"I wisht," says he, with a regretful wag, "that Tom Callaway could see
ye now. You an' your tooter! If on'y Tom Callaway _could_! I bet ye
'twould perk un up a bit in the place he's to! 'Twould go a long way
towards distractin' his mind," says he, "from the fire an' fumes they
talks so much about in church."
You will be good enough to believe, if you please, that there were
sympathetic tears in my uncle's eyes....
* * * * *
Upon this misguided mission we were gone abroad two years and a
fortnight (deducting one day): and pursuing it we travelled far. And
we came to magnificent cities, and beheld the places and things that
are written of in books, and ate of curious foods, and observed many
sorts of people and singular customs, and fell in with strange
companions, and sojourned in many houses; but from the spectacle of
the world I caught no delight, nor won a lesson, nor gained in
anything, save, it may be, in knowledge of the book of my own heart.
As we went our way in new paths, my mind dwelt continually with
Judith, whom I loved; the vision of her face, wistful and most fair in
the mirage of Twist Tickle, and the illusion of her voice, whispering
from the vacant world, were the realities of these wanderings--the
people and palaces a fantasy. Of this I said nothing to John Cather,
who was himself cast down by some obscure ailment of the spirit, so
that I would not add to his melancholy with my love-sickness, but
rather sought by cheerful behavior to mitigate the circumstances of
his sighs, which I managed not at all. And having journeyed far in
this unhappy wise, we came again to the spacious sea and sky and clean
air of Twist Tickle, where Judith was with my uncle on the neck of
land by the Lost Soul, and the world returned to its familiar guise of
coast and ocean and free winds, and the _Shining Light_, once more
scraped and refitted against the contingencies of my presence, awaited
the ultimate event in the placid waters of Old Wives' Cove....
* * * * *
Judith was grown to womanly age and ways and perfected in every
maidenly attraction. When she came shyly from the shadows of the
house into the glowing sunset and spring weather of our landing, I
stopped, amazed, in the gravelled walk of our garden, because of
the incredible beauty of the maid, now first revealed in bloom,
and because of her modesty, which was yet slyly aglint with coquetry,
and because of the tender gravity of her years, disclosed in the first
poignant search of the soul I had brought back from my long
journeying. I thought, I recall, at the moment of our meeting, that
laboring in a mood of highest exaltation God had of the common
clay fashioned a glory of person unsuspected of the eager, evil world
out of which I had come: I rejoiced, I know, that He had in this
bleak remoteness hidden it from the eyes of the world. I fancied as
she came--'twas all in a flash--that into this rare creation He had
breathed a spirit harmonious with the afflatus of its conception.
And being thus overcome and preoccupied, I left the maid's coy lips
escape me, but kissed her long, slender-fingered hand, which she
withdrew, at once, to give to John Cather, who was most warm and
voluble in greeting. I was by this hurt; but John Cather was
differently affected: it seemed he did not care. He must be off to
the hills, says he, and he must go alone, instantly, at the peril
of his composure, to dwell with his mind, says he, upon the thoughts
that most elevated and gratified him. I watched him off upon the
Whisper Cove road with improper satisfaction, for, thinks I, most
ungenerously, I might now, without the embarrassment of his presence,
which she had hitherto rejected, possess Judith's lips; but the
maid was shy and perverse, and would have none of it, apprising me
sweetly of her determination.
By this I was again offended.
"Judy," says my uncle, when we were within, "fetch the bottle. Fetch
the bottle, maid!" cries he; "for 'tis surely an occasion."
Judith went to the pantry.
"Dannie," my uncle inquired, leaning eagerly close when she was gone
from the room, "is ye been good?"
'Twas a question put in anxious doubt: I hesitated--wondering whether
or not I had been good.
"Isn't ye?" says he. "Ye'll tell _me_, won't ye? I'll love ye none the
less for the evil ye've done."
Still I could not answer.
"I've been wantin' t' know," says he, his three-fingered fist softly
beating the table, shaking in an intense agitation of suspense. "I've
been waitin' an' waitin' for months--jus' t' hear ye say!"