CHAPTER VI
WEAKNESS
Soul and body are too nearly related for one to suffer without theother's sympathy. Mrs. Yocomb mercifully shielded me that evening,merely saying that I had seen enough company for one day. My sleep thatnight resulted from opiates instead of nature's impulses, and so wasunrefreshing, and the doctor was surprised to find a change for theworse the following morning. For two or three days the scale wavered,and I scarcely held what I had gained. Mrs. Yocomb rarely left me, andI believe that I owe my life not only to her excellent nursing, buteven more to her strong moral support--her gentle but unspokensympathy. I knew she understood me, and that her mercy was infinite formy almost mortal weakness; for now that the inexplicable buoyancy whichthat chief of earthly hopes imparts was gone, I sank into an abyss ofdespondency from which I feared I could never escape. Her wisdom andintuitive delicacy led her to select Reuben as her chief assistant. Ifound his presence very restful; for, so far from suspecting, he couldnot understand a wound often more real and painful than any received onbattlefields. I now could not have endured Adah's intent and curiousscrutiny, and yet I deeply appreciated her kindness, for she kept mytable laden with delicate fruits and flowers.
The dainty little vase was replenished daily also with clusters ofroses--roses only--and I soon recognized rare and perfect buds that atthis late season only a florist could supply. The pleasure they gavewas almost counterbalanced by the pain. Their exquisite color andfragrance suggested a character whose perfection daily made mydisappointment more intolerable. At last Mrs. Yocomb said:
"Richard Morton, is thee doing thy best to get well? Thee's incurring agrave responsibility if thee is not. Emily Warren is quite alone in theworld and she came to me as to a mother when thee was taken ill, andtold me of thy unfortunate attachment. As thee said, she is not toblame, and yet such is her kindly and sensitive nature that she suffersquite as much as if she were wholly to blame. Her life almost dependson thine. She is growing pale and ill. She eats next to nothing, and Ifear she sleeps but little. She is just waiting in miserable suspenseto see if thee will keep thy word and live. I believe thee _can_ live,and grow strong and good and noble, if thee will."
"Oh, Mrs. Yocomb, how you must despise me! If you but knew how I loathemyself."
"No, I'm sorry for thee from the depths of my heart. If thee's doingthy best, I've not a word to say; but thee should know the truth. AsEmily said, thee has the power either to embitter her life or to addvery much to its happiness."
"Well," I said, "if I have not the strength to overcome this unmanly,contemptible weakness, I ought to die, and the sooner the better. IfI'm worth life, I shall live."
If ever a weak, nerveless body yielded to an imperious will, mine did.From that hour, as far as possible, I gave my whole thought torecovery, and was as solicitous as I before had been apathetic. Nocaptain could have been more so in regard to his ship, which he fearsmay not outride a storm.
I appealed to Dr. Bates to rack his brains in the preparation of themost effective tonics, I took my food with scrupulous regularity; andin the effort to oxygenize my thin pale blood, drew long respirationsof the pure summer air. Mrs. Yocomb daily smiled a warmer and morehearty encouragement.
Under the impetus of a resolute purpose the wheels of life began tomove steadily and at last rapidly toward the goal of health. I soon wasable to sit up part of the day.
As I rallied, I could not help recognizing the richer coloring thatcame into the life at the farmhouse, and the fact touched me deeply.
"What is my suffering compared with the happiness of this home?" Ithought. "It would have been brutally selfish to have died."
I now had my letters brought to me. My paper--my first love--was dailyread, and my old interest in its welfare kindled slowly.
"Work," I said, "is the best of antidotes. It shall be my remedy. Menare respected only as they stand on their feet and work, and I shallwin her respect to the utmost."
Reuben and Adah read to me. The presence of the former, like that ofhis father and mother, was very restful; but Adah began to puzzle me.At first I ascribed her manner to an extravagant sense of gratitude,and the romantic interest which a young girl might naturally take inone who had passed with her through peril, and who seemingly had beendangerously ill in consequence; but I was compelled at last to see thather regard was not open, frank, and friendly, but shy, absorbing, andjealous. It gave her unmingled satisfaction that I did not ask for MissWarren, and she rarely spoke of her. When she did she watched mekeenly, as if seeking to read my thoughts. Reuben, on the contrary,spoke freely of her; but, from some restraint placed upon him by hismother probably, did not ask her to relieve him in his care of me again.
After I began to sit up, Miss Warren would not infrequently come to mydoor, when others were present, and smilingly express her gladness thatI was improving daily. Indeed there would often be quite gay reparteebetween us, and I think that even Adah was so blinded by our mannerthat her suspicions were allayed. It evidently puzzled her, and Reubenalso, that I had apparently lost my interest in one who had such greatattractions for me at first. But Adah was not one to seek long anddeeply for subtle and hidden causes of action. She had a quick eye,however, for what was apparent, and scanned surfaces narrowly. I fear Iperplexed her as sorely as she did me.
In spite of every effort to remain blind to the truth, I began to fearthat she was inclined to give me a regard which I had not sought, andwhich would embarrass me beyond measure.
That a man can exult over a passion in a woman which he cannot requiteis marvellous. That he can look curiously, critically, and complacentlyon this most sacred mystery of a woman's soul, that he can care no morefor her delicate incense than would a grim idol, is proof that hisheart is akin to the stony idol in material, and his nature like thatof the gross, cruel divinity represented. The vanity that can feed onsuch food has a more depraved appetite than the South Sea Islander, whois content with human flesh merely. It would seem that there are thosewho can smile to see a woman waste the richest treasures of herspiritual life which were designed to last and sustain through the longjourney of life--ay, and even boast of her immeasurable loss, of whichthey, wittingly or unwittingly, have been the cause.
The oddest part of it all is that women can love such men instead ofregarding them as spider-like monsters that, were the doctrine oftransmigration true, would become spiders again as soon as compelled todrop their human disguise.
But women usually idealize the men they love into something verydifferent from what they are. Heaven knows that I was not a saint; butI am glad that it caused me pain, and pain only, as I saw Adah shylyand almost unconsciously bending on me glances laden with a pricelessgift, which, nevertheless, I could not receive.
Her nature was too simple and direct for disguises, and when sheattempted them they were often so apparent as to be comically pathetic.And yet she did attempt them. There was nothing bold and unmaidenly inher manner, and as I look back upon those days I thank God that I wasnever so graceless and brutal as to show or feel anything like contemptfor her gentle, childlike preference. Very possibly also my ownunfortunate experience made me more considerate, and it was my policyto treat her with the same frank, undisguised affection that Imanifested toward Zillah, with, of course, the differences required bytheir different ages.
Adah was no longer repulsive to me. The events of that memorable nightof storm and danger, and the experiences that followed, had apparentlyawakened her better nature, which, although having a narrow compass,was gentle and womanly. Her old flippancy was gone. My undisguisedpreference for Miss Warren after I had actually made her acquaintance,and my persistent blindness to everything verging toward sentiment, hadperhaps done something toward dispelling her belief that beauty anddress were irresistible. Thus she may have been led honestly to compareherself with Emily Warren, who was not only richly endowed but highlycultivated; at any rate her small vanity had vanished also, and she wasin contrast as self-distrustful and hesitating in
manner as sheformerly had been abrupt and self-asserting. Moreover she had eitherlost her interest in her neighbor's petty affairs, or else had beenmade to feel that a tendency to gossip was not a captivating trait, andwe heard no more about what this one said or that one wore on herreturn from meeting. While her regard was undoubtedly sincere, I feltand hoped that it was merely a sentiment attendant on her wakening andfuller spiritual life, rather than an abiding and deep attachment; andI believed that it would soon be replaced by other interests after mydeparture. For my own sake as well as hers I had decided to leave thefarmhouse as speedily as possible, but I soon began to entertain thetheory that I could dispel her dreams better by remaining a littlelonger, and by proving that she held the same place in my thoughts asZillah, and could possess no other. There would then be no vainimaginings after I had gone.
I rather wanted to stay until I had fully recovered my health, for Iwas beginning to take pride in my self-mastery. If I could regain myfooting, and stand erect in such quiet, manly strength as to changeMiss Warren's sympathy into respect only, I felt that I would achieve avictory that would be a source of satisfaction for the rest of life.That I could do this I honestly doubted, for seemingly she hadenthralled my whole being, and her power over me was wellnighirresistible.
I knew that she understood Adah even better than I did, and it seemedher wish to afford the girl every opportunity, for she never came toask how I was when Adah was present; and the latter was honest enoughto tell me that it was Miss Warren who had suggested some of the simpleyet interesting stories with which my long hours of convalescence werebeguiled; but in her latent jealousy she could not help adding:
"Since Emily Warren selected them, thee cannot help liking them."
"I certainly ought to like them doubly," I had quietly replied, lookingdirectly into her eyes, "since I am indebted for them to two friendsinstead of one."
"There's a great difference in friends," she said significantly.
"Yes, indeed," I replied, smiling as frankly as if I had been talkingto Zillah; "and your mother is the best friend I have or ever expect tohave."
Adah had sighed deeply, and had gone on with her reading in a girlish,plaintive voice that was quite different from her ordinary tones.
Unconsciously she had imbibed the idea--probably from what she oftenheard at meeting--that anything read or spoken consecutively must be ina tone different from that used in ordinary conversation, and shealways lifted up her voice into an odd, plaintive little monotone, thatwas peculiar, but not at all disagreeable. It would not have beennatural in another, but was perfectly so to her, and harmonized withher unique character. The long words even in the simple stories wereoften formidable obstacles, and she would look up apprehensively, andcolor for fear I might be laughing at her; but I took pains to gazequietly through the window in serene unconsciousness. She also stumbledbecause her thoughts evidently were often far away from her book, butat my cordial thanks when finishing the story her face would glow withpleasure. And yet she missed something in my thanks, or else saw, inthe quiet manner with which I turned to my letters or paper, that whichwas unsatisfactory, and she would sigh as she left the room. Hergentle, patient efforts to please me, which oddly combined maidenlyshyness and childlike simplicity, often touched the depths of my heart,and the thought came more than once, "If this is more than a girlishfancy, and time proves that I am essential to her happiness--which isextremely doubtful--perhaps I can give her enough affection to contenta nature like hers."
But one glimpse of Emily Warren would banish this thought, for itseemed as if my very soul were already wedded to her. "The thought ofanother is impossible," I would mutter. "She was my fate."
Four or five of the days during which I had been sufficiently strong tosit up had passed away, and I was able to give more of my time to mymail and paper, and thus to seem preoccupied when Adah came to read. Ifound Zillah also a useful though unconscious ally, and I lured herinto my room by innumerable stories. Reuben and Mr. Yocomb were nowvery busy in their harvest, and I saw them chiefly in the evening, butthey were too tired to stay long. Time often hung wofully heavy on myhands, and I longed to be out of doors again; but Mrs. Yocomb wasprudently inexorable. I am sure that she restrained Adah a great deal,for she grew less and less demonstrative in manner, and I was left moreto myself.
Thus a week passed. It was Saturday morning, and between the harvestwithout and preparations for Sunday within, all the inmates of thefarmhouse were very busy. The forenoon had wellnigh passed. I hadexhausted every expedient to kill time, and was looking on thelandscape shimmering in the fierce sunlight with an apathy that wasdull and leaden in contrast, when a low knock caused me to look up; butinstead of Adah, as I expected, Miss Warren stood in the doorway.
"They are all so busy to-day," she said hesitatingly, "that I thought Imight help you pass an hour or two. It seems too bad that you should beleft to yourself so long."
To my disgust, I--who had resolved to be so strong and self-poised inher presence--felt that every drop of blood in my body had rushed intomy face. It certainly must have been very apparent, for her colorbecame vivid also.
"I fear I was having a stupid time," I began awkwardly. "I don't wantto make trouble. Perhaps Mrs. Yocomb needs your help."
"No," she said, smiling, "you can't banish me on that ground. I've beenhelping Mrs. Yocomb all the morning. She's teaching me how to cook.I've succeeded in proving that the family would have a fit ofindigestion that might prove fatal were it wholly dependent on myperformances."
"Tell me what you made?" I said eagerly. "Am I to have any of it for mydinner?"
"Indeed you are not. Dr. Bates would have me indicted."
She looked at me with solicitude, for although I had laughed with her Ifelt ill and faint. Despairingly, I thought, "I cannot see her andlive. I must indeed go away."
"So you are coming downstairs to-morrow?" she began. "We shall give yona welcome that ought to make any man proud. Mrs. Yocomb is all aglowwith her preparations."
"I wish they wouldn't do so," I said, in a pained tone. "I'd muchrather slip quietly into my old place as if nothing had happened."
"I imagined you would feel so, Mr. Morton," she said gently; "but somuch has happened that you must let them express their aboundinggratitude in their own way. It will do them good, and they will be thehappier for it."
"Indeed, Miss Warren, that very word gratitude oppresses me. There isno occasion for their feeling so. Why, Hiram, their man, could not havedone less. I merely happened to be here. It's all the other way now. Ifever a man was overwhelmed with kindness, I have been. How can I everrepay Mrs. Yocomb?"
"I am equally helpless in that respect; but I'm glad to think thatbetween some of our friends the question of repaying may be forgotten.I never expect to repay Mrs. Yocomb."
"Has she done so much for you, also?"
"Yes, more than I can tell you."
"Well," I said, trying to laugh, "if I ever write another paragraph itwill be due to her good nursing."
"That is my chief cause for gratitude," she said hurriedly, the colordeepening again in her cheeks. "If you hadn't--if--I know of your braveeffort to get well, too--she told me."
"Yes, Miss Warren," I said quietly, "I am now doing my best."
"And you are doing nobly--so nobly that I am tempted to give you astrong proof of friendship; to tell you what I have not told any oneexcept Mrs. Yocomb. I feel as if I had rather you heard it from me thancasually from others. It will show how--how I trust you."
My very heart seemed to stand still, and I think my pallor alarmed her;but feeling that she had gone too far, she continued hurriedly, takinga letter from her pocket:
"I expect my friend to-night. He's been absent, and now writes that hewill--"
I shrank involuntarily as if from a blow, and with her face full ofdistress she stopped abruptly.
Summoning the whole strength of my manhood, I rallied sufficiently tosay, in a voice that I knew was unnatural from the stress I wa
s under:
"I congratulate you. I trust you may be very happy."
"I had hoped--" she began. "I would be if I saw that you were happy."
"You are always hoping," I replied, trying to laugh, "that I may becomesane and rational. Haven't you given that up yet? I shall be very happyto-morrow, and will drink to the health of you both."
She looked at me very dubiously, and the trouble in her face did notpass away. "Let me read to you," she said abruptly. "I brought with meHawthorne's 'Mosses from an Old Manse.' They are not too familiar, Itrust?"
"I cannot hear them too often," I said, nerving myself as if fortorture.
She began to read that exquisite little character study, "The GreatStone Face." Her voice was sweet and flexible, and varied with thethought as if the words had been set to music. At first I listened withdelight to hear my favorite author so perfectly interpreted; but soon,too soon, every syllable added to my sense of unutterable loss.
Possibly she intuitively felt my distress, possibly she saw it as Itried to look as stoical as an Indian chief who is tortured on everyside with burning brands. At any rate she stopped, and saidhesitatingly:
"You--you do not enjoy my reading."
With a rather grim smile I replied: "Nothing but the truth will answerwith you. I must admit I do not."
"Would--would you like to hear something else?" she asked, in evidentembarrassment.
"Nothing is better than Hawthorne," I said. "I--I fear I'm not yetstrong enough." Then, after a second's hesitation, I spoke outdespairingly: "Miss Warren, I may as well recognize the truth at once,I never shall be strong enough. I've overrated myself. Good-by."
She trembled; tears came into her eyes, and she silently left the room.So abrupt was her departure that it seemed like a flight.
After she had gone I tottered to my feet, with an imprecation on myweakness, and I took an amount of stimulant that Dr. Bates would neverhave prescribed; but it had little effect. In stony, sullen protest atmy fate, I sat down again, and the hours passed like eternities.
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