Were it possible to probe the recesses of cerebration by some
psychological process as searching as the Roentgen ray, many strange
beliefs would be dragged from secret chambers sedulously guarded, where
mental fetiches are worshipped. Those who knew Eliza Mitchell well
considered her a very pretty, dignified, reticent young widow, who won
respect by her adherence to mourning garments--never laid aside after
her husband's death; but her rigid observance of the strictest phase of
Methodist discipline presented a certain austerity of character that
appeared to rebuke quietly even the members of her own denomination who
indulged in "the putting on of gold and costly apparel, and taking such
diversions" as aforetime were considered appanages of the "flesh and the
devil."
Keenly observant and silently contemplative, she had grown shrewd as a
judge of character, and laid the tribute of her confidence at the feet
of few; yet this little woman, eminently practical and rigidly orthodox
in the faith of her father, had surrendered to one belief that dominated
heart, soul, and mind--that ruled her absolutely, and that she jealously
guarded from all but her God. Her most intense and precious conviction
was that the soul created and intended for her baby boy, who never
breathed, had been assigned to the body of Marcia's infant girl born a
little later. She was assured that her child had never known life on
earth, and had been in his coffin but a few hours when Eglah first
opened her eyes. Souls never die. What of the soulless still-born? Would
God deny any Christian mother reunion with her innocent baby in the
world of spirits? From the hour that Marcia's wailing child was laid on
Eliza's bosom she accepted it as an incarnation of the soul of little
Elliot, adrift in space but housed at last in the form committed to her
fostering care. Whether this phantasmal belief sprang from feverish
conditions under which she first felt the baby's warm lips at her
breast, Eliza never questioned; and as the years passed the conviction
strengthened, until she easily explained all Eglah's waywardness by the
hypothesis that a boy's soul fretted under the limitations of a girl's
body. Ignorant of the complex elements that fed her devotion to the
child, even Mrs. Maurice could not fully understand her idolatrous
fondness, her perfect and marvellous patience that condoned all errors,
and only Eglah could have told how often she was fondled as "my Elliot"
when cradle songs were crooned in the sanctuary of the nursery.
Notwithstanding Mrs. Mitchell was zealous in missionary work, and when
she read her reports as treasurer of the "Hindustan" fund, she dwelt
feelingly on the benighted superstition that worshipped idols and
believed in transmigration of soul.
After Mrs. Maurice's death, Mr. Whitfield as administrator closed
Nutwood, leaving Aaron and his daughter Celia custodians, and Eglah and
Eliza went to Washington, where two small rooms were selected for their
occupancy in the fashionable "apartments" leased by Senator Kent. His
daughter now enjoyed every educational advantage that a governess for
modern languages and a tutor for Greek and mathematics could supply,
while teachers in the entire range of feminine accomplishments were
eager to encourage cultivation of any special talent. In dancing and
riding she was found surprisingly proficient, and as Senator Kent was
desirous she should enter as early as possible a "woman's college" in
his native State where one of his sisters was professor, the child was
industriously coached to achieve this purpose.
Standing as it were on the rim of a new world, strewn with the flotsam
and jetsam of shattered political, ethical, and domestic systems, where
all nations and social conditions found representation, Eglah and Eliza
confronted novel customs, strange beliefs, and cosmopolitan diction that
clashed sharply on the conservative standards of old Southern usage.
Tethered to the pivot of her Methodist discipline, Mrs. Mitchell swung
around the narrow circle of conscientious orthodoxy; but Eglah made
alarming excursions into ecclesiastical provinces, and their first
serious altercation arose from the announcement that the girl had
decided to join the class for confirmation in the Episcopal church where
Judge Kent worshipped.
"Confirmation? Oh, no; you are too young to take such an important
step."
"Now, Ma-Lila, would you say that if I asked to join the Methodist
Church?"
"That would be different, because you know more about the Church in
which you have been raised."
"I know the Episcopal catechism from cover to cover, and I like the
service, and the choristers, and the candles used in some Episcopal
churches, and----"
"Dearie, you merely want to follow your father, and, moreover----"
"Did not you follow your father? You are what you are just because your
father was a Methodist preacher, and a chaplain who was killed bringing
my grandfather off the battle-field. What are fathers for, if not to set
us examples?"
"Do you forget your dear grandmother, and her love for the church you
were christened in, and could you who owe her so much defy her wishes?"
"Grandmother is so glad to get away and be in heaven that she never will
worry over me any more; and if I am only good enough to go where she is
when I die, what difference will it make to her how I got there? Seems
to me, Ma-Lila, all this strife over different faiths is as foolish as
denying people their choice of routes when they go travelling in summer.
If we have perfect right to trust our bodies to our favorite railroad,
we ought to feel as free to take tickets for our souls on any line that
leads to God."
Eliza took the girl's hands and pressed the soft palms to her own
cheeks, as she said, in a voice that faltered despite her will:
"My darling, let us wait. Promise me one thing; do nothing for another
year at least. For my sake, baby, I beg of you."
Eglah saw unshed tears in the black eyes that had always shone tenderly
on her, and rising she stole one arm around the nurse's neck and kissed
her unsteady lips.
"Please don't fret about it. You shall have your wish. Of course I will
wait a year if you think it best; but you must help me, because somehow
it is harder for me to be good here than it was down at home."
"It is a sacred promise you make me now."
"I told you I would wait. Did I ever deceive you? You ought to know me
better than Mrs. Kent, and even she told father yesterday she had been
trying to find out whether I had most talent for the piano or the
mandolin, and she concluded I really had no talent for anything--showed
only genius for telling the truth."
Thenceforth Mrs. Mitchell redoubled her efforts to control the spiritual
aspirations of the girl to whom she had devoted her life, and the
bargain she made with her conscience was that Judge Kent had the right
to train and develop and decorate the body of his daughter, even along
lines she deemed Philistine, but the immortal spark--the soul intended
for her little Elliot--was immutably hers, to be saved eternally in the
faith to which her own hopes were anchored. That night, when she had
brushed and braided Eglah's golden-brown hair that no one else ever
arranged, she suddenly caught the slim form in a straining embrace.
"God bless my Elliot--my own precious baby!"
"It has been a long time since you called me Elliot, and it sounds queer
to give me the name of your boy. Why should you?"
"You are my boy, and my Eglah also; two in one, and my only joy in all
the world. Don't argue, dearie; go to sleep."
She lifted her into bed and tucked the silk quilt carefully about her,
as though crib days had not ended.
"Ma-Lila, if we should all meet in heaven--and I do hope that somehow I
shall get there--I am afraid I shall feel puzzled to know who really is
my mother, because it seems to me I belong more to you than to anybody
else except father; but then grandmother will certainly be there, and
she will carry me straight to that special spot--the heavenly
'west-end'--where all the Maurices dwell, and hand me over to her
Marcia: the beautiful one I never saw, my own mother, who would not wait
in this world long enough to look at me."
"Hush, my lamb! Good night."
In the adjoining room she sat down at a table where books were piled,
and opening one read a marked passage:
"The story was told by the owner of a shop where was sold the
amber-tinted syrup of malt given to young children when milk could not
be obtained. A pale woman in white came very late for many nights to buy
a cup of this syrup--_midzu ame_--but never spoke.
"One night, when she beckoned him to follow, he went with her to the
cemetery, where she suddenly vanished in a tomb, and he heard a young
child crying under ground. On opening the tomb there was found the
corpse of the woman, and by her side a young infant smiling, who had
been fed from a cup of _midzu ame_ in the hand of the corpse. The woman
had by mistake been prematurely buried. The child was born in the grave,
and love--stronger than death--compelled the ghost to provide
nourishment for her baby."
Eliza closed the volume and tossed it across the table.
"As if we needed old heathen Japan to teach us the length and breadth
and depth and deathlessness of maternal devotion, when we know from the
Bible that though God in heaven forsook His Son, the earthly mother
clung to Jesus!"
* * * * *
It was an intensely cold, windless, brilliant moonlight night in
January, two years after she came to live in Washington, and when the
clock struck eleven she heard a quick but cautious step in the corridor
and a slight tap at her door. Mr. Herriott stood at the threshold and
beckoned her to the head of the steps.
"Is Eglah asleep?"
"I think she is."
"Come downstairs quietly."
In the lower hall, where the lights burned brightly, she saw that he
looked pale and troubled.
"Mrs. Mitchell, a terrible blow has fallen upon us. Mrs. Kent went
sleighing with some friends, and the horses became uncontrollable. The
sleigh was overturned, and poor Nina, thrown against a stone wall, was
killed instantly. Will you do what is best when she is brought home?
Don't rouse little Eglah. I am going to find Senator Kent, who is in
committee meeting, and break the news as gently as possible. Poor, dear
Nina! So merry, so kind hearted! Laughing and chaffing me for my
awkwardness when I tucked the lap robe about her feet."
Once more death levelled a wall that in some degree barred Eglah from
her father, and from that wintry night she dated the beginning of her
happy reign over his undivided affection--a monopoly she had long
coveted as the supreme privilege and crown of life.