PEARLS OF PRICE
Tera and her guardian walked home in silence, Johnson, whose love for
the girl bordered on a frenzy, could not, as yet, trust himself to
remark on her conduct in meeting Finland. On her side, Tera, having
for Johnson something of the awe a pupil feels for his schoolmaster,
did not dare to bring down an avalanche of anger by so much as one
rash word. But this attitude was, as may be guessed, the calm before
the storm. When Tera reached the house she would have gone supperless
to bed, if only to avert high words; but the man, wrought beyond
endurance, beckoned her into his study, and there the storm broke--as
violent as any hurricane of the girl's native clime.
"This cannot go on," said Johnson, striving to speak calmly; "you must
see for yourself--this cannot go on."
The girl, seated in a chair beyond the circle of light thrown by the
reading-lamp, said nothing. With clasped hands and head raised, like a
serpent's crest, she watched her guardian striding to and fro, vainly
trying to moderate his anger. So had she seen countrymen of her own
fighting the primeval elements of man. Religion, civilization, the
restraint learned by experience, all were gone: and Johnson had got
down to the rock-bed of his character, there to find that the centre
of his being, like that of the earth, was raging fire. Tormented by
the seven devils of rejected love, he hardly noticed that the girl
made no comment upon his despairing outcry.
"That you, a baptized Christian, should leave the temple of God to
dally with a profane Belial!" he raged. "Are you not ashamed to have
converse with such an one? Finland is a mocker, a deceiver, a lover of
strong drink; yet you dare trust yourself with him. Bithiah you are
named; would that I could call you Candace."
Tera drew her well-marked brows together. "I have done no wrong," she
said bravely; "lies are told of Jack: lies which I do not believe. He
is tall and beautiful and good. I love him!"
Johnson looked as though he could have struck her; and only
remembrance of his calling prevented his seizing her with a rough
grasp. However, he restrained himself, beat down his anger, and spoke
on.
"Bithiah!" said he, in a quiet voice, "you deceive yourself in this.
You are attracted only by the appearance of this man, and you do not
see how bad, how cruel he is. I should be false to my trust did I
permit you to become his wife. As your guardian, I have power from
your father, and that power shall be exercised for your good. I forbid
you to see Finland again."
"No!" said Tera, and set her mouth firmly.
"You defy me?"
"Yes!"
"Then I shall have nothing more to do with you. You shall go back to
Koiau with Brand." He hesitated. "It will be a happy day for me when
I see the last of you," he added abruptly.
Tera said nothing, but looking on his white face, smiled with a little
ripple of laughter. The man's chest rose and fell with his panting:
for the hint that she knew all, and scorned all, touched him nearly.
Drawn as by cords, he stumbled across the room, every fibre of his
being slack and weak.
"Tera," he muttered faintly, "dear, I love you."
"I am sorry! I cannot----"
"Wait! wait!" Johnson lightly touched her arm with his hot hand. "Do
not speak. Hear me! I love you! I have always loved you: I always
shall. I brought you here in the hope that you would learn to love me.
My passion is stronger than my life! Many waters cannot quench it.
Dear, I am but a man as other men. For months I have fought against
this love, but in vain. Give me your heart; marry me. We will return
to your island; we will bring your countrymen into the fold of the
Good Shepherd. Let me comfort you, guide you, lead you as my earthly
bride to the foot of the Cross. See! See! I am no stern guardian, no
minister of the Gospel, but a man--a man whose life lies in your
hand."
"No!" said Tera, firmly, although his passion made her pity him; "my
heart is not my own to give. You are a good man, but--Jack!"
"You--you love him then?"
"With all my soul!"
Johnson gave an hysterical sob. "'And this also is a sore evil,'" he
quoted under his breath, "'that in all points as he came, so shall he
go.'"
"May I leave the room?"
"Woman," he seized her wrist, "you shall love me!"
"No!"
"You are a snare--a sorceress; you have beguiled my soul to its
undoing! I was happy once; I walked in pleasant ways, but you have
turned aside my feet to iniquity. God help me! How can I preach His
Word with this raging fire in my breast! You shall love me! I forbid
you to think of Finland. You are mine--mine--mine!"
With a dexterous twist Tera released her hand and flew out of the
room, closing the door behind her. Johnson started in headlong
pursuit, but stumbling blindly against the door, struck his forehead
on the panels, and fell half stunned on the floor. There he lay and
moaned, with his head spinning like a teetotum, until the sound of
approaching steps made him rise and get into the desk chair. Then his
mother, a commonplace type of her sex, much occupied with domestic
affairs, entered to say that supper was ready.
"I don't want supper to-night, thank you, mother," said the minister,
keeping his face turned away that she might not see the swelling on
his forehead; "have it yourself, and go to bed."
"I can't find Bithiah, my son."
"She has retired, mother."
"Ah!" the old woman wagged her head like a mandarin, "she is no doubt
meditating on the beautiful discourse of Brother Korah."
"No doubt, mother. Please go away; I am busy."
"There is cold meat and pickles, George."
"I am not hungry."
"I want you to say grace."
Johnson laughed bitterly. "I am not in the mood to say grace, mother."
The old lady, who was somewhat querulous, lifted up her voice in
reproof of his irreligious speech; but Johnson cut her short, and
persuaded her to leave the room. Then he looked the door and threw
himself into his chair with a groan.
"I am only a man--a man. It is past all bearing. Oh, what a life--what
a life! No money, no love--and a faith that fails me at need. Yet I
was wrong to lose my temper. 'A fool's wrath is presently known; but a
prudent man covereth shame.'"
The minister was shaking as a blown reed, and his nerves racked him
with pain. There was a French window opening on to a plot of grass,
and this he flung wide to the night air. But the calm failed to soothe
him, although he walked rapidly up and down the sward trying to forget
the girl. He had done all he could; he could do no more. "Bithiah!
Tera!" he cried. Then he was silent. He re-entered the room, and sat
down resolutely at his desk. "I must try and forget her," said he.
"Work! work! Anything to distract my mind."
From a drawer he took a number of bills, and with these, many
unpleasant letters insisting upon payment. They were evidence of his
youthful folly at college, before he had been called to grace--five
hundred pounds of disgrace and self-indulgence which had hung round
his neck these many years. Some he had paid, but many remained
unsettled. During his two years' absence in the South Seas, these
records of sin--as he regarded them--had never troubled him; but since
his return to Grimleigh his creditors had found him out, and were
persecuting him daily. He was threatened with imprisonment, with
bankruptcy, and public shame--he, a minister of the Gospel. If the
truth became known he would lose his position; he would be cast
without employment on the world. Yet how to conceal his difficulties
he did not know. Five hundred pounds he owed, and his stipend was two
hundred a year.
"If the pearls were only mine!" he murmured.
With a sigh he took from another drawer a bag of chamois leather,
tied at the neck with red tape. Opening this, he shook out on the
blotting-pad a number of smooth shining pearls, some large, some
small, all of rare colouring and great value. These belonged to Tera.
They had been given to her by Buli before she left Koiau, for the
purpose of buying goods and clothes to take back when she returned.
Tera, as yet, had not sold them, and for safe keeping had given them
to her guardian. But the time was at hand when she would go back to
Koiau with Brand; and this treasure would be turned into money, and
exchanged for value, in accordance with her father's wish.
"Three thousand pounds' worth!" said Johnson, handling the glistening
gems, "and if Bithiah married me the money would be mine. But God
knows I do not care for these things, tempting as they are. It is she
alone whom I desire for my wife, though to gain her I risk the pearl
of great price. For a man's soul is as a pearl, and she with her
beauty would thieve----"
He stopped suddenly, for it seemed to him that he heard a soft and
stealthy footstep outside. Cowardice formed no part of the young man's
character, and hastily replacing the pearls in the bag, and the bag in
the drawer, he crossed the room and stepped out of the window. To
right and left of him he looked, but saw nothing. Overhead shone the
quiet stars; underfoot he trod the dewy sward; but there was no sign
of any human being. Yet Johnson felt convinced that some eye had been
on him whilst he counted the pearls, and he felt glad that he had
locked the drawer which contained them. To verify his suspicions, he
stepped through the iron gate, and walked some way up the street. All
was silent under the glimmer of the gas-lamps, and he could hear only
the echo of his own steps, hollow on the asphalt pavement. With a sigh
of relief, half convinced that his ears had played him false, he
returned to the house and his study. There was no doubt that some one
had been at the desk during his ten minutes' absence. The bills were
gone!
The bills were gone! His secret was in the keeping of some other
person. Who had done this? Why had he been watched? Why had the bills,
of all things, been taken by this unknown thief? The minister ran
wildly out again into the darkness; he hunted up and down the street;
he looked over his neighbours' fences; but in spite of the closest
search he could find neither the bills nor the person who had taken
them. The door leading from the study to the interior of the house was
locked--no one could have entered in that way. No member of his own
household could have stolen them. No! the thief must have come in by
the window during his absence. But why had the miscreant taken the
bills and not the pearls? An examination assured him that these were
safe. But the list of his debts, his name, his honour, were in the
hands of some person unknown.
"It is some horrible dream--a nightmare!" gasped the unfortunate man.
"Oh God! what am I to do?"
There was nothing to be done. The strictest search had failed to find
the thief, and he did not dare to summon assistance lest his dishonour
might become the sooner known. With a prayer for help on his lips, he
locked the window. Perplexed and anxious, he retired to rest--but not
to his room. Fearful lest the thief should return, he lay down on the
sofa. In vain were all efforts to sleep, and he passed the night in
agony, until dawn burned redly along the ocean line. Then he rose to
play his part of the godly young minister of the Grimleigh Bethesda.
With the passing of the night went a portion of Johnson's terrors; and
he was fairly composed when he met Tera at the breakfast-table. Beyond
a conventional greeting he said nothing; but during the absence of his
mother from the room, he raised his eyes to bespeak the girl's
attention.
"I beg your pardon for speaking as I did last night," he said coldly;
"I lost control of myself."
"Say nothing more, Mr. Johnson," cried Tera; "I understand."
"You do not understand anything, Bithiah. To-day I write to Brother
Korah, asking him to see me to-morrow morning at ten. You will please
be present, as I wish to give into his charge you and your pearls."
"Aué! You cast me off?"
"I can no longer be responsible for you or for myself. I love you, but
your heart belongs to this worldly Finland. I shall tell all to
Brother Korah, and he shall take you back at once to Koiau."
"And Jack!" faltered Tera, in low tones.
"You shall never see him again," said Johnson, fiercely; "in your own
despite you shall be saved from that infidel."
Tera looked at him so contemptuously that he winced.
"Dog in the manger!" said she, insultingly. "I am not to see Jack,
because I refuse to love you. Well! we shall see if a chief's daughter
is to be your slave. Tofa alii" [farewell, chief], and with a haughty
air she walked out of the room.
It might have been that Johnson would have followed, to explain his
meaning more clearly, and even to defend his conduct so far as was
possible, had not his mother returned just at that moment. She at once
engaged him in a conversation touching the delinquencies of their
maid-of-all-work, a mulish creature who was one of that great army of
cooks sent by the devil for the spoliation of God's food.
The man, intent on his own thoughts, listened mechanically, and seized
the first opportunity to get away. That same morning he wrote a note,
asking Brand, the missionary, to call and see him about Tera; and so,
with iron determination, committed himself to a separation.
All that day Tera pointedly avoided his company, and when, as at
meal-times, she was forced to be in it, was content to express herself
in monosyllables. Johnson winced and paled at the scorn which her
attitude implied, but bore with it as best he could. Yet his thoughts
were not exclusively taken up with her. He was constantly conjecturing
as to who could have stolen his bills, and he tortured himself with
fears lest his shame would speedily be made known in Grimleigh. The
strictest examination had revealed no trace of the thief. He could not
imagine how the creature had accomplished his end so dexterously. He
was silent and unhappy.
The year was drawing to harvest-time, and the golden sunlight lay
heavy on the yellow corn lands. In the almost tropical heat, Johnson
panted and quivered, for his jaded nerves and ill-nourished body could
not resist the power of the sun. Towards five o'clock, when the heat
had somewhat abated, and the cool sea-breeze breathed across the
glowing earth, he went into the town to see some members of his
congregation. His work, he sternly resolved, should not be neglected
for his private troubles; so he visited the sick, succoured the needy,
and returned somewhat calm to his home. As he entered, Mrs. Johnson,
querulous as ever, met him.
"Where is Bithiah, my son?" she asked, complainingly. "I want Bithiah
to help me prepare the supper; Jane is worse than useless."
"I have not seen Bithiah, mother."
"She went out an hour ago, George, and it is growing dark. This is not
the time for a modest maiden to be out. And Jane worries me. She has
used up all the milk, and has forgotten to order the meat. Do look for
Bithiah."
"Very well, mother. I expect she is taking her favourite walk by
Farmer Carwell's meadows. I must just see if there are any letters for
me in the study."
There was ample light in the room when he entered, for the curtains
were drawn back from the open window. He approached the desk in an
absent frame of mind, but suddenly his attention was fixed by an
amazing circumstance. On the blotting-paper lay the pile of bills
which had been stolen from him on the previous night. Again during his
absence the thief had evidently entered. The plunder was restored. The
minister shook, and the perspiration beaded his brow. Then he noticed
that his keys, which he had left behind, dangled from the drawer which
had contained the pearls.
"Gone!" he cried wildly. "The pearls are gone!" For a moment he stood
still, looking at the returned bills--the empty drawer. Then, in a
frenzy of fear, he rushed from the house.