SUNDAY ON ROCKHAVEN
For a few days Winn Hardy was so occupied with the cares of his new
position that he thought of little else. It was a pleasing freedom, for
never before had he known what it was to be his own master; but now the
hiring of men and directing operations gave him a sense of power and
responsibility that was exhilarating.
Jess Hutton aided him in many ways and, in fact, seemed anxious to
assist in this new enterprise that was likely to be of material benefit
to Rockhaven. Winn wisely let the stock matter rest, feeling that a
practical demonstration of the Rockhaven Granite Company's enterprise
and intentions would in due time establish confidence.
He wondered many times who the girl was that had hid herself in that
weird cluster of rocks to play the violin, and marvelled that any maid,
born and reared amid the half-starved residents of Rockhaven, should
even have that laudable ambition; but he asked no questions. In a way,
the romance of it also kept him from inquiries. "I will bide my time,"
he thought, "and some day I will go over and surprise this maid of the
gorge."
He had noticed a rather immaturely formed girl with dark, lustrous eyes
once or twice in the dooryard of a little white house in the same lane
where he had found lodgment, and had met her once on the village street
and half surmised she might be this mysterious violinist. He gave little
thought to it, however, for his new position and the open path to
success and possible riches that seemed before him was enough to put
cave-seeking maids, however charming, out of his mind. Then, too, he had
not quite recovered from Ethel Sherman.
When Sunday came, a new, and in a way pleasurable, experience came with
it. His landlady, Mrs. Moore, a widow whose two sons were away on a long
fishing voyage, and who seemed so afraid of her solitary boarder as to
no more than ask if he wanted this or that during his lonely meals, now
appeared to gain courage with the advent of the Lord's day.
"I'd be pleased, sir," she said humbly, "if ye'd attend sarvice with me
at the meetin'-house this morning."
And though Winn had planned to turn his back on the coop-like houses
that composed the town, and take a long stroll over the island, there
was such an appealing hope in this good woman's invitation that he could
not resist it, and at once consented to attend "sarvice" with her. And
he was not sorry he did, for when the little bell began calling the
piously inclined together, and he issued forth with Mrs. Moore, who was
dressed in a shiny black silk and a "bunnit" the like of which his
grandmother used to wear, and looking both proud and pleased, he felt it
a pleasant duty. On the way to the small brown church which stood just
beyond the steamer landing and at the foot of a sloping hill dotted
thick with tombstones, he felt that he was the observed of all
observers, and when seated in Mrs. Moore's pew, cushioned with faded
green rep, whichever way he looked some one was peeping curiously at
him. In a way it made him feel unpleasant, and he wondered if his
necktie was awry; then as he looked around at the worn and out-of-date
garb of the few men and almost grotesque raiment of the women and girls,
what Jess had said of the people recurred to him in a forcible way. The
usual service that followed, similar in kind to any country church, was
interesting to Winn mainly because it recalled his boyhood days. When
the minister, a thin, gray-haired man, began his sermon, Winn grew
curious. He was accustomed to pulpit oratory of a high class, and
wondered now what manner of discourse was like to emanate from this
humble desk. The text was the old and time-worn "The Lord will provide,"
that has instilled courage and hope into millions of despondent hearts,
and now used once more to encourage this little band of simple
worshippers. The preacher made no new deductions, in fact, seemed to, as
usual, lay stress upon the need of faith that the Lord would provide,
come what might. To this end he quoted freely from Scripture, and Winn
was beginning to lose interest and look around the bare and smoky walls
and out of one window that commanded a view of the rippled harbor, when
suddenly his attention was arrested by a direct reference to himself, or
rather, his errand to Rockhaven. "We have," asserted the minister, in
slow and solemn voice, "a certain and sure proof that the Lord watches
over and cares for us, and that we on this lonely island, striving to
live righteously, are not forgotten by Him. Our acres fit to till are
few and lack fertility; our winters dreary and full of the menace of
storm and shipwreck to those who must pursue their calling abroad; and
yet it seems that He who holds the waters in the hollow of His hand,
realizing our needs, has turned the minds of moneyed men toward our
barren home, and through them blessed us with a new source of
livelihood. Through them heretofore worthless ledges of granite are to
be reared into dwellings, or perhaps churches in the great city. It is
to me a certain and signal proof that the good Lord watches over us
here, as well as over others who dwell in more favored spots, and that
we have a new and greater cause for thankfulness. Many times we have
repined at our hard lot, at our scanty stores of sustenance and the
bitterness of poverty; many times, too, some of us have felt the burden
of our lives hard to bear, and almost doubted the good Lord's
watchfulness and care over all who believe in His word. It is this lack
of faith, and this lesson of His goodness, even unto us, that I wish to
impress upon your minds to-day, for, although we are but poor and
humble, illy fed and thinly clad, yet we are not forgotten by Him, the
Great Ruler of the Universe."
This peculiar and unusual reference to a mere matter of business and
Winn's mission to Rockhaven did not end his discourse, but it kept that
young man's attention away from all else until the minister closed and
bowed his head in prayer, and, when the inevitable and long-handled
collection box was passed, Winn felt he must, perforce, contribute
liberally, which he did.
When the congregation was dismissed and he and Mrs. Moore reached the
porch, there was Jess with two ladies, one elderly, and the girl Winn
had noticed in Rock Lane, seemingly awaiting him. An introduction to
Mrs. and Miss Hutton followed, and then all five walked homeward
together.
It is said that trifles determine our course in life, that, like chips
floating down the stream, we are moved hither and yon by imperceptible
forces. If it is so with one, it is with all, and was so with the people
of Rockhaven, and their estimate and subsequent opinion of Winn Hardy.
He attended that poor little church that day out of kindly regard for
Mrs. Moore's wishes, he listened patiently to services and the sermon,
only a few sentences of which interested him, and, of course, conducted
himself as any well-behaved and well-bred young man would. And yet that
trivial act was the starting-point in the good will and confidence of
those people, the worth of which he realized not at all then and never
fully until long afterward.
Neither was he entitled to special credit for his self-sacrifice, except
it be that his desire to please that worthy matron, Mrs. Moore, overcame
his selfishness. But whether or not, it led to immediate, though minor
reward, for late that afternoon, and upon his return from a short
stroll over Norse Hill, he found her on the porch of the white cottage
next to her home, chatting with the two ladies he met at church, and he
was invited to join them. How cordially the two elderly ladies
endeavored to interest him and what a soft witchery the dark eyes of the
younger one held for him need not be enlarged upon. It mattered not that
Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Hutton were neither cultured nor fashionable; they
were at least sincere in their enjoyment of his society and meant what
they uttered, which is more than can be said of many women of position.
He learned that the girl's name was Mona, that she had never been away
from the island, and, as might be expected, was somewhat bashful and a
little afraid of him. He had a mind to ask her if she played the violin,
but a romantic desire to surprise her, or whoever the mysterious
violinist was, restrained him.
The stars were out, a perfect quietude had fallen upon the little
village, and only the ceaseless murmur of the near-by ocean whispered in
the still air, when Mrs. Moore arose to go, and, much against his will,
Winn felt compelled to follow.
In his room he smoked for an hour in solitude, buoyant with hope for his
own future, amply satisfied with the business and social progress he had
so far made, and mentally contrasting the life he had left behind him
with the new one he had entered upon; and into these meditations, it
must be stated, came the faces of Ethel Sherman and Mona Hutton.
And so ended Winn's first Sunday on Rockhaven.