PAST AND FUTURE
Under the impulses of his solicitude and affection Clancy entered quickly,
and took Mara's hand in such a strong, warm grasp that the color would
come into her pale face. In spite of her peculiarities and seeming
coldness, she was a girl who could easily awaken a passionate love in a
warm, generous-hearted man like the one who looked into her eyes with
something like entreaty in his own. She had a beauty peculiar to herself,
and now a strange loveliness which touched his very soul. The quick flush
upon her cheeks inspired hope, and a deep emotion, which she could not
wholly suppress, found momentary expression. Even in that brief instant
she was transfigured, for the woman within her was revealed. As if
conscious of a weakness which seemed to her almost criminal, her face
became rigid, and she said formally, "Please be seated, Mr. Clancy."
"You must not speak to me in that way and in that tone," he began
impetuously, and then paused, for he was chilled by her cold, questioning
gaze. Her will was so strong, and found such powerful expression in her
dark, sad eyes, that for a moment he was dumb and embarrassed. Then his
own high spirit rallied, and a purpose grew strong that she should hear
him, and hear the truth also. His gray eyes, that had wavered for a
moment, grew steady in their encounter with hers.
Seating himself on the opposite side of the table, he said quietly, "You
think I have no right to speak to you in such a way."
"I fear we think differently on many subjects, Mr. Clancy."
"Admitting that, would you like a man to be a weak echo of yourself?"
"A man should not be weak in any respect. I do not think it necessary,
however, to raise the question of my likes or dislikes."
"I must differ with you, Mara," he replied gravely.
"I agree with you now, fully, Mr. Clancy. We differ. Had we not better
change the subject?"
"No, not unless you would be unfair. I am at a disadvantage. I am in your
home. You are a lady, and therefore can compel me to leave unsaid what I
am bent on saying. We have been friends, have we not?"
She bowed her acquiescence.
"Well," he continued a little bitterly, "I have one Southern trait
left--frankness. You know I would speak in a different character if
permitted, if I received one particle of encouragement." Then, with a
sudden flush, he said firmly, "I will speak as I feel. I only pay homage
in telling you what you must already know. I love you, and would make you
my wife."
Her face became very pale as she averted it, and replied briefly, "You are
mistaken, Mr. Clancy."
"Mara, I am not mistaken. Will you be fair enough to listen to me? We
agree that we differ. Can we not also agree that we differ
conscientiously? You cannot think me false, even though you say I am
mistaken. Hitherto you have opposed to me a dead wall of silence. Though
you will not listen to me as a lover, you might both listen and speak to
me as a friend. That word would be hollow indeed if estrangment could
result from honest differences of opinion."
"It is far more than a difference of opinion."
"Let the difference be what it may, Mara," he answered gently, resolving
not to be baffled, "if you are so sure you are right, you should at least
be willing to accord to one whom you once regarded as a friend the
privilege of pleading his cause. Truth and right do not intrench
themselves in repelling silence. That is the refuge of prejudice. If you
will hear my side of the question, I will listen with the deepest interest
to yours, and believe me you have a powerful ally in my heart."
"Your head has gained such ascendency over your heart, Mr. Clancy, that
you cannot understand me. In some women the strongest reasons for or
against a thing proceed from the latter organ."
"Is yours, then, so cold toward me?" he asked sadly.
"It is not cold toward the memory of my murdered parents," she replied
with an ominous flash in her eyes.
Clancy looked at her in momentary surprise, then said firmly, "My father
eventually died from injuries received in the war, but he was not
murdered. He was wounded in fair battle in which he struck as well as
received blows."
Again there was a quick flush upon her pale face, but now it was one of
indignation as she said bitterly, "Fair battle! So you call it fair battle
when men are overpowered in defending their homes. If armed robbers broke
into your house, and you gave blows as well as received them, would you
not be murdered if it so happened that you were killed? Why should we
speak of these subjects further?" And there was a trace of scorn in her
tone.
His pride was touched, and he was all the more determined that he would be
heard. "I can give you good reason why we should speak further," he
answered resolutely yet quietly. "However strong your feeling may be, I
have too much respect for your intelligence and too much confidence in
your courage to believe that you will weakly shrink from hearing one who
is as conscientious as yourself. I cannot accept your illustration, and do
not think the instance you give is parallel. In the differences between
the North and the South, an appeal was made to the sword. If I had been
old enough I would have fought at my father's side. But the question is
now settled. No matter how we feel about it, the North and the South must
live together, and it is not my nature to live in hate. Suppose I
could--suppose it were possible for all Southern men to feel as you do and
act in accordance with such bitter enmity, what would be the result? It
would be suicide. Our land would become a desert. Capital and commerce
would leave our cities because there would be no security among a people
implacably hostile. Such a course would be more destructive than invading
armies. My business, the business of the city, is largely with the North.
If native Southern men tried to transact it in a cold, relentless spirit,
we should lose the chance to live, much less to do anything for our land.
We have suffered too much from this course already, and have allowed
strangers, who care nothing for us, to take much that might have been
ours. I love the South too well to advocate a course which would prove so
fatal. What is more, I cannot think it would be right. The North of your
imagination does not exist. I cannot hate people who have no hate for me,
but on the contrary abound in honest, kindly feeling."
She had listened quietly with her face turned from him, and now met his
eyes with an inscrutable expression in hers. "Have I not listened?" she
asked.
"But you have not answered," he urged, "you have not even tried to show me
wherein I am wrong."
The eyes whose sombre blackness had been like a veil now flamed with the
anger she had long repressed. "How little you understand me," she said
passionately, "when you think I can argue questions like these. You are
virtually asking what to me is sacrilege. I have listened to you
patiently, at what cost to my feelings you are incapable of knowing. Do
you think that I can forget that my grandfather was mangled to death, and
that his last words were, 'I was only trying to defend my home'? Do you
think I can forget that my father was trampled into the very earth by your
Northern friends with whom you must fraternize as well as trade? I will
not speak of my martyred mother. Her name and agony are too sacred to be
named in a political argument," and she uttered these last words with
intense bitterness. Then rising to end the interview, she continued coldly
in biting sarcasm, "Mr. Clancy, I have no relations with the North. I do
not deal in cotton, and none of its fibre has found its way into my
nature."
At these words he flushed hotly, sprang up, but by an evident and powerful
effort controlled himself, and sat down again.
"How could you even imagine," she added, "that words, arguments, political
and financial considerations would tempt me to be disloyal to the memory
of my dead kindred?"
"You _are_ disloyal to them," he said firmly.
"What!"
"Mara, I am indeed proving myself a friend because I am such and more, and
because you so greatly need a friend. Your kindred had hearts in their
breasts. Would they doom you to the life upon which you are entering? Can
you not see that you are passing deeper and deeper into the shadow of the
past? What good can it do them? Could they speak would they say, 'We wish
our sorrows to blight your life'? You are not happy, you cannot be happy.
It is contrary to the law of God, it is impossible to human nature, that
happiness and bitter, unrelenting enmity should exist in the same heart.
You are not only unhappy, but you are in deep trouble of some kind. I saw
that from your face to-day before you saw me and could mask from a friend
its expression of deep anxiety. You shall hear the truth from me which I
fear you hear from no other, and your harsh words shall not deter me from
my resolute purpose to be kind, to rescue you virtually from a condition
of mind that is so morbid, so unhealthful, that it will blight your life.
I cannot so wrong your father and mother as even to imagine that it could
be their wish to see your beautiful young life grow more and more
shadowed, to see you struggling under burdens which strong, loving hands
would lift from you. Can you believe that they, happy in heaven, can wish
you no happiness on earth?"
There was a grave, convincing earnestness in his tone, and a truth in his
words hard to resist. What she considered loyalty to her kindred had been
like her religion, and he had charged her with disloyalty, yes, and while
he spoke the thought would assert itself that her course might be a
wretched mistake. Although intrenched in prejudice, and fortified against
his words by the thought and feeling of her life, she had been made to
doubt her position and feel that she might be a self-elected martyr. The
assertion that she was doing what would be contrary to the wishes of her
dead kindred pierced the very citadel of her opposition, and tended to
remove the one belief which had been the sustaining rock beneath her feet.
She knew she had been severe with him, and she was touched by his
forbearance, his resolute purpose to befriend her. She remembered her
poverty, the almost desperate extremity in which she was, and her heart
upbraided her for refusing the hand held out so loyally and persistently
to her help. She became confused, torn, and overwhelmed by conflicting
emotions; her lip quivered, and, bowing her head in her hands, she sobbed,
"You are breaking my heart."
In an instant he was on one knee at her side. "Mara," he began gently, "if
I wound it is only that I may heal. Truly no girl in this city needs a
friend as you do. For some reason I feel this to be true in my very soul.
Who in God's universe would forbid you a loyal friend?" and he tried to
take her hand.
"I forbid you to be her friend," said a stern voice.
Springing up, Clancy encountered the gaze of a gaunt, white-haired woman,
with implacable enmity stamped upon her thin visage. The young man's eyes
darkened as they steadily met those of Mrs. Hunter, and it was evident
that the forbearance he had manifested toward the girl he loved would not
be extended to her guardian. Still he controlled himself, and waited till
she should speak again.
"Mr. Clancy," she resumed after a moment, "Miss Wallingford is my ward; I
received her from her dying mother, and so have rights which you must
respect. I forbid you seeing her or speaking to her again."
"Mrs. Hunter," he replied, "permit me to tell you with the utmost courtesy
that I shall not obey you. Only Mara herself can forbid me from seeing her
or speaking to her."
"What right have you, sir--"
"The best of rights, Mrs. Hunter, I love the girl; you do not. As
remorselessly as a graven image you would sacrifice her on the altar of
your hate."
"Mr. Clancy, you must not speak to my aunt in that way. She has been
devoted to me from my infancy."
"On the contrary, she has devoted you from infancy to sadness, gloom, and
bitter memories. She is developing within you the very qualities most
foreign to a woman's heart. Instead of teaching you to enshrine the memory
of your kindred in tender, loving remembrance, she is forging that memory
into a chain to restrain you from all that is natural to your years. She
is teaching you to wreck your life in fruitless opposition to the healing
influences that have followed peace. Madam, answer me--the question is
plain and fair--what can you hope to accomplish by your enmity to me and
to the principles of hope and progress which, in this instance, I
represent, but the blighting of this girl whom I love?"
"You are insolent, sir," cried Mrs. Hunter, trembling with rage.
"No, madam, I am honest, and be the result to me what it may, you shall
both hear the truth to-night."
"This is our home," was the harsh response, "and you are not a gentleman
if you do not leave it instantly."
"I shall certainly do so. Mara, am I to see you and speak to you no more?"
She had sunk into a chair, and again buried her face in her hands.
He waited a moment, but she gave no sign. Then with his eyes fixed on her
he sadly and slowly left the apartment.
At last she sprang up with the faint cry, "Owen," but her aunt stood
between her and the door, and he was gone.