X
The grandfather's clock which stood in the hall struck twelve. My eyesseemed loath to close in sleep. It is true I had not gone to bed tillhalf-past eleven, but usually Sleep sat upon my pillow, and proceeded toblindfold me a few minutes after my going to bed. To-night, uponreaching my room, I had read and smoked, and smoked and read, until mynerves had been brought back to their normal state. It fretted me not atrifle to know that a girl from boarding-school had upset me. But theingenuous frankness of this young being, the unaffectedness which waitedupon her every movement, had wrought such demolition to my theoriesthat I was slow in recovering my equipoise of thought. At length Istrolled through a mazy vista to oblivion, surrounded by a dancingthrong of seraphs.
My rest was untroubled, and when I threw open my window-shutter the nextmorning, and gazed out with sleep-blurred eyes, my first impression wasthat things had become topsy-turvy, and that a soft sky studded withstars lay before me. But as reason swiftly dominated my brain, I sawthat instead of the phenomenon which had at first seemed apparent, therewas only the bluegrass lawn thickly sown with dandelions, as though someprodigal Croesus had strown his wealth of gold broadcast. Perhaps thelowly, modest yellow flowers were but imitating the glittering orbswhich had looked down upon them throughout the night--who knows? For isnot reasoning man oftentimes just as vain, when he seeks to clothehimself with a majesty which is not for mortals?
For several days I adhered to the plans which I had laid out before thecoming of Salome. I rode with the master about the farm, took mysolitary walks with Fido, as usual, and spent most of each evening in myroom, alone. If left to the dictates of my own will, there is no tellinghow long this would have continued. But one morning, at breakfast, myhost surprised me with the words:
"Stone, you remember the old St. Rose church you spoke of? It's worthlooking at, but the Lord knows when I'll have a chance to go with you.S'lome's a great favorite with the sisters over at St. Catherine's,which is about a half mile from St. Rose, and I heard her tell motheryesterday that she was going to ride over to pay her respects thismorning. Me and my folks are Presbyterians, but nearly all of ourneighbors are Catholics, and good people, and we like them. Now if you'dlike to go 'long, I don't s'pect S'lome'd mind showin' you 'bout theplace."
He looked at the daintily clad figure at my side with an interrogativesmile.
"It would be a great favor to me," I put in hastily. "I had beenthinking of late I would have to go alone, but if Miss Salome would notobject, I should be pleased to go with her."
"Of course you may," she answered readily. "I love both places verymuch, and the sisters are so sweet. Sister Hyacintha is my favorite,--adear old nun with the face of a saint. Do you like old-timey, quietplaces, Mr. Stone? St. Rose church is perhaps the oldest building in thecounty. St. Catherine's is not half a mile from it, and the sistersconduct a boarding-school there. Had I been a Catholic, I doubtlesswould have received my education at that place."
I quickly assured her that I looked forward with much pleasure to ourlittle trip, and asked her if we were to go horseback, or in thecarriage.
"Oh, horseback!" she exclaimed, with the delight of a child. "I believeyou are a good horseman," she added archly.
"Only fair," I responded, smiling. "Still I would much prefer to go thatway. I enjoy the exercise so much."
And so it was arranged. I had no dress for this sort of thing, and Ifelt a trifle out of place when she joined me on the porch arrayed in acomplete riding habit of black. From her gauntlets to her silver-handledwhip, her attire was complete. I flushed.
"You know I am not accustomed to riding--will you pardon myappearance?"
"It makes no difference whatever!" She laughed merrily. "The feathersdon't make the bird, and I am perfectly satisfied."
My mount was the same animal I had been used to, and the horse which hadbeen led out for her was a wiry, dapple-gray mare of impatient blood. Iknew the correct thing to do, and while I feared that I could notperform the service successfully, I determined to try. So as she walkedtowards the fretful mare which a negro was with difficulty restraining,I stepped forward, doffed my hat, and with "Permit me, Miss Salome," Ibent, and hollowed my hand for the reception of her foot. With thenaturalness and grace of a queen she placed the sole upon my palm, and Ilifted her to the spring as though she had been a feather, and she sankinto the saddle and grasped the reins, which she proceeded to draw tautwith no uncertain hold. With my cheeks burning slightly--I was not usedto waiting upon women--I sought my saddle, and we cantered away.
How well the poet knew when he sang--
"What is so rare as a day in June?"
The bright morning sun blessed us with a benison of light; the sweet,cool, scented air laid its thousand tiny hands lightly upon our faces,and the green stretches of country all around us spoke of an earthlyparadise. For a while we said nothing, for that sorceress, June, hadthrown her web about us, and we were moving as through the vistas of adream. Once I glanced at my companion, and I saw such a peaceful, happy,yet thoroughly unconscious look upon her face that I stayed the casualremark upon my tongue which I felt that courtesy required. Then itdawned upon me with the suddenness of a revelation that her nature wasattuned to mine, and all at once I knew that the sylvan sounds andscenes which were the delight of my soul were as manna to hers as well.And I had shunned her!
"I fear you will think me a poor escort," she said at length, smiling atme with a trace of sadness. "But I have been away so long, and all thesemeadows, and trees, and brooks are friends--you don't know how I lovethem. I have lived with them and in them since I could walk, and it islike seeing dear ones in the flesh to come back and be with them, andhold silent communion with them. Does this sound strange to you?"
"No." And yet I looked at her half perplexedly. My idols were beingshattered one by one. "No, it is not strange to me that such feelingsexist, for they are my own. That was why I sought this old-fashionedKentucky home. I lived in Louisville until I came here, and my soul wasbeing crushed out of me between four brick walls. I have been happyhere; I did not know what happiness was until I came here--except thatderived from books. But that sort of happiness you feel; this sort youlive, and your being is broadened by it. But you--I confess it soundsstrange to me to hear you say such things."
"Why should I not know them as well as you? My opportunities have beengreater."
"I don't know; I have no reason to give. In my ignorance and selfishnessI had thought that I was alone in this; that no one could listen toNature's secrets but myself. I have been wrong, and I am glad that Ihave been undeceived."
The congeniality which became quickly established between us made ourseven-mile ride very short. Our horses were in good mettle, and the roadwas fine. Before I knew where we were, we turned into a by-road borderedby locust trees, and cantered down to St. Catherine's Academy. The lawnbefore the three-story brick building was beautifully kept. I hitchedour horses, and as we strolled up the pavement towards the entrance, Isaw two or three figures moving about the premises, clad in the becomingblack-and-white garb of the order. Presently one sister espied us, andimmediately started our way. She was very old, and moved with slow,short steps. Salome ran to her with a little cry of joy, bent down andkissed the wrinkled face, and, as I came up, introduced me to SisterHyacintha. I shall never forget the patient, joyful, almost heavenlylook on the face of this good woman. She led us to the porch, and gaveus chairs, and she and Salome talked, while I listened. As it wasnearing the noon hour, we were prevailed upon to stay and take lunch. Inthe afternoon we were shown through the building, and took a walk overthe grounds. Time slipped by stealthily, and the sun was hovering abovethe western horizon when Salome remembered that St. Rose was yet to beseen.
A short ride over a narrow dirt road winding through masses of verdurebrought us to the confines of the old church, which, perched upon ahill, reared its turret aloft in the purple air. I fastened our horsesto some of the numerous hitching-posts placed along the roadside for
theuse of worshippers, and we turned to the iron gate leading into thepremises. As this clanged behind us we both felt keenly the jar itcreated, for everything was so still and peaceful that the slightestnoise was irrelevant, and we felt bound to talk in whispers. We foundourselves upon a gravel walk bordered by cedars; to our left was theroad, to our right the white stones of a vast burying ground rose uplike spectral sentinels of the tomb.
Salome put her hand upon my arm. The path was steep, and I should haveoffered her assistance, but I had not thought of it. Not a word wasspoken until we had reached the end of the path. Here the brow of thehill curved around in the form of a semicircle, and was studded withcedars, like emeralds in a crown. Before us, not a dozen steps away,rose the ancient edifice we had come to view. It was made of solidmasonry, and seemed good for hundreds of years to come.
"Here we are."
Salome was panting a little as she said this, in a barely audible voice.I looked at the gray pile in silent contemplation. Its style suggestedmassiveness, although the building was not of any great size. The partcomprising the vestibule and bell-tower was octagon in shape, and theturret was at least a hundred feet in air. Behind this were theivy-covered walls of the body of the church. It was at that time whenthe earth grows still before drawing her night robes about her. In thewestern sky the sun's last streamers flared out like a gorgeous fan, andon their tips some shy diamonds glittered evasively. From the fieldsaround us came the sweet breath of the spring, smelling of the richerfragrance of early summer. The birds were still; the stamping of ourhorses in the road below was the only sound.
"Shall we go in?"
I started, although the tones were low and like the music of ripplingwater. When I turned my head, the brown eyes looking into mine had amournful expression. The impressiveness of it all was upon her, too.There must have been a certain look of inquiry upon my face, for shewent on, in the same wonderful voice:
"It's never locked, you know. I like that custom about a Catholicchurch. So often the soul would enter into a holy place and be alone inprayer. Shall we enter? I think there is enough light for us to see."
In reply, I drew closer to her, and held out my arm. She took itlightly, and in the deepening twilight we walked to the broad, woodendoor. It yielded reluctantly to the pressure of my hand, on account ofits size and weight, and together we entered the shadows of the sacredplace.
The Love Story of Abner Stone Page 10