their meaning than if they had been Sanscrit. When
the service began, in the withdrawal of attention to other things, I took
courage to look at Mr. Winthrop. He sat facing Mrs. Le Grande, but with
face as unruffled as if he were reading his morning paper. I glanced next
at Mrs. Le Grande. She sat with downcast eyes, her color varying
fitfully. She might have been taken for some beautiful picture of
penitence. I do not know if Mr. Winthrop vouchsafed her a single look,
but from her expression I judged that she thought he was watching her
closely. It was a relief when the service was ended, although my
conscience painfully reminded me that I would have another master
opportunity for listening to the preached gospel to repent of, or else to
confront some day; for I had been so nervous I had not listened
intelligently to a single sentence of the sermon.