A Young Girl's Wooing

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER XXVII

  MADGE'S STORY

  Early in the beautiful morning of the following day Graydon was outsecuring a light carriage, for he reasoned that after watching allnight Madge would be too weary to enjoy horseback exercise. He firstcalled on the doctor, and obtained careful directions as to thelocality of Madge's sojourn. "The best I can do is to go with youas guide this afternoon to the trout-stream, and then drive back bymoonlight," the doctor added.

  Within an hour Graydon reached the cottage, and Madge ran out towelcome him. "Now, this is kind and thoughtful of you," she said, andthere was unmistakable gladness in her face.

  "Dear Madge, you have had a long, dismal night, I fear. I can see itfrom the lines under your eyes."

  "It has been a sad night, Graydon, yet I am very glad I came, and youhave now rewarded me. The poor girl is sleeping, and I can slip away."

  Mr. and Mrs. Wendall parted from her feelingly and gratefully. Madgepromised to come again soon.

  For a few moments they drove in silence, and then Madge sighed: "Howyoung, fresh, and full of beautiful life the world seems this morning!The contrast with that poor, suffering, dying girl is too great.Nature often appears strangely indifferent."

  "I am not indifferent, Madge. I kept a sort of watch with you for anhour or two last night in the wee, sma' hours, and tried to imagineyou sitting in just such an open window as I saw there, with themoonlight on your face; and I thought that the poor girl had one goodangel watching over her. You know I am a man of the world, but an actof ministry like this touches me closely."

  "No, Graydon; not a good angel, but a very human creature was thewatcher."

  "Tell me about it--that is, continue the story from the point whereMary left off;" and he explained about Mrs. Muir's account of theprevious evening.

  "Well, you know what a wilful creature I am?" she began, with theglimmer of a smile.

  "Oh, yes; I've learned to understand that feature of your royalwomanhood. You are trying to be a woman, Madge. Well, you are one--thekind I believe in. See how much faith I have--I believe, yet don'tunderstand."

  "No jesting or compliments this morning, please; I'm too heavy-heartedfor them now."

  "You ought to be serene and happy after so kind and good a deed."

  "No," she said, decisively; "that sympathy must be superficial whichcan pass almost immediately into self-complacency. Oh, Graydon, it isall so sad, yet not sad; so passing strange, yet as natural and trueas life and death! I did sit for hours just as you imagined, lookingout on the great, still mountains. Never did they seem so vastand stable, and our life so vapor-like, as when I heard that poorfluttering breath come and go at my side. There was a time when thistruth grew oppressive; but later on that feeble life, which seemedbut a breath, came to mean something greater and more real than themountains themselves. But I am anticipating. As soon as Mary departedI became as imperious as I dared to be. I saw that the poor mother hadreached about the limit of her endurance, and I arranged the lounge inthe sitting-room, so that she could lie down at once, saying: 'I am astranger, and young, and it's not natural that you should be willingto give up to me too much, nor do I wish you to be far away; yet Ican see just how sorely in need of rest you are. You must finish yoursupper, give me your directions, and then lie down and get every bitof rest you can. I can easily keep awake, and promise to call youwhenever you are needed.'

  "'Nancy,' her husband added, 'Miss Alden is right. I see by the wayshe takes hold that she'll do everything, and you're jest beat out.'So between us we had our way.

  "'Bless you, miss,' said the man, trying to smile in a way that almostmade me cry, 'I'm as handy as a woman 'bout a kitchen;' and he soonproved that he was handier than I could have been, for in a fewminutes he pulled up from the well a pail, took out a dressed chicken,and broiled it to perfection. I made his wife eat some of it, andsaved a little of the breast for poor Tilly, as they call her."

  "Did you take any yourself?" interrupted Graydon.

  "Oh, yes, indeed! I'm one of those prosaic creatures whose appetitenever fails. If the world were coming to an end to-day I should insiston having my breakfast."

  "Madge," said Graydon, ruefully, "I might as well tell you, for I'msure to be found out: I once called you 'lackadaisical.'"

  "Oh, I knew that over two years ago! What's more, you were right."

  "No; I was not right," he answered, positively. "I should haverecognized the possibilities of your nature then. I did in regard toyour beauty, but not those higher qualities which bid fair to make youmy patron saint."

  "Oh, hush, Graydon. Such words only pain me. I don't want yourcompliments, and if any man made a patron saint of me I should be soexasperated that I should probably box his ears. Let us stick to whatis simple, natural, and true, in all our talk."

  "You may say what you please, Madge, I see it more clearly every day,and reproach myself that I did not understand you. I was content toamuse and pet you, and you naturally did not think me capable of doinganything more. You went away alone to make as brave a fight as wasever battled out in this world, and I had no part in helping you.Mr. and Mrs. Wayland were worth a wilderness of superficialsociety-fellows like me. I now know why you did not care to correspondwith me while making your noble effort."

  HER LIPS WERE SLIGHTLY PARTED; HER POSE, GRACE ITSELF.]

  "Truly, Graydon, your memory and penetration are phenomenal."

  "You may disclaim out of kindness now, but I know I am right. You makemy life appear shallow and trivial. What have I done in the last twoyears but attend carefully, from habit, to the details of business,and then amuse myself? And when I wrote I merely sought to amuse you.What were my flippant letters worth to one who was in earnest?"

  "Graydon," said Madge, looking into his eyes with gentle dignity, "youmay do yourself injustice if you will, but you shall not misjudge me.I have acquired a little of the art of taking care of myself, and youare doing me a wrong which I cannot permit. I remember everything,from the time that your kind eyes rested on the pallid, shrinkingchild that crept down to the dining-room when we first met, and fromthat day to this you have been kind and helpful to me. I said thatI regarded you as one of the best friends I had in the world. Doyou think me insincere? Do you think I forget how kind you were whensociety would not have tolerated the ghost I was? I am not one whoforgets and ignores the past--who can go on to new friends with afrigid shoulder for old ones. Let us end these misunderstandings.Before the year is out you will probably be engaged, perhaps married.Our lives will be widely separated. That is inevitable from the natureof things. But distance and absence can cause no such separation asresults from misunderstanding. If we should not meet again in twentyyears I should be the same loyal friend. Now I've said it, and don'tvex me again by speaking as if I had not said and meant it."

  "I can scarcely tell whether your words make me more glad or sad. Eachfeeling is deeper than you will ever believe. You certainly giveme the impression that if I marry Stella Wildmere our lives will beseparated."

  "You don't take nature, especially woman-nature, into consideration atall. I am not congenial to Miss Wildmere; she does not like me. Itis nothing against her, but some people are antagonistic. This isespecially true among women, and in this case it is not strange. Ourexperiences have been very different. She has ever been a beautiful,brilliant society-girl. With her at your side you would always bean object of envy in circles congenial to you, for admiration wouldfollow her as the light follows day. In the past, you know, I havenot been influenced by society considerations, and in the future theyshall be very secondary. Therefore we of necessity are unlike, andcould never be much company for each other. There is never any usein trying to ignore the old law of 'like unto like.' I say this inexplanation of what you know is true all the world over. Eventhe close ties of kindred often count for little where tastes,occupations, and habits of thought are diverse. All this is nothingagainst your perfect right to please yourself. In this land, thankHeaven! families and friend
s cannot yoke people together to pullforward general and miscellaneous interests."

  "You speak as if it were a slight thing when the woman whom a manmarries is merely accepted, tolerated, by his kindred."

  "I have not said that, Graydon; I have only said again what I saidbefore--that a man has a right to please himself. The truth is triteenough; why recur to it?"

  "Gravitation is trite enough, but it often has an acute bearing onone's experience. You do not like Stella--"

  "And she does not like me."

  "Very well; but you try to be just to her, and when she has lived awhile in different associations you will find her greatly changed.I think you can be her close friend in the future. But Henry detestsher, and he is so quietly and obstinately tenacious in his views thatthe fact annoys me exceedingly."

  "Very well; you can't help that. You will live in different houses,and your domestic life will be quite removed from business interests."

  "Oh, confound Henry! He married to suit himself, so shall I. But,Madge, dear Madge, you will try to love her--to help her to be morelike you, for my sake?"

  At last Madge's laugh rang out merrily. "For mercy's sake, Graydon,don't ask me to be a missionary to your wife," she cried. "If Iescaped with my eyes I should be lucky. You must think your wifeperfection, and make her think you do. Woe be unto you if youintroduce a female friend and suggest that she should be imitated,even to the arch of an eyebrow. Oh, no, I thank you! That's a spherein which I shouldn't shine at all, and I wouldn't dare attempt it withany feminine saint in the calendar. Oh, Graydon, what a dear old gooseyou are!" and she laughed till the tears came into her eyes. He joinedher in a half vexed way, protesting that she was still as uncanny as aghost, although she had lost the aspect of one.

  Suddenly she stopped, and tears of sorrow filled her eyes. "Here Iam, laughing at our absurd talk," she said, "when I have just left theside of a poor girl, no older than myself, who is ghostly indeed inher flickering life. Is it heartless to seem to forget so soon? Oh,Graydon, you don't know what trouble is! You have only had vexationsthus far. Let me tell you what happened last night, if only to makeyou grateful for your strong, prosperous life."

  "Tell me anything you wish. I always have better thoughts and impulsesafter being with you."

  "Please don't regard me as egotistical, or offend me by thinking I amtrying to be better than others. Why shouldn't I help that poor girl?We often dance all night for fun; why can't we watch occasionally forpity? And in simple truth it will be a long time before the ache forthat poor creature will go out of my heart. It came very close home,Graydon--very close. It brought to mind another girl, who was oncescarcely stronger or better than Tilly Wendall is to-day, but God waskind. Tilly also has great black eyes, and they do look so large andpathetic in the wan little face! At first they did not notice me much.I was only another of the watchers who had come to aid her mother.It's astonishing how kind these plain country people are to oneanother in trouble, and many a housewife in this region has toiled allday and then sat up with the poor child the livelong night.

  "For the first few hours I could do little more than help her movein her weak restlessness, and give remedies to relieve her incessantcough. The poor thing seemed neither more nor less than a victim ofdisease, that with a cruelty almost malign had tortured her. I can'texplain how this awful impression grew upon me. It was as if viewless,brutal hands had racked the emaciated form until intelligence wasgone, and then, not content, would continue their vindictive workwhile breath remained in the body. As my watch was prolonged thisimpression grew into a nightmare of horror. The still house, thesilent, white, beautiful world without, and that frail young girltortured hour after hour under my eyes by fever and a convulsive,incessant, remorseless cough."

  She buried her face in her hands, and for a moment or two her voicewas choked with sobs.

  "Oh, Madge," cried Graydon, almost fiercely, "you anger me! I wouldstrangle a man who harmed a hair of such a child's head. How can Iworship a God who sends or permits such a thing? You are braver thanI. I could see a man shot, but I couldn't look upon what you havedescribed. Yet the picture brings back the moment when we parted--whenyou struggled feebly in my arms with a premonition of your almostmortal weakness, and then sank back white and deathlike. If you hadnot made so wise and brave an effort you might have lingered on intorture like this poor girl. You stood in just that peril, did younot?"

  "I suppose I did."

  "Oh, what a clod I was! I used to hear you cough night after night,and I would mutter, 'Poor Madge!' and go to sleep. To think that youmight have suffered as this girl is suffering! I never realized itbefore, yet I thought I did. I can't tell you how my whole naturerebels at it all, and pious talk about resignation in the presence ofsuch scenes fairly makes me grind my teeth;" and his brow blackenedlike night in his mental revolt, and his eyes were sternly fixed inhonest, indignant arraignment of the Power he did not scruple to defy,though so impotent to resist.

  Madge brushed away her tears, and watched him earnestly for a moment.In that confused instant she exulted in the strong, generous, kindlymanhood that would not cringe even to omnipotence when apparentlycruel. She said, gently, "Graydon, you are condemning God."

  "I can't help it," he began, impetuously, "that is, such a God--"

  She put her hand over his mouth.

  "I like you better for your words," she continued, "but please don'ttalk so any more. Let what you have said apply to 'such a God--' Iknow what you mean, but there is no such being in existence. Let mefinish my story. We have had too many interruptions, and this secludedroad has an end. I won't try to explain my faith. What happened maymake it clearer to you. Well, Tilly gradually grew quieter, and atlast slept. The tired mother was sleeping also, and I sat at thewindow just as you imagined, my thoughts sad and questioning, to saythe least At last I saw that Tilly was awake, and looking at me withsomething like interest and curiosity. I went to her and asked if Icould do anything.

  "She said, in her slow, feeble way, 'I thought I knew every one abouthere, but I don't remember to have seen you before.'

  "Then I told her who I was, and that her mother was in the next room.

  "'You are very kind,' she said. 'And you are from the hotel. Isn't ita little strange?'

  "'It should not be,' I replied, and explained how I came to stay,adding, 'Don't talk any more. You are not strong enough.'

  "With a quiet smile that astonished me, she said, 'It won't make anydifference, Miss Alden; I shall never be any better, or, rather, Ishall soon be well. My mind seems growing clearer, and I'd like totalk a little. It is strange to see a young girl here. Are you strongand well?'

  "'Yes, very strong, and very glad to help your mother take care ofyou. I was once almost as ill as you are, yet I got well. Cheer up,and let us nurse you back to health.'

  "She shook her head. 'No, that's now impossible. You come and cheerpoor mother and father, Miss Alden. I am more than cheerful, I amhappy.'

  "I made her call me Madge, and said: 'Tell me then in a few words howyou can be happy. My heart has just been aching for you ever since Icame.'

  "Perhaps she saw tears in my eyes, for she said, 'Sit down by me.'Then she took my hand, leaned her cheek upon it, and looked at me withsuch a lovely sympathy in her beautiful dark eyes!

  "'Yes,' she said, 'I see you are young and strong, and you probablyhave wealth and many friends; still I think I am better off than youare. I am almost home, and you may have long, weary journeying beforeyou yet. You ask me why I am happy. I'll just give you the negativereasons: think how much they mean to me--"And there shall be no moredeath, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any morepain." All these may be taken from my life any hour. Think of whatwill be added to it. You believe all this, Madge?'

  "'Yes.'

  "'Then you must know why I am happy, and why I may be better off thanyou are. It will be very hard for father and mother--there will bemore pain for them here in consequence--but soon it will all endforever;
in a little while we shall be together again. So you knownearly all about poor little me,' she said, with another of hersmiles, which were the sweetest, yet most unearthly things I ever saw.'And now tell me about yourself. I'm not able to talk much more forthe present. I'd like to know something about the friend who helpedme through the last few steps of my journey. I can think about you inheaven, you know,' she said, with the sweetest little laugh. 'Don'tlook so sad, Madge. They'll tell you I'm gone soon. "Gone where?" askyourself, and never grieve a moment.'

  "Oh, Graydon, she made it all seem so real, talking there alone in thenight! And it is just as she says or it isn't anything. When yousaid, 'Such a God,' you had in mind a theological phantom, and I don'twonder you felt as you did; but this girl believes in a God who 'soloved the world'--who so loved her--and I do also. Her pain, herthwarted young life, I don't understand any more than I do otherphases of evil, but I can give my allegiance to One who came to takeaway the evil of the world. That's about all the religion I have, andyou mustn't ever say a word against it.

  "Well, there is but little more to tell. Tilly spoke in quiet, brokensentences as her cough permitted, and I told her a little about myselfand sang to her some hymns that mother sang to me when I was a child.With the dawn her mother came in, and was frightened at having sleptso long, but Tilly laughed and said it was just splendid.

  "She was evidently a very intelligent girl, and must have been apretty one, too. She certainly has read a great deal, and has taughtin public schools. There didn't seem to be a trace of morbidnessin her mind or feeling. She was simply trying to make the best ofeverything, and her best certainly is _the_ best. She has helped andcomforted me more than I could her."

  "Comforted you, Madge?"

  "Oh, well," was the somewhat confused reply. "I've had trouble, andshall have again. Who is without it long in this world?"

  "It's almost hard to see how serious trouble can reach you hereafter,you are so strong, so fortified. No, Madge; I'll never say a wordagainst your faith or that of your new friend. Would to Heaven I hadit myself! I wouldn't have missed this talk with you for the world,and you can't know how I appreciate the friendship which has ledyou to speak to me frankly of what is so sacred. All the whirl andpressure of coming life and business shall never blot from my memorythe words you have spoken this morning or the scenes you have made soreal."

  If this were true, how infinitely deeper would have been hisimpression if he could have seen the beautiful girl, now smiling intohis eyes, bowed in agony at that sick-bed, while she acknowledged withstifled sobs that the dying girl _was_ better off--far happier thanshe who had to face almost the certainty of lifelong disappointment.Poor Madge had not told Graydon all her story. She would have diedrather than have her secret known on earth, but she had not feared tobreathe it to one on the threshold of heaven.