CHAPTER XI
"MOVED"
"Mr. Yocomb," I said, as we mounted the piazza, "what is the cause ofthe smoke rising above yonder mountain to the east of us? I havenoticed it several times this afternoon, and it seems increasing."
"That mountain was on fire on Saturday. I hoped the rain of last nightwould put it out, but it was a light shower, and the fire is underheadway again. It now seems creeping up near the top of the mountain,for I think I see a faint light."
"I do distinctly; the mountain begins to remind me of a volcano."
"The moon will rise before very long, and you may be treated to a grandsight if the fire burns, as I fear it will."
"This is a day of fate," I said, laughing, "and almost any event thatcould possibly happen would not surprise me."
"It has seemed a very quiet day to me," said the old gentleman."Neither mother nor any one on the high seat had a message for us thismorning, and this afternoon I took a very long nap. If thee had notcome and stirred us up a little, and Emily Warren had not laughed at usboth, I would call it almost a dull day, as far as any peaceful day canbe dull. Such days, however, are quite to my mind, and thee'll like 'embetter when thee sees my age."
"I'm inclined to think," I replied, "that the great events of lifewould rarely make even an item in a newspaper."
Mrs. Yocomb looked as if she understood me, but Miss Warren remarked,with a mischievous glance:
"Personals are generally read."
"Editors gossip about others, not themselves."
"You admit they gossip."
"That one did little else seems your impression."
"News and gossip are different things; but I'm glad your conscience sotroubles you that you exaggerate my words."
"Emily Warren, thee can squabble with Richard Morton all day to-morrowafter thy amiable fashion, but I'm hankering after some of thy music."
"I will keep you waiting no longer, sir, and would have come before,but I did not wish you to see Mr. Morton while he was in a verylamentable condition."
"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked Adah, who had just joined usin the lighted hall; "he seems to have very queer complaints."
"He admits that he was intoxicated, and he certainly talked verystrangely."
"Miss Adah, did I talk strangely or wildly this afternoon?"
"No, indeed, I think you talked very nicely; and I told Silas Jonesthat I never met a gentleman before who looked at things so exactly asI did."
This was dreadful. I saw that Miss Warren was full of suppressedmerriment, and was glad that Mrs. Yocomb was in the parlor lighting thelamps.
"I suppose Mr. Jones was glad to hear what you said," I remarked,feeling that I must say something.
"He may have been, but he did not look so."
"Mr. Yocomb, you have your daughter's testimony that I was sober thisafternoon, and since that time I have enjoyed nothing stronger thanmilk and the odor of your old-fashioned roses. If I was in a lamentablecondition in the garden, Miss Warren was the cause, and so is wholly toblame."
"Emily Warren, does thee know that thy mother Eve made trouble in agarden?"
"I've not the least intention of taking Mr. Morton out of the garden.He may go back at once, and I have already suggested that you wouldgive him plenty of hoeing and weeding there."
"I'm not so sure about that; I fear he'd make the same havoc in mygarden that I'd make in his newspaper."
"Then you think an editor has no chance for Eden?"
"Thee had better talk to mother about that. If there's any chance forthee at all she'll give thee hope. Now, Emily Warren, we are all ready.Sing some hymns that will give us all hope--no, sing hymns of faith."
Adah took a seat on the sofa, and glanced encouragingly at me, but Ifound a solitary chair by an open window, where I could look out acrossthe valley to the burning mountain, and watch the stars come out in thedarkening sky. Within I faced Miss Warren's profile and the familygroup.
I had not exaggerated when I told Miss Warren that I was conscious of afine exhilaration. Sleep and rest had banished all dragged and jadedfeelings. For hours my mind had been free from a sense of hurry andresponsibility, which made it little better than a driving machine. Inthe mental leisure and quiet which I now enjoyed I had grownreceptive--highly sensitive indeed--to the culminating scenes of thismemorable day. Even little things and common words had a significancethat I would not have noted ordinarily, and the group before me was notordinary. Each character took form with an individuality as sharplydefined as their figures in the somewhat dimly lighted room, and when Ilooked without into the deepening June night it seemed an obscure andnoble background, making the human life within more real and attractive.
Miss Warren sat before her piano quietly for a moment, and her facegrew thoughtful and earnest. It was evident that she was not about toperform some music, but that she would unite with her sincere andsimple friends, Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb, in giving expression to feelingsand truths that were as real to her as to them.
"How perfectly true she is!" I thought, as I noted the sweet, childlikegravity of her face. Then, in a voice that proved to be a sympathetic,pure soprano, well trained, but not at all great, she sang:
"My faith looks up to Thee."
Their faith seemed very real and definite, and I could not help feelingthat it would be a cruel and terrible thing if that pronoun "Thee"embodied no living and loving personality. The light in their faces,like that of a planet beaming on me through the open window, appearedbut the inevitable reflection of a fuller, richer spiritual light thatnow shone full upon them.
One hymn followed another, and Reuben, who soon came in, seemed to haveseveral favorites. Little Zillah had early asked for those she likedbest, and then her head had dropped down into her mother's lap, andMiss Warren's sweet tones became her lullaby, her innocent, sleepingface making another element in a picture that was outlining itselfdeeply in my memory.
Adah, having found that she could not secure my attention, had falleninto something like a revery. Very possibly she was planning out thedress that she meant to "cut to suit herself," but in their repose herfeatures became very beautiful again.
Her face to me, however, was now no more than a picture on the wall;but the face of the childlike woman that was so wise and gifted, andyet so simple and true, had for me a fascination that excited mywonder. I had seen scores of beautiful women--I lived in a city wherethey abounded--but I had never seen this type of face before. The truththat I had not was so vivid that it led to the thought that, like thefirst man, I had seen in the garden the one woman of the world, themistress of my fate. A second later I was conscious of a sickeningfear. To love such a woman, and yet not be able to win her--how couldone thereafter go on with life! Beware, Richard Morton! On this quietJune evening, in this home of peace and the peaceful, and with hymns oflove and faith breathed sweetly into your ears, you may be in thedirest peril of your life. From this quiet hour may come the unrest ofa lifetime. Then Hope whispered of better things. I said to myself, "Idid not come to this place. I wandered hither, or was led hither; andto every influence of this day I shall yield myself. If some kindlyPower has led me to this woman of crystal truth, I shall be the mostegregious fool in the universe if I do not watch and wait for furtherpossibilities of good."
How sweet and luminous her face seemed in contrast with the vaguedarkness without! More sweet and luminous would her faith be in themidst of the contradictions, obscurities, and evils of the world. Thehome that enshrined such a woman would be a refuge for a man's temptedsoul, as well as a resting-place for his tired body.
"Sing 'Tell me the Old, Old Story,'" said Mr. Yocomb, in his warm,hearty way. Was I a profane wretch because the thought would come thatif I could draw, in shy, hesitating admission, another story as old asthe world it would be heavenly music?
Could it have been that it was my intent gaze and concentrated thoughtthat made her turn suddenly to me after complying with Mr. Yocomb'srequest? She colored sl
ightly as she met my eyes, but said quietly,"Mr. Morton, you have expressed no preference yet."
"I have enjoyed everything you have sung," I replied, and I quietlysustained her momentary and direct gaze.
She seemed satisfied, and smiled as she said, "Thank you, but you shallhave your preference also."
"Miss Warren, you have sung some little time, and perhaps your voice istired. Do you play Chopin's Twelfth Nocturne? That seems to me like aprayer."
"I'm glad you like that," she said, with a pleased, quick glance. "Iplay it every Sunday night when I am alone."
A few moments later and we were all under the spell of that exquisitemelody which can fitly give expression to the deepest and tenderestfeelings and most sacred aspirations of the heart.
Did I say all? I was mistaken. Adah's long lashes were drooping, herface was heavy with sleep, and it suggested flesh and blood, and fleshand blood only.
Miss Warren's eyes, in contrast, were moist, her mouth tremulous withfeeling, and her face was a beautiful transparency, through which shonethose traits which already made her, to me, pre-eminent among women.
I saw Mrs. Yocomb glance from one girl to the other, then close hereyes, while a strong expression of pain passed over her face. Her lipsmoved, and she undoubtedly was speaking to One near to her, though sofar, seemingly, from most of us.
A little later there occurred one or two exquisite movements in theprayer harmony, and I turned to note their effect on Mrs. Yocomb, andwas greatly struck by her appearance. She was looking fixedly intospace, and her face had assumed a rapt, earnest, seeking aspect, as ifshe were trying to see something half hidden in the far distance. Witha few rich chords the melody ceased. Mr. Yocomb glanced at his wife,then instantly folded his hands and assumed an attitude of reverentexpectancy. Reuben did likewise. At the cessation of the music Adahopened her eyes, and by an instinct or habit seemed to know what toexpect, for her face regained the quiet repose it had worn at themeeting-house in the morning.
Miss Warren turned toward Mrs. Yocomb, and sat with bowed head. For afew moments we remained in perfect silence. There was a faint flash oflight, followed after an interval by a low, deep reverberation. Thevoices in nature seemed heavy and threatening. The sweet, gentlemonotone of the woman's voice, as she began to speak, was divine incontrast. Slowly she enunciated the sentences:
"What I do, thou knowest not now: but thou shalt know hereafter."
After a pause she continued: "As the dear young friend was playing,these words were borne in upon my mind. They teach the necessity offaith. Thanks be to the God of heaven and earth, that He who spakethese words is so worthy of the faith He requires! The disciple of oldcould not always understand his Lord; no more can we. We often shrinkfrom that which is given in love, and grasp at that which woulddestroy. Though but little, weak, erring children, we would impose onthe all-wise God our way, instead of meekly accepting His way. Surely,the One who speaks has a right to do what pleases His divine will. Heis the sovereign One, the Lord of lords; and though He slay me, yetwill I trust in Him.
"But though it is a King that speaks, He does not speak as a king. Heis talking to His friends; He is serving them with a humility andmeekness that no sinful mortal has surpassed. He is proving, by theplain, simple teaching of actions, that we are not merely His subjects,but His brethren, His sisters; and that with Him we shall form onehousehold of faith, one family in God. He is teaching the sin ofarrogance and the folly of pride. He is proving, for all time, thatserving--not being served--is God's patent of nobility. We should notdespise the lowliest, for none can stoop so far as He stooped."
Every few moments her low, sweet voice had, as an accompaniment,distant peals of thunder, that after every interval rolled nearer andjarred heavier among the mountains. More than once I saw Miss Warrenstart nervously, and glance apprehensively at the open window where Isat, and through which the lightning gleamed with increasing vividness.Adah maintained the same utterly quiet, impassive face, and it seemedto me that she heard nothing and thought of nothing. Her eyes wereopen; her mind was asleep. She appeared an exquisite breathingcombination of flesh and blood, and nothing more. Reuben looked at hismother with an expression of simple affection; but one felt that he didnot realize very deeply what she was saying; but Mr. Yocomb's faceglowed with an honest faith and strong approval.
"The Master said," continued Mrs. Yocomb, after one of the littlepauses that intervened between her trains of thought, "'What I do, thouknowest not now.' There He might have stopped. Presuming is the subjectthat asks his king for the why and wherefore of all that he does. Theking is the highest of all; and if he be a king in truth, he sees thefurthest of all. It is folly for those beneath the throne to expect tosee so far, or to understand why the king, in his far-reachingprovidence, acts in a way mysterious to them. Our King is kingly, andHe sees the end from the beginning. His plans reach through eternities.Why should He ever be asked to explain to such as we? Nevertheless, tothe fishermen of Galilee, and to us, He does say, 'Thou shalt knowhereafter.'
"The world is full of evil. We meet its sad mysteries on every side, inevery form. It often touches us very closely--" For a moment some deepemotion choked her utterance. Involuntarily, I glanced at Adah. Hereyes were drooping a little heavily again, and her bosom rose and fellin the long, quiet breath of complete repose. Miss Warren was regardingthe suffering mother with the face of a pitying angel.
"And its evils _are_ evil," resumed the sad-hearted woman, in a tonethat was full of suppressed anguish; "at least, they seem so, and Idon't understand them--I can't understand them, nor why they arepermitted; but He has promised that good shall come out of the evil,and has said, 'Thou shalt know hereafter.' Oh, blessed hereafter! whenall clouds shall have rolled away, and in the brightness of my Lord'spresence every mystery that now troubles me shall be made clear. DearLord, I await Thine own time. Do what seemeth good in Thine own eyes;"and she meekly folded her hands and bowed her head. For a moment or twothere was the same impressive silence that fell upon us before shespoke. Then a louder and nearer peal of thunder awakened Zillah, whoraised her head from her mother's lap and looked wonderingly around, asif some one had called her.
Never had I witnessed such a scene before, and I turned toward thedarkness that I might hide the evidence of feelings that I could notcontrol.
A second later I sprang to my feet, exclaiming, "Wonderful!"
Miss Warren came toward me with apprehension in her face, but I sawthat she noted my moist eyes.
I hastened from the room, saying, "Come out on the lawn, all of you,for we may now witness a scene that is grand indeed."
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