CHAPTER XXV
DARKNESS
The next morning Christine did not appear at the late breakfast atwhich her father with contracted brow and capricious appetite satalone. Among the other unexpected results of the preceding day she hadtaken a very severe cold, and this, with the reaction from fatigue andexcitement, caused her to feel so seriously ill that she found itimpossible to rise. Her father looked at her, and was alarmed; for hercheeks were flushed with fever, her head was aching sadly, and sheappeared as if threatened with one of those dangerous diseases whoseearlier symptoms are so obscure and yet so much alike. She tried tosmile, but her lip quivered, and she turned her face to the wall.
The philosophy of Mr. Ludolph and his daughter was evidently adaptedto fair weather and smooth sailing. Sickness, disease, and the possibleresults, were things that both dreaded more than they ever confessedto each other. It was most natural that they should, for only in healthor life could they enjoy or hope for anything. By their own belieftheir horizon was narrowed down to time and earth, and they could lookfor nothing beyond. In Mr. Ludolph's imperious, resolute nature,sickness always awakened anger as well as anxiety. It seemed like anenemy threatening his dearest hopes and most cherished ambition,therefore the heavy frown upon his brow as he pushed away the scarcelytasted breakfast.
To Christine the thought of death was simply horrible, and with thewhole strength of her will she ever sought to banish it. To her itmeant corruption, dust, nothingness. With a few drawbacks she hadenjoyed life abundantly, and she clung to it with the tenacity of onewho believed it was all. With the exception of some slight passingindisposition, both she and her father had been seldom ill; and fora number of years now they had voyaged on over smooth, sunny seas ofprosperity.
Christine's sudden prostration on the morning following theentertainment was a painful surprise to both.
"I will have Dr. Arten call at once," he said, at parting, "and willcome up from the store early in the day to see you;" and Christine wasleft alone with her French maid.
Her mind was too clouded and disturbed by fever to think coherently,and yet a vague sense of danger--trouble--oppressed her, and while shelay in a half-unconscious state between sleeping and waking, a thousandfantastic visions presented themselves. But in them all the fiery Crossand Dennis Fleet took some part. At times the Cross seemed to blazeand threaten to burn her to a cinder, while he stood by with stern,accusing face. The light from the Cross made him luminous also, andthe glare was so terrible that she would start up with a cry of fear.Again, they would both recede till in the far distance they shone likea faint star, and then the black darkness that gathered round her wasmore dreadful than the light, and with her eyes closed she would reachout her hot hands for the light to return. Once or twice it shone uponher with soft, mellow light, and Dennis stood pointing to it, pleadingso earnestly and tenderly that tears gathered in her eyes. Then allwas again blurred and distorted.
Within an hour after her father left, she found Dr. Arten feeling herpulse and examining her symptoms. With a great effort she rousedherself, and, looking at the doctor with an eager inquiring face, said;"Doctor, tell me the truth. What is the matter?"
He tried to smile and evade her question, but she would not let him.
"Well, really, Miss Ludolph," he said, "we can hardly tell yet whatis the matter. You have evidently caught a very severe cold, and Ihope that is all. When I come this evening I may be able to speak moredefinitely. In the meantime I will give you something to soothe andreduce your fever!"
The French maid followed the doctor out, leaving the door ajar in herhaste, and in an audible whisper said: "I say, docteur, is it not zesmallpox? Zere is so much around. Tell me true, for I must leave zisvery minute."
"Hush, you fool!" said the doctor, and they passed out of hearing.A sickening dread made Christine's heart almost stand still. When thewoman returned her mistress watched her most narrowly and asked, "Whatdid the doctor say to you?"
The maid replied in French that he had said she must be still and nottalk.
"But you asked him if I had the smallpox. What did he say?"
"Ah, mademoiselle, you make one grand meestake. I ask for a small boxto keep your medicine in, zat it make no smell."
From the woman's lie, and from the fact that she was redolent withcamphor, and that she kept as far away as possible, near the windows,Christine gathered a most painful confirmation of her fears. For atime she lay almost paralyzed by dread.
Then as the medicine relieved her of fever and unclouded her mind,thought and conscience awoke with terrible and resistless power. Asnever before she realized what cold, dark depths were just beneath hergay, pleasure-loving life, and how suddenly skies radiant with thericher promise of the future could become black and threatening.Never had earthly life seemed so attractive, never had her own prospectsseemed so brilliant, and her hopes of fame, wealth, and happiness inher future German villa more dazzling, than now when they stood outagainst the dark background of her fears.
"If, instead of going forward to all this delight, I become an objectof terror and loathing even before I die, and something that must behidden out of sight as soon as possible after, what conceivable fatecould be worse? That such a thing is possible proves this to be adreadful and defective world, with all its sources of pleasure. Surelyif there were a God he would banish such horrible evils.
"There is no God--there can't be any--at least none such as the Biblereveals. How often I have said this to myself! how often my father hassaid it to me! and yet the thought of Him torments me often even whenwell.
"Why does this thought come so persistently now? I settled it longago, under father's proof, that I did not believe in Him or thesuperstitions connected with His name. Why doesn't the question staysettled? Other superstitions do not trouble me. Why should that Crosscontinually haunt me? Why should the _man_ who died thereon have thepower to be continually speaking to me through His words that I haveread? I believe in Socrates as much as I do in Him, and yet I recall theGreek sage's words with an effort, and cannot escape from theNazarene's. All is mystery and chaos and danger. We human creaturesare like frothy bubbles that glisten and dance for a moment on a swiftblack tide that seems flowing forever, and yet nowhere."
Then her thoughts recurred to Dennis.
"That young Fleet seemed to believe implicitly in what he saidyesterday, and he lives up to what he believes. I would give the worldfor his delusion, were it only for its comforting and sustaining powerfor this life. If he were very ill, he would be imagining himself onthe threshold of some sort of heaven or paradise, and would be calmand perhaps even happy, while I am so supremely wretched I find thatI have nothing--absolutely nothing to sustain me--not even the memoryof good deeds. I have not even lived the unselfish life that Socratesrecommends, much less the holy life of the Bible. I have pleased myself.Well, believing as I have been taught, that seemed the most sensiblecourse. Why doesn't it seem so now?"
Thus tossed on a sea of uncertainty and fear, Christine, in darknessand weakness, grappled with those mighty questions which only He canput to rest who said, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe inGod, believe also in Me."
Dennis walked resolutely home. He felt himself adamant in his sternresolution. He at least had the deathlike peace that follows decision.The agony of conflict was over for a time, and, as he thought, forever.
From mere exhaustion he slept heavily, and on the following day withwhite face and compressed lips entered on his work. And work it nowbecame indeed; for the old glamour was all gone, and life looked aspractical and hard as the stones of the street. Even the pictures onthe walls seemed to him but things for sale, representing money values;and money appeared the beginning, middle, and ending of the world'screed. Like the unsubstantial mirage had vanished the beautiful, happylife of the past few weeks. Around him were the rocks and sands of thedesert, through which he must toil with weary, bleeding feet till hereached the land watered by the river of life. Reason and duty, a
s hebelieved, forbade the existence of this foolish passion, and he mustand would destroy it; but in his anguish he felt as if he had resolvedto torture himself to death.
"And she will never know what I suffer--never know the wealth of heartI have lavished upon her. I am glad she will not, for the knowledgeof my love would make no more impression on her cold, proud naturethan a drop of warm summer rain falling on the brow of yonder marblestatue of Diana. She would only be amazed at my presumption. She feelsthat she shines down on me like the sun, and that I am a poor littlesatellite that she could blot out altogether by causing her father toturn me into the street again, which undoubtedly would be done shouldI reveal my feelings."
And he was right.
"Come!" said he to himself, breaking from his painful revery, "noweakness! You have your way to make in the world, and your work to do.God will help you, and no creature shall hinder you;" and he plungedresolutely into his duties.
Mr. Ludolph was late in reaching the store that morning, and Dennisfound himself secretly hoping, in spite of himself, that Christinewould accompany him. His will and heart were now in distinct opposition,and the latter would not obey orders.
When Mr. Ludolph appeared, it was with a frowning, clouded brow. Withouta word he passed into his private office, but seemed so restless andtroubled in his manner that Dennis felt something was wrong. Why shouldhe take such an interest in this man? Why should he care? The otherclerks did not: not one save himself had noticed anything different.Poor Dennis was to learn that he had a disease of many and variedsymptoms.
After something over an hour had passed, Mr. Ludolph started from hisdesk, took his hat and cane as with the purpose of going out--a veryunusual thing at that time. But, as he was passing down the store, hemet Dr. Arten opposite Dennis's counter.
"Well?" said Mr. Ludolph, impatiently.
"I will call again this evening," said the doctor, prudentlynon-committal. "Your daughter has caught a very severe cold. I hopeit is nothing more than a cold, but so many troublesome diseasescommence with these obscure symptoms that we have to wait till furtherdevelopments reveal the true nature of the case."
"You doctors make no headway in banishing disease from the world,"snarled Mr. Ludolph. "There is smallpox around, is there not?"
"Yes, I am sorry to say there is a great deal of it, but if you rememberthe history of that one disease, I think you will admit your remarkto be unfair."
"I beg your pardon, doctor, but I am anxious, and all out of sorts,as I ever am in sickness" (when affecting himself--he might justlyhave added). "It seems such a senseless, useless evil in the world.The idea of you Christians believing a benevolent Being rules theworld, and that He permits smallpox. Can it be possible that my daughterhas contracted this loathsome horror?" "Well, it is possible, but Ihope not at all probable. We doctors are compelled to look at thepractical rather than the theological side of the question. It ispossible for any one to have this disease. Has your daughter beenvaccinated?"
"No!" growled Mr. Ludolph. "I don't believe in vaccination. It is asapt to vitiate the system as to protect it."
"I am sorry for that," said the doctor, looking grave.
Keen Mr. Ludolph saw and read his physician's expression accurately.Seizing his hand he said, eagerly: "Pardon me, doctor; you canunderstand a father's feelings. Watch this case night and day. Spareno pains, and be assured I will regret no expense"; and he hastenedaway to his daughter's bedside.
No prisoner at the bar ever listened with more interest than Dennis.If it had been his own case they were discussing it would not havetouched him half so nearly.
But a moment before, Christine in her pride, wealth, and beauty seemeddestined to go through life as in a triumphant march. Now he saw herto be a weak human creature, threatened as sorely as the poorest andhumblest. Her glorious beauty, even her life, might pass away in LeGrand Hotel as surely as in a tenement house. The very thought thrilledhim with fear. Then a great pity rushed into his soul like a tide,sweeping everything before it. His stern resolution to stifle andtrample upon his love melted like a snow-wreath, and every interestof life centred in the darkened room where Christine tossed and moanedin the deeper darkness of uncertainty and doubt. The longing to go toher with comfort and help was so intense that it required the utmosteffort of reason and will to prevent such rash action. He trembled athimself--at the strength of his feelings--and saw that though he mightcontrol outward action his heart had gone from him beyond remedy, andthat his love, so long unrecognized, was now like the principal sourceof the Jordan, that springs from the earth a full-grown river, andthat he could not help it.
Mr. Ludolph found little comfort at his daughter's bedside. Sendingher maid away, who was glad to go, Christine told what she hadoverheard. Smallpox seemed in the mind of every one, but this was notstrange since it was so prevalent in the city.
"Oh, father, what shall I do--what shall I do, if this should be thecase? Janette will leave me, and there will be no one to take care ofme. I know I shall die, and I might as well as to be made hideous bythis horrible disease. No, I would rather live, on any terms; for todie is to be nothing. Oh, father, are you sure the Bible is all false?There is so much in it to comfort the sick. If I could only believein such a life hereafter as Susie Winthrop does, I would as soon dieas not."
"No," said Mr. Ludolph, firmly, "your only chance is to get well. Thereis no use in deceiving ourselves. I have secured the services of themost skilful of physicians, and will see that you have every attention.So try to be as calm as possible, and co-operate with every effort tobaffle and banish disease. After all it may be nothing more than asevere cold."
So then in very truth this world was all. In bitterness and dread sherealized how slight was her hold upon it. To her healthful body painwas a rare experience, but now her head and every bone ached, and theslightest movement caused increased suffering. But her mental troublewas by far the greatest. Often she murmured to herself, "Oh, that Ihad been trained to the grossest superstitions, so that I might notlook down into this black bottomless gulf that unbelief opens at myfeet!" and she tossed and moaned most piteously.
Mr. Ludolph returned to the store in an exceedingly worried and anxiousstate. As he entered he caught Dennis's eager, questioning gaze, anda thought struck him: "Perhaps this young fellow, through his missionschool, may know of some good, trustworthy woman who would act asnurse"; and coming to Dennis he explained the situation, and then askedif he knew of any one, or could find a suitable person.
Dennis listened eagerly, thought a moment, and then said, with a flushedface and in a low tone: "I think my mother would be willing to come.She has had the smallpox and would not be afraid."
"But would she be willing?"
"I think I could persuade her," said Dennis.
Mr. Ludolph thought a moment, then said: "I think she would be the oneof all others, for she must be very much of a lady, and I would notlike to put my daughter in charge of a common, coarse woman. You mayrest assured that I would reward her liberally."
"She would not come for money, sir."
"What then?"
Dennis flushed how more deeply than before. He had been speaking forhis mother from his own point of view, and now he hardly knew what tosay, for he was not good at evasion. But he told the truth, if not allthe truth. "We feel very grateful to you for the means of support, anda chance in life when the world was very dark. You have since promotedme--"
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Ludolph, somewhat touched, though; "you haveearned every dollar you have received, and your coming has been ofadvantage to me also. But if your mother will meet this need, shouldit occur, neither of you will have cause to regret it"; and he passedon to his office, but soon after went away again and did not returnthat day.
To Dennis the hours dragged on like years, full of suspense and mentaltumult. At times he would bow his head behind his counter, and prayin tearful fervor for the object of his constant thought. The day wasrainy, and the store empty of customers, for whic
h he was most thankful,as he would have made the poorest of salesmen. At last the hour forclosing arrived, and he was left to himself. In the solitude of hisown room he once more looked the situation fairly in the face. Withhis head bowed in his hands he reflected: "Last night I _thought_to tear this love from my heart, but to-night I find that this wouldbe to tear out my heart itself. I cannot do it. It is my strongestconviction that I can no more stop loving her than I can stop living.Unconsciously this love has grown until now it is my master, and itis folly to make any more resolves, only to be as weak as water whenI least expect it. What shall I do?"
Motionless, unconscious of the lapse of time, he remained hour afterhour absorbed in painful thought. Circumstances, reason, the Bible,all seemed to frown upon his love; but, though it appeared to behopeless, his whole nature revolted against the idea of its beingwrong.
"It cannot be wrong to love, purely and unselfishly," he muttered."Such love as mine seems to carry its own conviction of right withit--an inner consciousness that seems so strong and certain as to bebeyond argument--beyond everything; and yet if God's Word is againstit I must be wrong, and my heart is misleading me."
Again in unbroken silence an hour passed away. Then the thought struckhim: "It is not contrary to God's action! He so loved theworld--unbelievers and all--as to give His best and dearest! Can itbe wrong to be God-like?"
"It is not wise, it is not safe," prudence whispered, "to give aworldly, unbelieving spirit the power to influence you that she willhave who is first in your heart. What true congeniality can there be?What fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? or what parthath he that believeth with an infidel? As the most intimate friendand companion in life, you should seek one who truly can be _one_with you in all things, and most assuredly so in this vital respect."
"Ah," thought Dennis, "that would have been very good advice to giveawhile ago. If from the first I could have understood my feelings anddanger, I might have steeled my heart against the influences that havebrought me to this. But the mischief is done. The words that now, inspite of myself, continually run in my mind, are, 'What God hath joinedtogether let not man put asunder.' It seems as if some resistless powerhad joined my soul to hers, and I find no strength within myself tobreak the bond. I am not usually irresolute; I think I have principle;and yet I feel that I should not dare make the most solemn vow againstthis love. I should be all the more weak because conscience does notcondemn me. It seems to have a light that reason and knowledge knownot of. And yet I wish I could be more sure. I wish I could say tomyself, I may be loving hopelessly, but not sinfully. I would take therisk. Indeed I cannot help taking it. Oh, that I could find light,clear and unmistakable!"
He rose, turned up his light, and opened the Pauline precepts. Thesewords struck his eyes, "Art thou bound unto a wife? Seek not to beloosed." Then, above, the words, "How knowest thou, O man, whetherthou shalt save thy wife, even though she be an unbeliever?"
"Am I not bound--bound by that which is God's link in the chain? Itdoes not seem as if the legal contract could change or strengthen myfeelings materially, and while honoring the inviolable rite of marriage,which is God's law and society's safety, I know that nothing can moresurely bind me to her, so that the spirit, the vital part of thepassage, applies to me. Then if through this love I could save her--ifby prayer and effort I could bring her feet into the paths of life--Ishould feel repaid for all that I could possibly suffer. She may slightmy human love with its human consummation, but God will not let a lifeof prayer and true love be wasted, and she may learn here, or knowhereafter, that though the world laid many rich gifts at her feet Ibrought the best of all."
He looked out, and saw that the early spring dawn was tingeing thehorizon.
"A good omen," he said aloud. "Perhaps the night of this trouble ispast, and the dawn is coming. I am convinced that it is not wrong; andI am resolved to make the almost desperate attempt. A mysterious hope,coming from I know not where or what, seems to beckon and encourageme forward."
Dennis was young.
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