“Not so strange,” said Stuart, suddenly, with intuition. “He really wanted to do something like that, all his life. He had such a desire for sacrifice. Ola Grundy told me that, once. I am just beginning to grasp it Not very clearly, yet But I’m getting some inkling.”
Robbie eyed him with polite and hidden curiosity. How old was Stuart? About forty-six, apparently. But younger looking than he had been for some time. There was a subdued expression about his eyes, and introspective tiredness and sadness. It was the expression of a man who had suffered much, and could not forget the suffering. However, his face appeared smoother, fresher, younger, and the marks of dissipation were fading. His complexion had a brighter appearance, a youthful and healthy color. There were some men, reflected Robbie, who were like children, or were possessed of unsuspected vitalities. Was it a matter of a good conscience? Robbie was dimly and tiredly amused. Or no conscience at all? He had always believed Stuart was a good man, boisterous and violent, perhaps, capricious, high-tempered and ruthless, and undisciplined. But intrinsically food and kind. He had the capacity to inspire malice and hatred, but only in those who were without true virtue. But, always, fate intervened at the most critical moments in his affairs, as if fate, herself, were a fond and indulgent and loving mother who understood.
Robbie said, absently: “Be more careful, please, Stuart. Do not think me impertinent. But, I beg of you, be careful—about the shops.”
Stuart grinned, suppressed the grin. He waved his hand, largely. “How could I be anything else, after Angus so astutely appointed you auditor of the books? I resent that, Robbie, I resent that!” But there was no resentment in his voice. “Yet, I am glad, in a way. It takes much responsibility from my shoulders, especially as you must approve of every purchase I make, and are to inspect the bills.”
Robbie hesitated. Stuart was rising. Robbie said: “How is Mary Rose these days?”
“Much better, thank God. Old Grundy’s been doing some heavy praying over her. She has some healthy color in her cheeks at last. She is to stay with me until the autumn, when she will return to her mother-in Philadelphia. I’m glad of that. She cannot endure our Northern winters.” His face became gentle and soft.
He said: “Please tell Janie, your Ma, how sorry I am. Tell her I came. Tell her I shall come to her tomorrow. She—she mustn’t take it too hard. She has a head on her shoulders, and she will soon be proud of old Bertie.”
Robbie accompanied him to the door. They saw carriages drawing up, filled with Janie’s friends who had come to condole with her.
Robbie hesitated again. He put his hand on Stuart’s sleeve. “I am glad to see you looking so well, Stuart. You are not upset about Marvina’s divorcing you?”
“No, young feller. You handled that in a masterly way, and I am grateful.” Stuart warmly pressed his hand. But Robbie was looking distrait “Stuart, forgive me, but after all Laurie is my sister.”
Stuart glanced away. “I have written to Laurie. Damned if it’s any of your business, but I don’t mind telling you. She’s been pressing me to leave everything and go to New York to be with her, after our marriage. She’s impatient about the shops. She wants me to sell out, or something. The shops! She doesn’t realize I have a life of my own! I’m not a lackey, Robbie.” He smiled painfully. “So I’ve written her to tell her that her own career is very vital, that I wish it for her, that she must not consider me. And that, after we are married, I shall remain here, and she will return, after each tour. She will visit me, pleasantly, at intervals, and I shall visit her in New York, when I can.”
His face darkened a little, and he sighed. That is how it must be. Whether she will agree or not remains to be seen.”
Robbie took his hand again, and shook it firmly. “She will, Stuart. And respect you for it. I don’t envy you, Stuart. She is a hard customer. But she is also very fond of you. Good luck, Stuart.”
Stuart put on his tall hat with a confident air. He smiled. “Thank you, Robbie. Yes, I think she might agree. After all, a man has his pride, too.” He moved his shoulders, almost swaggeringly. “A minx, Robbie. But there is something in Laurie which no one has discovered, except myself. She is gentle, underneath all that glitter. She will come around.”
Robbie watched Stuart moving down the narrow stone stairway. Poor devil. And in the hands of Laurie, too! Robbie had no illusions about his sister. A hard piece, and an imperious one. There would be hectic storms, recriminations, violences, accusations and rages. But they loved each other, those peculiar two. They would never be bored. Laurie would go her way, when she was singing, and she would not speak of what she had seen or done. That would be very discreet of her. Stuart would ask no questions. He cared only that she loved him. He was old enough to be her father, but she was a woman, and he would always be a child, always young.
The condoling guests were coming up the stairway, but looking after Stuart with mingled curiosity and fondness. Robbie saw them coming. The darkness which in Stuart’s presence had lifted, returned to him now.
But in him there was also a strange dim peace,
CHAPTER 76
The lonely island lay in its purple mists. A few green fronds of the whistling palm trees emerged from that mist, stirred and clattered against the dawning sky. The small settlement, huddled and white, was still silent in the morning. The heavens were an intense and shadowy blue; in the east, the delicate crescent of the moon was ascending heaven’s slope out of the sea, which was pale dim lavender touched with frail silver. Now the voices of birds pierced the warm and empty silence in a very clamor of song.
Above the moon was a star, a single glowing star, vivid and pulsing.
There was a ship offshore, but carefully keeping its distance. A boat was lowered from it. It contained one sailor, and a man in the rough dark habit of a missionary monk. He sat in the prow of the little boat and looked eagerly at the island. A few wisps of smoke were now rising gently from hidden chimneys. The purple mists were brightening, lifting. The island was a jewel of heliotrope, green and gold.
The boat grounded on the coral snore. The monk stepped from the boat. He turned to the sailor, who saluted him. He waved back, smiling. His face was beautiful and pale in the early light, and very sweet. His thin dark hair lifted; his habit blew about him in the first wind.
He watched the boat pull away, return to the ship. Then he turned his face from it, and looked towards the settlement. He stood for long moments, gazing at what would be his home until he died. Joy suddenly blazed in his eyes.
He walked up the slope towards the settlement. He lifted his face to the heavens. He began to sing. The old priest, hurrying to meet his new assistant, paused in astonishment to listen to the lovely sound.
It was Robin Cauder’s Hymn to the Morning Star.
A Biography of Taylor Caldwell
Taylor Caldwell was one of the most prolific and widely read American authors of the twentieth century. In a career that spanned five decades, she wrote forty novels, many of which were New York Times bestsellers.
Caldwell captivated readers with emotionally charged historical novels and family sagas such as Captains and the Kings, which sold 4.5 million copies and was made into a television miniseries in 1976. Her novels based on the lives of religious figures, Dear and Glorious Physician, a portrayal of the life of St. Luke, and Great Lion of God, a panoramic novel about the life and times of St. Paul, are among the bestselling religious novels of all time.
Born Janet Miriam Holland Taylor Caldwell in 1900 in Manchester, England, into a family of Scotch-Irish descent, she began attending an academically rigorous school at the age of four, studying Latin, French, history, and geography. At six, she won a national gold medal for her essay on novelist Charles Dickens. On weekends, she performed a long list of household chores and attended Sunday school and church twice a day. Caldwell often credited her Spartan childhood with making her a rugged individualist.
In 1907, Caldwell, her parents, and her younger brother immigrate
d to the United States, settling in Buffalo, New York, where she would live for most of her life. She started writing stories when she was eight years old and completed her first novel, The Romance of Atlantis, when she was twelve, although it was not published until 1975. Marriage at the age of eighteen to William Combs and the birth of her first child, Mary Margaret—Peggy—did not deter her from pursuing an education. While working as a stenographer and a court reporter to help support her family, she took college courses at night.
Upon receiving a bachelor of arts degree from the University of Buffalo in 1931, she divorced her husband and married Marcus Reback, her boss at the US Immigration Department office in Buffalo. Caldwell then dedicated herself to writing full time. Even as her family grew with the arrival of her second daughter, Judith, Caldwell’s unpublished manuscripts continued to pile up.
At the age of thirty-eight, she finally sold a novel, Dynasty of Death, to a major New York publisher. Convinced that a pre–World War I saga of two dynasties of munitions manufacturers would be better received if people thought it was written by a man, Maxwell Perkins, her editor at Scribner—who also discovered F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway—advised her to use only part of her name—Taylor Caldwell—as her pen name. Dynasty of Death became a bestseller in 1938 and the saga continued with The Eagles Gather in 1940 and The Final Hour in 1944. Inevitably, a public stir ensued when people discovered Taylor Caldwell was a woman.
Over the next forty years, Caldwell often worked from midnight to early morning at her electric typewriter in her book-crammed study, producing a wide array of sagas (This Side of Innocence, Answer as a Man) and historical novels (Testimony of Two Men, Ceremony of the Innocent) that celebrated American values and passions.
She also produced novels set in the ancient world (A Pillar of Iron, Glory and the Lightning), dystopian fiction (The Devil’s Advocate, Your Sins and Mine), and spiritually themed novels (The Listener, No One Hears But Him, Dialogues with the Devil).
Apart from their across-the-board popularity with readers and their commercial success, which made Caldwell a wealthy woman, her long list of bestselling novels possessed common themes that were close to her heart: self-reliance and individualism, man’s struggle for justice, the government’s encroachment on personal freedoms, and the conflict between man’s desire for wealth and power and his need for love and family bonding.
The long hours spent at her typewriter did not keep Caldwell from enjoying life. She gave elegant parties at her grand house in Buffalo. One of her grandchildren recalls watching her hold the crowd in awe with her observations about life and politics. She embarked on annual worldwide cruises and was fond of a glass of good bourbon. Drina Fried recalls her grandmother confiding in her: “I vehemently believe that we should have as much fun as is possible in our dolorous life, if it does not injure ourselves or anyone else. The only thing is—be discreet. The world will forgive you anything but getting caught.”
Caldwell didn’t stop writing until she suffered a debilitating stroke at the age of eighty. Her last novel, Answer as a Man, was published in 1981 and hit the New York Times bestseller list before its official publication date. She died at her home in Greenwich, Connecticut, in 1985.
William Combs, Taylor Caldwell’s first husband and father to Peggy, aboard a naval ship, circa 1926.
A portrait of Caldwell at the start of her career in the late 1930s.
A portrait of Caldwell taken before Scribner’s publication of Melissa on June 21, 1948.
Caldwell at her desk in Palm Beach, Florida, in 1949. She spent many winter months at Whitehall, a resort hotel on the property of Henry Flagler’s former estate, which is now the Flagler Museum.
Caldwell’s second daughter, Judith Ann Reback, during time with her mother at Whitehall in the 1940s.
Caldwell receiving an award in Los Angeles, California, for A Pillar of Iron after its publication in 1965.
Caldwell with her daughters, Peggy Fried and Judith Ann Reback (Goodman), and Ted Goodman in 1969 on the MS Bergensfjord.
Caldwell at a cocktail party with her daughter, Peggy, and the hostess of a research world cruise on the SS President Wilson in 1970.
Caldwell with her granddaughter, Drina Fried, at her home in Buffalo, New York, winter 1975. Soula Angelou, her personal assistant, insisted on taking this rare family picture.
An invitation from 1975 to one of Caldwell’s many cocktail parties. She hosted at least two parties a year in Buffalo, New York, before she moved to Connecticut.
Caldwell with her fourth husband, Robert Prestie, who cared for her in the last six years of her life in Connecticut.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1945 by Taylor Caldwell
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-5316-7
This edition published in 2018 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10038
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TAYLOR CALDWELL
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