Book Second Chapter 11 of A Day of Fate by Edward P. Rowe. This libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by like many waters. Book Second Chapter 11. Poor Acting. The last week that I proposed to spend at the farmhouse was passing quietly and uneventfully away. I was gaining steadily, though not rapidly in physical strength, but not in my power to endure my disappointment with equanimity, much less resignation. In the delirium of my fever I kept constantly repeating the words, so Mrs. Yocom told me, It's all wrong. Each successive day found these words on my lips again with increasing frequency. It seemed contrary to both right and reason, that one should so completely enslave me, and then go away leaving me abound and helpless captive. The conviction grew stronger that no such power over me should have been given to her, if her influence was to end only in darkening my life and crippling my power to be a forceful man among men. I felt with instinctive certainty that my burden would be too heavy to leave me the elastic spring and energy required by my exacting profession. A hopeful eager interest in life and the world at large was the first necessity to success in my calling. But already I found a lead in apathy creeping over me, which even the powerful motives of pride and my resolute purpose to seem cheerful that she might go on to her bright future unregretfully were not sufficiently strong to banish. If I could not cope with this despondency in its inception, how could I face the future? At first I had bitterly condemned my weakness, but now I began to recognize the strength of my love, which so far from being a mere sudden passion was the deep abiding conviction that I had met the only woman I could marry, the woman whom my soul claimed as its mate, because she possessed the power to help me and to inspire me to tireless effort toward better living and nobler achievement. Her absolute truth would keep me true and anchored amid the swift dark currents of the world to which I was exposed. I feared with almost instinctive certainty that I would become either a brooding solitary man or else a very ambitious and reckless one, for I was conscious of no reserve strength which would enable me to go steadfastly on my way under the calm and inexorable guidance of duty. Such was my faith in her that I had no hope whatever if she loved and had given her truth to another man it would not be in her nature to change. Therefore my purpose had simplified itself to the effort to get through this one week at the farmhouse in a manner that would enable me to carry away the respect of all its inmates, but especially the esteem of one to whom I feared I seemed a rash, ill-balanced man. So carefully had I avoided Ms. Warren's society and yet so freely and frankly apparently had I spoken to her in the presence of her affianced that his suspicions were evidently banished and he treated me with a gracious and patronizing benignity. He saw no reason why he should not turn on me the light of his full and smiling countenance which might have been taken as an emblem of prosperity and in truth I gave him no reason, so rigid was the constraint under which I kept myself that jealousy itself could not have found fault. With the exception of the two momentary interviews recorded in the previous chapter we had not spoken a syllable together except in his presence nor had I permitted my eyes to follow her with a wistful glance that he or she could intercept. Even Mrs. Yocome appeared to think that I was recovering in more senses than one and by frequent romps with the children, just sent chafing with Mr. Yocome and Ruben by a little frank and ostentatious gallantry to Ada which no longer deceived even her simple mind since I never sought her exclusive society as a lover would have done I confirmed the impression and yet in spite of all efforts and disguises the truth will often flash out unexpectedly and irresistibly making known all that we hoped to hide with the distinctness of the lightning which revealed even the color of the roses on the night of the storm. The weather had become exceedingly warm and Ms. Warren's somewhat portly suitor clung persistently to the wide cool veranda. Ada sat there frequently also, sometimes she read to the children fairy stories of which Adela, Mr. Hearn's little girl had brought a great store and she seemed to enjoy them quite as much as her eager eyed listeners. But more often she superintended their doll dressmaking over which there were the most animated discussions. The banker would look on them with the utmost content while he slowly waved his palm leaf fan. Indeed the group was pretty enough to justify all the pleasure he manifested. The rustic piazza formed just the setting for Ada's beauty and her light summer costume well suggested her perfect and womanly form while the companionship of the children proved that she was almost as guileless and childlike as they. The group was like a bubbling sparkling spring at which the rather advanced man of the world sipped with increasing pleasure. Ms. Warren also gave much of her time to the children and beguiled them into many simple lessons at the piano. Silla was true to her first love, but Adela gave to Ada a decided preference. And when they entered on the intense excitement of making a new wardrobe for each of the large dolls that Mr. Hearn had brought, Ada had the advantage, for she was a genius in such matters and quite as much interested as the little girls themselves. In my desperate struggle with myself I tried not even to see Ms. Warren, for every glance appeared to rivet my chains, and yet I gained the impression that she was a little restless and distraught. She seemed much at her piano, not so much for Mr. Hearn's sake as her own, and sometimes I was so impressed by the strong, passionate music that she evoked that I was compelled to hasten beyond its reach. It meant too much to me. Oh, the strange idolatry of an absorbing affection. All that she said or did had for me an indescribable charm that both tortured and delighted. Still, every hour increased my conviction that my only safety was in flight. My faithful ally Ruben still took me on long morning drives, and in the afternoon with my mail and paper I sought secluded nooks in a somewhat distant grove, which I reached by the shady lane, of which I had caught a glimpse with Ms. Warren on the first evening of my arrival. But Friday afternoon was too hot for the walk thither. The banker had wilted and retired to his room. Ada and the children were out under a tree. The girl looked up wistfully and invitingly as I came out. I wish I were an artist, Ms. Ada, I cried. You three make a lovely picture. Remembering an arbor at the further end of the garden, I turned my steps thither, passing rapidly by the spot where I had seen my Eve, who was not mine. I had entered the arbor before I saw it was occupied, and was surprised by the vivid blush with which Ms. Warren greeted me. Pardon me, I said. I did not know you were here. And I was about to depart with the best attempt at a smile that I could muster. She sprang up and asked, a little indignantly, Am I infected with a pestilence that you so avoid me, Mr. Morton? Oh, no, I replied with a short grim laugh. If it were only a pestilence, I fear I disturbed your nap. But you know I'm a born blunderer. You said we should be friends, she began hesitatingly. Do you doubt it? I asked gravely. Do you doubt that I would hesitate at any sacrifice? I don't want sacrifices, I wish to see you happy and your manner natural. I'm sure I've been cheerful during the past week. No, you have only seemed cheerful, and often I've seen you look as grim, hard and stern as if you were on the eve of mortal combat. You observe closely, Ms. Warren. Why should I not observe closely? Do you think me inhuman? Can I forget what I owe you, and that you nearly died? Well, I said dejectedly, what can I do? It seems that I have played the hypocrite all the week in vain. I will do whatever you ask. I was in hopes that as you grew well and strong you would throw off this folly. Have you not enough manhood to overcome it? No, Ms. Warren, I said bluntly, I have not. What little manhood I had led to this very thing. Such, such enthrallment you may call it. No, I will not. It's a degrading word. I would not have a slave if I could. Since I can't help it, I don't see how you can. I may have been a poor actor, but I know I've not been obtrusive. You have not indeed, she replied a little bitterly. But you have no cause for such feelings. They seem to me unnatural, and the result of a morbid mind. Yes, you have thought me very ill-balanced from the first, but I'm constrained to use such poor wits as I possess. In the abstract it strikes me as not irrational to recognize embodied truth and loveliness, and I do not think the less of myself because I reached such recognition in hours rather than in months. I saw your very self in this old garden, and every subsequent day has confirmed that impression, but there's no use in wasting words and explanation. I don't try to explain it to myself, but the fact is clear enough by some necessity of my nature it is just as it is. I can no more help it than I can help breathing, it was inevitable, my only chance was never meeting you, and yet I can scarcely wish that even now. Perhaps you think I've not tried since I learned I ought to banish your image, but I have struggled as if I were engaged in a mortal combat as you suggested. But it's of no use. I can't deceive you any more than I can myself. Now you know the whole truth, and it seems that there is no escaping it in our experience. I do not expect anything. I ask nothing save that you accept the happiness which is your perfect right, for not a shadow of blame rests on you. If you were not happy I should be only tenfold more wretched, but I've no right to speak to you in this way. I see I've caused you much pain. I've no right even to look at you feeling as I do, I would have gone before were it not for hurting Mrs. Yocome's feelings. I shall return to New York next Monday for return to New York. She repeated with a sudden and deep breath, and she became very pale. After a second she added hastily. You are not strong enough yet. We are the ones to go. Ms. Warren, I said almost sternly. It's little that I ask of you or that you can give. I may not have deceived you, but I have the others. Mrs. Yocome knows, but she is as merciful as my own mother would have been. I'm not ashamed of my love. I'm proud of it, but it's too sacred a thing, and, well, if you can't understand me I can't explain. All I ask is that you seem indifferent to my course beyond ordinary friendliness. There, God bless you for your patient kindness. I will not trespass on it longer. You have the best and kindest heart of any woman in the world.  It's complete enough to satisfy the most insatiable coquette. Don't look so sad. I'll be your merry-hearted friend yet before I'm 80. But my faint attempt at lightness was a speedy failure, for my strong passion broke out irresistibly. Oh God, I exclaimed. How beautiful you are to me! When shall I forget the look in your kind true eyes? But I'm disgracing myself again. I've no right to speak to you. I wish I could never see you again till my heart had become stone and my will like steel. And I turned and walked swiftly away until, from sheer exhaustion, I threw myself under a tree and buried my face in my hands. For I hated the warm sunny light when my life was so cheerless and dark. I lay almost as if I were dead for hours, and the evening was growing dusky when I arose and weirdly returned to the farmhouse. They were all on the veranda except Ms. Warren, who was at her piano again. Mrs. Yoko met me with much solicitude. Ruben was just starting out to look for thee, she said. I took a longer ramble than I intended, I replied with a laugh. I think I lost myself a little. I don't deserve any supper, and only want a cup of tea. Ms. Warren played very softly for a moment, and I knew she was listening to my lame excuses. It doesn't matter what thee wants, I know what thee needs. The isn't out of my hands altogether yet. Come right into the dining room. I should think you would be slow to revolt against such a benign government, remarked Mr. Herne most graciously, and the thought occurred to me that he was not displeased to have me out of the way so long. Yes indeed, chimed in Mr. Yoko, we're always the better, forminding mother. They'll find that out, Richard, after these been here a few weeks longer. Mr. Yoko, your loyalty itself, if women ever get their rights, our paper will nominate Mrs. Yoko for president. I have all the rights I want now, Richard, and I have the right to scold thee for not taking better care of thyself. I'll submit to anything from you, you are wiser than the advanced female agitators, for you know you've all the power now, and that we men are always at your mercy. Well, now that the talks of mercy I won't scold thee, but give thee thy supper at once. The always new Richard how to get around mother, laughed the genial old man, whose life ever seemed as mellow and ripe as a juicy fall pippin. Ada followed her mother in to assist her, and I saw that Miss Warren had turned toward us. Why, Richard Morton, exclaimed Mrs. Yoko as I entered the lighted dining room. The looks as pale and haggard as a ghost, thee must have got lost indeed and gone far beyond thy strength. Can, can I do anything to assist you, Mrs. Yoko? asked a timid voice from the doorway. I was glad that Ada was in the kitchen at the moment, for I lost at once my ghostly pallor. Yes, said Mrs. Yoko heartily. Come in and make this man eat, and scold him soundly, for going so far away as to get lost, when he's scarcely able to walk at all. I've kind of promised I wouldn't scold him, and somebody must. I'd scold like Xanthope if I thought it would do any good, she said, with a faint smile, but her eyes were full of reproach. For a moment Mrs. Yoko disappeared behind the door of her china closet, and Miss Warren added in a low hurried whisper to me, You promised me to get well, you are not keeping your word. That cuts worse than anything Xanthope could have said. I don't want to cut, but to cure.  With such a motive I'm tempted to try, she said, with a half reckless laugh, for Ada was entering with some delicate toast. Miss Ada, I cried, I owe you a supper at the Brunswick for this, and I'll pay my debt the first chance you'll give me. If the talks of paying I'll not go with thee, she said a little coldly, and she seemingly did not like the presence of Miss Warren, nor the tell-tale color in my cheeks. That's a deserved rebuke, Miss Ada, I know well enough that I can never repay all your kindness, and so I won't try, but you'll go with me because I want you to, and because I will be proud of your company, I shall be the envy of all the men present. They'd think me very rustic, she said, smiling. Quite as much so as a moss rose, but you'll see, I will be besieged the next few days by my acquaintances for an introduction, and my account of you will make them wild. I shall be, however, a very dragon of a big brother, and won't let one of them come near you who is not a saint, that is, as far as I am a judge of the article. They may keep them all away if thee pleases, she replied, blushing and laughing. I should be afraid of thy fine city friends. I'm afraid of a good many of them myself, I replied, but some are genuine, and you shall have a good time, never fear. I'll leave you to arrange the details of your brilliant campaign, said Miss Warren smiling. But thee hasn't scolded Richard, said Mrs. Yocome, who was seemingly busy about the room. My words would have no weight, he knows he ought to be ashamed of himself, she answered from the doorway. I am, heartily, I said, looking into her eyes a moment. Since he's penitent, Mrs. Yocome, I don't see as anything more can be done, she replied smilingly. I don't think much of penitence unless it's followed by reformation, said my sensible hostess. We'll see how he behaves the next few weeks. Mr. Morton, I hope you will let Mrs. Yocome see a daily change for the better for a long time to come, she deserves it at your hands, and there was almost in treaty in the young girl's voice. She ought to know better than to ask it, I thought. My only answer was a heavy frown, and I turned abruptly away from her appealing glance. I think Emily Warren acts very queer, said Ada after the young lady had gone.  If ever a girl was engaged to a good kind man who would give her everything she is, I don't see. Ada interrupted her mother. I hope thee was overcoming that trait. It's not a pleasing one. If people give us their confidence very well, if not, we should be blind. The girl blushed vividly and looked deprecatingly at me. You meant nothing ill-natured, Miss Ada, I said gently. It isn't in you. Come now, and let me tell you and your mother what a good time I'm planning for you in New York, and we soon made the old dining-room ring with our laughter. Mr. Yocom Rubin and the children soon joined us, and the lovers were left alone on the shadowy porch. From the gracious manner of Mr. Hearn the following morning, I think he rather thanked me for drawing off the embarrassing third parties. END OF BOOK SECOND CHAPTER XI BOOK SECOND CHAPTER XII OF A DAY OF FATE by Edward P. Rowe The slipper-box recording is in the public domain, recording by like many waters. BOOK SECOND CHAPTER XII THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE The next day I lured Rubin off on a fishing excursion to a mountain lake, and so congratulated myself on escaping ordeals to which I found myself wholly unequal. We did not reach the farmhouse till quite late in the evening, and found that Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren were out enjoying a moonlight ride. As on the previous evening, all the family gathered around Rubin and me as we sat down to our late supper. The little girls arranging with delight the silven spoil that I had brought them. They were all so genial and kind that I grieved to think that I had but one more evening with them, and I thought of my cheerless quarters in New York with an inward shiver. Before very long Mr. Hearn entered with Miss Warren and the banker was in fine spirits. The moonlit landscapes were divine, he said. Never have I seen them surpassed, not even in Europe. It was evident that his complacency was not easily disturbed, for I thought that a more sympathetic lover would have noted that his companion was not so enthusiastic as himself. Indeed, Miss Warren seemed to bring in with her the cold pale moonlight. Her finely chiseled oval face looked white and thin as if she were chilled, and I noticed that she shivered as she entered. Come, cried Mr. Yocome in his hearty way. Emily, the end Mr. Hearn have had thy fill of moonlight do, and such like unsubstantial stuff, I'm going to give you both a generous slice of cold roast beef. That's what makes good red blood, and Emily, the looks as if thee needed a little more. Then I want to see if we cannot provoke thee to one of thy old time laughs. Seems to me we've missed it a little of late. Thy laugh beats all thy music at the piano. Yes, Emily, said Mr. Hearn a little discontentedly, I think you are growing rather quiet and distraught of late, when have I heard one of your genuine mirthful laughs? With a sudden wonder my mind took up his question. When had I heard her laugh, whose contagious joyousness was so infectious that I too had laughed without knowing why? I now remembered that it was before he came. It was the morning when my memory, more kind than my fate, still refused to reveal the disappointment that now was crushing my very soul. It was when all in the farmhouse were so glad at my assured recovery.  I could recall no such day since, though her lover was present, and her happiness assured. Even he was beginning to note that the light of his countenance did not illumine her face, that she was quiet and distraught. Manlike I had to think it all out, but I thought swiftly. The echo of his words had scarcely died away before the light of a great hope flashed into my face as my whole heart put the question, can it be only sympathy? She met my eager glance shrinkingly. I felt almost as if my life depended on the answer that she might consciously or unconsciously give. Why did she fall into painful and even piteous confusion? But her womanly pride and strong character at once asserted themselves, for she arose quietly saying, I do not feel well this evening, and she left the room. Mr. Hearn followed precipitately and was profuse in his commiseration. I shall be well in the morning, she said, with such clear confident emphasis, that it occurred to me that the assurance was not meant for his ears only. Then, in spite of his entreaties, she went to her room. I wanted no more supper and made a poor pretense of keeping room and company, and I thought his boy's appetite never would be satisfied. My mind was in such a tumult of hope and fear that I had to strive with my whole strength for self-mastery so as to excite no surmises. Mrs. Yocom gave me a few inquiring glances, thinking perhaps that I was showing more solicitude about Ms. Warren than was wise. But in fact they were all so simple-hearted, so accustomed to express all they thought and felt, that they were not inclined to search for hidden and subtle motives. Even feigning more bungling than mine would have kept my secret from them. Aida seemed relieved at Ms. Warren's departure. Mr. Hearn lighted a cigar and sat down on the piazza, as soon as possible I pleaded fatigue and retired to my room. For I was eager to be alone, that I might unwatched, look with fearful yet glistening eyes on the trace I had discovered of an infinite treasure. I again sat down by the window and looked into the old garden. The possibility that the woman that I had seen there, undisguised in her beautiful truth, might be drawing near me, under an impulse too strong to be resisted, thrilled my very soul. It's contrary to reason, to every law in nature, I said, that she should attract me with such tremendous gravitation, and yet my love have no counteraction. And yet, I murmured, beware, beware how you hope, possibly she is merely indisposed. It is more probable that her feelings toward you are those of gratitude only, and of deep sympathy. She is under the impression that you saved her life, and that she has unwittingly blighted yours. And as Mrs. Yochum said, she is so kind-hearted, so sensitive, that the thought shadows her life and robs it of zest and happiness. You cannot know that she is learning to return your love in spite of herself, simply because she is pale and somewhat sad. She would think herself, as she said, inhuman if she were happy and serene. I must seek for other tests, and I thought long and deeply. Oh, will Shakespeare, I at last murmured. You knew the human heart if anyone ever did. I remember now that you wrote. A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love that would seem hid. Oh, for the eyes of Argus, if all the minds of wealth and the world were uncovered, and I might have them all for looking, I'd turn away for one clear glimpse into her woman's heart tonight. Go to New York on Monday, no, not unless driven away with a whip of scorpions. No eagle that ever circled those skies watched, as I'll stay and watch, for the faintest trace of this priceless secret. No detective, stimulated by professional pride and vast reward, ever sought proof of murderous guilt, as I shall seek for evidences of this pure woman's love, for more than life depends on the result of my quest. Words like these would once have seemed extravagant and absurd. But in the abandon of my solitude and in my strong excitement, they button adequately expressed the thoughts that surged through my mind. But as I grew calmer, conscience asked to be heard. Just what do you propose, it asked, to win her from another, who now has every right to her allegiance and love.  Then reason added with quiet emphasis. Even though your conscience is not equal to the emergency, hers will be, she will do what seems right, without any regard for the consequences. If you sought to woo her now, she would despise you, she would regard it as an insult that she would never forgive. It would appear proof complete that you doubted her truth, her chief characteristic. Between them they made so strong a case against me that my heart sank at the prospect. But hope is the lever that moves the world onward, and the faint hope that had dawned on my thick night was too dear and bright of one to leave me crushed again by my old despondency. And I felt that there must be some way of untangling the problem. If the wall of honor hedged me in on every side, I would know the fact to be true before I accepted it. I do not propose to woo her, I argued, and possibly my good resolution was strengthened by the knowledge that such a course would be fatal to my hope. I only intend to discover what may possibly exist, I never have intentionally sought to influence her, even by a glance, since I knew of her relation to Mr. Hearn, I'm under no obligation to this prosperous banker. I'm only bound by honor in the abstract. They are not married. Mrs. Yocom would say that I had been brought hither by an overruling providence. It certainly was not a conscious choice of mine, and since I met this woman, everything has conspired to bring me to my present position. I know I'm not to blame for it, no more than I was for the storm or the lightning bolt, what a clot I should be where I am different to the traits that she has manifested. I feel with absolute certainty that I cannot help the impression that she has made on me. If I could have foreseen it all, I might have remained away, but I was led hither, and kept here by my illness, till my chains are riveted and locked, and the key is lost, I cannot escape the fact that I belong to her body and soul. Now, suppose for the sake of argument, that gratitude, respect, friendliness, and a sense of being unprotected and alone in the world, have led to her engagement with the wealthy middle-aged banker, and that through it all her woman's heart was never awakened, such a thing at least is possible. If this were true, she would be no more to blame than I, and we might become the happy victims of circumstances. I'm not worthy of her, and never shall be, but I can't help that either. After all, it seems to me that that which should fulfill my hope is not a ledger balance of good qualities, but the magnetic sympathy of two natures that supplement each other, and were designed for each other in heaven's matchmaking. Even now my best hope is based on the truth that she attracts me so irresistibly, and though a much smaller body morally, I should have some corresponding attraction for her. If her woman's heart has become mine, what can she give him? Her very truth may become my most powerful ally. If she still loves him, I will go away and stay away. If it be in accordance with my trembling hope, I have the higher right, and I will assert it to the utmost extent of my power. Shall the happiness of two lives be sacrificed to his unflagging prosperity? Could it ever be right for him to lead her body to the altar and leave her heart with me? Could she, who is truth itself, go there and purge her self before God and man? No, a thousand times no, it has become a simple question of whom she loves. And I'll find out if Shakespeare's words are true, if she has love for me, let her bury it never so deeply, my love will be the divining rod that will inevitably discover it. Having reached this conclusion, I at last slept in the small hours of the night. I thought I detected something like apprehension in her eyes when I met her in the morning. Was she conscious of a secret that might reveal itself in spite of her? But she was cheerful and decided in her manner and seemed bent on assuring Mr. Hearn that she was well again, and all that he could desire. Where I in mortal peril I could not have been more vigilantly on my guard, not for the world would I permit her to know what was passing in my mind, at least not yet. And as far as possible I resumed my old manner, I even simulated more dejection than I felt to counter balance the flash of hope that I feared she had recognized on the previous evening. I well knew that all her woman's strength, that all her woman's pride and exalted sense of honor would bind her to him, who was serenely secure in his trust. My one hope was that her woman's heart was my ally, that it would so assert itself that truth and honor would at last range themselves on its side. Little did the simple Frank Old Quaker realize the passionate alterations of hope and fear that I brought to his breakfast table that bright Sunday. All that my guarded scrutiny could gather was that Ms. Warren was a little too devoted and thoughtful to her urbane lover, and that her cheerfulness lacked somewhat in spontaneity. It was agreed at the breakfast table that we should all go to meeting. Mrs. Yocom, I said, finding her alone for a moment. Won't you be moved this morning? I need one of your sermons more than any heathen in Africa, whatever your faith is I believe in it, for I've seen its fruits. If a message is given to me I will not be silent. If not, it would be presumptuous to speak. But my prayer is that the spirit whom we worship may speak to thee, and that thou wilt listen, unless he speaks, my poor words will be of no avail.  You seem to go from the kitchen by easy and natural transition to the regions beyond the stars and to pass without hesitancy from the companionship of us poor mortals into a presence that is to me supremely awful. He doesn't understand Richard, the little faith I have I take with me to the kitchen, and I'm not afraid of my father in heaven because he is so great and I'm so little, is Zilla afraid of her father? I suppose you are right, and I admit that I don't understand, and I don't see how I could reason it out. God's children, she replied, as all children, come to believe many blessed truths without the aid of reason. It was not reason that taught me my mother's love, and yet, now that I have children, it seems very reasonable. I think I learned most from what she said to me and did for me, if ever children were assured of love by their heavenly father we have been. If it is possible for a human soul to be touched by a loving, unselfish devotion, let him read the story of Christ. But, Mrs. Yocom, I'm not one of the children. Yes, thee is, the trouble with thee is that thee's ashamed, or at least that thee won't acknowledge the relation, and be true to it. Dear Mrs. Yocom, I cried in dismay. I must either renounce heathenism, or go away from your influence, and I left precipitately. But in truth I was too far gone in human idolatry to think long upon her words. They lodged in my memory, however, and I trust will never lose their influence. End of Book Second Chapter Twelve Book Second Chapter Thirteen of A Day of Fate by Edward P. Rowe. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by like many waters. Book Second Chapter Thirteen The Old Meeting House Again Ruben and I with dapple skimmed along the country roads, and my hopes and spirits kindled, though I scarcely knew why. We were early at the meeting-house, and to my joy I gained my old seat, in which I had woven my June Daydream around the fair unknown Quakeress, whose face was now that of a loved sister, what ages seemingly had elapsed since that fateful day, what infinite advances in life's experiences I had made since I last sat there, how near I had come to the experiences of another life, the fact made me grave and thoughtful, and yet, if my fear and not my hope were realized, what a burden was imposed upon me with the life that disease had spared. Had I even Mrs. Yocom's faith I knew it would be a weight under which I would often stagger and faint. Before very long the great family Rockaway unloaded his precious freight at the horse block, and Ada and Miss Warren entered, followed by the little girls. In secret wonder I saw Ada pause before the same long, straight-backed bench or pew, and Miss Warren take the place where I had first seen my embodiment of June. Mrs. Yocom went quietly to her place on the high seat. The spell continues to work, but with an important change, I thought. In a few moments Mr. Yocom marshalled in Mr. Hearn and placed him in the end of the pew next to Miss Warren on the men's side, so that they might have the satisfaction of sitting together as if at church. He then looked around for me, but I shook my head and would not go up higher. Soon all the simple, plainly apparel'd folk, who would attend that day were in their places, and the old deep hush that I so well remembered settled down upon us. The sweet low monotone of the summer wind was playing still among the maples. I do believe that it was the same old bumblebee that darted in, still unable to overcome its irate wonder at a people who could be so quiet and serene. The sunlight flickered in here and there, and shadowy leaves moved noiselessly up and down the whitewashed wall. Only the occasional song of a bird was wanting to reproduce the former hour, but at this later season the bird seemed content with calls and chirpings, and in the July heat they were almost as silent as we were. But how weak and fanciful my June daydream now seemed. Then woman's influence on my life was but a romantic sentiment.  I had thought myself launched on a shining tide that would bear me smoothly to a quiet home anchorage. But almost the first word that Emily Warren spoke broke the spell of my complacent indolent dream, and I awoke to the presence of an earnest large sold woman who was my peer and in many respects my superior, whom so far from being a mere household pet could be counselor and friend and a daily inspiration. Instead of shrinking from the world with which I must grapple, she already looked out upon its tangled and cruel problems with clear intelligent courageous eyes. Single-handed she had coped with it and won from it a place and respect, and yet with all her strength and fearlessness, she had kept her woman's heart gentle and tender. Oh, who could have better proof of this than I, who had seen her face bending over the little unconscious Zilla, and who had heard her low sob when she feared I might be dying. The two maidens sat side by side, and I was not good enough to think of anything better or purer than they. Ada, with her face composed to its meeting-house quiet, but softened and made more beautiful by passing shades of thought. Still, it seemed almost as young and childlike as that of Zilla. Ms. Warren's profile was less round and full, but it was more finely chiseled and was luminous with mind. The slightly higher forehead, the more delicately arched eyebrow, the deeper setting of her dark changing eyes that were placed wide apart beneath the overhanging brow, the short, thin, tremulous upper lip, were all indications of the quick informing spirit which made her face like a transparency through which her thoughts could often be guessed before spoken, and since they were good, noble, genial thoughts, they enhanced her beauty. And yet it had occurred to me more than once that if Ms. Warren were a depraved woman, she could give to evil a deadly fascination. Are her thoughts wandering like mine, I mused, with kindling hope I saw her face grow sad, and I even imagined that her power increased. For a long time she looked quietly and fixedly before her, as did Ada, and then she stole a shy hesitating glance at Mr. Herne by her side.  Was it my imagination or did she slightly shrink from him? In an almost instantaneous flash she turned a little more and glanced at me, and I was caught in the act of almost breathless scrutiny. A sudden red flamed in her cheeks, but not a friend of them all was more motionless than she at once became. My conscience smoked me, though I watched for her happiness as truly as my own, the old meeting house should have been a sanctuary even from the eyes of love. I knew from the expression of her face that she had not liked it, nor did I blame her. I was glad to have the silence of the meeting broken, for a venerable man rose slowly from the high seat and reverently enunciated the words. The Lord of Hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge, he maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth, he breaketh the bow and cuteth the spear in sunder, he burneth the chariot in the fire, be still and know that I am God. The quiet reverent bowing of the heart to his will is often the most acceptable worship that we can offer, he began, and if he had stopped there the effect would have been perfect, but he began to talk and to ramble. With a sense of deep disappointment I dreaded lest the hour should pass and that Mrs. Yochome would not speak, but as the old gentleman sat down, that wrapped look was on her face that I remembered seeing on the night of the storm. She rose, took off her deep Quaker bonnet and laid it quietly on the seat beside her, but one saw that she was not thinking of it or of anything except the truth which filled her mind.  She paused a moment and I gazed in wonder at her serene uplifted face. She had spoken with such an utter absence of self-consciousness or regard for externals as to give the strong impression that the words had come again from heaven through her lips and were endowed with a new life and richer meaning, and now she seemed waiting for whatever else might be given to her. Could that inspired woman who now looked as if she might have stood unabashed on the mount of transfiguration, be my genial, untiring nurse, and the cheery matron of the farmhouse, whose deved hands had made the sweet light bread we had eaten this morning? I had long loved her, but now as I realized as never before the grand compass of her womanly nature I began to reverence her. A swift glance at Miss Warren revealed that the text had awakened an interest so deep as to suggest a great and present need, for the maiden was leaning slightly toward the speaker and waiting with parted lips. As I sat here, Mrs. Yocom began looking down upon us with a grave gentle aspect. These words came to me as if spoken in my soul, and I am constrained to repeat them unto you. I'm impressed with the truth that peace is the chief need of the world, the chief need of every human heart, beyond success, beyond prosperity, beyond happiness, is the need of peace, the deep assured rest of the soul that is akin to the eternal calmness of him who spake these words. The world at large is full of turmoil and trouble, the sounds of its wretched disquietude reach me even in this quiet place and at this quiet hour. I seem to hear the fierce uproar of battle, for while we are turning our thoughts up to the God of peace, misguided men are dealing death blows to their fellow men. I hear cries of rage, I hear the groans of the dying, but sadder than these bloody fields of open strife are the dark places of cruelty, I hear the clank of the prisoner's chain and the crack of the slave driver's whip. I see desperate and despairing faces revealing tortured souls to whom the light of each day brings more bitter wrongs, filer indignities, until they are ready to curse God for the burden of life.  From that sacred place, home, come to me hot words of strife, drunken brutal blows and the wailings of helpless women and children. Saddest of all earthly sounds, I hear the wild revelry of those who are not the victims of evil in others, but who, while madly seeking happiness, are blotting out all hope of happiness and who are committing that crime of crimes, the destruction of their own immortal souls. Did I say the last was the saddest of earthly sounds? There comes to me another at which my heart sinks.  I hear the moan of Mary at the sepulchre repeated from thousands of hearts, they have taken away my Lord. Oh God, forgive those who would blot out the dearest hope which has ever sustained humanity. Can there be peace in a world wherein we can never escape these sad, terrible, discordant sounds? The words that I have repeated were spoken in just such a world when the den of evil was at its worst, and to those who must soon suffer all the wrong that the world could inflict. After a brief pause of silent waiting she continued, but is the turmoil of the world a faraway sound, like the sullen roar of angry waves beating on a shore that rises high and enduring, securing a safety and rest? Beyond the deep disquietude of the world at large is the deeper unrest of the human heart. No life can be so secluded and sheltered but that anxieties, doubts, fears and foreboding will come with all their disturbing power. Often sorrows more bitter than death are hidden by smiling faces, and in our quiet country homes there are men and women carrying burdens that are crushing out hope and life. Mothers breaking their hearts over wayward sons and daughters, wives desperate because the men who wooed them as blushing maidens have forgotten their vows, and have become swinish thoughts.  Oh, the clouds of earth are not those which sweep across the sun, but those which rise out of unhappy hearts and evil lives. These are the clouds that gather over too many in a leaden pall, and it seems as if no light could ever break through them. There are hearts to whom life seems to promise one long hopeless struggle to endure an incurable pain. Can there be peace for such unhappy ones? To just such human hearts were the words spoken.  Then came one of those little pauses that were quite as impressive as the preceding words. Although my interest was almost breathless, I involuntarily looked toward one whom I now associated with every thought. Oh, God, I exclaimed mentally. Can that be the aspect of a maiden happy in her love and hope? Her face had become almost white, and across the pallor of her cheeks tear followed tear, as from a full and bitter fountain. Never, in all this evil world, the speaker resumed, was there such cruel bitter mockery as these words would be if they were not true? If he who spake them had no right to speak them, and what right would he have to speak them if he were merely a man among men? A part of the world which never has and never can give peace to the troubled soul. How do we know these words are true? How do we know he has a right to speak them? Thank God I know, because he has kept his word to me. Thank God millions know, because he has proved his power to them. The scourged, persecuted, crucified disciples found that he was with them always, even unto the end. Oh, my friends, it is this living, loving, spiritual presence that uplifts and sustains the sinking heart, when the whole great world could only stand helplessly by. Not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Yes, thank thee, Lord, not as the world.  No storm can harm the soul that rests on the rock of ages, and by and by he will say to the storm, peace, be still, and the light of heaven will come. Then there shall be no more night. God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death. Neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away. The light and gladness of that blessed future seem to have come into her sweet womanly face. I looked out of the window to hide tears of which I was full enough to be ashamed.  Dear friends, she said, it was not merely peace that he promised, but his peace, my peace I give unto you. Remember it was the man of sorrows who spoke. Remember that he was acquainted with grief. Remember that years of toil and hardship were behind him, and that Gethsemane and Calvary were before him. Remember that one would betray him, and that all would desert him. When he spoke the storm of the world's evil was breaking upon him more cruelly and remorselessly than it ever has on any timented soul. He suffered more because more able to suffer. But beneath all was the sacred calm of one who is right, and who means to do right to the end cost what it may. The peace that he promises is not immunity from pain or loss, or the gratification of the heart's earthly desires. His natural and earthly desires were not gratified, often ours cannot be. His peace came from self-denial for the good of others, from the consciousness that he was doing his father's will, and from the assurance that good would come out of the seeming evil. Suffer he must because he was human, and in a world of suffering, but he chose to suffer that we might know that he understands us, and sympathizes with us when we suffer. To each and to all he can say, I was tempted in all points like unto thee. When we wander he goes out after us. When we fall he lifts us up. When we faint he takes us in his arms and carries us on his bosom. Oh great heart of love, thy patience never tires, never wearies. Thou canst make good to us every earthly loss. Thy touch can heal every wound of the soul, even though life be one long martyrdom, yet through thy presence it may be a blessed life, full of peace. Because our Lord was a man of sorrows, was he in love with sorrows, or does he love to see storms gathering around his people? No, it was not with his sorrows, but with our sorrows that he was afflicted. He so loved the world that he could not be glad when we were sad. It is said that there is no record that Jesus ever smiled, but those little children whom he took in his arms and blessed know that he smiled. I doubt whether he ever saw a flower, but that no matter how weary from the hot day's long journey, he smiled back upon it. The flowers are but his smiles, and the world is full of them. Still he is naturally and very justly associated with sorrow, for when on earth he sought out those in trouble, and the distressed and the suffering soon learned to fly to him. What was the result, where the shadows deepened, was the suffering prolonged? Let the sisters of Bethany answer you, let the widow of Nain answer you. Let the great host of the lame, blind, disease and leprous answer. Look into the gentle serene eyes of Mary Magdalene, once so desperate and clouded by evil, and then know whether he brings sorrow or joy to the world. Just as the sun follows the night that it might bring the day, so the sun of righteousness seeks out all that is dark in our lives that he may shine it away. Gladness then should be the rule of our lives. Nothing to him is so pleasing as gladness if it comes from the heart of pilgrims truly homeward bound, but if sorrow comes, oh, turn not to the world, for the best thing in it can give no peace, no rest. Simply do right and leave the results with him who said even under the shadow of his cross, my peace I give unto you. Accept this message, dear friends, and let not your hearts be troubled and neither let them be afraid. And she sat down and quietly closed her eyes. There was here and there a low sob from the women, and the eyes of some of the most rugged featured men were moist. The hush that followed was broken by deep and frequent sighs. Mr. Yocom sat with his face lifted heavenward, and I knew it was serene and thankful. The eyes of Rubin, who was beside me, rested on his mother in simple loving devotion. As yet she was his religion. Ada was looking a little wonderingly but sympathetically at Ms. Warren, whose bowed head and fallen veil could not hide her deep emotion. The banker too looked at her even more wonderingly. At last the most venerable man on the high seat gave his hand to another white-haired friend beside him, and the congregation began slowly and quietly to disperse. Come, Rubin, I said in a whisper. Let us get away quick. He looked at me in surprise, but in a few moments the old meeting-house was hidden behind us among the trees. Dappel's feet scarcely touched the ground, but I sat silent, absorbed, and almost overwhelmed. Didn't, didn't feel like what mother said, Rubin asked after a while a little hurt. I felt at once that he misunderstood my silence and I put my arm around his neck as I said. Rubin, love and honor your mother the longest day you live, she is one among a million. Liked, it mattered little whether I liked it or not, she made it seem God's own truth. And to think, Richard, that if it hadn't been for thee. Hush, Rubin, to think rather that she waited on me for days and nights together. Well, I could turn Catholic and worship one saint. I'm glad she's only mother, said the boy with a low laugh. And Richard, she likes me to have a good time as much as I do myself, she always makes me mind, but she's been jolly good to me. Oh, I love her, don't thee worry about that. Well, whatever happens, I said with a deep breath. I thank God for the day that brought me to her home. So do I, said the boy, so do we all. But Conn found Emily Warren's grandfather, I don't take to him, he thinks we're wonderfully simple folks, just about good enough to board him and that black-eyed witch of his. I do kind of like her a little bit, she's so saucy like sometimes, one day she commenced ordering me around, and I stood and stared at the little miss in a way that she won't forget. She'll learn to coax by and by, and then you'll do anything for her, Ruben. Perhaps, he said, with a half smile on his ready face. End of Book Second, Chapter 13 Book Second, Chapter 14 of A Day of Fate, by Edward P. Rowe. The Slip of Ox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Like Mini Waters Book Second, Chapter 14 Love Teaching Ethics On reaching the farmhouse I went directly to my room, and I wished that I might stay there the rest of the day, but I was soon summoned to dinner. In Miss Warren's eyes still lingered the evidences of her deep feeling, but her expression was quiet, firm, and resolute. The effect of the sermon upon her was just what I anticipated in case my hope had any foundation. It had bound her by what seemed the strongest of motives to be faithful to the man whom she believed had the right to her fealty. Well, I thought bitterly, life might have brought her a heavier cross than marrying a handsome millionaire, even though considerably her senior. I'm probably a conceited fool for thinking it any very great burden at all, but how then can I account? Well, well, time alone can unravel this snarl. One thing is certain, she will do nothing that she does not believe right, and after what Mrs. Yocom said, I would not dare to wish her to do wrong. Mrs. Yocom did not come down to dinner, and the meal was a quiet one. Mr. Yocom's eyes glistened with a serene happy light, but he ate sparingly, and spoke in subdued tones. He reminded me of the quaint old scripture, a man's wisdom maketh his face to shine. Whatever might be said against his philosophy, it produced good cheer and peace. Ada, too, was very quiet, but occasionally she glanced toward Miss Warren as if perplexed and somewhat troubled. Mr. Hearn seemed wrought up into quite a religious fervor. He was demonstratively tender and sympathetic toward the girl at his side, and waited on her with the effusive manner of one whose feelings must have some outlet. His appetite, however, did not flag, and I thought he seemed to enjoy his emotions and his dinner equally. Mr. Morton, he said impressively, you must have liked that sermon exceedingly. Indeed, sir, I replied briefly, I have scarcely thought whether I liked it or not. Both he and Miss Warren looked at me in surprise. Indeed, all did except Reuben. I beg your pardon, but I thought Mrs. Yocom expressed herself admirably, he said, with somewhat of the air of championship. She certainly expressed herself clearly. The trouble with me is that the sermon is just what Mrs. Yocom would call it, a message, and one scarcely knows how to dodge it.   What most bewilders me, I resumed, is to think how Mrs. Yocom has been waiting on me and taking care of me. I now feel like the peasant who was taken in and cared for by the royal family. I think our friend Mr. Morton is in what may be termed a frame of mind, said Mr. Hearn, a little satirically. Yes, sir, I am, I replied emphatically. I believe that adequate causes should have some effects. It does not follow, however, that my frame of mind is satisfactory to anyone, least of all to Mrs. Yocom. Your contact with the truth, said Mr. Hearn, laughing, is somewhat like many people's first experience of the ocean. You are much stirred up, but have not yet reached the point of yielding to the mysterious malady. I was disgusted and was about to reply with a sarcastic compliment upon the elegance of his illustration when a look of pain upon Miss Warren's face checked me, and I said nothing. Lack of delicacy was one of Mr. Hearn's gravest faults. While courtly, polished, and refined in externals, he lacked intact and nicety of discrimination. He often said things which have finer fibred but much worse man would never have said. He had an abundance of intellect, great shrewdness, vast force of will and organizing power, but not much ideality or imagination. This lack rendered him incapable of putting himself in the place of another, and of appreciating their feelings, moods, and motives. The most revolting thought to me of his union with Miss Warren was that he would never appreciate her. He greatly admired and respected her, but his spiritual eyes were too dim to note the exquisite bloom on her character, or to detect the evanescent lights and shades of thought and feeling, of which to me her mobile face gave so many hints. He would expect her to be like the July days now passing. Warm, bright, cloudless, and in keeping with his general prosperity. They will disappoint each other inevitably, I thought, and it's strange that her clear eyes cannot see it when mine can. It is perhaps the strongest evidence of her love for him since love is blind. Still, she may love and yet be able to see his foibles and failings clearly. Thousands of women do this, but whether the silken cord of love or the chain of supposed duty binds her to him now, I fear that Mrs. Yocome's sermon has made her his for all time. Her manner confirmed my surmise, for she apparently gave me little thought, and was unobtrusively attentive and devoted to him. He had the good taste to see that further personal remarks were not agreeable, and since his last attempt at witticism fell flat, did not attempt any more. Our table-talk flagged and we hastened through the meal. After it was over, he asked. Emily, what shall we do this afternoon? Anything you wish, she replied quietly. That's the way it will always be, I muttered, as I went dejectedly to my room. Through all his life it has been anything you wish, and now it would seem as if religion itself had become his ally. There is nothing to me so wonderful as some men's fortune. Earth and Heaven seem in league to forward their interests. But why was she so moved at the meeting-house? Was it merely religious sensibility? It might have been we were all moved deeply. Was it my imagination, or did she really shrink from him, and then glanced guiltily at me? Even if she had, it might have been a momentary repulsion, caused by his drowsy, heavy aspect at the time. Just as his remark at dinner gave her an unpleasant twinge, these little back-eddies are no proof that there is not a strong central current. Can it be that she was sorrowful in the meeting-house for my sake only? I've had strong proof of her wonderful kindness of heart. Well, God bless her anyway. I'll wait and watch till I know the truth. I suppose I'm the worst heathen Mrs. Yocome ever preached to, but I'm going to secure Emily Warren's happiness at any cost. If she truly loves this man, I'll go away and fight it out so sturdily that she'd need not worry. That's what her sermon means for me. I'm not going to pump up any religious sentiment. I don't feel any. It's like walking into a bare room to have a turn with a thumb screw, but Mrs. Yocome has hedged me up to just this course. Oh, the gentle inexorable woman, Satan himself might well tremble before her. There is but one that I fear more, and that's the woman I love most. Gentle, tender-hearted as she is, she is more inexorable than Mrs. Yocome. It's a little strange, but I doubt whether there is anything in the universe that so inspires a man with awe as a thoroughly good, large-minded woman. I could not sleep that afternoon, and at last became so weary of the conflict between my hope and fear that I was glad to hear Ms. Warren at the piano, playing softly some old English hymns. The day was growing cool and shadowy, but I hoped that before it passed I might get a chance to say something to her which would give a different aspect to the concluding words of Mrs. Yocome's sermon. I had determined no longer to avoid her society, but rather to seek it whenever I could in the presence of others, and especially of her off-pianced. They had returned from a long afternoon in the arbor, which I knew must occasion Ms. Warren some unpleasant thoughts, and the banker was sitting on the piazza chatting with Ada. I strolled into the parlor with as easy and natural a manner as I could assume, and taking my old seat by the window said quietly, please go on playing, Ms. Warren. She turned on me one of her swift looks which always gave me the impression that she saw all that was in my mind. Her color rose a little, but she continued playing for a time. Then with her right hand evoking low sweet chords, she asked with a conciliatory smile. Have you been thinking over Mrs. Yocome's words this afternoon? Not all the time, no, have you? How could I all the time? Oh, I think you can do anything under heaven you make up your mind to do. I said with a slight laugh. The look she gave now was a little apprehensive, and I added hastily. I had one thought that I don't mind telling you, for I think it may be a pleasant one, though it must recall that which is painful. The thought occurred to me when Mrs. Yocome was speaking, and since that your brother had perfect peace, as he stood in that line of battle. She turned eagerly toward me, and tears rushed into her eyes. You may be right, she said in a low tremulous tone. Well, I feel sure I'm right, I know it, if he was anything like you. Oh, then I doubt it, I'm not at all brave as he was, you ought to know that. You have the courage that a veteran general most values in a soldier, you might be half-dead from terror, but you wouldn't run away. Besides, I added smiling, you would not be afraid of shot and shell, only the noise of a battle. In this respect your brother no doubt differed from you. In the grand consciousness of right, and in his faithful performance of duty, I believe his face was as serene as the aspect of Mr. Yocome when he looked at the coming storm. As far as peace is concerned, his heaven began on earth, I envy him. Mr. Morton, I thank you for these words about my brother, she said very gently and with a little pathetic quaver in her voice. They have given me a comforting association with that awful day, oh I thank God for the thought, remembering what Mrs. Yocome said it reconciles me to it all, as I never thought I could be reconciled, if Herbert believed that it was his duty to be there, it was best he should be there, how strange it is that you should think of this first and not I. Will you pardon me if I take exception to one thing you say? I do not think it follows that he ought to have been there, simply because he felt it right to be there. Why Mr. Morton, ought one not to do right at any and every cost, that seemed to me the very pit of Mrs. Yocome's teaching, and I think she made it clear that it's always best to do right. I think so too most emphatically, but what is right Mrs. Warren? That's too large a question for me to answer in the abstract, but is not the verdict of conscience right for each one of us? I can't think so, I replied with a shrug. About every grotesque, horrible act ever committed in this world has been sanctioned by conscience. Delicate women have worn haircloth and walked barefooted on cold pavements and midnight penance. The devil is scarcely more cruel than the church for ages taught that God was. It's true that Christ's life was one of self-sacrifice, but was there any useless mistaken self-sacrifice in it? If God is anything like Mrs. Yocome, nothing could be more repugnant to him than blunders of this kind. She looked at me with a startled face, and I saw that my words had unsettled her mind. If conscience cannot guide what can, she faltered. Is not conscience God's voice within us? No, conscience may become God's worst enemy, that is, any God that I could worship, or even respect. Mr. Morton, you frighten me. How can I do right unless I follow my conscience? Yes, I said sadly, you would in the good old times have followed it over stony pavements in midnight penance, or now into any thorny path which it pointed out. And I believe that many such paths lead away from the God of whom Mrs. Yocome spoke today. Miss Warren, I'm a man of the world, and probably you think my views on these subjects are not worth much. It's strange that your own nature does not suggest to you the only sure guide. It seems to me that conscience should always go to truth for instructions. The men who killed your brother thought they were right as truly as he did, but history will prove that they were wrong, as so many sincere people have been in every age. He did not suffer and die uselessly, for the truth was beneath his feet and in his heart. Dear brave noble Herbert, she sighed, oh that God had spared him to me. I wish he had, I said with quiet emphasis. I wish he was with you here and now. Again she gave me a questioning troubled look through her tears. Then you believe truth to be absolutely binding? She asked in a low voice. Yes, in science, religion, ethics, or human action, nothing can last, nothing can end well that is not built squarely on truth. She became very pale, but she turned quietly to her piano as she said, you are right, Mr. Morton, there can be no peace, not even self-respect without truth. My nature would be pitiful indeed if it did not teach me that. She had interpreted my words in a way that intensified the influence of Mrs. Yokome's sermon, to be false to the trust that she had led her off-fiance to repose in her still seemed the depth of degradation. I feared that she would take this view at first, but believed if my hope had any foundation. She would think my words over so often that she would discover a different meaning. And my hope was strengthened if she loved Mr. Hearn why did she turn pale and quiet to her piano, which had always appeared a refuge to her when I had seemingly spoken words that not only sanctioned but made the course which harmonized with her love imperative? Even the possibility that in the long days and nights of my delirium I had unconsciously wooed and won her heart, so thrilled and overcame me that I dared not trust myself longer in her presence. And I went out on the piazza, a course imminently satisfactory to Mr. Hearn no doubt. I think he regarded our interview as becoming somewhat extended. He had glanced at me from time to time, but my manner had been too quiet to disturb him, and he could not see Ms. Warren's face. The words he overheard suggested a theological discussion rather than anything of a personal nature. It had been very reassuring to see Ms. Warren turn from me as if my words had ceased to interest her. And my coming out to talk with Ada confirmed the impression made by my manner all along that we were not very congenial spirits. It also occurred to me that he did not find chatting with Ada a very heavy cross, for never had she looked prettier than on that summer evening. But now that Ms. Warren was alone he went in and sat down by her, saying so loudly that I could not help hearing him as I stood by the window. I think you must have worsted Mr. Morton in your theological discussion, for he came out looking as if he had a great deal to think about that was not exactly to his taste, but Ms. Ada will.  End of Book Second Chapter 14 Book Second Chapter 15 of A Day of Fate by Edward P. Rowe This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by like many waters. Book Second Chapter 15 Don't Think of Me Mrs. Yocom appeared at supper serene and cheerful, but she was paler than usual, and she still looked like one who had but just descended from a lofty spiritual height. No reference whatever was made to the morning. Mrs. Yocom no longer spoke on religious themes directly, but she seemed to me the Gospel embodied, as with natural kindly grace she presided at her home table. Her husband beamed on her and looked as if his cup was overflowing. Rubens Frank Boyish eyes often turned toward her in their simple devotion, while Zilla, who sat next to her, had many a whispered confidence to give. Ada's accent was gentle and her manner thoughtful. Miss Warren looked at her from time to time with a strange wistfulness, looked as if the matron possessed a serenity and peace that she coveted. Emily, said Mr. Yocom, thee doesn't think music's wicked, does thee? No, sir, nor do you either. What does thee think of that, mother? I think Emily converted thee over to her side before she had been here two days. These winked very hard at my apostasy, mother. I'm inclined to think thee was converted to on the third or fourth day if thee don't up. No, said Mrs. Yocom, with a smile at her favorite. Emily won my heart on the first day and I accepted piano and all. Why, Mrs. Yocom, I exclaimed, for I could not forego the chance to vindicate myself. I've never considered you a precipitated, ill-balanced person. Ms. Warren's cheeks were scarlet and I saw that she understood me well. I think Mrs. Yocom guessed my meaning, too, for her smile was a little peculiar, as she remarked demerly. Women are different from men. They know almost immediately whether they like a person or not. I liked thee in half a day. You like sinners on principle, Mrs. Yocom. I think it was my general depravity and heathenism that won your regard. No, as a woman I liked thee, thee isn't as bad as thee seems. Mr. Yocom, I hope you don't object to this, for I must assure you most emphatically that I don't. Mothers welcome to love thee all she pleases, said the old gentleman, laughing. Indeed, I think I egg her onto it. Good friends, said Ms. Warren, with her old mirthful look. You'll turn Mr. Morton's head. You should be more considerate. I am indeed bewildered. Ms. Warren's keen eyes have detected my weak point. A man was so stout to heart, Mr. Hearn began, could well afford, and then he hesitated. To be weak-headed, I said, finishing his sentence, I fear you are mistaken, sir, I can't afford it at all. Thee was clear-headed enough to get a round mother in half an hour, said the old gentleman again, laughing heartily. It took me several months. Thee was a little blind father, I wasn't going to let Thee see how much I thought of Thee, till I had kept Thee waiting a proper time. That's rich, I cried, and I laughed as I had not since my illness. How long is a proper time, Mrs. Yocome? I remember being once told that a woman was a mystery that a man could never solve. I fear it's true. Who told you that? Asked Mr. Hearn, for I think he noticed my swift glance at Ms. Warren, who looked a little conscious. As I think of it, I may have read it in a newspaper, I said demurely. I'm not flattered by your poor memory, Mr. Morton, remarked Ms. Warren quietly. I told you that myself when you were so mystified by my fearlessness of dapple, and my fear of the cow. I've learned that my memory is sadly treacherous, Ms. Warren. A man who is treacherous only in memory may well be taken as a model, remarked Mr. Hearn benignly. Would you say that of one who forgot to pay you his debts? What do you owe me, Mr. Morton? I'm sure I don't know, goodwill I suppose Mrs. Yocome would suggest. Well, sir, I feel that I owe you a great deal, perhaps more than I realize, as I recall your promptness on that memorable night of the storm. I was prompt, I'll admit that, I said grimly, looking at the ceiling. Mr. Yocome, how long would it have taken the house to burn up if the fire had not been extinguished? Mr. Hearn asked. The interior, replied Mr. Yocome very gravely, would all have been in flames in a very few moments, for it's old and dry. Thug exclaimed Ada shudderingly. Richard, I put my finger on my lips. Ms. Ada, I interrupted, I'd rather be struck by lightning than hear any more about that night. Yes, said Ms. Warren desperately, I wish I could forget that night forever. I never wished to forget the expression on your face Ms. Warren, when you knew Zilla was alive, if that didn't please God, nothing in this world ever did. Oh hush, she cried. Emily, I think you cannot have told me all that happened. I can't think of it anymore, she said, and her face was full of trouble. I certainly don't know and have never thought how I looked. Mr. Morton seems to have been cool enough to have been very observant, said the banker keenly. I was wet enough to be cool, sir, Ms. Warren said that I was not fit to be seen, and the doctor bundled me out of the room, fearing I would frighten Zilla into hysterics. Hey Zilla, what do you think of that? I think the doctor was silly, I wouldn't be afraid of thee any more than of Emily. Please let us talk and think of something else, Ms. Warren pleaded. I don't want to forget what I owe to Richard, said Ruben a little indignantly. I trod on his foot under the table. The needon tried to stop me, Richard Morton, continued the boy passionately. I couldn't have got mother out alone, and I'd never left her. Where would we be, Emily Warren, if it hadn't been for Richard? In heaven, I said laughing, for I was determined to prevent a scene. Well, I hope so, Ruben muttered, but I don't mind being in mother's dining room. Even Mrs. Yocom's gravity gave way at this speech. As we rose from the table, Zilla asked innocently, Emily is thee crying or laughing. I hardly know myself, she faltered, and went hastily to her room, but she soon came down again, looking very resolute. Emily, said Mr. Yocom, since thee and mother doesn't think music's wicked, I have a wonderful desire to hear thee sing again. Tell me the old, old story, as thee did on the night of the storm. In spite of her brave eyes and braver will, her lip trembled. I was cruel enough to add, and I would be glad to listen to the twelfth nocturne once more. For some reason she gave me a swift glance full of reproach. I will listen to anything, I said quickly. Mr. Hearn looked a little like a man who feared that there might be subterranean fires beneath his feet. I will not promise more than to be chorister tonight, she said, sitting down to the piano with her back toward us. Let us have familiar hymns that all can sing, Miss Ada has a sweet voice, and Mr. Morton no doubt is hiding his talent in a napkin. There's a book for you, sir, I'm sorry it doesn't contain the music. It doesn't matter, I said, I'm equally familiar with Choctaw.  We all gathered in the old parlor and spent an hour that I shall never forget. I had a tolerable tenor, and Danir made fairly correct by hearing much music. Mr. Hearn did not sing, but he seemingly entered into the spirit of the occasion. Before very long Miss Warren and I were singing some things together. Mr. Hearn no doubt compared our efforts unfavorably with what he had heard in the city, but the simple people of the farmhouse were much pleased and repeatedly asked us to continue, as I was leaning over Miss Warren's shoulder, finding a place in the hymnbook on the stand, she breathed softly.  No, I replied. Can you leave such friends? Yes. You ought not, it would hurt them cruelly, and she made some runs on the piano to hide her words. If you say I ought not to go, I'll stay. Ah, this is the one I was looking for, I said in a matter of fact tone. But she played the music with some strange slips and errors, her hands were nervous and trembling, and never was the frightened look that I had seen before more distinctly visible. After we had sung a stanza or two she rose and said, I think I'm getting a little tired and the room seems warm. Wouldn't you like to take a walk? She asked Mr. Hearn coming over to his side. He arose with alacrity and they passed out together. I did not see her again that night. The next morning finding me alone for a moment she approached hesitatingly and said, I don't think I ought to judge for you. Do you wish me to go? I asked sadly interpreting her thought. She became very pale and turned away as she replied, Perhaps you had better, I think you would rather go. No, I'd rather stay, but I'll do as you wish. She did not reply and went quickly to her piano. I turned and entered the dining room where Mrs. Yocome and Ada were clearing away the breakfast. Mr. Yocome was writing in his little office adjoining. I think it is time I said goodbye and went back to New York. In the outcry that followed Ms. Warren's piano became silent. Richard Martin, Mrs. Yocome began almost indignantly. If thee hasn't any regard for thyself, thee should have some for thy friends. The isn't fit to leave home and this is thy home now. The doesn't call thy hot rooms in New York home, so I don't see as thee has got any other. Just so sure as thee goes back to New York now, they'll be sick again. I won't hear to it, thee's just beginning to improve a little. Ada looked at me through reproachful tears, but she did not say anything. Mr. Yocome dropped his pen and came out, looking quite excited. I'll send for Dr. Bates and have him lay his commands on thee, he said. I won't take thee to the depot, and thee isn't able to walk halfway there. Here, Emily, come and talk reason to this crazy man. He says he's going back to New York. He ought to be put in a straight jacket. Doesn't thee think so? Her lap was anything but simple and natural, as she said. I do indeed, Mr. Hearn had joined her. What would thee do in such an extreme case of mental disorder? Treat him as they did in the good old times, get a chain and lock him up on bread and water. Would thee then enjoy thy dinner? That wouldn't matter if he were cured. I think Mr. Morton would prefer hot New York to the remedies that Emily prescribes, said Mr. Hearn, with his smiling face full of vigilance. Richard, said Mrs. Yocom, putting both her hands on my arm. I should feel more hurt than I can tell thee if thee leaves us now. Why, Mrs. Yocom, I didn't think you would care so much. Then these very blind Richard, I didn't think thee'd say that. You cut deep now. Suppose I must go. Why must thee go, just as thee is beginning to gain? Thee is as pale as a ghost this minute, and thee doesn't weigh much more than half as much as I do. Still, we don't want to put an unwelcome constraint on thee. I took her hand in both of mine as I said earnestly. God forbid that I should ever escape from any constraint that you put upon me. Well, I won't go today, and I'll see what word my mail brings me. And I went up to my room, not trusting myself to glance at the real controller of my action, but hoping that something would occur which would make my course clear. As I came out of my room to go down to dinner, Ms. Warren intercepted me, saying eagerly, Mr. Morton, don't go, if you should be ill again in New York, as Mrs. Yocom says. I won't be ill again. Please don't go, she entreated. I, I shouldn't have said what I did. You would be ill. Mrs. Yocom would never forgive me. Ms. Warren, I will do what you wish. I wish what is best for you, only that. I fear I cloud your happiness, you are too kind-hearted. She smiled a little bitterly. Please stay, don't think of me. Again, I repeat, you are too kind-hearted, never imagine that I can be happy if you are not. And I looked at her keenly, but she turned away instantly, saying, Well then, I'll be very happy and will test you. And she returned to her room. Mrs. Yocom, I said quietly at the dinner table, I've written to the office saying that friends do not think I'm well enough to return yet, and asking to have my leave extended. She beamed upon me as she replied, Now these sensible. For once, I added, I expect to see thee clothed then in thy right mind yet, she said, with a little reassuring nod. Your hopeful disposition is contagious, I replied laughing. I'd like to see thee get to the depot till we're ready to let thee go, said Rubin emphatically. Yes, added Mr. Yocom with his genuine laugh. Rubin and I are in league against thee. You look like too dark muttering conspirators, I responded. And to think thee was going away without asking me, Zilla put in, shaking her bright curls at me. Well, you all have made this home to me true enough. The best part of me will be left here when I do go. At these words Ada gave me a shy, blushing smile. Mr. Morton, will you please pass me the vinegar, said Miss Warren in the most matter-of-fact tone. Wouldn't you prefer the sugar, I asked. No, I much prefer the vinegar. Mr. Hearn also smiled approvingly. Don't be too sure of your prey, I said mentally. If she's not yours at heart, which I doubt more than ever, you shall never have her. But she puzzled me for a day or two. If she were not happy she simulated happiness, and made my poor acting a flimsy pretense in contrast. She and the banker took long rides together, and she was always exceedingly cheerful on her return, a little too much so I tried to think. She ignored the past as completely as possible, and while her manner was kind to me, she had regained her old-time delicate brusqueness, and rarely lost a chance to give me a friendly Philip. Indeed I had never known her to be so brilliant, and her spirit seemed unflagging. Mr. Yocom was delighted, and in his large appetite for fun applauded and joined in every phase of our home gaiety. There was too much hilarity for me, and my hope failed steadily. Now that her conscience is clear in regard to me, now that I have remained in the country and am getting well, her spirits have come up with a bound, I reasoned moodily. I began to resume my old tactics of keeping out of the way, and of taking long rambles, but I tried to be cheerfulness itself in her presence. On Wednesday Ms. Warren came down to breakfast in a breezy airy way and scarcely speaking to me as I stood in the doorway she flitted out, and was soon ropping with Zilla and Adella. As she returned, flushed and panting, I said with a smile, You are indeed happy, I congratulate you, I believe I've never had the honor of doing that yet. But you said that you would be happy also. Am I not? No. Well, it doesn't matter since you are. Oh, then I'm no longer kind-hearted, you take Ruben's view that I'm a heartless monster. He scarcely speaks to me any more, you think I propose to be happy now under all circumstances. I wish you would be, I hope you may be.  I don't deceive you a might. But I'm not going to mope and pine, Ms. Warren. Don't think of me so poorly as that. I'm not the first man who has had to face this thing. I'm going back to work, and I am going next Monday, surely. I've no doubt of it, she said with sudden bitterness, and you'll get over it bravely, very bravely, and she started off toward the barn where Ruben was exercising Dappel, holding him with a long rope, the horse seemed wild with life and spirit. And did I not know that the beautiful creature had not a vicious trait I should have feared for the boy? Just at this moment Dappel in his play slipped off his headstall and was soon careering around the door-yard in mad glee of freedom. In vain Ruben tried to catch him, for the capricious beast would allow him to come almost within grasp and then would bound away. Ms. Warren stood under a tree laughing till the boy was hot and angry, then she cried, I'll catch him for you Ruben. I uttered a loud shout of alarm as she darted out before the galloping horse and threw up her arms. Dappel stopped instantly, in another second she had her arm around his arched neck and was stroking his quivering nostrils.  Dappel looked down at her in a sort of mild wonder and was as meek as a lamb.  Emily Warren, I don't know what to make of thee, he exclaimed. Never before had I so felt my unutterable loss and I said to her almost savagely in a low tone as she approached. Is that the means you take to cure me, doing the bravest thing I ever saw a woman do and looking like a goddess, I was an unspeakable fool for staying. Her head drooped and she walked dejectedly toward the house, not seeming to think or care for the exclamations and expostulations which greeted her. Why, Emily, were you mad, cried Mr. Hearn above the rest, and now that the careering horse was being led away, he hastened down to meet her. No, I'm tired and I want a cup of coffee, I heard her say, and then I followed Ruben to the barn. She's cut me out with Dappel, said the boy with a crestfallen air. Already I repented of my harshness and to which I had been led by the sharpest stress of feeling and was eager to make amends. Since the night of the storm honest Ruben had given me his unwavering loyalty. Still less than Ada was he inclined or able to look beneath the surface of things, and he had gained the impression from Ms. Warren's words that she was inclined to make light of their danger on that occasion and to laugh at me generally. In his sturdy championship on my behalf he had been growing cold and brusque toward one, whom he now associated with the wealthy middle-aged banker and city style generally. Ruben was a genuine country lad and was instinctively hostile to Fifth Avenue, while Mr. Hearn was polite to his father and mother. He quite naturally laid more stress on their business relations than on those of friendship, and was not slow in asking for what he wanted, and his luxurious tastes led him to require a good deal. Ruben had seen his mother worried and his father in convenience not a little. They made no complaint and had no cause for any, for the banker paid his way liberally, but the boy had not reached the age when the financial phase of the question was appreciated, and his prejudice was not unnatural, for unconsciously, especially at first, Mr. Hearn had treated them all as inferiors. He now was learning to know them better, however. There was nothing plebeian in Ada's beauty, and he would have been untrue to himself had he not admired her very greatly. It was my wish to lead the boy to overcome his prejudice against Ms. Warren, so I said, You are mistaken Ruben, Dappolis just as fond of you as ever, it was only playfulness that made him cut up so, but Ruben, Dappolis a very sensible horse, and when he saw a girl that was brave enough to stand right out before him, when it seemed that he must run over her, he respected and liked such a girl at once, it was the bravest thing I ever saw, any other horse would have trampled on her, but Dappolis has the nature of a gentleman, so have you Ruben, and I know you will go and speak handsomely to her, I know you will speak to her as Dappolis would could he speak, by Jove it was splendid and you are man enough to know it was. Yes Richard it was, I know that as well as thee, there isn't a girl in the country that would have dared to do it, and very few men, and to think she's a city girl. To tell the truth, Emily Warren is all the time making game of thee, and that's why I mad at her. I don't think you understand her, I don't mind it, because she never means anything ill-natured, and then she loves your mother almost as much as you do, I give you my word Ruben, Ms. Warren and I are best of friends, and you need not feel as you do, because I don't. Oh, well if thee puts it that way I'll treat her different, I'll tell thee what it is Richard, I'm one that sticks to my friends through thick and thin. Well, you can't do anything so friendly to me as to make everything pleasant for Ms. Warren, how is her favourite old plod, I asked, following him into the barn. Old plod be hanged, she hasn't been near him in two weeks. What? I exclaimed exultantly. What's the matter with thee Richard, the and Emily are both queer, I can't make you out. Well Ruben, we mean well, you mustn't expect too much of people. End of book 2nd chapter 15