CLOUDS.
There are some days when the sun comes slowly up, filling the vapory air
with diffused light, in advance of his coming; when the earth grows
luminous in the broad, breezeless morning; when nearer objects shine and
sparkle, and the distances melt into dim violet and gold; when the vane
points to the southwest, and the blood of man feels neither heat nor
cold, but only the freshness of that perfect temperature wherein the
limits of the body are lost, and the pulses of its life beat in all the
life of the world. But ere long the haze, instead of thinning into blue,
gradually thickens into gray; the vane creeps southward, swinging to
southeast in brief, rising flaws of the air; the horizon darkens; the
enfranchised life of the spirit creeps back to its old isolation, shorn
of all its rash delight, and already foreboding the despondency which
comes with the east wind and the chilly rains.
Some such variation of the atmospheric influences attended Joseph
Asten's wedding-travel. The mellow, magical glory of his new life
diminished day by day; the blue of his sky became colder and grayer. Yet
he could not say that his wife had changed: she was always ready with
her smiles, her tender phrases, her longings for quiet and rest, and
simple, natural life, away from the conventionalities and claims of
Society. But, even as, looking into the pale, tawny-brown of her eyes,
he saw no changing depth below the hard, clear surface, so it also
seemed with her nature; he painfully endeavored to penetrate beyond
expressions, the repetition of which it was hard not to find tiresome,
and to reach some spring of character or feeling; yet he found nothing.
It was useless to remember that he had been content with those
expressions before marriage had given them his own eager interpretation,
independent of her will and knowledge; that his duty to her remained the
same, for she had not deceived him.
On the other hand, she was as tender and affectionate as he could
desire. Indeed, he would often have preferred a less artless
manifestation of her fondness; but she playfully insisted on his
claiming the best quarters at every stopping-place, on the ground of
their bridal character, and was sometimes a little petulant when she
fancied that they had not been sufficiently honored. Joseph would have
willingly escaped the distinction, allowing himself to be confounded
with the prosaic multitude, but she would not permit him to try the
experiment.
"The newly married are always detected," she would say, "and they are
only laughed at when they try to seem like old couples. Why not be frank
and honest, and meet half-way the sympathy which I am sure everybody has
for us?"
To this he could make no reply, except that it was not agreeable to
exact a special attention.
"But it is our right!" was her answer.
In every railway-car they entered she contrived, in a short time, to
impress the nature of their trip upon the other travellers; yet it was
done with such apparent unconsciousness, such innocent, impulsive
manifestations of her happiness in him, that he could not, in his heart,
charge her with having intentionally brought upon him the discomfort of
being curiously observed. He could have accustomed himself to endure the
latter, had it been inevitable; the suspicion that he owed it to her
made it an increasing annoyance. Yet, when the day's journey was over,
and they were resting together in their own private apartment, she would
bring a stool to his feet, lay her head on his knee, and say: "Now we
can talk as we please,—there are none watching and listening."
At such times he was puzzled to guess whether some relic of his former
nervous shyness were not remaining, and had made him over-sensitive to
her ways. The doubt gave him an additional power of self-control; he
resolved to be more slow and cautious of judgment, and observe men and
women more carefully than he had been wont to do. Julia had no suspicion
of what was passing in his mind: she took it for granted that his nature
was still as shallow and transparent as when she first came in contact
with it.
After nearly a fortnight this flying life came to an end. They returned
to the city for a day, before going home to the farm. The Blessing
mansion received them with a hearty welcome; yet, in spite of it, a
depressing atmosphere seemed to fill the house. Mrs. Blessing looked
pinched and care-worn, Clementina discontented, and Mr. Blessing as
melancholy as was possible to so bouyant a politician.
"What's the matter? I hope pa hasn't lost his place," Julia remarked in
an undertone to her mother.
"Lost my place!" Mr. Blessing exclaimed aloud; "I'd like to see how the
collection of customs would go on without me. But a man may keep his
place, and yet lose his house and home."
Clementina vanished, Mrs. Blessing followed, with her handkerchief to
her eyes, and Julia hastened after them, crying: "Ma! dear ma!"
"It's only on _their_ account," said Mr. Blessing, pointing after them
and speaking to Joseph. "A plucky man never desponds, sir; but women,
you'll find, are upset by every reverse."
"May I ask what has happened?"
"A delicate regard for you," Mr. Blessing replied, "would counsel me to
conceal it, but my duty as your father-in-law leaves me no alternative.
Our human feelings prompt us to show only the bright side of life to
those whom we love; principle, however,—conscience, commands us not to
suppress the shadows. I am but one out of the many millions of victims
of mistaken judgment. The case is simply this; I will omit certain legal
technicalities touching the disposition of property, which may not be
familiar to you, and state the facts in the most intelligible form;
securities which I placed as collaterals for the loan of a sum, not a
very large amount, have been very unexpectedly depreciated, but only
temporarily so, as all the market knows. If I am forced to sell them at
such an untoward crisis, I lose the largest part of my limited means; if
I retain them, they will ultimately recover their full value."
"Then why not retain them?" Joseph asked.
"The sum advanced upon them must be repaid, and it so happens—the market
being very tight—that every one of my friends is short. Of course, where
their own paper is on the street, I can't ask them to float mine for
three months longer, which is all that is necessary. A good indorsement
is the extent of my necessity; for any one who is familiar with the
aspects of the market can see that there must be a great rebound before
three months."
"If it were not a very large amount," Joseph began.
"Only a thousand! I know what you were going to say it is perfectly
natural: I appreciate it, because, if our positions were reversed, I
should have done the same thing. But, although it is a mere form, a
temporary fiction, which has the force of reality, and, therefore, so
far as you are concerned, I should feel entirely easy, yet it might
subject me to very dishonoring suspicions! It might be said that I had
availed myself of your entrance into my family to beguile you into
pecuniary entanglements; the amount might be exaggerated, the
circumstance misrepresented,—no, no! rather than that, let me make the
sacrifice like a man! I'm no longer young, it is true; but the feeling
that I stand on principle will give me strength to work."
"On the other hand, Mr. Blessing," said Joseph, "very unpleasant things
might be said of me, if I should permit you to suffer so serious a loss,
when my assistance would prevent it."
"I don't deny it. You have made a two-horned dilemma out of a one-sided
embarrassment. Would that I had kept the secret in my own breast! The
temptation is strong, I confess, for the mere use of your name for a few
months is all I should require. Either the securities will rise to their
legitimate value, or some of the capitalists with whom I have dealings
will be in a position to accommodate me. I have frequently tided over
similar snags and sand-bars in the financial current; they are familiar
even to the most skilful operators,—navigators, I might say, to carry
out the figure,—and this is an instance where an additional inch of
water will lift me from wreck to flood-tide. The question is, should I
allow what I feel to be a just principle, a natural suggestion of
delicacy, to intervene between my necessity and your generous proffer of
assistance?"
"Your family—" Joseph began.
"I know! I know!" Mr. Blessing cried, leaning his head upon his hand.
"There is my vulnerable point,—my heel of Achilles! There would be no
alternative,—better sell this house than have my paper dishonored! Then,
too, I feel that this is a turning-point in my fortunes: if I can
squeeze through this narrow pass, I shall find a smooth road beyond. It
is not merely the sum which is at stake, but the future possibilities
into which it expands. Should I crush the seed while it is germinating?
Should I tear up the young tree, with an opening fruit-bud on every
twig? You see the considerations that sway me: unless you withdraw your
most generous proffer, what can I do but yield and accept it?"
"I have no intention of withdrawing it," Joseph answered, taking his
words literally; "I made the offer freely and willingly. If my
indorsement is all that is necessary now, I can give it at once."
Mr. Blessing grasped him by the hand, winked hard three or four times,
and turned away his head without speaking. Then he drew a large leather
pocket-book from his breast, opened it, and produced a printed
promissory note.
"We will make it payable at your county bank," said he, "because your
name is known there, and upon acceptance—which can be procured in two
days—the money will be drawn here. Perhaps we had better say four
months, in order to cover all contingencies."
He went to a small writing-desk, at the farther end of the room, and
filled the blanks in the note, which Joseph then endorsed. When it was
safely lodged in his breast-pocket, he said: "We will keep this entirely
to ourselves. My wife, let me whisper to you, is very proud and
sensitive, although the De l'Hotels (Doolittles now) were never quite
the equals of the De Belsains; but women see matters in a different
light. They can't understand the accommodation of a name, but fancy that
it implies a kind of humiliation, as if one were soliciting charity."
He laughed and rubbed his hands. "I shall soon be in a position," he
said, "to render you a favor in return. My long experience, and, I may
add, my intimate knowledge of the financial field, enables me to foresee
many splendid opportunities. There are, just now, some movements which
are not yet perceptible on the surface. Mark my words! we shall shortly
have a new excitement, and a cool, well-seasoned head is a fortune at
such times."
"In the country," Joseph replied, "we only learn enough to pay off our
debts and invest our earnings. We are in the habit of moving slowly and
cautiously. Perhaps we miss opportunities; but if we don't see them, we
are just as contented as if they had not been. I have enough for
comfort, and try to be satisfied."
"Inherited ideas! They belong to the community in which you live. Are
you satisfied with your neighbors' ways of living and thinking? I do not
mean to disparage them, but have you no desire to rise above their
level? Money,—as I once said at a dinner given to a distinguished
railroad man,—money is the engine which draws individuals up the
steepest grades of society; it is the lubricating oil which makes the
truck of life run easy; it is the safety-break which renders collision
and wreck impossible! I have long been accustomed to consider it in the
light of power, not of property, and I classify men according as they
take one or the other view. The latter are misers; but the former, sir,
are philosophers!"
Joseph scarcely knew how to answer this burst of eloquence. But there
was no necessity for it; the ladies entered the room at that moment,
each one, in her own way, swiftly scrutinizing the two gentlemen. Mrs.
Blessing's face lost its woe-worn expression, while a gleam of malicious
satisfaction passed over Clementina's.
The next day, on their journey to the country, Julia suddenly said, "I
am sure, Joseph, that pa made use of your generosity; pray don't deny
it!"
There was the faintest trace of hardness in her voice, which he
interpreted as indicating dissatisfaction with his failure to confide
the matter to her.
"I have no intention of denying anything, Julia," he answered. "I was
not called upon to exercise generosity; it was simply what your father
would term an 'accommodation.'"
"I understand. How much?"
"An endorsement of his note for a thousand dollars, which is little,
when it will prevent him from losing valuable securities."
Julia was silent for at least ten minutes; then, turning towards him
with a sternness which she vainly endeavored to conceal under a
"wreathed smile," she said: "In future, Joseph, I hope you will always
consult me in any pecuniary venture. I may not know much about such
matters, but it is my duty to learn. I have been obliged to hear a great
deal of financial talk from pa and his friends, and could not help
guessing some things which I think I can apply for your benefit. We are
to have no secrets from each other, you know."
His own words! After all, what she said was just and right, and he could
not explain to himself why he should feel annoyed. Perhaps he missed a
frank expression of delight in the assistance he had so promptly given;
but why should he suspect that it was unwelcome to her? He tried to
banish the feeling, to hide it under self-reproach and shame, but it
clung to him most uncomfortably.
Nevertheless, he forgot everything in the pleasure of the homeward drive
from the station. The sadness of late autumn lay upon the fields, but
spring already said, "I am coming!" in the young wheat; the houses
looked warm and cosey behind their sheltering fir-trees; cattle still
grazed on the meadows, and the corn was not yet deserted by the huskers.
The sun gave a bright edge to the sombre colors of the landscape, and to
Joseph's eyes it was beautiful as never before. Julia leaned back in the
carriage, and complained of the cold wind.
"There!" cried Joseph, as a view of the valley opened below them, with
the stream flashing like steel between the leafless sycamores,—"there is
home-land! Do you know where to look for our house?"
Julia made an effort, leaned forward, smiled, and pointed silently
across the shoulder of a hill to the eastward. "You surely didn't
suppose I _could_ forget," she murmured.
Rachel Miller awaited them at the gate, and Julia had no sooner alighted
than she flung herself into her arms. "Dear Aunt Rachel!" she cried:
"you must now take my mother's place; I have _so_ much to learn from
you! It is doubly a home since you are here. I feel that we shall all be
happy together!"
Then there were kisses, of which Joseph received his share, and the
first evening lapsed away in perfect harmony. Everything was delightful:
the room, the furniture, the meal, even the roar of the wind in the
dusky trees. While Julia lay in the cushioned rocking-chair, Rachel gave
her nephew an account of all that had been done on the farm; but Joseph
only answered her from the surface of his mind. Under the current of his
talk ran a graver thought, which said: "You wanted independence and a
chance of growth for your life; you fancied they would come in this
form. Lo, now! here are the conditions which you desired to establish;
from this hour begins the new life of which you dreamed. Whether you
have been wise or rash, you can change nothing. You are limited, as
before, though within a different circle. You may pace it to its fullest
extent, but all the lessons you have yet learned require you to be
satisfied within it."
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