POOR ACTING
The last week that I proposed to spend at the farmhouse was passing
quietly and uneventfully away. I was gaining steadily though not
rapidly in physical strength, but not in my power to endure my
disappointment with equanimity, much less with resignation. In the
delirium of my fever I kept constantly repeating the words--so Mrs.
Yocomb told me--"It's all wrong." Each successive day found these words
on my lips again with increasing frequency. It seemed contrary to both
right and reason that one should so completely enslave me, and then go
away leaving me a bound and helpless captive. The conviction grew
stronger that no such power over me should have been given to her, if
her influence was to end only in darkening my life and crippling my
power to be a forceful man among men. I felt with instinctive certainty
that my burden would be too heavy to leave me the elastic spring and
energy required by my exacting profession. A hopeful, eager interest in
life and the world at large was the first necessity to success in my
calling; but already I found a leaden apathy creeping over me which
even the powerful motives of pride, and my resolute purpose to seem
cheerful that she might go on to her bright future unregretfully, were
not sufficiently strong to banish. If I could not cope with this
despondency in its inception, how could I face the future?
At first I had bitterly condemned my weakness; but now I began to
recognize the strength of my love, which, so far from being a mere
sudden passion, was the deep, abiding conviction that I had met the
only woman I could marry--the woman whom my soul claimed as its mate,
because she possessed the power to help me and inspire me to tireless
effort toward better living and nobler achievement. Her absolute truth
would keep me true and anchored amid the swift, dark currents of the
world to which I was exposed. I feared, with almost instinctive
certainty, that I would become either a brooding, solitary man or else
a very ambitious and reckless one, for I was conscious of no reserve
strength which would enable me to go steadfastly on my way under the
calm and inexorable guidance of duty.
Such was my faith in her that I had no hope whatever. If she loved and
had given her troth to another man, it would not be in her nature to
change, therefore my purpose had simplified itself to the effort to get
through this one week at the farmhouse in a manner that would enable me
to carry away the respect of all its inmates, but especially the esteem
of one to whom I feared I seemed a rash, ill-balanced man. So carefully
had I avoided Miss Warren's society, and yet so freely and frankly,
apparently, had I spoken to her in the presence of her affianced, that
his suspicions were evidently banished, and he treated me with a
gracious and patronizing benignity. He saw no reason why he should not
turn on me the light of his full and smiling countenance, which might
be taken as an emblem of prosperity; and, in truth, I gave him no
reason. So rigid was the constraint under which I kept myself that
jealousy itself could not have found fault.
With the exception of the two momentary interviews recorded in the
previous chapter, we had not spoken a syllable together, except in his
presence, nor had I permitted my eyes to follow her with a wistful
glance that he or she could intercept. Even Mrs. Yocomb appeared to
think that I was recovering in more senses than one, and by frequent
romps with the children, jests and chaffing with Mr. Yocomb and Reuben,
by a little frank and ostentatious gallantry to Adah, which no longer
deceived even her simple mind, since I never sought her exclusive
society as a lover would have done, I confirmed the impression.
And yet, in spite of all efforts and disguises, the truth will often
flash out unexpectedly and irresistibly, making known all that we hoped
to hide with the distinctness of the lightning, which revealed even the
color of the roses on the night of the storm.
The weather had become exceedingly warm, and Miss Warren's somewhat
portly suitor clung persistently to the wide, cool veranda. Adah sat
there frequently also; sometimes she read to the children fairy
stories, of which Adela, Mr. Hearn's little girl, had brought a great
store, and she seemed to enjoy them quite as much as her eager-eyed
listeners; but more often she superintended their doll dressmaking,
over which there were the most animated discussions. The banker would
look on with the utmost content, while he slowly waved his palm-leaf
fan. Indeed the group was pretty enough to justify all the pleasure he
manifested.
The rustic piazza formed just the setting for Adah's beauty, and her
light summer costume well suggested her perfect and womanly form, while
the companionship of the children proved that she was almost as
guileless and childlike as they. The group was like a bubbling,
sparkling spring, at which the rather advanced man of the world sipped
with increasing pleasure.
Miss Warren also gave much of her time to the children, and beguiled
them into many simple lessons at the piano. Zillah was true to her
first love, but Adela gave to Adah a decided preference; and when they
entered on the intense excitement of making a new wardrobe for each of
the large dolls that Mr. Hearn had brought, Adah had the advantage, for
she was a genius in such matters, and quite as much interested as the
little girls themselves.
In my desperate struggle with myself, I tried not even to see Miss
Warren, for every glance appeared to rivet my chains, and yet I gained
the impression that she was a little restless and _distraite_. She
seemed much at her piano, not so much for Mr. Hearn's sake as her own,
and sometimes I was so impressed by the strong, passionate music that
she evoked that I was compelled to hasten beyond its reach. It meant
too much to me. Oh, the strange idolatry of an absorbing affection! All
that she said or did had for me an indescribable charm that both
tortured and delighted. Still every hour increased my conviction that
my only safety was in flight.
My faithful ally, Reuben, still took me on long morning drives, and in
the afternoon, with my mail and paper, I sought secluded nooks in a
somewhat distant grove, which I reached by the shady lane, of which I
had caught a glimpse with Miss Warren on the first evening of my
arrival. But Friday afternoon was too hot for the walk thither. The
banker had wilted and retired to his room. Adah and the children were
out under a tree. The girl looked up wistfully and invitingly as I came
out.
"I wish I were an artist, Miss Adah," I cried. "You three make a lovely
picture."
Remembering an arbor at the further end of the garden, I turned my
steps thither, passing rapidly by the spot where I had seen my Eve who
was not mine.
I had entered the arbor before I saw it was occupied, and was surprised
by the vivid blush with which Miss Warren greeted me.
"Pardon me," I said, "I did not know you were here," and I was about to
depart, with the best attempt at a smile that I could muster.
She sprang up and asked, a little indignantly: "Am I infected with a
pestilence that you so avoid me, Mr. Morton?"
"Oh, no," I replied, with a short, grim laugh; "if it were only a
pestilence--I fear I disturbed your nap; but you know I'm a born
blunderer."
"You said we should be friends," she began hesitatingly.
"Do you doubt it?" I asked gravely. "Do you doubt that I would hesitate
at any sacrifice--?"
"I don't want sacrifices. I wish to see you happy, and your manner
natural."
"I'm sure I've been cheerful during the past week."
"No, you have only seemed cheerful; and often I've seen you look as
grim, hard, and stern as if you were on the eve of mortal combat."
"You observe closely, Miss Warren."
"Why should I not observe closely? Do you think me inhuman? Can I
forget what I owe you, and that you nearly died?"
"Well," I said dejectedly, "what can I do? It seems that I have played
the hypocrite all the week in vain. I will do whatever you ask."
"I was in hopes that as you grew well and strong you would throw off
this folly. Have you not enough manhood to overcome it?"
"No, Miss Warren," I said bluntly, "I have not. What little manhood I
had led to this very thing."
"Such--such--"
"Enthrallment, you may call it."
"No, I will not; it's a degrading word. I would not have a slave if I
could."
"Since I can't help it, I don't see how you can. I may have been a poor
actor, but I know I've not been obtrusive."
"You have not indeed," she replied a little bitterly; "but you have no
cause for such feelings. They seem to me unnatural, and the result of a
morbid mind."
"Yes, you have thought me very ill balanced from the first; but I'm
constrained to use such poor wits as I possess. In the abstract it
strikes me as not irrational to recognize embodied truth and
loveliness, and I do not think the less of myself because I reached
such recognition in hours rather than in months. I saw your very self
in this old garden, and every subsequent day has confirmed that
impression. But there's no use in wasting words in explanation--I don't
try to explain it to myself. But the fact is clear enough. By some
necessity of my nature, it is just as it is. I can no more help it than
I can help breathing. It was inevitable. My only chance was never
meeting you, and yet I can scarcely wish that even now. Perhaps you
think I've not tried, since I learned I ought to banish your image, but
I have struggled as if I were engaged in a mortal combat, as you
suggested. But it's of no use. I can't deceive you any more than I can
myself. Now you know the whole truth, and it seems that there is no
escaping it in our experience. I do not expect anything. I ask nothing
save that you accept the happiness which is your perfect right; for not
a shadow of blame rests on you. If you were not happy I should be only
tenfold more wretched. But I've no right to speak to you in this way. I
see I've caused you much pain; I've no right even to look at you
feeling as I do. I would have gone before, were it not for hurting Mrs.
Yocomb's feelings. I shall return to New York next Monday; for--"
"Return to New York!" she repeated, with a sudden and deep breath; and
she became very pale. After a second she added hastily, "You are not
strong enough yet; we are the ones to go."
"Miss Warren," I said, almost sternly, "it's little that I ask of you
or that you can give. I may not have deceived you, but I have the
others. Mrs. Yocomb knows; but she is as merciful as my own mother
would have been. I'm not ashamed of my love--I'm proud of it; but it's
too sacred a thing, and--well, if you can't understand me I can't
explain. All I ask is that you seem indifferent to my course beyond
ordinary friendliness. There! God bless you for your patient kindness;
I will not trespass on it longer. You have the best and kindest heart
of any woman in the world. Why don't you exult a little over your
conquest? It's complete enough to satisfy the most insatiable coquette.
Don't look so sad. I'll be your merry-hearted friend yet before I'm
eighty."
But my faint attempt at lightness was a speedy failure, for my strong
passion broke out irresistibly.
"O God!" I exclaimed, "how beautiful you are to me! When shall I forget
the look in your kind, true eyes? But I'm disgracing myself again. I've
no right to speak to you. I wish I could never see you again till my
heart had become stone and my will like steel;" and I turned and walked
swiftly away until, from sheer exhaustion, I threw myself under a tree
and buried my face in my hands, for I hated the warm, sunny light, when
my life was so cheerless and dark.
I lay almost as if I were dead for hours, and the evening was growing
dusky when I arose and wearily returned to the farmhouse. They were all
on the veranda except Miss Warren, who was at her piano again. Mrs.
Yocomb met me with much solicitude.
"Reuben was just starting out to look for thee," she said.
"I took a longer ramble than I intended," I replied, with a laugh. "I
think I lost myself a little. I don't deserve any supper, and only want
a cup of tea." Miss Warren played very softly for a moment, and I knew
she was listening to my lame excuses.
"It doesn't matter what thee wants; I know what thee needs. Thee isn't
out of my hands altogether yet; come right into the dining-room."
"I should think you would be slow to revolt against such a benign
government," remarked Mr. Hearn most graciously, and the thought
occurred to me that he was not displeased to have me out of the way so
long.
"Yes, indeed," chimed in Mr. Yocomb; "we're always all the better for
minding mother. Thee'll find that out, Richard, after thee's been here
a few weeks longer."
"Mr. Yocomb, you're loyalty itself. If women ever get their rights, our
paper will nominate Mrs. Yocomb for President."
"I've all the rights I want now, Richard, and I've the right to scold
thee for not taking better care of thyself."
"I'll submit to anything from you. You are wiser than the advanced
female agitators, for you know you've all the power now, and that we
men are always at your mercy."
"Well, now that thee talks of mercy, I won't scold thee, but give thee
thy supper at once."
"Thee always knew, Richard, how to get around mother," laughed the
genial old man, whose life ever seemed as mellow and ripe as a juicy
fall pippin.
Adah followed her mother in to assist her, and I saw that Miss Warren
had turned toward us.
"Why, Richard Morton!" exclaimed Mrs. Yocomb, as I entered the lighted
dining-room. "Thee looks as pale and haggard as a ghost. Thee must have
got lost indeed and gone far beyond thy strength."
"Can--can I do anything to assist you, Mrs. Yocomb?" asked a timid
voice from the doorway.
I was glad that Adah was in the kitchen at the moment, for I lost at
once my ghostly pallor. "Yes," said Mrs. Yocomb heartily, "come in and
make this man eat, and scold him soundly for going so far away as to
get lost when he's scarcely able to walk at all. I've kind of promised
I wouldn't scold him, and somebody must."
"I'd scold like Xanthippe if I thought it would do any good," she said,
with a faint smile; but her eyes were full of reproach. For a moment
Mrs. Yocomb disappeared behind the door of her china closet, and Miss
Warren added, in a low, hurried whisper to me, "You promised me to get
well; you are not keeping your word."
"That cuts worse than anything Xanthippe could have said."
"I don't want to cut, but to cure."
"Then become the opposite of what you are; that would cure me."
"With such a motive I'm tempted to try," she said, with a half-reckless
laugh, for Adah was entering with some delicate toast.
"Miss Adah," I cried, "I owe you a supper at the Brunswick for this,
and I'll pay my debt the first chance you'll give me."
"If thee talks of paying, I'll not go with thee," she said, a little
coldly; and she seemingly did not like the presence of Miss Warren nor
the tell-tale color in my cheeks.
"That's a deserved rebuke, Miss Adah. I know well enough that I can
never repay all your kindness, and so I won't try. But you'll go with
me because I want you to, and because I will be proud of your company.
I shall be the envy of all the men present."
"They'd think me very rustic," she said, smiling.
"Quite as much so as a moss-rose. But you'll see. I will be besieged
the next few days by my acquaintances for an introduction, and my
account of you will make them wild. I shall be, however, a very dragon
of a big brother, and won't let one of them come near you who is not a
saint--that is, as far as I am a judge of the article."
"Thee may keep them all away if thee pleases," she replied, blushing
and laughing. "I should be afraid of thy fine city friends."
"I'm afraid of a good many of them myself," I replied; "but some are
genuine, and you shall have a good time, never fear."
"I'll leave you to arrange the details of your brilliant campaign,"
said Miss Warren, smiling.
"But thee hasn't scolded Richard," said Mrs. Yocomb, who was seemingly
busy about the room.
"My words would have no weight. He knows he ought to be ashamed of
himself," she answered from the doorway.
"I am, heartily," I said, looking into her eyes a moment.
"Since he's penitent, Mrs. Yocomb, I don't see as anything more can be
done," she replied, smilingly.
"I don't think much of penitence unless it's followed by reformation,"
said my sensible hostess. "We'll see how he behaves the next few weeks."
"Mr. Morton, I hope you will let Mrs. Yocomb see a daily change for the
better for a long time to come. She deserves it at your hands," and
there was almost entreaty in the young girl's voice.
"She ought to know better than to ask it," I thought. My only answer
was a heavy frown, and I turned abruptly away from her appealing glance.
"I think Emily Warren acts very queer," said Adah, after the young lady
had gone; "she's at her piano half the time, and I know from her eyes
that she's been crying this afternoon. If ever a girl was engaged to a
good, kind man, who would give her everything, she is. I don't see--"
"Adah," interrupted her mother, "I hoped thee was overcoming that
trait. It's not a pleasing one. If people give us their confidence,
very well; if not, we should be blind."
The girl blushed vividly, and looked deprecatingly at me.
"You meant nothing ill-natured, Miss Adah," I said, gently; "it isn't
in you. Come, now, and let me tell you and your mother what a good time
I'm planning for you in New York," and we soon made the old dining-room
ring with our laughter. Mr. Yocomb, Reuben, and the children soon
joined us, and the lovers were left alone on the shadowy porch. From
the gracious manner of Mr. Hearn the following morning, I think he
rather thanked me for drawing off the embarrassing third parties.