C. B.’s Awakening
At 2 p.m., a hack being in waiting, the two men and Miss Stewart were
driven to the Court through the swarming streets, C. B. remarking
once or twice that he never thought there were so many people in the
world. He also inquired earnestly what they were all hurrying so for,
and Mr. Stewart told him that all the people he saw were divided into
two classes, the one class rushing after money to add to their already
overfat store in order to get more power, the other, and by far the
larger class, were being hunted by the gaunt spectre of want. They had
to rush or starve, and when one of them fell by the wayside there was
little hope of him ever rising again, his fellows would trample him to
death.
C. B. heaved a great sigh and thought sadly of the lot of these poor
people as compared with the happiness of his own folk, and a great
longing came over him for that peaceful isle. The next moment he
repented of the feeling as being cowardly. He thought if these poor
folk had to bear the burden of what he took to be intolerant misery, he
could surely endure to look upon them doing so. And then they pulled up
at the Court.
Like a man in a dream C. B. was conducted to a place where he and his
friends were allowed to seat themselves, and there he gazed around and
listened uncomprehendingly, his mind in a whirl of wonder. At last
their case was called, and the prisoners, each guarded by a warder,
stood up for identification. There was some little trouble about the
oath, which Miss Stewart and her father took unhesitatingly, but which
C. B., after having it explained to him two or three times, resolutely
refused to utter. His attitude was reported to the judge, who said
sharply--
“What religion do you profess?”
“Christianity,” respectfully replied C. B.
“Yes, but what sect, branch, or denomination of Christianity do you
belong to?” snapped the judge.
“I do not know of any,” calmly replied C. B.
“Come, come,” the judge went on, growing irritable, “we must have no
paltering with the time of the Court. If you are a Christian you must
take the oath, unless you have any conscientious objections. Why do you
object to swear?”
A bright ray of intelligence lit up C. B.’s face as he realized the
question, and he gravely answered--
“I was taught in the Bible to swear not at all, but to let my yea be
yea and my nay nay, for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.”
“I see,” sneered the judge, and, turning to the Clerk of the Court,
“let him affirm. He’s only a new kind of crank after all.” So C. B.
was allowed to make his affirmation to tell the truth, Miss Stewart
gazing at him with wonder-filled eyes as she realized how immeasurably
above these keen-faced unscrupulous men of the world and of law was
this quiet young man with the peaceful face standing among them like a
visitor from some other world.
The preliminaries being completed he was asked for his story of the
“Hold up,” and gave it in a manner that impressed every one in Court,
especially the judge, for it was clear, succinct and unbiassed, not
a needless word or repetition. When he had concluded he was asked
if he identified the men before him as the intending robbers, and
unhesitatingly answered yes. Then the prisoner’s counsel took him in
hand, a man with a great reputation for compelling the most innocent
of witnesses to contradict themselves and look like perjurers, a
master of that vile practice of making witnesses suffer more than
the criminal. But for once he had met his match. To his thundering
invective, abuse, sarcasm, and crafty suggestions C. B. presented his
unconscious integrity and perfect innocence. He could not be terrified
or made contradict himself, and his past life, that bug-bear of so many
witnesses who are perfectly honest and truthful as well as desirous of
aiding justice, had no dark corners in it. And after a few minutes the
loud-voiced advocate retired discomfited, not having been able to shake
C. B.’s evidence in the least, but having conclusively directed the
attention of the public to the wonderful sincerity of the witness.
Mr. Stewart’s evidence was taken more briefly, as it was in effect
but a repetition of C. B.’s, and Miss Stewart, in accordance with
the chivalric American custom, was spared as much as possible. In
these later days I see that woman is no longer immune from insult and
contumely as a witness, even in America, but at the time of which I
write it would have fared ill there with any lawyer who should have
dared to browbeat a woman in a witness box. So that the trial really
took very little time. The addresses of counsel were brief, for indeed
the abominable gang, of which the three men in the dock formed the
principal part, had for long terrorized the district where at last they
were caught, and except among their own class, which, however, is a
very numerous one in Chicago, they had no sympathizers.
So when the judge rose to deliver his charge to the jury he was brief
and incisive. “We have here,” he said, “three road agents who have
been caught by their intended victims. There is no manner of doubt
as to their intentions or identity. They have attempted to bribe the
principal witness, and failing in that they have threatened his life
if he does his duty to society, both courses, I am glad to say, being
signally unsuccessful. I await your verdict with confidence, because it
is high time that we in Chicago show the rest of the States that they
have no monopoly of justice, a statement which has rather frequently
been made of late.”
Without retiring the jury returned a unanimous verdict of guilty, and
the judge immediately took up his parable again to the effect that he
entirely agreed with the jury’s verdict, and that he sentenced all the
prisoners to ten years in the State prison. “And,” he added, “if either
of these innocent persons who have so manfully done their duty here
to-day are molested in any way, I trust that the State of Illinois will
rise to the occasion and hunt the vermin who would commit such a crime
from the face of the earth.”
In ten minutes they were all in the carriage again and driving back
to the car, a stranger to C. B. seated beside the driver. Before they
had reached the car, however, there was a little tinkling noise in the
carriage which made them all look at each other in wonder, until Mr.
Stewart pointed quietly with his forefinger to two tiny round holes in
the windows, showing the passage of a bullet. Miss Stewart turned very
pale, but as she looked at C. B. and saw how absolutely unconcerned he
was, her colour came back and she softly murmured what had become a
sort of litany to her, her thanks for having been privileged to know
such a man.
They reached the car without further incident, to find it besieged by a
crowd of people who wanted all sorts of things, principally interviews
and photographs, and others who only wanted to gape and shake hands,
for which somehow Americans have a mania. But the man on the box,
leaping down, made a way through the crowd for the three friends, and
as soon as they were within the car Mr. Stewart said--
“As soon as we have ‘line clear’ tell the engineer to get out of
this, and let us have dinner as soon as you will, with the blinds and
shutters down. I don’t want any potting at me while I am having my
food.”
In ten minutes the attendant returned with the news that the engine was
now backing on and that in a few seconds they would be on their way out
of the great Lake City at a good rate.
All this time Captain Taber had been suffering tortures of suspense. He
had not learned the secret possessed by his friend. “Thou shalt keep
him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.” To C. B.’s inquiry
how he felt he replied hastily, “Oh, my dear man, don’t bother about my
health, that’s as usual, but I’m et up with longing to know how you got
on in the midst of all them Chicago sharks. Do tell me, but say, first,
are we gettin’ out o’ this?”
“We’re off in a minute, I believe,” answered C. B., and as he spoke the
car began to move.
“Thank God,” breathed the skipper, and C. B. settled down to the task
of telling him the whole story in his easy, simple style. It took but
little time in the telling, and as soon as he had finished the skipper,
beaming on him with a smile of intense satisfaction, pointed to a
pile of newspapers lying on a chair, and said with a touch of pride,
“There’s American enterprise for you, you seem to be the best talked-of
man in Chicago to-day.”
C. B. made a small grimace expressive of his utter want of desire to
read more about himself and replied--
“I am only grateful to get away. It is all very wonderful, but I don’t
like it, and I am sure it is not good for you, you don’t look nearly as
well as when I left you last. Ah, there’s nothing like the peace of God
for soul and body, and I’m afraid there’s little room for it among your
people.”
“Don’t say that,” eagerly interrupted the skipper. “In dear Fairhaven
there is peace, and please God we’ll soon be there. Then you’ll see the
difference between the welter of Chicago and a New England village.”
Just then Mr. Stewart and his daughter walked in, and after warmly
greeting the captain, Mr. Stewart said drily--
“Well, we’ve escaped, and now if we have luck we’ll be in Boston in
about thirty-six hours. I hope so, for I begin to feel my fingers itch
for business again. I haven’t got the hang of you fellows’ minds quite.
I want to be in the midst of it all again. But you wouldn’t understand,
so I shan’t try to explain. Mind, I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but
I can’t feel as you do, that’s all.”
Then Miss Stewart chimed in quietly--
“Daddy, you know they are right. What good do we get out of all this
fret and hurry? Mr. Christmas seems to me to know better than any of us
how to live, and as far as I am concerned I am willing to learn of him
both how to live and die.”
“That’s all very well,” rejoined her father lightly, “but in the
meantime in order to live at all we must have some food, and I guess
it’s about ready now. The car’s going a good lick, near forty miles
an hour, and I don’t think the friends of our late guests have got
much chance to molest us.” And in pleasant mood they all sat down to a
comfortable meal.
After dinner C. B. retired with the captain, leaving Miss Stewart and
her father alone. They sat silent for a few minutes, and then Miss
Stewart, rising, came over to her father, who sat meditatively puffing
at his cigar and murmured--
“Daddy, what shall I do?”
“How, my dear?” responded her father, with a look of deepest love in
his eyes as he bent them upon her. “I’ve always talked to you about
everything since ever I can remember, and I am so glad because it helps
me to say what I want now, for I could not even say it to mother.”
“Go on, dear one,” murmured the old man soothingly.
“I love that young man, daddy, with all my heart and soul and strength.
And I know that I am not doing wrong, because all that I love in him
comes direct from God, the God whom he’s always talking about and knows
so well. But he doesn’t love me, I’m afraid, at least he doesn’t show
any sign that he does, and what am I to do?”
Her father looked at her seriously and said nothing for a minute. Then
he said--
“My darling girl, you can’t throw yourself at a man, not if he was half
an angel. I love the young fellow too, and if he came to me and asked
me for you, I should forget all about dollars and send him to you. But
he hasn’t, and if I know anything of him he won’t. I don’t believe he’s
ever had a thought about marryin’ or givin’ in marriage. In fact, I’ll
own to you that I can’t make him out. He’s a different breed of man
to any that I ever met before. However, dear one, believe this, your
father’s with you, heart and soul, and short of going to him and askin’
him if he’ll be kind enough to take my daughter for a wife, I’ll do
anything you ask me. Your happiness, my love, that’s what I live for.”
And the train sped relentlessly onward until in thirty-four hours from
Chicago the big car rolled easily into the huge station at Boston,
where by some mysterious means another coterie of journalists were
awaiting them. Again poor C. B. was chosen as the medium whereby the
Bostonians could acquire the information that apparently they thirsted
for. But as no man can possibly have such an experience as he and
remain quite ignorant of the task imposed upon him, so C. B. rose to
the occasion, and surprised the interviewers by the astuteness of his
answers. Of course he had been coached by both Mr. Stewart and Captain
Taber, and something was due also to the difference between the methods
of the journalists of Boston and those of Chicago. At any rate an hour
after their arrival they were all safely installed in the comfortable
Parker House, and feeling more at home than they had done since they
left San Francisco or rather the _Golden Gate_.
And now for the first time Captain Taber sent a telegram acquainting
his wife and children with the fact that he would soon be among them.
He had not done so before, so as not to prolong their suspense, and
as to writing, it had been quite out of the question as they had come
more swiftly than a letter could have done. So that now while they were
imagining him sailing about looking for whales in some unfrequented
ocean on the other side of the world, there suddenly came to them the
shock of his being quite near, and their hearts sank beneath the
apprehension of calamity.
The news fled from one end of Fairhaven to the other, and over to New
Bedford and its environs with great swiftness, for it was felt that
something serious must have happened to the ship or her skipper would
not have come home. And such excitement as these stern New Englanders
ever allow themselves to feel steadily rose until it affected the whole
neighbourhood.
Meanwhile the little group at the Parker House had come to the parting
of the ways, and Mr. Stewart, remembering his daughter’s earnest
appeal, was almost at his wits’ end what to do in the matter. He felt
that to offer to go farther with the two men would be superfluous and
obtrusive, and yet he could not bear to part from them like this. For
not only had he his daughter’s happiness very near his heart, but he
had grown to love the patient suffering skipper, whose career had thus
been cut short in the prime of his days, and he felt that now if ever
was a time to make some good use of his great wealth. In his perplexity
it suddenly occurred to him to do the straight thing, go to the skipper
at once and tell him his trouble about his daughter, and then lead from
that up to his intentions or desires about the skipper himself. Here
was a case he felt where any diplomacy would fail.
And while he was thus deciding, his daughter in an agony of doubt and
apprehension had locked herself in her cabin. She felt so helpless, so
little confident that even her good and powerful father would be able
to help her, and yet she seemed certain that unless she became the wife
of C. B., life for her would be henceforth a dreary blank. And she was
no foolish girl, but an extremely level-headed young woman, only--she
had hardly all her life known what it was to have a desire thwarted,
and now in what she felt must be the one object of her life there
appeared no way of obtaining it. She had seen C. B. put aside with calm
dignity offer after offer of wealth, she had listened to the kind level
tones of his voice and noted that the ring of passion never came into
it, and had sometimes wondered whether he was not an abnormal man in
whom love was so diffused that it could never be concentrated upon one
single object. Then with a despairing little moan she flung herself on
her knees and prayed to God for this good man’s love. In this she felt
a thrill of sympathy with her beloved one, who in reply to a question
of her one evening as to what he did if he wanted something very much
and saw no way of getting it, said--
“I should ask God for it, but I should ask Him too not to let me have
it if it were not good for me.”
So she prayed with deepest fervour but without the proviso, and never
felt that she might be doing so without any warrant, not feeling at all
inclined to resign herself to the will of God, but feeling that unless
she got what she craved for she was aggrieved. A very common attitude,
an easily explainable one too, but oh, how sadly illogical. Because
it is certain that if we believe in the Infinite Wisdom as well as
Infinite Power of God we must be contented to be refused our requests
sometimes. And all of us who have prayed earnestly to God for something
we wanted very badly as we thought, have known what it is to get our
request granted, and afterwards, it may be many years after, to repent
bitterly that ever our prayer was heard. It is one of the experiences
of all Christians, yet few indeed are there of us who learn to pray
with absolute sincerity, “Thy will be done.”
Captain Taber, lying waiting for the summons to the train, recognized
the firm tap on the door announcing Mr. Stewart, and cried heartily,
“Come in.” His friend entered, noting with satisfaction that C. B. was
not present--he had gone to see about the baggage. So advancing to
Captain Taber’s side he held out his hand and said--
“I’ve come to bid you good-bye, my friend, for you are practically at
home, and urgent business calls me away. But before I go I want to ask
you one or two things in confidence. We know one another pretty well
now, and I feel I can trust you with my life if necessary. First my
daughter has confessed to me that she’s in love with that noble chap
who has nursed you all the way home. I sounded him on the subject
carefully when I felt inclined to suspect him of having designs, as a
money grubber like myself would, and he satisfied me that his soul was
as white, his mind as pure of any intention of the kind as an angel’s
might have been.
“Then, as you know, I took no further precautions to keep them apart,
for I felt I could trust my girl, and I knew he was sound. But she has
been in love with him all the time, and at last feeling she was going
to lose him came to her old daddy. And her old daddy, who would die for
her, can’t help her here. The man doesn’t seem to understand love as
ordinary men understand it. That he’s got no money and doesn’t want any
doesn’t matter to me a straw. I’ve got a good deal more than is good
for me, and I know to my cost just how little happiness there is in a
lot of money. Tell me, dear man, could you find out for me soon, and
let me know whether you think he has any of the love for my daughter
that a husband ought to have, and if it is his modesty holding him
back?
“Then about yourself! I know you’ve been a man who has used all the
energy and wit you’ve had to good purpose as far as you were able, and
that it’s very probable that this disaster that has overtaken you has
found you but poorly fixed to face what may be and I hope will be a
long life, but of enforced leisure. Now I have often made more money in
an hour than you have in all your life by the hardest of hard work, and
I am going to ask you as an act of kindness to me to let me do an act
of justice, that is to settle upon you a sufficient sum to keep you and
your wife in decent comfort all your life.”
Captain Taber was about to speak, but Mr. Stewart raised his hand
saying--
“Hold on a minute! what I am proposing is not, cannot be, at all
derogatory to your independence. It shall be known to none but you, and
alas, that I should have to say so, I cannot claim it as a virtue, for
in the first place I shall not miss it from my bank account, and in the
next it will give me more real pleasure than anything else in the world
except seeing my daughter happy. Now then.”
Two big tears rolled quickly out of Captain Taber’s eyes and down his
cheeks as he strove to speak. At last he said--
“Stewart, I would refuse if I could, but how can I? I’m a broken man
and all I have been able to save, having been a fairly lucky whaleman
too, is five thousand dollars. I have three youngsters, two boys and a
girl, none old enough to begin the world, and I have been worried about
the future. But Christmas taught me to pray and rest in the Lord, and
since then I’ve been happier, feeling that He would see me through in
His own way.”
“That’s settled then,” replied Mr. Stewart going to the bell and
touching it. “I’ll fix you $750 a year so tight that you can’t give
it away or lend it to anybody except quarterly, and I guess that’ll
see you through in Fairhaven without making you feel too wealthy. Now
about the other matter. Here I’m in your hands and I feel that there’s
nothing I wouldn’t do to straighten this out. If you can help me to a
successful issue I’ll feel eternally grateful.”
“Stewart,” solemnly responded Captain Taber, “I can assure you that
I’ve often felt that I could pray that your daughter and Christmas
would come together. I’ve watched them together, and I’ve watched
him, and I’ve watched you, little as you think it, and I’ve just wore
my head thin scheming. But I felt that you wouldn’t have it at any
price. I wasn’t quite sure of Miss Stewart, and as for him, I often
felt that I could shake him for not having more get up and git. But
oh, Stewart, we need to reconsider our position when we think of him,
so brave, kind, gentle and loving--I swear I haven’t yet been able
to lay my finger on a sore spot in him yet, except maybe his temper,
which has boiled over twice and made things hum. Now, honest injun,
I don’t believe he loves your girl a bit more than he does me, and I
feel sure that he loves her in the same way. That’s no good to her. She
wants a husband as well as a friend. I may be wrong. Anyhow, I’ll know
soon, and as soon as I know you shall. I cannot promise more honestly,
because I have no more influence over him than the wind, nor I believe
has anybody in this world unless it is some of those folks of his in
Norfolk Island.”
Just then there came a tap at the door, and in walked C. B., his face
bright and keen, saying--
“All is ready now, Captain Taber, and we’ve nice time to get to the
dépôt I’m told.”
Mr. Stewart looked up quietly and said--
“Well, you haven’t left us much time to bid you good-bye, Christmas!”
A look of blank amazement stole over C. B.’s face as he said slowly--
“I had no idea that we were separating, it never occurred to me. Please
forgive me,” and he looked so distressed that Mr. Stewart said kindly:
“Don’t worry, of course you didn’t know. Captain Taber didn’t know
until I told him just now. But it’s a fact all the same, and anyhow
long farewells are bad for anybody. Mary will just come in and say
good-bye, and we shall end a very pleasant trip in the usual way.”
C. B. still stood looking like a man who had received a very heavy blow
when Miss Stewart came in through the half-open door looking very pale
and worn. Her heavy-lidded eyes were full of tears, and the sight of
her completed C. B.’s discomfiture. Sinking into a chair he covered his
face with his hands and sobbed like a boy. “I didn’t know, I didn’t
think,” wailed he, “or I would have been kinder, more thoughtful, more
thankful. Oh, I am so sorry we are parting.”
Miss Stewart could bear it no longer, but rising swiftly from the chair
she had sank into on first entering she rushed across to him flung her
arms around his neck and cried--
“We need never separate unless you want to. If you only knew how we,
well yes, I, love you....”
At this the young man lifted his face and looked at her. All his long
dormant love towards her awoke at that gaze, and he reached for her
with his long powerful arms, while she, blushing crimson from her hair
to her collar, laid her dear head upon his shoulder.
The two men in the background, looking on, felt their hearts swell,
their eyes grow moist, and their throats become husky at the scene,
but they turned solemnly to each other and shook hands. At that moment
there was a loud rap at the door; it opened and a rough voice said--
“Th’ hackman says ye’ve just got time to get ye’re train if yez come
now.”
They all sprang to their feet except the captain, and in two minutes
were all seated in the hack being rattled at breakneck speed towards
the station. On the way Mr. Stewart said--
“Well, I guess that business of mine’ll have to wait after all, for
I can’t leave ye now until I see ye safe in New Bedford. But then
I _must_ leave and attend to things. I’ve neglected them too long
already.”
At this all laughed merrily, for the three of them had no idea of the
magnitude of the interests involved, and the principal actor, Mr.
Stewart, behaved in the fullness of his joy as if a million or so of
dollars more or less could make no possible difference to him.