A POSSIBLE TRAGEDY.
While the money was being counted, Lottie led Mrs. Dlimm into the
hall, and introduced her to Hemstead, saying, "This is the magician
whose wand has transformed us all."
"You are the wand then," he said, laughing.
"What is the wand without the magician?" she asked, shyly watching
the effect of her speech.
His quick flush bespoke the sensitive nature that it was becoming
her delight to play upon, but he said: "According to legends, magic
power was exerted in two ways,--by a magician, as you suggested,
and by ordinary mortals who happened to find a wand or spell or
some potent secret by which they and any one could perform marvels.
Now I assure you that I am the most ordinary of mortals, and without
my wand I could not conjure at all."
Lottie gave him a look at this point which heightened his color,
but he continued: "Miss Marsden, in her generosity, shall not give
to me the credit for events which I trust will add a little sunlight
to your life this winter, Mrs. Dlimm. It is to be shared chiefly
by herself and that manly young fellow there, who is a member of
your church, I suppose. It was Miss Marsden who brought us the
tidings of the evil out of which this good has come. She not only
took up the collection with such a grace that no one could resist,
but she suggested the collection in the first place."
"What do you know about my irresistible grace? You haven't given
me anything."
"You will place me in an awkward dilemma if you ask anything, for
I have given you all the money I have with me," he said, laughing.
"Perhaps he would give himself," said simple, innocent Mrs. Dlimm,
who, from Lottie's coquetry and the expression of Hemstead's eyes,
imagined that an understanding or an engagement existed between
them.
Lottie laughed, till the tears came, at Hemstead's blushing confusion,
but said after a moment, "That would be a graceless request from
me."
"I don't think you would have to ask twice," whispered Mrs. Dlimm.
"Did you ever hear of the man who was given a white elephant?"
asked Lottie, in her ear.
"No, what about him?" said Mrs. Dlimm, simply.
Lottie laughed again, and putting her arm around the little lady
said, aloud:
"Mrs. Dlimm, you and your baby could go right back to the Garden
of Eden, and I rather think Mr. Hemstead could be your escort."
"I trust we are all going to a far better place," she replied,
quickly.
"I fear I'm going the other way," said Lottie, shaking her head. But
she was surprised at the expression of honest trouble and sympathy
that came out upon the face of the pastor's wife.
"Miss Marsden does herself injustice," said Hemstead, quickly.
"You have seen her action. All that I have seen of her accords with
that."
"But you have not known me two days yet altogether," said Lottie.
"No matter. The last time I was in a picture gallery, I spent most
o the time before one painting. I did not require weeks to learn
its character."
"I shall judge you by your action, Miss Marsden," said Mrs. Dlimm,
gratefully. "My creed forbids me to think ill of any one, and my
heart forbids me to think ill of you. Those tears I saw in your
eyes a short time since became you better than any diamonds you
will ever wear. They were nature's ornaments, and proved that you
were still nature's child,--that you had not in your city life
grown proud, and cold, and false. It is a rare and precious thing
to see outward beauty but the reflex of a more lovely spirit. Keep
that spirit, my dear, and you will never lose your beauty even though
you grow old and faded as I am. I wish I could see you again, for
your full, sunny life has done me more good than I can tell you."
Again, Lottie's warm heart and impulsive nature betrayed her, and,
before she thought, she exclaimed in sincerity: "I wish I deserved
what you say, and I might be better if I saw more of such people
as you and Mr. Hemstead. If he will drive me over to-morrow, I will
come and see you. I think he will, for I haven't told you that he
is a minister, and would, no doubt, like to talk to your husband."
"I might have known it," said the little woman, stepping forward
and shaking Hemstead's hand most cordially. "I congratulate you,
sir. You have chosen a princely calling,--a royal one, rather,--and
can tread directly in the steps of the Son of God. I predict for
you success,--the success a true minister craves. You have the
promise within you of winning many from evil."
"Believe me," said he, earnestly, "I would rather have that power
than be a king."
"You may well say that, sir," she replied, with a dignity of which
Lottie did not think her capable. "Any common man may have kingly
power, and the meanest have cursed the world with it. But the power
to win men from evil is godlike, and only the godlike have it."
Lottie looked curiously at the object of her practical jest. The
words of the pastor's wife seemed to have drawn his thoughts away from
the speaker and herself, and fixed them on his future work and its
results. It is in such moments of abstraction--of self-forgetfulness,
when one's mind is dwelling on life's purposes and aims--that the
spirit shines through the face, as through a transparency, and the
true character is seen. Lottie saw Hemstead's face grow so noble
and manly, so free from every trace of the meanness of egotism
and selfishness, that in the depths of her soul she respected him
as she had never any man before. Instinctively she placed Julian
De Forrest, the rich and elegant idler, beside this earnest man,
self-consecrated to the highest effort, and for the first time her
soul revolted from her cousin with something like disgust.
What she had imagined became real at that moment, and De Forrest
appeared, looking bored and uneasy.
"I have found you at last," he said. "We became so wedged in the
parlor that there was no getting out, but now they have completed
the laborious task of counting a sum that a bank clerk would run
over in two minutes, and it is to be announced with a final flourish
of trumpets. Then the stingy clodhoppers that you have inveigled
into doing something that they will repent of with groanings that
cannot be uttered to-morrow will go home resolving to pinch and save
till they make good what they have given." He then added carelessly
to Mrs. Dlimm, not waiting for an introduction, "I am surprised
that you and your husband are willing to stay among such a people."
Before she could answer, he said to Lottie, "Are you ready to go
home? Harcourt and Addie say we ought to start at once."
Lottie was provoked at his rudeness, and furtively watched Mrs.
Dlimm's face, to see what impression he made upon her. Indeed her
face was a study for a moment as she measured De Forrest's proportions
with a slow, sweeping glance, which he thought one of admiration.
But, instead of turning contemptuously or resentfully away, her
face was pitiful.
They were now summoned to hear the result, but Lottie found
opportunity to whisper to Mrs. Dlimm, "What do you think of him?"
"I don't know what to think. It is painfully evident that he is
not a man."
Mrs. Dlimm's verdict had a weight with Lottie that she would hardly
have believed possible a few hours before. There was a quaint
simplicity and sincerity about her, an unworldliness, that gave
her words something of the authority of the other world.
The abstraction that had been on Hemstead's face passed to Lottie's,
and she heard with inattentive ear the young farmer say with hearty
emphasis, "We present you, as an expression of our good-will, with
two hundred and fifty dollars."
She heard, but still did not heed the pastor's grateful reply. De
Forrest whispered to her often, but her brow only contracted at
his interruption to her busy thought. Suddenly she noted Hemstead's
eye resting on her with a questioning expression. Then with a
seeming effort she came out of her revery, and tried to be her old
self again.
When Mr. Dlimm ceased, the farmer called out heartily: "Good for
you, dominie. Now I call for a vote of thanks to the stranger who
showed us a way out of our scrape. I understand that his name is
the Rev. Mr. Hemstead. Also a vote of thanks to such a young lady
as the city doesn't often send us, who, if she will permit a country
compliment, is like the rose, good enough for a king, yet sweet to
all. I call on both for a speech."
Lottie, blushing and laughing, declared that she was one who believed
"that a woman should keep silence in meeting," and requested
Hemstead to answer for both.
"Miss Marsden does not need words," said Hemstead. "She has a
better kind of eloquence, and speaks to us through good and kindly
deeds. My part in the happy results of this evening is slight. It
is comparatively easy to suggest good and generous action, but it
is harder to perform. It is one thing to preach, and quite another
to practise. You have had the hard part,--the practising,--and
yet have done it as if it were not hard, as duty seldom is when
performed in the right spirit; and therefore deserve the greater
credit. If what you have done from generous impulse to-night you
will henceforth do from steady principle, you will all have cause
to remember this evening gratefully. That 'it is more blessed to
give than receive' is true, not only because the Bible declares
it, but because human experience proves it."
Loud applause followed these words, and then the farmer said, "Now,
Mr. Harcourt, you are welcome to publish all you have seen at Scrub
Oaks to-night."
At this Harcourt stepped forward and said: "Although not called
on for a speech, I shall make a short one. I have learned a thing
or two this evening. When I make a blunder I am not ashamed to
acknowledge it. Mr. Hemstead and I both wished to bring about the
same thing, only I went about it the wrong way, and he the right.
What I then said as a threat, I now say as a promise. I shall
write for our country paper a report of this meeting, and it will
be greatly to your credit. I take back my former harsh words. I
congratulate you on your action, and commend you for it."
"Give me your hand on that," cried the farmer. "Three cheers for
Tom Harcourt. If you are ever up for office, sir, you may count on
the vote of Scrub Oaks."
Thus, with cheery laughter and mutual good feeling, the eventful
donation party broke up, leaving a happier family in the little
parsonage than had ever dwelt there before.
In a few moments the party from Mrs. Marchmont's were on the road,
though it proved difficult to hold the chilled and spirited horses
long enough for them to get seated. De Forrest again took his place
by Lottie, but she determined to make the conversation general.
"I've had a splendid time," she exclaimed, "and am very much obliged
to you, Addie and Mr. Harcourt, for bringing me."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," said Addie, "and hope that you
have now had enough of the 'other set,' as you call them. I don't
see how you can endure them."
"Nor I either," said Bel, "although I suppose we ought to mingle
with them occasionally. But I am tired to death."
"I was disgusted with them from first to last," said De Forrest,--"the
uncouth, ill-bred crew. I couldn't endure to see you, Miss Lottie,
going around with that clodhopper of a farmer, and, worst of all,
how could you touch that great mountain of flesh they called Auntie
Lammer?"
"Many men of many minds," trilled out Lottie; but she thought of
Hemstead's treatment of the poor old creature in contrast.
"Whoa there, steady now," cried Harcourt to the horses; and Hemstead,
though sitting with his back to him, noted that he was too much
engrossed with their management to speak often, even to Addie who
sat beside him.
"Mr. Hemstead said that Auntie Lammer was more than a duchess,"
added Lottie, laughing.
"True, she's a monster. Bat what did Mr. Hemstead call her?"
"He said she was a 'woman,' and was as polite is if paying homage
to universal womanhood."
"I think," said De Forrest, satirically, "that Mr. Hemstead might
have found a better, if not a larger type of 'universal womanhood'
to whom he could have paid his homage. I was not aware that he
regarded bulk as the most admirable quality in woman. Well, he does
not take a narrow view of the sex. His ideal is large."
"Come, Mr. De Forrest," said Hemstead, "your wit is as heavy as
Mrs. Lammer herself, and she nearly broke my back going down stairs."
"O, pardon me. It was your back that suffered. I thought it was
your heart. How came you to be so excessively polite then?"
"I think Miss Marsden is indulging in a bit of fun at my expense.
Of course a gentleman ought to be polite to any and every woman,
because she is such. Would it be knightly or manly to bow to a
duchess, and treat some poor obscure woman as if she were scarcely
human? Chivalry," continued he, laughing, "devoted itself to woman
in distress, and if ever a woman's soul was burdened, Aunt Lammer's
must be. But how do you account for this, Mr. De Forrest? It was
Miss Marsden that took pity on the poor creature and summoned me
to her aid. She was more polite and helpful than I."
"I have just said to her that I do not understand how she can do such
things save in the spirit of mischief," he replied, discontentedly.
"It really pained me all the evening to see you in contact with
such people," he added tenderly, aside to Lottie.
"Well, I can understand it," said Hemstead, emphatically.
"I suppose Mr. Hemstead believes in the brotherhood, and therefore
the sisterhood of the race. I was, in his estimation, taking care
of one of my little sisters "; and Lottie's laugh trilled out upon
the still night.
"Whoa now, steady, steady, I tell you," cried Harcourt; and all noted
that at Lottie's shrill laugh the horses sprang into a momentary
gallop.
After a moment Hemstead replied, "You are nearer right than you
think. In weakness, helplessness, and childish ignorance, she was
a little sister."
"Well, so be it. I have had enough of Mrs. Lammer and undeserved
praise. Now all join in the chorus.
"Three fishers--" and she sang the well-known song, and was delighted
when Hemstead, for the first time, let out his rich, musical bass.
But before they had sung through the first stanza, Harcourt turned
and said, "You must be still, or I can't manage the horses."
In fact, they were going at a tremendous pace, and Hemstead noted
that Harcourt was nervous and excited. But no one apprehended any
danger.
"How cold and distant the stars seem on a winter evening!" said
Lottie, after a moment's silence. "It always depresses me to come
out into the night after an evening of gayety and nonsense. There
is a calm majesty about the heavens which makes my frivolity seem
contemptible. The sky to-night reminds me of a serene, cold face
looking at me in silent scorn. How fearfully far off those stars
are; and yet you teach, do you not, Mr. Hemstead, that heaven is
beyond them?"
"But that Limbo," added De Forrest, with a satirical laugh, "is
right at hand in the centre of the earth."
"The real heaven, Miss Marsden," said Hemstead, gently, "is where
there are happy, trusting hearts. Where the locality is I do not
know. As to that nether world, if you know its location you know
more than I do, Mr. De Forrest. I don't propose to have anything
to do with it. Prisons may be a painful necessity, but we don't
fear them or propose to go to them. On the same principle we need
not trouble ourselves about God's prison house."
At this moment from an adjacent farm-house, a large dog came bounding
out with clamorous barking. The excited horses were ready at the
slightest provocation to run, and now broke into a furious gallop.
Harcourt sawed on the bits and shouted to them in vain. He was slight
in build, and not very strong. Moreover, he had grown nervous and
chilled and had lost his own self-control, and of course could not
restrain the powerful creatures that were fast passing from mere
excitement into the wild terror which is akin to a panic among men
when once they give way before danger.
"Good God!" exclaimed Harcourt, after a moment; "I can't hold them,
and we are near the top of a long hill with two sharp turnings on
the side of a steep bank, and there's a bridge at the bottom. Whoa!
curse you, whoa!"
But they tore on the more recklessly. Bel and Addie began to scream,
and this increased the fright of the horses. Hemstead looked
searchingly for a moment at Lottie, and saw with a thrill that her
white face was turned to him and not to De Forrest.
"Is there danger?" she asked, in a low tone.
"Good God!" exclaimed Harcourt again, "I can't hold them."
Hemstead rose instantly, and turning with care in the swaying sleigh
braced himself by planting one foot on the middle of the seat. He
then said quietly, "Will you give me the reins, Mr. Harcourt? I
am well braced and quite strong. Perhaps I can manage them."
Harcourt relinquished the reins instantly.
"Hush!" Hemstead said sternly to Addie and Bel, and they became
quiet,--the weaker minds submitting to the roused and master mind.
Fortunately the trouble had occurred where there was a straight
and level road, and a little of this still remained. The question
with Hemstead was whether he could get control of the rushing steeds
before they reached the hill.