A Day of Fate

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER XX

  THANKSGIVING DAY

  On the day before Thanksgiving one of my associates clapped me on theshoulder, and said, laughing: "Morton, what's the matter? You are asnervous as a girl on her wedding-day. I've spoken to you twice, andyou've not answered. Has one of the dragons got the best of you?"

  I woke up, and said quietly, "It isn't a dragon this time."

  Oh, how vividly that evening comes back to me, as I walked swiftlyuptown! It would have been torture to have ridden in a lumbering stageor crawling street-car. I scarcely knew what I thrust into mytravelling bag. I had no idea what I ate for dinner, and only rememberthat I scalded myself slightly with hot coffee. Calling a coupe, Idashed off to a late train that passed through the village nearest tothe farmhouse.

  It had been arranged that I should come the following morning, and thatReuben should meet me, but I proposed to give them a surprise. I couldnot wait one moment longer than I must. I had horrible dreams in thestuffy little room at the village inn, but consoled myself with thethought that "dreams go by contraries."

  After a breakfast on which mine host cleared two hundred per cent, Isecured a light wagon and driver, and started for the world's one Meccafor me. My mind was in a tumult of mingled hope and fear, and Iexperienced all a young soldier's trepidation when going into his firstbattle. If she had not come: if she would not listen to me. The coldperspiration would start out on my brow at the very thought. What amockery Thanksgiving Day would ever become if my hopes weredisappointed. Even now I cannot recall that interminable ride without afaint awakening of the old unrest.

  When within half a mile of the house I dismissed my driver, and startedon at a tremendous pace; but my steps grew slower and slower, and whenthe turn of the road revealed the dear old place just before me, Ileaned against a wall faint and trembling. I marked the spot on which Ihad stood when the fiery bolt descended, and some white shinglesindicated the place on the mossy roof where it had burned its way intothe home that even then enshrined my dearest treasures. I saw thewindow at which Emily Warren had directed the glance that had sustainedmy hope for months. I looked wistfully at the leafless, flowerlessgarden, where I had first recognized my Eve. "Will her manner be likethe present aspect of that garden?" I groaned. I saw the arbor in whichI had made my wretched blunder. I had about broken myself of profanity,but an ugly expression slipped out (I hope the good angel makesallowances for human nature). Recalling the vow I had made in thatarbor, I snatched up my valise and did not stop till I had mounted thepiazza. Further suspense was unendurable. My approach had been unnoted,nor had I seen any of the family. Noiselessly as possible I opened thedoor and stood within the hallway. I heard Mrs. Yocomb's voice in thekitchen. Reuben was whistling upstairs, and Zillah singing her doll tosleep in the dining-room. I took these sounds to be good omens. If shehad not come there would not have been such cheerfulness.

  With silent tread I stole to the parlor door. At my old seat by thewindow was Emily Warren, writing on a portfolio in her lap. For asecond a blur came over my vision, and then I devoured her with my eyesas the famishing would look at food.

  Had she changed? Yes, but only to become tenfold more beautiful, forher face now had that indescribable charm which suffering, noblyendured, imparts. I could have knelt to her like a Catholic to hispatron saint.

  She felt my presence, for she looked up quickly. The portfolio droppedfrom her lap; she was greatly startled, and instinctively put her handto her side; still I thought I saw welcome dawning in her eyes; but atthis moment Zillah sprang into my arms and half smothered me withkisses. Her cries of delight brought Reuben tearing down the stairs,and Mrs. Yocomb, hastening from the kitchen, left the mark of herfloury arm on the collar of my coat as she gave me a motherly salute.Their welcome was so warm, spontaneous, and real that tears came intomy eyes, for I felt that I was no longer a lonely man without kindred.

  But after a moment or two I broke away from them and turned to MissWarren, for after all my Thanksgiving Day depended upon her.

  She had become very pale, but her eyes were glistening at the honestfeeling she had witnessed.

  I held out my hand, and asked, in a low voice, "May I stay?"

  "I could not send you away from such friends, Mr. Morton," she saidgently, "even had I the right," and she held out her hand.

  I think I hurt it, for I grasped it as if I were drowning.

  Reuben had raced down to the barn to call his father, who now followedhim back at a pace that scarcely became his age and Quaker tenets.

  "Richard," he called, as soon as he saw me, "welcome home! Thee's beena long time coming, and yet thee's stolen a march on us after all.Reuben was just going for thee. How did thee get here? There's no trainso early."

  "Oh, I came last night. A ship's cable couldn't hold me the moment Icould get away."

  "Mother, I think that's quite a compliment to us old people," he began,with the humorous twinkle that I so well remembered in his honest eyes."Has thee seen Adah?"

  "Yes, indeed, and she sent more love than I could carry to you all. Shelooked just lovely, and I nearly forgot to go down town that morning."

  Miss Warren was about to leave the room, but the old gentleman caughther hand and asked:

  "Where is thee going, Emily?"

  "Pardon me; I thought you would all have much to say to Mr. Morton."

  "So we have, to be sure. We won't get half through to-day, but that'sno reason for thy leaving us. We are all one family under this roof,thank God, and I'm going to thank Him to-day in good old style and nomake-believe;" and he kept her hand as she sat down by him.

  "If you knew how homesick I've often been you would realize how muchgood your words do me," she replied gratefully.

  "So thee's been homesick, has thee? Well, thee didn't let us know."

  "What good would it have done? I couldn't come before."

  "Well, I am kind of glad thee was homesick. The missing wasn't all onour side. Why, Richard, thee never saw such a disconsolate household aswe were after Emily left. I even lost my appetite--didn't I,mother?--and that's more than I've done for any lady since EbenezerHolcomb cut me out of thy company at a picnic--let me see, how manyyears ago is it, mother?"

  "Thee doesn't think I remember such foolishness, I hope," said the oldlady; but with a rising color almost pretty as the blush I had seen sorecently on Adah's face.

  Mr. Yocomb leaned back and laughed. "See mother blush," he cried. "PoorEbenezer!"

  "Thee'll want more than light nonsense for thy dinner by and by, so Imust go back to the kitchen."

  As she turned away she gave a sweet suggestion of the blushing girl forwhom Ebenezer had sighed in vain, and I said emphatically, "Yes,indeed, Mr. Yocomb, you may well say 'Poor Ebenezer!' How in the worlddid he ever survive it?"

  "Thee's very sympathetic, Richard."

  Miss Warren looked at him threateningly.

  I tried to laugh it off, and said, "Even if he had a millstone for aheart, it must have broken at such a loss."

  "Oh, don't thee worry. He's a hale and hearty grandfather to-day."

  Miss Warren broke into a laugh that set all my nerves tingling. "Yes,"she cried, "I thought it would end in that way."

  "Why, Emily, bless thee!" said Mrs. Yocomb, running in, "I haven'theard thee laugh so since thee came."

  "She's at her old tricks," said her husband; "laughing at Richard andme."

  I found her merriment anything but reassuring, and I muttered under mybreath: "Perdition on Ebenezer and his speedy comfort! I hope she don'tclass me with him."

  Very soon Mrs. Yocomb appeared again, and said: "Father, thee must takethem all out to drive. I can't do anything straight while I hear youall talking and laughing, for my thoughts are with you. I've put saltinto one pie already. A Thanksgiving dinner requires one's whole mind."

  "Bustle, bustle, all get ready. Mother's mistress of this house onThanksgiving Day, if at no other time. We're commanded to obey the'powers that be,' and if the woman who can get
up such a dinner asmother can isn't a 'power,' I'd like to know where we'll find one. I'mvery meek and respectful on Thanksgiving morning. Get on thy wraps,Emily. No mutiny before dinner."

  She seemed very ready to go, for I think she dreaded being left alonewith me. I, too, was glad to gain time, for I was strangely unnervedand apprehensive. She avoided meeting my eyes, and was inscrutable.

  In a few moments we were in the family rockaway, bowling over thecountry at a grand pace.

  "Mother's shrewd," said Mr. Yocomb; "she knew that a ride like this inthe frosty air would give us an appetite for any kind of a dinner, butit will make hers taste like the Feast of Tabernacles. Let 'em go,Reuben, let 'em go!"

  "Do you call this a Quaker pace?" asked Miss Warren, who sat withZillah on the back seat.

  "Yes, I'm acting just as I feel moved. Thee's much too slow for aFriend, Emily. Now I'll wager thee a plum that Richard likes it.Doesn't thee, Richard?"

  "Suppose a wheel should come off," I suggested. "I'm awfully nervousto-day. I was sure the train would break down or run off the track lastnight; then I had horrible dreams at the hotel."

  "Why, Mr. Morton!" Miss Warren exclaimed, "what did you eat for supper?"

  "Bless me! I don't know. Come to think of it, I didn't have any."

  "Did thee have any breakfast?" asked Mr. Yocomb, who seemed greatlyamused.

  "I believe so. I went through the motions."

  "Drive slow, Reuben; Richard's afraid he'll have his neck broken beforedinner;" and they all had a great laugh at my expense.

  "I've won the plum this time," cried Miss Warren.

  "Thee has indeed, and thee deserves it sure enough."

  I looked around at her, but could not catch her eyes. My efforts toemulate Mr. Yocomb's spirit were superhuman, but my success wasindifferent. I was too anxious, too doubtful concerning the girl whowas so gentle and yet so strong. She had far more quietude andself-mastery than I, and with good reason, for she was mistress of thesituation. Still, I gathered hope every hour, for I felt that her facewould not be so happy, so full of brightness, if she proposed to sendme away disappointed, or even put me off on further probation.Nevertheless, my Thanksgiving Day would not truly begin until my hopewas confirmed.

  Dinner was smoking on the table when we returned, and it was soexceedingly tempting that I enjoyed its aroma with much of Mr. Yocomb'ssatisfaction, and I sat down at his right, feeling that if one questionwere settled I would be the most thankful man in the land.

  We bowed our heads in grace; but after a moment Mr. Yocomb arose, andwith uplifted face repeated words that might have been written for theoccasion, so wonderfully adapted to human life is the Book of God.

  "'Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless Hisholy name.

  "'Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: "'Whoforgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;

  "'Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee withloving kindness and tender mercies.

  "'Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth isrenewed like the eagle's.'"

  Never was there a grace so full of grace before. If a kind earthlyfather looks with joy on his happy children, so surely the divineFather must have smiled upon us. In the depths of my heart I respecteda faith that was so simple, genuine, and full of sunshine. Truly, ithad come from heaven, and not from the dyspeptic creeds of cloisteredtheologians.

  "Father," cried Zillah, "thee looked like my picture of King David."

  "Well, I'm in a royal mood," replied her father, "and I don't believeKing David ever had half so good a dinner as mother has provided. Sucha dinner, Richard, is the result of genius. All the cookbooks in theworld couldn't account for it, and I don't believe mother has read oneof them."

  "Thee must give Cynthia part of the credit," protested his wife.

  "She's the woman who says 'Lord a massy,' and insists that I was struckwith lightning, isn't she?" and I glanced toward Miss Warren, but shewouldn't meet my eye. Her deepening color told of a busy memory,however. Mr. Yocomb began to laugh so heartily that he dropped hisknife and fork on the table and leaned back in his chair quite overcome.

  "Father, behave thyself," his wife remonstrated.

  At last the old gentleman set to work in good earnest. "Emily," hesaid, "this is that innocent young gobbler that thee so commiserated.Thee hasn't the heart to eat him, surely."

  "I'll take a piece of the breast, if you please."

  "Wouldn't thee like his heart?"

  "No, I thank you."

  "What part would thee like, Richard?"

  "Anything but his wings and legs. They would remind me how soon I mustgo back to awful New York."

  "Not before Second Day."

  "Yes, sir, to-morrow morning. An editor's play-spells are few and farbetween."

  "Well, Richard, thee thrives on work," said Mrs. Yocomb.

  "Yes. I've found it good for me."

  "And you have done good work, Mr. Morton," added Miss Warren. "I likeyour paper far better now."

  "But you stopped it."

  "Did you find that out?"

  "Indeed I did, and very quickly."

  "My cousin, Mrs. Vining, took the paper."

  "Yes, I know that, too."

  "Why, Mr. Morton! do you keep track of all your readers? Thecirculation of your paper cannot be large."

  "I looked after Mrs. Vining carefully, but no further."

  "I shall certainly tell her of your interest," she said, with her oldmirthful gleam.

  "Please do. The people at the office would be agape with wonder if theyknew of the influence resulting from Mrs. Vining's name being on thesubscription list."

  "Not a disastrous influence, I trust?"

  "It has occasioned us some hot work. My chief says that nearly all thedragons in the country are stirred up."

  "And some of them have been sorely wounded-I've noted that too," saidthe girl, flushing with pleasure in spite of herself.

  "Yes, please tell Mrs. Vining that also. Credit should be given whereit's due."

  Her laugh now rang out with its old-time genuineness. "Cousin Adelaidewould be more agape than the people of your office. I think the dragonsowe their tribulations to your disposition to fight them."

  "If you could see some words in illuminated text over my desk you wouldknow better."

  "Mr. Yocomb, don't you think we are going to have an early winter?" sheasked abruptly, with a fine color in her face.

  "I don't think it's going to be cold--not very cold, Emily. There areprospects of a thaw to-day;" and the old gentleman leaned back in hischair and shook with suppressed merriment.

  "Father, behave thyself. Was there ever such a man!" Mrs. Yocombexclaimed reproachfully.

  "I know you think there never was and never will be, Mrs. Yocomb," Icried, controlling myself with difficulty, for the old gentleman'smanner was irresistibly droll and instead of the pallor that used tomake my heart ache, Miss Warren's face was like a carnation rose. Myhope grew apace, for her threatening looks at Mr. Yocomb contained notrace of pain or deep annoyance, while the embarrassment she could nothide so enhanced her loveliness that it was a heavy cross to withholdmy eager eyes. Reuben kindly came to our relief, for he said:

  "I tell thee what it is, mother: I feel as if we ought to have Dapplein here with us."

  "Emily, wouldn't thee rather have Old Plod?" Mr. Yocomb asked.

  "No!" she replied brusquely; and this set her kind tormentor off oncemore.

  But an earnest look soon came into his face, and he said, with eyesmoist with feeling:

  "Well, this is a time of thanksgiving, and never before in all my lifehas my heart seemed so full of gladness and gratitude. Richard, I creptin this old home when I was a baby, and I whistled through the housejust as Reuben does. In this very room my dear old father trimmed myjacket for me, God bless him! Oh, I deserved it richly; but mother'ssorrowful looks cut deeper, I can tell thee. It was to this home Ibrought the pr
ettiest lass in the county--what am I saying?--theprettiest lass in the world. No offence to thee, Emily; thee wasn'talive then. If every man had such a home as thee has made for me andthe children, mother, the millennium would begin before nextThanksgiving. In this house my children were born, and here they haveplayed. I've seen their happy faces in every nook and corner, and witheverything I have a dear association. In this home we bade good-by toour dear little Ruth; she's ours still, mother, and she is at home,too, as we are; but everything in this house that our little angelchild touched has become sacred to me. Ah, Richard, there are somethings in life that thee hasn't learned yet, and all the books couldn'tteach thee; but what I have said to thee reveals a little of my lovefor this old home. How I love those whom God has given me, only Heknows. Well, He directed thy random steps to us one day last June, andwe welcomed thee as a stranger. But thee has a different welcometo-day, Richard--a very different welcome. Thee doesn't like to hearabout it; but we never forget."

  "No, Richard, we never forget," Mrs. Yocomb breathed softly.

  "Do you think, sir, that I forget the unquestioning hospitality thatbrought me here? Can you think, Mrs. Yocomb, I ever forget the wordsyou spoke to me in yonder parlor on the evening of my arrival? or thatI should have died but for your devoted and merciful care? This day,with its hopes, teaches me how immeasurable would have been my loss,for my prospects then were not bright for either world. Rest assured,dear friends, I have my memories too. The service I rendered you anyman would have given, and it was my unspeakable good-fortune to behere. But the favors which I have received have been royal; they aresuch as I could not receive from others, because others would beincapable of bestowing them."

  "You are right, Mr. Morton," Miss Warren began impetuously, her lovelyeyes full of tears. "I, too, have received kindnesses that could notcome from others, because others would not know how to confer them withyour gentleness and mercy, Mrs. Yocomb. Oh! oh! I wish I could make youand your husband know how I thank you. I, too, never forget. But if wetalk this way any more, I shall have to make a hasty retreat." "Well, Ishould say this _was_ a thanksgiving dinner," remarked Reubensententiously.

  Since we couldn't cry, we all laughed, and I thanked the boy forletting us down so cleverly. The deep feeling that memories would evokein spite of ourselves sank back into the depths of our hearts. Theshadow on our faces passed like an April cloud, and the sunshine becameall the sweeter and brighter.

  "If Adah were only here!" I cried. "I miss her more and more everymoment, and the occasion seems wholly incomplete without her."

  "Yes, dear child, I miss her too, more than I can tell you," said Mrs.Yocomb, her eyes growing very tender and wistful. "She's thinking ofus. Doesn't thee think she has improved? She used to read thosemagazines thee sent her till I had to take them away and send her tobed."

  "I can't tell you how proud I am of Adah. It was like a June day to seeher fair sweet face in the city, and it would have had done your heartsgood if you could have heard how she spoke of you all."

  "Adah is very proud of her big brother, too, I can tell thee. Shequotes thy opinions on all occasions."

  "The one regret of my visit is that I shall not see her," Miss Warrensaid earnestly. "Mrs. Yocomb, I have those roses she gave me the daybefore I left you last summer, and I shall always keep them. I toldCousin Adelaide that they were given to me by the best and mostbeautiful girl in the world."

  "God bless the girl!" ejaculated Mr. Yocomb; "she has become a greatcomfort and joy to me;" and his wife smiled softly and tenderly.

  "Adah is so good to me," cried Zillah, "that if Emily hadn't come Iwouldn't have half enjoyed the day."

  "What does thee think of that view of the occasion, Richard?" asked Mr.Yocomb.

  "Zillah and I always agreed well together," I said; "but I wish Adahknew how much we miss her."

  "She shall know," said her mother. "I truly wish we had all of ourchildren with us to-day; for, Richard, we have adopted thee and Emilywithout asking your consent. I think the lightning fused us alltogether."

  I looked with a quick flash toward Miss Warren, but her eyes were onthe mother, and they were full of a daughter's love.

  "Dear Mrs. Yocomb," I replied, in a voice not over-steady, "you knowthat as far as fusing was concerned I was the worst struck of you all,and this day proves that I am no longer without kindred."

  But how vain the effort to reproduce the light and shade that filledthe quaint, simple room! How vain the attempt to make the myriadripples of that hour flow and sparkle again, each one of us meanwhileconscious of the depths beneath them!