CHAPTER XV
MY FATE
Having lighted the lamp in my room, I looked around it with a delicioussense of proprietorship. Its quaint, homely comfort was just to mytaste, and now appeared doubly attractive. Chief of all, it was aportion of the home I had had some part in saving, and we instinctivelylove that which ministers to our self-complacency. An old house seemsto gain a life and being of its own, and I almost imagined it consciousof gratitude that its existence had not been blotted out. Mrs. Yocomb'scordial invitation to come and stay when I could gave me at the time aglad sense that I had found a country refuge to which I couldoccasionally escape when in need of rest. I felt now, however, as ifthe old walls themselves would welcome me. As to the inmates of thehome, I feared that their grateful sense of the services I was sofortunate as to render might make their boundless sense of obligationembarrassing to me. It would be their disposition to repay an ordinaryfavor tenfold, and they would always believe that Reuben and I hadsaved their lives, and the old home which no doubt had long been intheir family.
"Well, I'll never complain of fortune again," I thought, "since I'vebeen permitted to do for these people what I have;" and I threw myselfdown on the lounge, conscious of the warm, comfortable glow imparted bydry clothes and the strong coffee, still more conscious of an innersatisfaction that the threatening events of the night had ended just asI could have wished.
"Since it was to be, thank God I was here and was able to act for thebest," I murmured. "The June sunshine and the lightning have thrownconsiderable light on my future. I said to Emily Warren, 'What could Ihave done without you in this emergency?' With still greater emphasis Ifeel like asking, What would life be without you? It seems absurd thatone person should become essential to the life of another in a fewbrief hours. And yet, why absurd? Is it not rather in accord with thedeepest and truest philosophy of life? Is the indissoluble union of twolives to result from long and careful calculations of the pros andcons? In true marriage it seems to me the soul should recognize itsmate when meeting it."
It thus may be seen that I was no exception to that large class whoaccept or create a philosophy pleasing to it, and there is usuallyenough truth in any system to prevent its being wholly unreasonable.
I heard a step in the hall, and as I had left my door open so that atany sound I could spring up, I was so fortunate as to intercept theobject of my thoughts. Her face was full of deep content, but verypale. To the eager questioning of my manner, she replied:
"The doctor says Zillah is doing as well as we could expect. Oh, I'm soglad!" "Miss Warren, you don't know how pale you are. When are _you_going to rest? I've been lying down, and my conscience troubled me as Ithought of you still working."
"I never imagined that editors had such tender consciences," she said,with a low laugh, and she vanished into Adah's room.
I knew she wouldn't stay long, and remained at the end of the hall,looking out of the window. The lightning flashes had grown faint anddistant, but they were almost incessant, and they revealed that theclouds were growing thin toward the west, while near the horizon a starglimmered distinctly.
"Miss Warren," I called, as she came out of Adah's room, "I've a goodomen to show you. Do you see that star in the west? I think the morningwill be cloudless?"
"But those flashes prove that the storm is causing fear and loss toother and distant homes."
"Not at all. It is, no doubt, causing 'better grain and clearer skies,'as Mr. Yocomb said. Such an experience as we have had to-night, whilehaving its counterparts not infrequently, take the world over, is by nomeans common."
"Oh, I hope we may have no more heavy thunderstorms this summer. Theyare about the only drawback to this lovely season."
"You are perfectly safe so long as you remain here," I laughed; "youknow the lightning never strikes twice in the same place."
"I hope to stay here, but for better reasons than that."
"So do I."
"I should think you would. You, certainly, are no longer homeless. Mr.and Mrs. Yocomb will adopt you in spite of yourself as soon as theyrealize it all. The string of the latch will always hang outside of thedoor for you, I can tell you; and a nice place it will be for a cityman to come."
"And for a city woman, too. Mrs. Yocomb had adopted you before all thishappened, and I don't believe she'll forget that you really savedlittle Zillah's life."
"The dear little thing!" she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes."How pathetic her little unconscious form was!"
"To me," I replied earnestly, "it was the most exquisite and sacredthing I ever saw. I don't wonder you felt as you did when you said, 'Ican't--I won't give her up,' for it seemed at the moment almost as ifmy life depended on her life, so powerful was her hold on my sympathy.The doctor spoke truer than he thought, for it seems as if thelightning had fused me into this family, and my grief would have beenalmost as great as Reuben's had little Zillah not revived."
"I feel as if it would have broken my heart," and her tears fell fast.Dashing them away she said, "I cry as well as laugh too easily, and I'moften so provoked that I could shake myself. I must say that I thinkwe're all becoming well acquainted for people who have met so recently."
"Oh, as for you," I replied, "I knew you well in some previous state ofexistence, and have just met you again."
"Mr. Morton," she said, turning on me brusquely, "I shall not be quitesure as to your entire sanity till you have had a long sleep. You haveseemed a little out of your head on some points ever since our extendedacquaintance began. You have appeared impressed or oppressed with thehallucination that this day--is it to-day or to-morrow?"
"It's to-day for a little while longer," I replied, looking at my watch.
"Well, then, that to-day was 'a day of fate,' and you made me nervouson the subject--"
"Then I'm as sane as you are."
"No, I hadn't any such nonsense in my mind till you suggested it, buthaving once entertained the idea it haunted me."
"Yes, and it haunts you still," I said, eagerly.
"What time is it, Mr. Morton?"
"It lacks but a few moments of midnight."
"No," she said, laughingly, "I don't believe anything more will happento-day, and as soon as the old clock downstairs strikes twelve I thinkthe light of reason will burn again in your disordered mind.Good-night."
Instead of going, however, she hesitated, looked at me earnestly amoment, then asked:
"You said you found me unconscious?"
"Yes."
"How did you revive me?"
"I carried you to the sofa under the window, which I opened. I thenchafed your hands, but I think the wind and spray restored you."
"I don't remember fainting before; and--oh, well, this whole experiencehas been so strange that I can't realize it."
"Don't try to. If I'm a little out of my head, your soul will be out ofyour body if you don't take better care of yourself. You might as wellbe killed by lightning as over-fatigue. That doctor seems to think youare made of india-rubber."
"I've laughed to myself more than once at your injunctions to thedoctor since Zillah revived. We've had such a narrow escape that I feelas if I ought not to laugh again for a year, but I can't help it. Iwon't thank you as I meant to--it might make you vain. Good-night," andshe gave my hand a quick, strong pressure, and went swiftly back toMrs. Yocomb's room.
Had my hand clasped only flesh and blood, bone and sinew? No, indeed. Ifelt that I had had within my grasp a gratitude and friendly regardthat was so full and real that the warm-hearted, impulsive girl wouldnot trust herself to express it in words. Her manner, however, was sofrank and unconstrained that I knew her feelings to be only those ofgratitude and friendly regard, seeing clearly that she entertained nosuch thoughts as had come unbidden to me.
In spite of my fatigue, the habit of my life and the strong coffeewould have banished all thought of sleep for hours to come, if therehad been no other cause, but the touch of a little hand had put moreglad awakening life wi
thin me than all the stimulants of the world.
I went downstairs and looked through the old house to see that all wasright, with as much solicitude as if it were indeed my own home.Excepting the disorder I had caused in the kitchen and hall, it had themidnight aspect of quiet and order that might have existed for acentury.
"I would not be afraid of the ghosts that came back to this home," Imuttered. "Indeed, I would like to see Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb's ancestors;and, now I think of it, some one of them should wear a jaunty, worldlyhat to account for Adah. By Jove! but she was beautiful as she laythere, with her perfect physical life suspended instantaneously. If thelightning would only create a woman within the exquisite casket, theresult would well repay what we have passed through. Her mother wouldsay, as I suppose, that another and subtler fire from heaven wereneeded for such a task."
As I came out into the hall the great clock began to strike, in theslow, dignified manner befitting its age--
"One, two, three--twelve."
The day of fate had passed. I knew Emily Warren was laughing at mesoftly to herself as she and the physician watched with the patients inMrs. Yocomb's room.
I was in no mood to laugh, for every moment the truth was growingclearer that I had met my fate.
I looked into the parlor, in which a lamp was burning, and conjured upthe scene I had witnessed there. I saw a fair young face, with eyesturned heavenward, and heard again the words, "My faith looks up toThee."
Their faith had been sorely tried. The burning bolt from heaven seemeda strange response to that faith; the crashing thunder a wild, harshecho to the girl's sweet, reverent tones.
"Is it all chance?" I queried, "or all inexorable law? Who or what isthe author of the events of this night?" As if in answer, Mrs. Yocomb'stext came into my mind: "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shaltknow hereafter."
"Well," I muttered, "perhaps there is as much reason in theirphilosophy as in any other. Somebody ought to be in charge of all thiscomplex life and being."
I went out on the piazza. The rain was still falling, but softly andlightly. A freshening breeze was driving the thin, lingering cloudsbefore it, and star after star looked out, as if lights were beingkindled in the western sky. The moon was still hidden, but the vaporwas not dense enough to greatly obscure her rays. In the partial lightthe valley seemed wider, the mountains higher, and everything morebeautiful, in contrast with the black tempest that had so recentlyfilled the scene.
I sat down on the piazza to watch with those who were watching with thechild. I made up my mind that I certainly should not retire until thephysician departed; and in my present mood I felt that my midsummernight's dream would be to me more interesting than that of WillShakespeare. Hour after hour passed almost unnoted. The night becameserene and beautiful. The moon, like a confident beauty, at last threwaside her veil of clouds, and smiled as if assured of welcome.Raindrops gemmed every leaf; and when the breeze increased, myriads ofthem sparkled momentarily through the silver light. As morningapproached the air grew so sweet that I recognized the truth that thenew flowers of a new day were opening, and that I was inhaling theirvirgin perfume.
I rose and went softly to the ivy-covered gateway of the old garden,and the place seemed transfigured in the white moonlight. Even thekitchen vegetables lost their homely, prosaic aspect. I stole to thelilac-bush, and peered at the home that had been roofless through allthe wild storm. My approach had been so quiet that the little brownmother sat undisturbed, with her head under her wing; but the paternalrobin, from an adjacent spray, regarded me with unfeigned surprise andalarm. He uttered a note of protest, and the mother-bird instantlyraised her head and fixed on me her round, startled eyes. I stole awayhastily, smiling to myself as I said:
"Both families will survive unharmed, and both nests are safe."
I went to the spot where I had stood with Emily Warren at the time Ihad half-jestingly, half-earnestly indulged my fancy to reproduce a bitof Eden-like frankness. Under the influence of the hour and my mood Iwas able to conjure up the maiden's form almost as if she were a realpresence. I knew her far better now. With her I had passed through anordeal that would test severely the best and strongest. She had beensingularly strong and very weak; but the weakness had left no stain onher crystal truth, and her strength had been of the best and mostwomanly kind. As in the twilight, so in the white moonlight, she againmade perfect harmony in the transfigured garden.
"There is but one woman in the world for me," I murmured, "as truly asthere was only one for the first lonely man. I know not how it is withher, but I hope--oh, what would life now be to me without thishope!--that she cannot have inspired this absolute conviction that sheis essential to my being without some answering sympathy in her ownwoman's heart. But whether this is true or not, or whether it ever canbe true, _I have met my fate_."
As I returned from the garden I saw that the dawn was coming, and I satdown and watched it brighten with the feeling that a new and happy lifewas also coming.
THE END OF BOOK FIRST
_BOOK SECOND_
A Day of Fate Page 15
