Judge Hildreth sat with his family at dinner in the spacious dining-room
of one of the finest houses in Marlborough. He was a handsome man, with
a stateliness of manner attributable in part to the deferential homage
which Marlborough paid to his opinion in all matters of importance. His
wife, tall and queenly, sat opposite him. Two daughters and a son
completed the family group. Louis Hildreth had his father's dark blue
eyes and regular features, but there were weak lines about the mouth
which betokened a lack of purpose, and the expression of his face was
marred by a cynical smile which was fast becoming habitual with him.
Isabelle, the eldest, was tall and fair, except for a chill hauteur
which set strangely upon one so young, while her firmly set lips
betokened the existence of a strong will which completely dominated her
less self-reliant sister. Marion Hildreth was just Evadne's age, with a
pink and white beauty and soft eyes which turned deprecatingly at
intervals towards Isabelle, as though to ask pardon for imaginary
solecisms against Miss Hildreth's code of etiquette.
The covers were being changed for the second course when a servant
entered and approached the Judge, bearing a cablegram upon a silver
salver. He ran his eyes hastily over its contents, then he leaned back
heavily against his chair, while an expression of genuine sorrow settled
down upon his face.
"Your Uncle Lenox is dead," he said briefly, as the girls plied him with
questions.
"Dead!" Mrs. Hildreth's voice broke the hush which had fallen in the
room. "Why, Lawrence, this is very sudden! We have looked upon Lenox as
being perfectly well."
"It is not safe to count anyone well, Kate, who carries such a lurking
serpent in his bosom. Only forty-three! Just in his prime. Poor Len!"
The Judge leaned his head upon his hand, while his thoughts were busy
with memories of the gay young brother who had filled the old homestead
with his merry nonsense.
"And what will become of Evadne?" Again Mrs. Hildreth's voice broke the
silence.
"Evadne?" the Judge looked full in his wife's face. "Why, my dear, there
is only one thing to be done. I shall cable immediately to have her come
to us." He rose from the table, his dinner all untasted, and left the
room.
Louis was the first to speak. "A Barbadoes cousin. How will you like
having such a novelty as that, Sis, to introduce among your
acquaintance?" He bowed lazily to Mrs. Hildreth. "Let me congratulate
you, lady mother. You will have the pleasure of floating another bud
into blossom upon the bosom of society."
"I do not see any room for congratulation, Louis," Mrs. Hildreth said
discontentedly. "It is a dreadful responsibility. One does not know what
the child may be like."
"Hardly a child, mamma," pouted Marion. "Evadne must be as old as I."
"If that is so, Sis, she must have the wisdom of Methusaleh!" and Louis
looked at his sister with one of his mocking smiles. "At any rate she
will afford scope for your powers of training, Isabelle. It must be
depressing to have to waste your eloquence upon an audience of one."
Isabelle tossed her head. "I am not anxious for the opportunity," she
said coldly. "Likely the child will be a perfect heathen after running
wild among savages all her life."
Louis whistled. "A little less Grundy and a little more geography would
be to your advantage, Isabelle! Barbadoes happens to be the crème de la
crème of the British Indies. I would not advise you to display your
ignorance before Evadne, or your future lecturettes on the
conventionalities may prove lacking in vital force."
"Why, Isabelle, my dear, you must be dreaming!" and her mother looked
annoyed. "Don't let your father hear you say such a thing, I beg of you!
When he visited Barbadoes he was delighted, and he thought Evadne's
mother one of the most charming women he had ever met. If she had lived
of course Evadne would be all right, but she has been left entirely to
her father's guidance, and he had such peculiar ideas."
"When, did she die, mamma?" asked Marion.
"I am sure I cannot remember. Six or seven years ago it must have been.
But we rarely heard from them. Your Uncle Lenox was always a wretched
correspondent, and since his wife's death he has hardly written at all."
"The house of Hildreth cannot claim to be well posted in the matter of
blood relations," said Louis carelessly, as he helped himself to olives.
* * * * *
Upon the deck of one of the Ocean Greyhounds a promiscuous crowd was
gathered. Returning tourists in all the glory of field glasses and tweed
suits; British officers going home on furlough from the different
outposts where they were stationed; merchants from the rich markets of
the far East; picturesque foreigners in national costume; and a bishop
who paced the deck with a dignity becoming his ecclesiastical rank.
There was a continuous hum of conversation, mingled with intermittent
ripples of laughter from the different groups which were scattered about
the deck. Among the exceptions to the general sociability were the
bishop, still pacing up and down with his hands clasped behind him, and
a young girl who sat looking far out over the waves, utterly heedless of
the noise and confusion around her.
She was absolutely alone. The gentleman under whose care she was
traveling made a point of escorting her to meals, after which he
invariably secured her a comfortable deck chair, supplied her liberally
with rugs and books, and then retired to the smoking-room, with the
serene consciousness of duty well performed; and Evadne Hildreth was
thankful to be left in peace. She was no longer the buoyant, merry girl.
Her vitality seemed crushed. Hour after hour she sat motionless, her
hands folded listlessly in her lap, looking out over the dancing waves.
She had caught the last glimpse of her beloved island in a grey stupor.
Everything was gone,--father and home and friends,--nothing that
happened could matter now,--but, oh, the dreary, dreary years! Did the
sun shine in far-away New England, and could the water be as blue as her
dear Atlantic, with the gay ripple on its bosom and the music of its
waves? She looked at the tender sky, as on the far horizon it bent low
to kiss the face of the mysterious mighty ocean which stretched "a sea
without a shore." That was like her life now. All the beauty ended, yet
stretching on and on and on. And she must keep pace with it, against her
will. And there was no one to care. She was all alone! No, there was
Jesus Christ!
She started to find that the Bishop's lady was speaking to her. Evadne
recognized her, for she sat at the next table, and several times she had
stood aside to let her pass to her seat. Something about the solitary,
pathetic little figure, the hopeless face and mournful grey eyes, had
won the compassion of the good lady, for she was a kindly soul.
"My dear, you have a great sorrow?" she said gently. "I hope you have
the consolations of our holy religion to help you bear it."
Evadne turned towards her eagerly. Her husband was the head of the
church. Surely _she_ would know.
"Can you help me to find him?" she asked abruptly.
"Find whom, my dear? Have you a friend among the passengers?"
"Jesus Christ."
"Oh!" The Bishop's lady sat back with the suddenness of the shock, "Are
you in earnest, my dear?" she asked with a tinge of severity in her
tone. "This is a very serious question, but, if you really mean it, I
will lend you my Prayer Book."
Evadne smiled drearily. "Oh, yes, I am terribly in earnest. My father
said I was to make it the business of my life."
"Oh, ah, yes, to be sure," said the lady a trifle absently. "That is
very proper. Christianity should be the great purpose of our life."
"I do not want Christianity," said Evadne impatiently, "I want Christ."
"My dear, you shock me! The eternal verities of our holy religion must
ever be--"
"Do you believe in him?" asked Evadne, interrupting her.
"Believe in him? whom do you mean?"
"Jesus Christ."
Aghast, the Bishop's lady crossed herself and began repeating the
Apostles' Creed.
"That makes him seem so far away," said Evadne sadly. "I do not want him
in heaven if I have to live upon earth. Have _you_ found him?" she asked
eagerly. "Are you on intimate terms with him? Is he your friend?"
The Bishop's lady gasped for breath. That she, a member of the Church of
the Holy Communion of All Saints should be interrogated in such a
fashion as this! "I think you do not quite understand," she said coldly.
"I will lend you a treatise on Church Doctrine. You had better study
that."
"Charlotte," said her husband when she reached her stateroom, "I have
arrived at an important decision this afternoon. I have finally
concluded to take the Socinian Heresy as my theme for the noon lectures.
The subject will admit of elaborate treatment and afford ample scope for
scholarship."
"Heresy!" echoed his wife, who had not yet recovered her equanimity;
"why, Bertram, I have just been talking to a young person who asked me
if I was on intimate terms with Jesus Christ!"
"Ah, yes," said the Bishop absently, "the radical tendencies of the
present day are to be deplored. Have you seen that my vestments are in
order, Charlotte? I shall hold Divine service on board to-morrow."
In a neighboring stateroom a lonely soul, bewildered and despairing,
struggled through the darkness towards the light.
* * * * *
The last snow of the winter lay in soft beauty upon the streets of
Marlborough as Evadne's train drew into the railway station. Instantly
all was bustle and confusion throughout the cars. Evadne shrank back in
her seat and waited. Instinctively she felt that for her there would be
no joyous welcome. Inexpressibly dreary as the journey had been she was
sorry it was at an end. An overwhelming embarrassment of shyness seized
upon her, and the chill desolation of loneliness seemed to shut down
about her like a cloud.
A young man sauntered past her with his hands in his pockets. When he
reached the end of the car he turned and surveyed the passengers
leisurely, then he came back to her seat. He lifted his hat with lazy
politeness.
"Miss Hildreth, I believe?"
Evadne bowed. He shook hands coolly.
"I have the honor of introducing myself as your cousin Louis."
He made no attempt to give her a warmer greeting, and Evadne was glad,
but how dreary it was!
Louis led the way out of the station to where a pair of magnificent
horses stood, tossing their regal heads impatiently. A colored coachman
stood beside them, clad in fur.
"Pompey," he said, "this is Miss Evadne Hildreth from Barbadoes."
The man bent his head low over the little hand which was instantly
stretched out to him. "I'se very glad to see Miss 'Vadney," he said with
simple fervor. "I was powerful fond of Mass Lennux;" and Evadne felt she
had received her warmest welcome.
She nestled down among the soft robes of the sleigh while the silver
bells rang merrily through the frosty air. It was all so new and
strange. A leaden weight seemed to be settling down upon her heart and
she felt as if she were choking, but she threw it off. She dared not let
herself think. She began to talk rapidly.
"What splendid horses you have! Surely they must be thoroughbreds? No
ordinary horses could ever hold their heads like that."
Louis nodded. "You have a quick eye," he said approvingly. "Most girls
would not know a thoroughbred from a draught horse. You have hit upon
the surest way to get into my father's good graces. His horses are his
hobby."
"What are their names?"
"Brutus and Caesar. The Judge is nothing if not classical."
As they mounted the front steps the faint notes of a guitar sounded from
the front room.
"Confound Isabelle and her eternal twanging!" muttered Louis, as he
fumbled for his latch-key. "It would be a more orthodox welcome if you
found your relations waiting for you with open arms, but the Hildreth
family is not given to gush. Isabelle will tell you it is not good form.
So we keep our emotions hermetically sealed and stowed away under
decorous lock and key, polite society having found them inconvenient
things to handle, partaking of the nature of nitroglycerine, you know,
and liable to spontaneous combustion."
He opened the door as he spoke and Evadne followed him into the hall.
She shivered, although a warm breath of heated air fanned her cheek. The
atmosphere was chilly.
Marion, hurried forward to greet her, followed more leisurely by
Isabelle and her mother, who touched her lips lightly to her forehead.
"I hope you have had a pleasant journey, my dear, although you must
find our climate rather stormy. I think you might as well let the girls
take you at once to your room and then we will have dinner."
"Where is the Judge?" inquired Louis.
"Detained again at the office. He has just telephoned not to wait for
him. He is killing himself with overwork."
To Evadne the dinner seemed interminable and she found herself
contrasting the stiff formality with the genial hospitality of her
father's table. She saw again the softly lighted room with its open
windows through which the flowers peeped, and heard his gay badinage and
his low, sweet laugh. Could she be the same Evadne, or was it all a
dream?
Isabelle stood beside her as she began to prepare for the night. She
wished she would go away. The burden of loneliness grew every moment
more intolerable. Suddenly she turned towards her cousin and cried in
desperation,--
"Can _you_ tell me where I shall find Jesus Christ?"
Isabelle started. "My goodness, Evadne, what a strange question! You
took my breath away."
"Is it a strange question?" she asked wistfully. "Everyone seems to
think so, and yet--my father said I was to make it the business of my
life to find him."
"Your father!" cried Isabelle. "Why Uncle Lenox was an----"
Instantly a pair of small hands were held like a vice against her lips.
Isabelle threw them off angrily.
"You are polite, I must say! Is this a specimen of West Indian manners?"
"You were going to say something I could not hear," said Evadne quietly,
"there was nothing else to do."
Isabelle left the room, and, returning, threw a book carelessly upon the
table. "You had better study that," she said. "It will answer your
questions better than I can."
"I told you she was a heathen!" she exclaimed, as she rejoined her
mother in the sitting-room; "but I did not know that I should have to
turn missionary the first night and give her a Bible!"
Upstairs Evadne buried her face among the pillows and the aching heart
burst its bonds in one long quivering cry of pain.
"Dearest!"