A LUNCHEON-PARTY.
It need scarcely be said that, after this, Miss Blanchard always looked
out for _The Brotherhood_, and scanned its contents with much interest.
She was pleased--even a little surprised--by the temperate and moderate
tone in which it set forth existing wrongs and grievances, and appealed
to the sense of justice and humanity of those with whom it lay to remedy
them. She was not, of course, a very critical reader, and was happily
ignorant of the practical difficulties that lie in the way of great
reforms; and it seemed to her that such a cause, so advocated, must be
sure to win the day. In particular, trained as she had been to look upon
Christian practice as an essential part of Christianity, she could not
believe that any professing Christian could withhold sympathy from
pleadings which carried her own, as a matter of course. She had, from
her childhood, been given to wondering how it was, that the very poor
could bear the hardships of their lot as contentedly as they did; and
now that, from the statistics and details which Roland Graeme
industriously collected for his paper, she realized how much greater
these hardships were, for many, than she had ever before imagined, she
thought, in her simplicity, that every one who knew of them must desire
to do something to lighten them. Her imagination was fired, too, by the
idea, now presented to her for the first time, that hard, grinding
poverty need not always prevail on the scale on which it now exists;
that it is within the right and the duty of man to remove much of it.
Such a hope, she thought, might well inspire to a new Crusade, far more
truly Christian in its aims and methods than were those half-heathen
wars of old, which took that sacred name.
But, except from her brother, whose experiences as a medical man had
prepared him to agree with her on most of these questions, Nora found
that she could secure little sympathy, or even toleration, for such
"new-fangled notions." Most people would agree that, of course, there
were many hard cases, just as there was misery of all kinds in the
world, which could not be helped; but they would shake their heads
discouragingly over each proposed remedy, which "was sure" to involve
new evils greater than the disease, till she wondered if there must
always be "a lion in the way" of every undertaking for the good of
humanity.
She found she had not even Mr. Chillingworth on her side, when she
somewhat timidly ventured to express herself to him on the subject of
_The Brotherhood_, at a grand luncheon-party at Mrs. Farrell's, a few
days after the dinner at Mr. Pomeroy's. It was chiefly a "ladies'
luncheon," also given in honor of Miss Harley; but two or three
gentlemen were especially privileged, including Mr. Chillingworth and
Mr. Wharton, who were not supposed to be engaged at that early hour.
Mr. Chillingworth was a good deal surprised when he found that Miss
Blanchard actually claimed Mr. Graeme as an acquaintance; and,
furthermore, that she entered with so much sympathy into his views of
social questions. Somehow, Mr. Chillingworth did not find it easy to
reconcile his sense of her grace, refinement and culture, with a
"movement" that he vaguely associated with vulgar "strikes," violence,
and other democratic developments, from which his æsthetic sensitiveness
shrank with utter repugnance.
"Undoubtedly, my dear Miss Blanchard," he said, "there are many
directions in which reform is needed. The poverty about us is but one,
and reform cannot come by any sudden or artificial means; the only cure
for this, as for all evils, is the radical cure from within--the spirit
of Christ acting on individual hearts. Much of the poverty, also, arises
from the faults of the poor themselves. Many of them would be miserable
in any case. And, you know, even our divine Master said, 'The poor ye
have always with you.'"
"But He could never have meant that other people were to _keep_ them
poor," replied Nora, her cheek flushing. "And you know He told the young
man 'to sell all his goods and give to the poor.'"
"Ah, but that was only in one case! He wanted to try him,--test whether
he really loved his neighbor as himself, as he thought he did."
"And don't you think there are many people who need the same test, now?"
Nora could not help replying.
"Oh, certainly, certainly;" he replied, dreamily; "but it seems to me
you are forgetting to enjoy your luncheon. Let me help you to some of
this delicious cream."
Nora could see very well that the subject they had been discussing only
bored the clergyman, so she dropped it; listening, however, as well as
she could, through intervening droppings of talk, to a discussion that
Mr. Wharton and Miss Harley were carrying on, as to the differences of
aspect presented by the labor question in England and in America. And
she could not help wondering again and again, as she surveyed the
luncheon-table, profusely supplied with expensive delicacies, whether
that same Lord who had bidden the rich young man "sell all that he had
and give to the poor," might not have had something to say to people who
"had fared sumptuously every day," while Lazarus starved at their gates.
And then, with a fastidious sense of honor, she checked a thought that
seemed like ungenerous treachery to her hospitable entertainers.
Only,--if poor Lizzie Mason could have had a share of the superfluous
luxury, how good it would have been for _her_!
Mr. Chillingworth, too, both puzzled and disappointed her. His eloquent
altruistic appeals--his exaltation of the high Christian ideal--so
stirred her enthusiastic nature that she felt herself irresistibly drawn
toward the man who could so well express the idealism of Christianity.
But, out of the pulpit--when it came to the practical application of his
own principles--he often brought her up short in wonder at what she felt
to be the inconsistency of his remarks about the details of ordinary
life. There seemed to her a strange gap between the glowing enthusiasm
on the one side, and a chilling narrowness and lack of sympathy on the
other. Like an electrical influence under different conditions, he
sometimes attracted and sometimes repelled her. When she compared him
with Mr. Alden, she felt the great difference, though she could not
analyze it. Briefly put, however, the main differences were these: it
was not that Mr. Chillingworth was insincere; he was as sincere, in his
own way, as Mr. Alden. But to his conception, religion consisted mainly
in emotion--in a high-strung ideality, and in adoration of the supreme,
Infinite Love. To Mr. Alden on the other hand, religion, though winged
by emotion, must have its solid basis in obedience--_righteousness_--the
service of God manifesting itself in the service of _man_. To Mr.
Chillingworth--a natural egoist--a clergyman was primarily a "ruler" of
the flock, though its shepherd as well. To Mr. Alden, long sitting at
his Master's feet had taught the lesson that the minister must be--if
the leader--also the "servant of all." Mr. Chillingworth could
sympathize only with what harmonized with his own ideals and opinions.
Mr. Alden, though himself a man of strong convictions, could adopt the
heathen poet's declaration, that nothing that concerned humanity was
alien to him. In a word, Mr. Chillingworth was an ecclesiastic; Mr.
Alden was, or sought to be, in all things, a simple follower of Christ.
Which view was the more in accordance with the New Testament ideal, each
must decide for himself.
Nora was feeling these differences dimly in her own mind, with a vague
sense of pain and disappointment that she scarcely cared to admit, when
Mr. Chillingworth turned to her with his most persuasive air, saying
that he had a great favor to ask. "But I know your generosity," he
added, "so I don't think you will refuse!" Nora, smiling, waited to hear
what it was.
"One of the members of our quartette has been laid up with a severe
cold, and I fear it is out of the question that she can take her part at
our Christmas evening Service of Song. I don't very well see how we are
to replace her, unless--a certain kind friend of mine will come to my
help!"
His voice was soft and low, as he could make it when he chose, and his
eyes sought Miss Blanchard's with even more persuasive earnestness than
the occasion seemed to call for. She colored, turned her eyes away, and
replied, in a tone as low as his, that she was very sorry--but it was
impossible. She had promised to sing at Mr. Alden's "Helping Hands"
entertainment, on Christmas evening.
Mr. Chillingworth looked more annoyed than she had ever seen him look
before.
"I really think," He said, "that Mr. Alden might spare you to us for
that evening. It can't make much difference to those people what sort of
singing they have. They can't appreciate anything very good, so you will
be quite thrown away on them. And your voice is just what we want. I
think you might beg off, for our sake!"
"I have promised," replied Nora gently, and with real regret in her
tone.
"Ah, you hold to the good old Puritan rules, I see. Well, it does seem
too bad! We shall have to put up with some very inferior voice that
could have pleased that sort of audience just as well. Alden's very good
and zealous, I know, and I quite understand his desire to give people
like that some rational enjoyment, to keep them out of mischief; still,
I think he would do better to keep to old-established ways. And that
'Helping Hands Society' of his is a curious _omnium gatherum_ affair. I
am told he's got all sorts and conditions of people in it, Unitarians,
Socialists, Knights of Labor, Agnostics!"
"I don't think-it's quite so bad as _that_!" Nora exclaimed, in amaze.
"Well, I'm told that this agitator, this Roland Graeme, actually belongs
to it, and I believe he's a rank agnostic, if not an atheist."
"Oh, I am sure he can't be an atheist!" said Nora.
"An agnostic then, at any rate! Archer told me so. After all, there
isn't much to choose between them. The atheist will tell you there's no
God--the agnostic, that he doesn't know of one. Practically, there's no
difference."
Nora was a good deal shocked. To her, as to the large majority of
earnest, reverent Christians, the position of an "agnostic" implied
something very terrible--a wilful throwing away of truth and walking in
darkness. To think of the gentle, generous, enthusiastic Roland as such
a one, seemed to her impossible. Presently she said, rather timidly:
"Mr. Graeme seems to me to have a large share of the Christian spirit."
"Oh, no doubt--no doubt," said Mr Chillingworth, impatiently, "thanks to
his Christian education! 'Train up a child in the way he should go'--you
know. But there is no class so dangerous as these half Christian
agnostics, regular wolves in sheep's clothing! They go about, putting
people off their guard by plausible talk, and then ensnare them
unawares. I consider that young man's influence most dangerous to this
community I beg you to listen to him as little as possible!"
Nora had a tolerably quick sense of humor, and, notwithstanding the
shock it gave her to hear such things of Mr. Graeme, she could hardly
resist a smile at what seemed to her the curiously inappropriate epithet
of "a wolf in sheep's clothing," applied to the altruistic young
reformer. It occurred to her that the metaphor might, in his case, be
reversed--that "a sheep in wolf's clothing" would surely be more
appropriate.
"What are you two looking so serious about?" asked Kitty, teasingly, as
they all rose to adjourn into the drawing room. Then, as she linked her
arm into Nora's, and drew her away into a quiet corner, she added, "I've
been watching you both for some time, and I really thought Mr
Chillingworth must be proposing! He was talking in such a low voice, and
looking so irresistible. Only I suppose people don't usually propose at
luncheons."
"Kitty!" exclaimed Nora, with reproachful severity.
"Well, you know very well he likes you, one always does!" she added,
somewhat obscurely.
"I should be sorry to think he _dis_liked me," replied Nora. "But he was
only proposing--that I should sing in the quartette, at his Service of
Song on Christmas evening, in some one else's place."
"Which, of course, you promised to do, like a dear."
"Which I can't possibly do, as I have promised to be elsewhere."
"Oh, poor Mr. Chillingworth! No wonder he looked so sad and serious! Oh,
don't you know, I've always thought his eyes had a sort of melancholy
look, as if he had had some great sorrow in his life? Well, Miss Harley
says she is almost sure that she once heard him preach in England, and
that she heard some tragic story about him, she couldn't remember
exactly what, only she knew it was very sad!"
"Really!" exclaimed Nora, looking much interested.
"Yes, and do you know, I've always had an idea--a sort of instinct you
know--that he may be a widower. He has that sort of look, some way!"
"_What_ sort of look? I didn't know you could tell widowers by looking
at them."
"Well, I can't exactly describe it, but I know it when I see it. And you
know he might easily have been married in England, and _we_ shouldn't
know it. Lots of men have been--like _that_ you know--and they don't
think it necessary to talk about it."
Nora disliked the idea, she scarcely knew why, but set it down as one of
Kitty's fancies. There might be many kinds of tragedy in a man's life.
If Mr. Chillingworth had suffered, it seemed to give him a stronger
claim on her sympathy.
But Kitty wanted to know where she was going on Christmas evening.
"Oh, I've heard about that," she said, when Nora had told her. "Mr.
Waldberg told me about it. He says that Mr. Graeme--you know--was to
read at it; he lives in the same house with him, and they are great
friends. Hermann says he's the best fellow he ever knew."
Nora had no very high estimate of Waldberg's judgment; still, after Mr.
Chillingworth's condemnation, even this tribute was pleasant to hear.
But she caught up Kitty at once.
"I didn't know you had got on quite so far as to call Mr. Waldberg,
_Hermann_." she remarked.
"Well, you see the poor fellow is away from home and everybody belonging
to him, so he likes to have some one to call him by his old home name.
You know Germans have such nice romantic ideas!"
"Kitty, Kitty! You ought really to take care! You don't know what
mischief you may do!"
"Oh, he knows all about _that_!" she said, laughing and coloring, but
holding out her finger, on which flashed and sparkled a _solitaire_
diamond. "And look here," she added, holding out, for Nora's inspection,
a new acquisition, a ring set with sapphire and pearls. "Isn't this
lovely? It was a birthday gift from Harold this morning."
Nora looked "serious," as Kitty called it. She had been afraid about
Kitty of late, and still more afraid for young Waldberg. "Well, be sure
you know your own mind, and stick to it," she said, gravely. "Remember,
Kitty dear, it really isn't worth while to be a Lady Clara Vere de Vere,
even if you could; and flirting is a dangerous amusement!"
"Never fear," laughed Kitty, "I'm not going to hurt anybody, that I know
of. But do look at Mr. Wharton and Miss Harley--at it still! I declare
it looks as if there was going to be----"
"'An International Episode'!" suggested Nora, smiling.