WITCHCRAFT
Miss Eulie was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late to
breakfast the following morning with not a trace of his softened
feelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose to
seem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbelief
could not pass away so easily.
Even in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the frost's
icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong to
spring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time.
But such days may end in a northeast snowstorm and the birds perish.
The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in the
table-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom of
the early morning rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he made an
indifferent breakfast and did not appear well.
After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said, she
remarked to her father when alone with him:
"I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner when you spoke of Mr.
Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. What
could have occurred between them?"
"Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps," said Mr. Walton,
musingly.
"I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some of
his fast ways," Annie continued, emphatically, "and they have had hot
words. Men have so little discretion in their zeal."
"Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foibles unless
they threaten their pockets," her father replied. "It is more probable
that Gregory has borrowed money of Hunting, and been compelled to pay
it against his will; and yet I have no right to surmise anything of the
kind."
"But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent on
doing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution.
But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr.
Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed in any
face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, and that
we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here. Oh,
dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead of this
moody, wayward stranger."
"I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little of
my old friend, his father. But remember what you said last night. It
may be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him become
what his father was."
"I will do my best; but I do not look forward to his society with much
pleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, I
should feel repaid a thousand-fold."
Gregory finished his letters and then paced restlessly up and down his
room.
"That this country girl should have so moved me!" he muttered. "What
does it mean? What is there about her that takes hold of my attention
and awakens my interest? I wish to go downstairs now, and talk to her,
and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do.
Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her.
"Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind,
beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert her
power to the utmost and make herself useful? Yes, but she will try to
do more than amuse. Well, suppose she does; one can coolly foil such
efforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could, but
one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. I suppose
I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, and they
thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or on the
eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seem a
relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsive girl,
even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem to have
fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which I can
only doubt, suffer, and chafe.
"I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her character. I doubt
whether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girls
exist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I will
solve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a day
or two she will become an old story and life resume its normal
monotony;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out his purpose.
The children were just coming from the sitting-room where they had
their school, exclaiming, "Oh, aunty, what shall we do this awful rainy
day?"
"Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read you
a fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until
dinner-time."
"May I listen to the fairy story also?" asked Walter.
Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be
half-desperate from your imprisonment to accept of such solace. But if
you can wait till I have kept my word to the children I will read
something more to your taste."
"I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once again
after all these years."
"As Shakespeare may sound to us some time in the future," she replied,
smiling.
"I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shakespeare," he said.
"I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet I
am only growing up to Shakespeare."
"You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand."
"And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add," she
answered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen
department. "You men have a general faith that there will be dinner at
two o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass,
and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitude
enough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate the
kitchen divinity."
"There!" he said, "I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and she
has stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. She
is a witch."
After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children called
for a story, and both clamored for their favorites.
"Johnny," said Miss Walton, "it is manly to yield to the least and
weakest, especially if she be a little woman."
The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption of
dignity said, "You may read Susie's story first, aunty."
"Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time;"
which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace which
accompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has triumphed.
"Now, little miniature man and woman, listen!" and their round eyes
were ready for the world of wonders.
And this child of nature was at the same time showing Gregory a world
as new and strange--a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy,
but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the children away into
fairy-land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth, and
genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart.
"Well, what do you think of the fairy story?" she asked after she had
finished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at the
happy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince and
princess were married:
"I did not hear it," he said.
"That's complimentary. But you appeared listening very closely."
"You have heard of people reading a different meaning between the
lines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning."
"And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale?" she
asked with interest.
"It would be difficult for me to explain--something too vague and
indefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else I
will listen to the text itself."
"Come, children, scamper off to the garret," said Annie, "and remember
you are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle to
each other."
"You will fill those youngsters' heads with beautiful superstitions."
"Superstition and faith are not so very far apart, though so unlike."
"Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins."
"Is it?"
"Isn't it?"
"I don't like to contradict you, sir."
"You have contradicted me, and I suppose it is manly to yield to a
lady.'"
"Not in matters of principle and honest conviction."
"Alas! if one has not very much of either!"
"It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault."
"I have no doubt it is a misfortune, Miss Walton, but you are not
reading."
"Well, make your choice."
"I leave it entirely to you."
"You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light and
cheerful from Dickens."
"Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to make
one laugh."
"Then here is Irving. His style flows like a meadowbrook."
"No, he is too sentimental."
"Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium."
"No, he wearies one with explanations and history."
"Some of Tennyson's dainty idylls will suit your fastidious taste."
"I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to-day."
"Shakespeare, then; you regard him as perfect."
"No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to."
"Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazine, and some new novels."
"Modern rubbish--a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchen fires
instead of thought."
"Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring?
There is Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical Ancient History'; that has a solid,
venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's 'Elegy.'
That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writing it.
But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your mood
exactly, Tupper's 'Proverbial Philosophy.'"
"You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainly
that I am as full of whims as a--"
"Woman, would you like to say?"
"Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day, and
the most faultless style and theme in our language would weary me. I am
possessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and disgust at myself
and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you know of any
spell that can exorcise these demons?"
"Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my power
and obey?"
"I am your slave."
Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. "You
must take a horizontal position in order that my spell may work."
"Pshaw! you are prescribing an ordinary nap."
"I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. But
permit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you have nothing
to do in this matter but to obey."
"Very well;" and he threw himself on the sofa.
"The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you;" and
she did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful when
one is indisposed.
Her manner both soothed and pleased him.
He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since he had
experienced woman's gentle care and ministry; and Annie Walton had a
power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly he
said, "I wish I had a sister like you."
"My creed, you know," she replied, "makes all mankind kindred."
"Nonsense!" said Gregory, irritably; "deliver me from your church
sisters."
"Take care!" she answered, with a warning nod, "I'm a church sister; so
don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep."
"I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister."
"You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush;
you must not talk."
"How would you treat me after I had been anathematized?"
"If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush; not
another word. I am going to sing."
A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himself to
listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fall
asleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden clouds
driven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the angles
of the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemed
emblematic of himself. But now he had a brief but blessed sense of
shelter from both the storm and himself. The fire blazed cheerily on
the hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmosphere.
Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has found
something to suit her, or rather him, and is singing.
"What an unusual voice she has!" he thought "Truly the spirit of
David's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. I
wonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under the
stress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not show
herself a true daughter of Eve? I must find out, for it is about the
only remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest of
us--if she is a female Hunting--then good-by to all hope. I shall not
live to find anybody or anything to trust. If she is what she seems,
it's barely possible that she might help me out of this horrible
'slough of despond,' if she would take the trouble. I wish that she
were my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just like her."