"Going away? I shall see you three times every day. What do you mean?"
"When there was your father and mother and me, 'us four, and no more,'
there were not dozens to think about. You'll have dozens now."
"I hope they will be pleasant," she said, looking away, that he should
not see how bright her eyes were, when his were so grave.
"I hope they will. And I'm sure of it. Never fear. I suppose, too, they
must make you like themselves, some ways. I'd be glad, if I thought
you'd make any of them like you."
"How's that?" she asked, half laughing, but she trembled as well. What
would honest Silas say next, he was making such a very grave business
out of this school-going?
"True,--modest,--sensible,--respectful,--a lady, ten times more than
those they make up so fine," said he, slowly. And still he held her hand
as quietly as if it did not thrill with quickening pulses; and his
speech and composure showed what power of self-control the young man
had,--for he was fearful when he looked forward, anticipating the change
this year might bring to pass in and for Columbia Dexter.
But Dexter and Company looked forward with no forebodings, when they
bought the needful school-books, and saw their daughter fairly occupied
with them. They had not been ashamed to reveal their hopes and fears to
the principal. She really listened in a way that made them love her, you
will know how,--as if she had the interest of the girl at heart,--as
though she would not deal so sacrilegiously with their dear child as to
paste a few flashing ornaments upon her, worthless as dead fish-scales,
and swear she was covered with pearls. Honest and loving sponsors!
virtuous, confiding parents! they were ready to promise for Columbia;
she went from their hands a pure, industrious, obedient girl, only
fourteen; they were sure she would take pride in making good all
deficiencies of her past education. And the woman promised in
turn,--chiefly thinking, I infer, that here at least were responsible
paymasters. Why not? She taught for a living. Only we never like to
suppose that poets sing merely for money, or that kings reign for the
sake of the crown; we do not imagine a statesman delights in his
martyrdom for eight dollars a day. I know one woman who teaches because
it is her vocation; she loves the work God allows her. But even the
worst school that's used as a hot-bed could not have ruined a plant like
this bearing the Dexter label.
Thus this great fact of the flag-makers' married life transpired,--their
child went to school with the children of gentlemen. Dexter could tell
that figure among dozens of girls; under one modest bonnet was a young
face with brown eyes and brown hair, a fair, sweet countenance, which he
loved with a love we will not dwell upon. In the sacred narrative, as in
the sacred temple, is always a place hid from the eyes and the feet of
the congregation. We may be all Gentiles here.
Like responsible sentinels, Dexter and Jessie stood at their post. Like
debtors to the great universe, they made their calling sure. They were
living thus peacefully while nations went to war, while panics taught
the people it was not beneath their wisdom to look to the foundations
they built their pride upon,--thus, while great world-events were going
on that must concern every soul under the whole heaven. But never shall
the man be lost in the multitude; and was it not, is it not, of
incalculable importance that mortals by their own firesides should learn
to believe in peace and good-will,--else how shall come the universal
harmony?
Therefore I dwell thus on Dexter's humble fortunes. Let us not fear too
much reverence, too patient observation; every living creature is one
other evidence, speaking his yea or nay,--by joy or sorrow, shame or
honor, testifying to the eternal laws of God.
Sometime during the last six months of Columbia's second year at the
seminary among the books and new associates, Silas Swift had some
strange secret experiences, which came to their inevitable expression
when he told Mr. Dexter that he must leave his service. He perceived, he
said, that he could not spend life in a shop,--he must have other
employment. He hinted about the sea, but on that subject was not clear;
but he was clear in this,--tired of his life, sick, and knew not the
physician. Was a serpent distilling poison under the apricot-tree?
Dexter was amazed. Silas anticipated everything he said,--was prepared
to answer all; and he answered in a manner that showed the flag-maker
something instant and effective must be done. He talked the matter over
accordingly with Andrew Swift, and the two men were at their wits' end;
they did not understand, and knew not what to prescribe for the case, so
desperate it seemed. But Jessie said, "Take him in for a partner, Silas.
Let _him_ stand for Company. You and I are one; so the sign, as it goes,
is a fib, you know."
The two men looked at Jessie as if she had been an oracle. This very
promotion of their son had long seemed to Swift and his wife the most
desirable issue, of all their expectations; but they had not thought to
look for it these many years. However, Andrew was ready to pay down, any
day, whatever sum Silas Dexter should specify in order that his son
might be admitted to equal partnership.
So they waited together till young Swift came into the little room back
of the shop, where they were all looking for him. They laid their plan
before him. What could he do? Neither explain himself, nor yet defy them
all. He surrendered; and the next day the old sign, DEXTER & CO., meant
what it had not meant the day before. The word of any one of these
people was as good as a bond to the others; therefore no papers of
agreement were made out, but Andrew paid down the money, because that
was his way of satisfying himself,--and son Silas was now a partner.
Everybody concerned was so well pleased with this arrangement, that he
whose pleasure in it was specially desired had not the heart to speak
his mind, or to resolve further than that he would do his duty. Indeed,
he soon began to believe that he was satisfied.
Young Silas thought he saw good reason for bringing forward his
partner's motto into fresh conspicuity in these days: he believed in
that motto, he purposed to work by it, but it was not merely his policy
to give his faith manifestation. He made several efforts, after his own
odd, original style, to impress the pretty Columbia with the
significance of that sentiment. Often his talk with the young lady had
the gravity and weight of a moral essay, and she took it well,--was not
impatient,--would answer him as a child, "I know it is so, Silas,"--did
not imagine how much these very lectures cost him, or that he delivered
them with as much inward composure as an orator might be supposed to
feel on the brink of a precipice, where the awful rocks and depths gave
echo to his utterance.
Why should he so much disturb himself on her account?--she was so
studious, so blameless, what great need of this oversight he was
exercising continually?
Young Alexander, now Midshipman Alexander, once a cabin-boy, promoted
step by step on the score of actual merit and brave service
performed,--Midshipman Alexander, son of an old sailor's old widow, who
lived in Salt Lane, to whom Andrew Swift and Silas Dexter and other
well-disposed men had lent a helping hand when poverty had brought her
to some desperate strait,--this young Alexander, who had been coming
home once in every three years since his twelfth birthday, and who in
the course of many years of voyages came to look on Dexter's house as
his home on land, after his mother died,--he interfered with the peace
of Silas Swift.
He returned from service, after every voyage, a taller, stronger,
nobler, wiser, handsomer man. He had a career open before him; he could
not fail of honorable fortune. Every inch a hero Alexander looked, and
was; nobody ever tired of hearing his adventures; no one grew
unbelieving, when he spoke of the future,--all things seemed so possible
to him; and then he was really not possessed of the demon of vanity, the
ill-shaped evil monster, but was straightforward, and earnest, and
determined, and capable.
And Dexter, any one could see, was growing dreadfully proud of his
Columbia.
Silas Swift felt the sands moving under his feet. He dared not build on
a foundation so insecure. But, oh, he wished himself away from High
Street, ten thousand, thousand miles! He fell into dreaming moods that
did not leave him satisfied and cheerful. Surely, other quarters of the
globe had other circumstances than these which kept him to a life so
dull, under skies so leaden. Alas! the waving of the banners did not any
more uplift him, leading him on as a good soldier to battles and
victories. He tried to get the better of himself,--after the last visit
of this Alexander, he was tolerably successful; he studied hard,
ambitious to keep at least on an equality of learning with
Columbia,--and he went far ahead of her, for certain desperate reasons.
But when Dexter began to treat him with profound respect, as a man of
learning should be treated, according to his notions, the poor young
fellow, mortified and miserable, put away his books, and loathed his
false position.
The old time to which through all prosperity Silas clung with fond
fears, the dear old time was all over, he said to himself one day, when
Columbia called him up into the parlor, clapping her hands ever
suspecting that the theme might please another less,--there was but one
for him as if he had been a slave, a signal he well understood, and was
proud to understand,--when she asked him to bring the step-ladder, and
to help her, for the curtains must come down from the show-room, it was
going to be a parlor now, and no show-room again forever. With heavy
misgivings, with a feeling that they were hard on to "the parting of the
ways," Silas obeyed her.
Even so, according to her will was it that the drapery, the flags rich
in patriotic portraiture, the Washington, the Franklin, and the
Lafayette, must come down. Some pictures she had painted, some sketches
she had made, were to take their place: her father had insisted on
having them framed, and now they should hang on the walls.
He assisted Columbia without a word of comment. Now the room, she said,
would no longer look hot and uncomfortable. There would be less dust to
distract one on the walls. But Silas, the stickler for old things,
thought jealously, "There's always a reason ready to excuse every
change. It's pride that's to pay now,--she's getting ashamed of the
shop."
And he remembered the queer look Alexander had cast around him the last
time he entered that room; and he knew that this same Alexander was now
expected home daily.
This was the rock, then, against which the sturdy craft of Silas was
destined to strike and go to pieces! This was the whirlpool which should
uproot the fairest tree and swing it to final ingulfing! Dark
foreboding! sad fear! his heart was so concerned about Columbia Dexter.
Alas for the halcyon days! it was winter indeed, but a winter worthy of
Labrador.
So much she rejoiced in this midshipman's advancement, so proud of it
she seemed,--she was so bold in prophecy where he was concerned, so
manifestly fitted to appreciate a hero's career,--she could talk so long
about him without every suspecting that the theme might please another
less,--there was but one end likely, or desirable, for all this.
Then Alexander came. And his popularity waxed, instead of waning. So
Silas at last gravely said to himself, after his sensible, moderate
manner of dealing with that unhappy person, "If she and the young man
were only married and settled, there the business would end; _he_ should
no longer be distracted, as he did not deny he had long been, on her
account." That admission was fatal. It compelled him to ask himself
sharply why he should be distracted. "What business was this of his? Did
he not, above all things, desire that Columbia should be happy? Must she
not be the best judge of what could make her happiness?" He tried to
deal honestly with himself.