it would be wise to go to Mrs. Raynor. She would be sure to connect her
daughter with your urgent desire to see Mother Anastasia, and she would
not hesitate to question you on the matter. I think I understand her
disposition in regard to you and Miss Raynor, and I am very certain that
when she heard of the typewriting scheme she would instantly put her
foot on it; and if I am not mistaken," he continued, with a noticeable
deference in his tone, "that is the only reason you can give for your
wish to confer with Mother Anastasia."
I strode impatiently up and down the room. "Certainly it is," said I,
"and although it is reason enough, I suppose you are right, and it would
not do to offer it to Mrs. Raynor; and, for the matter of that, Mother
Anastasia may think it a very little thing to take me down to
Washington."
"I had thought of that," said Walkirk, "and that was one reason why I
proposed to go in your stead."
I made no answer to this remark. My mind was filled with annoying
reflections about the unreasonableness of people who insist upon knowing
people's reasons for doing things, and my annoyance was increased by the
conviction, now that I looked more closely into the matter, that the
only reason I could give for hastening after Mother Anastasia in this
way was indeed a very little one.
"Walkirk," I exclaimed, "can't you think of some other reason for my
seeing the Mother Superior without delay?"
"Truly," he replied, smiling, "it is rather difficult. You might offer
to build an annex to the House of Martha, but such a matter could surely
wait until the return of the Mother Superior."
I sniffed, and continued to stride. I must see Mother Anastasia in
Washington, because there I might have a chance of speaking to her
freely, which I could not expect to have anywhere else; and yet how was
I going to explain to her, or to any one else, my desire to speak with
her at all? It might have been difficult to explain this to myself; at
all events, I did not try to do it. Suddenly an idea struck me.
"Annex!" I cried,--"capital!"
"My dear sir," said Walkirk, rising in much agitation, "I hope you do
not think that I seriously proposed your building an annex to"--
"Building!" I interrupted. "Nonsense! The annex I am thinking of is
quite different; and yet not altogether so, either. Walkirk, don't you
think that a man in my position could do a great deal to help those
sisters in their good work? Don't you think that he could act as an
outside collaborator? I am sure there are many things he could do which
might not be suitable for them to do, or which they might not want to
do. For instance, this business that has taken Mother Anastasia to
Washington. Perhaps it is something that she hates to do, and I might
have done as well as not. I have a mind to propose to her to go in and
take all this sort of thing off the hands of the sisters. I think that
is a good practical idea, and it is very natural that I should wish to
propose it to her at the very time she is engaged in this outside
business."
"In a word," remarked Walkirk, "you would make yourself a brother of the
House of Martha."
I laughed. "That is not a bad notion," I said; "in fact, it is a very
good one. I do not know that I shall put the matter exactly in that
light, but a brother of the House of Martha is what I should like to be.
Then I should be free to discuss all sorts of things, and to do all
sorts of things. And I could be of a lot of service, I am sure. But I
shall approach the matter cautiously. I shall begin with a simple offer
of service, and, perhaps, for the present I may drop the typewriting
plan. Now for Mother Anastasia's address. I must get that without
delay."
Walkirk did not seem to have paid attention to this last remark. His
mind appeared occupied with amusing reflections.
"I beg your pardon," he said, in apologizing for his abstraction, "but I
was thinking what a funny thing it would be to be a brother of the House
of Martha. As to the address--let me see. Do you remember that lady who
was staying with Mrs. Raynor, at her island, who called herself a
Person,--Miss Laniston?"
"Of course I remember her," I answered, "and with the greatest disgust."
"I happen to know her address," said Walkirk, "and I think she is more
likely to give you the information you want than Mrs. Raynor. If you do
not care to confer with her, I can go to the city"--
"No, no, no!" I exclaimed. "She might object to giving you the address;
I shall insist that she give it to me. I think I can manage the matter.
She owes me something, and she knows it."
In fact, I did not care to trust Walkirk with this affair. It was plain
that he did not thoroughly sympathize with me in the project. I was
afraid he might make a blunder, or in some way fail me. Any way, this
was a matter which I wished to attend to myself.
XLI.
MISS LANISTON.
At eight o'clock that evening I was at the house of Miss Laniston. The
lady was at home, and received me. She advanced with both hands
extended.
"Truly," she cried, "this is the most charming instance of masculine
forgiveness I have ever witnessed."
I took one of her hands; this much for the sake of policy. "Madam," I
said, "I am not thinking of forgiveness, or unforgiveness. I am here to
ask a favor; and if you grant it, I am willing that it shall
counterbalance everything between us which suggests forgiveness."
"Dear me!" she exclaimed, leading the way to a sofa. "Sit down, and let
me know my opportunities."
I did not want to sit down, but, as I said before, I felt that I must be
politic, and so took a seat on the other end of the sofa.
"My errand is a very simple one," I said. "I merely want to know the
address of Mother Anastasia, in Washington."
The lady folded her hands in her lap, and looked at me steadily.
"Very simple, indeed," she said. "Why do you come to me for this
address? Would not the sisters give it to you?"
"For various reasons I did not care to ask them," I replied.
"One of them being, I suppose, that you knew you would not get it."
I did not reply to this remark.
"If you know the address," I inquired, "will you kindly give it to me?
It is necessary that I should have it at once."
"To telegraph?" she asked.
"No, I am going to her."
"Oh!" ejaculated the lady, and there was a pause in the conversation.
"It does not strike me," she said presently, "that I have any authority
to tell gentlemen where to find Mother Anastasia, but I can telegraph
and ask her if she is willing that I shall send you to her."
This proposition did not suit me at all. I was quite sure that the
Mother Superior would not consider it advisable that I should come to
her, and would ask me to postpone my communication until she should
return to Arden. But Arden, as I had found, would be a very poor place
for the long and earnest interview which I desired.
"That would not do," I answered; "she would not understand. I wish to
see her on an important matter, which can be explained only in a
personal interview."
"You excite my curiosity," said Miss Laniston. "Why don't you make me
your confidante? In that case, I might decide whether or not it would be
proper to give you the address."
"Impossible," I said,--"that would be impossible."
Miss Laniston's eyes were of a blue gray, and very fine ones, and she
fixed them upon me with a lively intentness.
"Do you still hope," she asked, "to marry Sylvia Raynor? Surely you must
know that is impossible. She is now a member for life of the
sisterhood."
"I know all that," I replied impatiently. "It is not about that matter
that I wish to see the Mother Superior."
"Is it then about Mother Anastasia herself? Do you wish to marry her?"
I sprang to my feet in my excitement. "Why do you speak to me in that
way," I exclaimed, "and about a woman who is at the head of a religious
institution, and whose earthly existence is devoted to it?"
"Not at all," quietly answered the lady. "Mother Anastasia is not a life
member of the sisterhood of the House of Martha."
At these words my blood began to boil within me in a manner which I
could not comprehend. My eyeballs seemed to burn, as I stood and gazed
speechlessly at my companion.
"You take such an interest in these sisters," she said, "that I supposed
you knew that Mother Anastasia joined the sisterhood only for a term of
years, now nearly expired. She was made Mother Superior because those
who helped form the institution knew that no one else could so well fill
the place, especially during its first years. I was one of those
persons."
I do not remember a time when my mind was in such a state of
ungovernable emotion. Not only was I unable to control my feelings, but
I did not know what they were. One thing only could I comprehend: I must
remove this impression from the mind of Miss Laniston, and I could think
of no other way of doing it than to confide to her the business on which
I wished to see Mother Anastasia. I reseated myself on the sofa, and
without delay or preface I laid before her my plan of collaboration with
the sisters of the House of Martha; explaining how much better a man
could attend to certain outside business than the sisters could do it,
and showing how, in a manner, I proposed to become a brother of the
House of Martha. Thus only could I defend myself against her irrational
and agitating suppositions.
She heard me to the end, and then she leaned back on the sofa and
laughed,--laughed until I thought the people in the street must hear
her. I was hurt, but said nothing.
"You must excuse me," she said, when she was able to speak, "but this is
so sudden my mind is not prepared for it. And so you wish to become a
brother of the House of Martha? I would be solemn about it if I could,
but really I cannot," and again she laughed.
I was about to retire, but she checked me.
"Do not go," she said; "do not be angry. Forget that I laughed. Now
perhaps I can help you. I will make you a promise. If you will agree
faithfully to tell me how Mother Anastasia receives your proposition, I
will give you her address."
"Promise," I said severely. "You may remember that this is not the first
time you have made me a promise."
"Don't bring up that old affair!" she exclaimed. "What I did then could
not be helped. When we had our talk about the sister with whom you had
fallen in love, I had no idea she was Sylvia Raynor, the daughter of my
hostess. When I discovered the truth, I had to drop the whole affair.
Any person of honor would have done that. I could not help its being
funny, you know."
I had become calmer, and was able to be politic again.
"If Mother Anastasia will allow me," I said, "I am willing to promise to
tell you what she thinks of my plan."
"Very good," she replied, "it is a bargain. She is stopping with a
friend, Mrs. Gardley, at 906 Alaska Avenue. I address her as 'Miss
Raynor,' because I always do that when I have a chance, but I think it
will be well for you to ask for Mother Anastasia."
I arose, and she followed my example.
"Now, then," said she, "we are friends," and her sparkling eyes seemed
to have communicated their merriment to the gems upon the white hand
which she held out to me.
I took the hand, and as I did so a politic idea flashed up within me. If
I must be friends with this woman, why not make use of her? This was a
moment when she was well disposed to serve me.
"If you are willing to consider me a friend," I replied, still holding
her hand, "you will not refuse to tell me something which I have long
wanted to know, and which I ought to know."
"What is it?" she asked.
"What was the trouble, which caused Sylvia Raynor to enter the House of
Martha?"
She withdrew her hand and reflected for a moment.
"Man is an inquisitive animal," she answered, "but we cannot alter his
nature, and there is some excuse for your wanting to know all about
Sylvia. She is out of your reach, of course, but you have certainly
taken as much interest in her as a man can take in a woman. The matter
is not a close secret, and I suppose I may as well tell you that the
cause of her entering the sisterhood was nothing at all out of the
common. It was simply a thwarted love affair. You don't like that, I can
see by your face."
"No, I do not like it, and I am very sorry to hear it."
"My dear sir," said she, "you must be early on hand and prompt in action
to be Number One with a girl like Sylvia; but then, you know, a Number
One seldom counts. In this case, however, he did count, for he made a
Number Two impossible."
"Not so," I cried hotly. "I am Number Two, and shall always continue
so."
She laughed. "I am afraid," she said, "that it will be necessary for a
brother of the House of Martha to get rid of that sort of feeling."
"How was she thwarted?" I asked quickly.
"The story is briefly this," replied Miss Laniston: "A certain gentleman
courted Sylvia's cousin, and everybody supposed they would be married;
but in some way or other he treated her badly, and the match was broken
off; then, a few years later, this same person fell in love with Sylvia,
who knew nothing of the previous affair. The young girl found him a most
attractive lover, and he surely would have won her had not her mother
stepped in and put an extinguisher upon the whole affair. She knew what
had happened before, and would not have the man in her family. Then it
was that Sylvia found the world a blank, and concluded to enter the
sisterhood."
"Do you mean," I asked, "that the cousin with whom the man was first in
love was Marcia Raynor, Mother Anastasia?"
"Yes," answered Miss Laniston, "it was she. You do not like that?"
Like it! A cold and tingling pain ran through my body, and there sprang
up in me an emotion of the intensest hatred for a person whom I had
never seen.
My feelings were such as I could not express; the situation was one
which I could not discuss. I took leave of Miss Laniston without giving
sufficient consideration to her expression of countenance and to her
final words now to be able to say whether they indicated amusement or
sympathy.
XLII.
THE MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Seldom, I think, has a berth in a sleeping-car held a more
turbulent-minded man than I was during my journey from New York to
Washington. The revelation that the same man had loved and been loved by
Mother Anastasia and by Sylvia had disquieted me in a manner not easy to
explain; but I knew that I was being torn by jealousy, and jealousy is a
passion which it is sometimes impossible to explain.
An idea which came into my mind in the night increased the storm within
me. I imagined that the wretch who had made suit to both Marcia and
Sylvia was Walkirk. He knew a good deal about these women; sometimes I
was surprised to discover how much he knew. Perhaps now, acting in a
base disguise, he was endeavoring to make of me a stepping-stone to his
ultimate success with one or the other. Hound! I would crush him!
My thoughts ran rapidly backward. I remembered how zealous he had been
in following Miss Raynor's yacht. He had told me of his conversations
with Sylvia, but what reason had I to believe he spoke the truth? That
any man should have loved these two women filled me with rage. That that
man should be Walkirk was an insupportable thought. I was not only
jealous but I felt myself the victim of a treacherous insult.
It was seven o'clock when I reached Washington, but, although I had
arrived at my destination, I could give no thought to the object of my
journey until I had discovered the truth about Walkirk. That was
all-important.
But of whom should I inquire? I could think of no one but Miss Laniston.
I had been a fool not to ask her the name of the man when I was with
her. But I would telegraph to her now, and ask for it. She might be
asleep at that hour, but I believed she was a woman who would awake and
answer my question and then go to sleep again.
I immediately went to the telegraph office, and sent this message: "What
is the name of the man of whom we spoke last evening? It is necessary
that I know it. Please answer at once." She would understand this. We
had spoken of but one man.
For nearly an hour I walked the floor and tossed over the morning
papers, and then came the answer to my message. It was this: "Brownson.
He is dead."
There is a quality in the air of Washington which is always delightful
to me, but I think it has never affected me as it did that morning. As I
breathed it, it exhilarated me; it cheered and elated me; it rose-tinted
my emotions; it gave me an appetite for my breakfast; it made me feel
ready for any enterprise.
As soon as I thought it proper to make a morning call I went to number
906 Alaska Avenue. There I found a large and handsome house, of that
independent and highly commendable style of architecture which
characterizes many of the houses of Washington. I had not yet made up my
mind whether I should inquire for Mother Anastasia or "Miss Raynor." I
did not know the custom of Mother Superiors when traveling or visiting,
and I determined, as I ascended the steps, to be guided in this matter
by the aspect of the person who opened the door.
It has always been interesting to me to study the character, as well as
I can do so in the brief opportunity generally afforded, of the servants
who open to me the doors of houses. To a certain degree, although of
course it does not do to apply this rule too rigidly, these persons
indicate the characters of the dwellers in the house. My friends have
disputed this point with me, and have asserted that they do not wish to
be so represented, but nevertheless I have frequently found my position
correct.
I prefer to visit those houses whose door service is performed by a
neat, good-looking, intelligent, bright-witted, kindly-tempered,
conscientious, and sympathetic maidservant. A man is generally very
unsatisfactory. He performs his duty in a perfunctory manner. His heart
is not in it. He fears to say a word more than he thinks absolutely
necessary, lest you should imagine him new in service, and had not lost
his interest in answering questions.
But even if the person you ask for be not at home, it is sometimes a
pleasure to be told so by an intelligent maid, such as I have mentioned
above. One's subsequent action is frequently influenced by her counsel
and information. Frequently she is able to indicate to you your true
relation with the household; sometimes she assists in establishing it.
When the door before me opened, I saw a colored woman. I was utterly
discomfited. None of my rules applied to a middle-aged colored woman,
who gazed upon me as if she recognized me as one whom she carried in her
arms when an infant. Actuated by impulse only, I inquired for "Miss
Raynor."
"I reckon," said she, "you's got to de wrong house. Dat lady doan' live
hyar."
"Well, then," I asked quickly, "is there a lady here named Mother
Anastasia?"
The woman showed thirty-two perfectly developed teeth.
"Oh, dat's she? You means de sister. She's hyar, yes, sah. Want to see
her?"
I stated that I certainly desired to see her.
"She's gone out now, sah, an' dere's no tellin' when dey'll git back.
Dey ginerally all gits back 'bout dark. Commonly jist a little arter
dark."
"Not return before dark!" I exclaimed. "That is bad. Can you give me any
idea where I might find Mother Anastasia?"
"I 'spects you kin fin' her mighty easy. Mos' likely, she's at de Patent
Office, or at de Army and Navy Buildin', or de White House, or de
Treasury, or de Smifsonian, or de Navy Yard, or de new 'Servatory, or on
de avenue shoppin', or gone to de Capitol to de Senate or de House, one;
or perhaps she druv out to Arlin'ton, or else she's gone to de
'Gressional Libr'y. Mos' likely she's at one or de odder of dem places;
an' about one o'clock, she an' Mis' Gardley is mighty sure to eat der
luncheon somewhar, an' arter that I reckon they'll go to 'bout four
arternoon teas. I doan' know 'xactly whare de teas 'll be dis arternoon,
but ye kin tell de houses whar dar is a tea inside by de carriages
a-waitin',--an' ef it aint a tea, it's a fun'ral,--and all yer's got to
do is to go inside an' see if she's dar."
I could not refrain from smiling, but I was greatly discouraged. How
could I wait until evening for the desired interview?
"If you is kin to de sister," said the woman,--"an' I reckon you is, for
I see de likeness powerful strong,--she'll be mighty glad to see ye,
sah. Want me ter tell her ye'll come back this evening, if you doan'
fin' her before dat?"
I desired her to give such a message, and went away well pleased that
the woman had not asked my name. It was desirable that Mother Anastasia
should not know who was coming to call on her.
I am, as I have said before, much given to the consideration of motives
and all that sort of thing, and, in the course of the day, I found
myself wondering why I should have taken the trouble to walk through the
Patent Office and half a dozen other public buildings, continually
looking about me, not at the objects of interest therein, but at the
visitors; that is, if they were ladies. Why this uneasy desire to find
the Mother Superior, when, by quietly waiting until evening, I was
almost certain to see her? But in the midst of my self-questionings I
went on looking for Mother Anastasia.
I finished my long ramble by a visit to the gallery of the House of
Representatives. A member was making a speech on a bill to establish a
national medical college for women. The speech and the subject may have
interested some people, but I did not care for either, and I am afraid I
was a little drowsy. After a time I took a cab and went to my hotel. At
all events, the long day of waiting was nearly over.
Early in the evening I called again at Mrs. Gardley's house, and to my
delight I was informed that the lady I desired to see was at home.
When Mother Anastasia came into the drawing-room, where I awaited her,
she wore the gray gown of her sisterhood, but no head covering. I had
before discovered that a woman could be beautiful in a Martha gown, but
at this moment the fact asserted itself with peculiar force. She greeted
me with a smile and an extended hand.
"You do not seem surprised to see me," I said.
"Why should I be?" she answered. "I saw you in the House of
Representatives, and wondered why you should doze when such an
interesting matter was being discussed; and when I came home, and heard
that a gentleman answering your description intended to call on me this
evening, I declined to go out to the theatre, wishing to be here to
receive you."
I was disgusted to think that she had caught me napping, and that she
had been near me in the House and I had not known it, but I said nothing
of this.
"You are very good," I remarked, "to give up the theatre"--
"Oh, don't thank me," she interrupted; "perhaps you will not think I am
good. Before we say anything more, I want you to tell me whether or not
you came here to talk about Sylvia Raynor."
Here was a blunt question, but from the bottom of my heart I believed
that I answered truly when I said I had not come for that purpose.
"Very good," said Mother Anastasia, leaning back in her chair. "Now I
can freely say that I am glad to see you. I was dreadfully afraid you
had come to talk to me on that forbidden subject, and I must admit that
this fear had a very powerful influence in keeping me at home this
evening. If you had come to talk to me of her, I would have had
something very important to say to you, but I am delighted that my fears
were groundless. And now tell me how you could help being interested in
that grand scheme for a woman's college."
"I have never given it any thought. Do you care for it?"
"Care for it!" she exclaimed. "I am enlisted in the cause, hand and
heart. I came down here because the bill was to be brought before the
House. If the college is established,--and I believe it will be,--I
expect to be one of the faculty."
"You are not a physician?" said I.
"Oh, I have studied and practiced medicine," she answered, "and expect
to do a great deal more of it before we begin operations. The
physician's art is my true vocation."
"And you will leave the House of Martha?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "The period for which I entered it has nearly
expired. I do not regret the time I have spent there, but I must admit I
shall be glad to leave the sisterhood. That life is too narrow for me,
and perhaps too shallow. I say nothing against it in a general way; I
only speak of it as it relates to myself. The very manner in which I
rejoice in the prospect of freedom proves to me that I ought to be free,
and that I did a wise thing in limiting the term of my sisterhood."
As Mother Anastasia spoke there was a glow of earnest pleasure upon her
face. She was truly very happy to be able to talk of her approaching
freedom.
I am a prudent man and a cautious one. This frank enthusiasm alarmed me.
How deftly she had put Sylvia out of sight! How skillfully she had
brought herself into full view, free and untrammeled by vows and
rules,--a woman as other women!