CHAPTER XIV
LOVE TEACHING ETHICS
On reaching the farmhouse I went directly to my room, and I wished thatI might stay there the rest of the day; but I was soon summoned todinner. In Miss Warren's eyes still lingered the evidences of her deepfeeling, but her expression was quiet, firm, and resolute. The effectof the sermon upon her was just what I anticipated in case my hope hadany foundation--it had bound her by what seemed the strongest ofmotives to be faithful to the man who she believed had the right to herfealty.
"Well," I thought bitterly, "life might have brought her a heaviercross than marrying a handsome millionaire, even though considerablyher senior. I'm probably a conceited fool for thinking it any verygreat burden at all. But how, then, can I account--? Well, well, timealone can unravel this snarl. One thing is certain: she will do nothingthat she does not believe right; and after what Mrs. Yocomb said Iwould not dare to wish her to do wrong."
Mrs. Yocomb did not come down to dinner, and the meal was a quiet one.Mr. Yocomb's eyes glistened with a serene, happy light, but he atesparingly, and spoke in subdued tones. He reminded me of the quaint oldscripture--"A man's wisdom maketh his face to shine." Whatever might besaid against his philosophy, it produced good cheer and peace. Adah,too, was very quiet; but occasionally she glanced toward Miss Warren asif perplexed and somewhat troubled. Mr. Hearn seemed wrought up intoquite a religious fervor. He was demonstratively tender and sympathetictoward the girl at his side, and waited on her with the effusive mannerof one whose feelings must have some outlet. His appetite, however, didnot flag, and I thought he seemed to enjoy his emotions and his dinnerequally.
"Mr. Morton," he said impressively, "you must have liked that sermonexceedingly."
"Indeed, sir," I replied briefly, "I have scarcely thought whether Iliked it or not."
Both he and Miss Warren looked at me in surprise; indeed all did exceptReuben.
"I beg your pardon, but I thought Mrs. Yocomb expressed herselfadmirably," he said, with somewhat of the air of championship.
"She certainly expressed herself clearly. The trouble with me is thatthe sermon is just what Mrs. Yocomb would call it--a message--and onescarcely knows how to dodge it. I never had such a spiritual blowbetween the eyes before, and think I'm a little stunned yet."
A smile lighted up Miss Warren's face. "Mrs. Yocomb would like yourtribute to her sermon, I think," she said.
"What most bewilders me," I resumed, "is to think how Mrs. Yocomb hasbeen waiting on me and taking care of me. I now feel like the peasantwho was taken in and cared for by the royal family."
"I think our friend Mr. Morton is in what may be termed 'a frame ofmind,'" said Mr. Hearn a little satirically.
"Yes, sir, I am," I replied emphatically. "I believe that adequatecauses should have some effects. It does not follow, however, that myframe of mind is satisfactory to any one, least of all to Mrs. Yocomb."
"Your contact with the truth," said Mr. Hearn, laughing, "is somewhatlike many people's first experience of the ocean--you are much stirredup, but have not yet reached the point of yielding to the mysteriousmalady."
I was disgusted, and was about to reply with a sarcastic complimentupon the elegance of his illustration, when a look of pain upon MissWarren's face checked me, and I said nothing. Lack of delicacy was oneof Mr. Hearn's gravest faults. While courtly, polished, and refined inexternals, he lacked in tact and nicety of discrimination. He oftensaid things which a finer-fibred but much worse man would never havesaid. He had an abundance of intellect, great shrewdness, vast willforce, and organizing power, but not much ideality or imagination. Thislack rendered him incapable of putting himself in the place of another,and of appreciating their feelings, moods, and motives. The mostrevolting thought to me of his union with Miss Warren was that he wouldnever appreciate her. He greatly admired and respected her, but hisspiritual eyes were too dim to note the exquisite bloom on hercharacter, or to detect the evanescent lights and shades of thought andfeeling of which to me her mobile face gave so many hints. He wouldexpect 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'sstrange that her clear eyes cannot see it when mine can. It is perhapsthe strongest evidence of her love for him, since love is blind. Stillshe 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 thechain of supposed duty binds her to him now, I fear that Mrs. Yocomb'ssermon has made her his for all time."
Her manner confirmed my surmise, for she apparently gave me littlethought, and was unobtrusively attentive and devoted to him. He had thegood taste to see that further personal remarks were not agreeable; andsince his last attempted witticism fell flat, did not attempt any more.Our table-talk flagged, and we hastened through the meal. After it wasover 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 tomy room. "Through all his life it has been 'anything you wish,' and nowit would seem as if religion itself had become his ally. There isnothing to me so wonderful as some men's fortune. Earth and heaven seemin league to forward their interests. But why was she so moved at themeeting-house? Was it merely religious sensibility? It might have beenwe were all moved deeply. Was it my imagination, or did she reallyshrink from him, and then glance guiltily at me? Even if she had, itmight have been a momentary repulsion caused by his drowsy, heavyaspect at the time, just as his remark at dinner gave her an unpleasanttwinge. These little back eddies are no proof that there is not astrong central current.
"Can it be that she was sorrowful in the meeting-house for my sakeonly? 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. Isuppose I'm the worst heathen Mrs. Yocomb ever preached to, but I'mgoing to secure Emily Warren's happiness at any cost. If she trulyloves this man, I'll go away and fight it out so sturdily that she neednot worry. That's what her sermon means for me. I'm not going to pumpup any religious sentiment. I don't feel any. It's like walking into abare room to have a turn with a thumb-screw; but Mrs. Yocomb has hedgedme up to just this course. Oh, the gentle, inexorable woman! Satanhimself might well tremble before her. There is but one that I fearmore, and that's the woman I love most. Gentle, tender-hearted as sheis, she is more inexorable than Mrs. Yocomb. It's a little strange, butI doubt whether there is anything in the universe that so inspires aman with awe as a thoroughly good, large-minded woman."
I could not sleep that afternoon, and at last I became so weary of theconflict between my hope and fear that I was glad to hear Miss Warrenat the piano, playing softly some old English hymns. The day wasgrowing cool and shadowy, but I hoped that before it passed I might geta chance to say something to her which would give a different aspect tothe concluding words of Mrs. Yocomb's sermon. I had determined nolonger to avoid her society, but rather to seek it, whenever I could inthe presence of others, and especially of her affianced. They hadreturned from a long afternoon in the arbor, which I knew must occasionMiss Warren some unpleasant thoughts, and the banker was sitting on thepiazza chatting with Adah.
I strolled into the parlor with as easy and natural a manner as I couldassume, and taking my old seat by the window, said quietly: "Please goon playing, Miss Warren."
She turned on me one of her swift looks, which always gave me theimpression that she saw all that was in my mind. Her color rose alittle, but she continued playing for a time. Then with her right handevoking low, sweet chords, she asked, with a conciliatory smile:
"Have you been thinking over Mrs. Yocomb'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 todo," I said, with a slight laugh. The look she gave now
was a littleapprehensive, and I added hastily: "I've had one thought that I don'tmind telling you, for I think it may be a pleasant one, though it mustrecall that which is painful. The thought occurred to me when Mrs.Yocomb was speaking, and since, that your brother had perfect peace ashe 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 knowthat."
"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 hisfaithful performance of duty, I believe his face was as serene as theaspect of Mr. Yocomb when he looked at the coming storm. As far aspeace is concerned, his heaven began on earth. I envy him."
"Mr. Morton, I thank you for these words about my brother," she saidvery gently, and with a little pathetic quaver in her voice. "They havegiven me a comforting association with that awful day. Oh, I thank Godfor the thought. Remembering what Mrs. Yocomb said, it reconciles me toit all, as I never thought I could be reconciled. If Herbert believedthat it was his duty to be there, it was best he should be there. Howstrange 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 notthink it follows that he ought to have been there simply because hefelt it right to be there."
"Why, Mr. Morton! ought one not to do right at any and every cost? Thatseemed to me the very pith of Mrs. Yocomb's teaching, and I think shemade it clear that it's always best to do right."
"I think so too, most emphatically; but what is right, Miss Warren?"
"That's too large a question for me to answer in the abstract; but isnot 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 byconscience. Delicate women have worn hair-cloth and walked barefootedon cold pavements in midnight penance. The devil is scarcely more cruelthan the Church, for ages, taught that God was. It's true that Christ'slife was one of self-sacrifice; but was there any useless, mistakenself-sacrifice in it? If God is anything like Mrs. Yocomb, nothingcould be more repugnant to him than blunders of this kind."
She looked at me with a startled face, and I saw that my words hadunsettled her mind.
"If conscience cannot guide, what can?" she faltered. "Is notconscience God's voice within us?"
"No. Conscience may become God's worst enemy--that is, any God that Icould worship or even respect."
"Mr. Morton, you frighten me. How can I do right unless I follow myconscience?"
"Yes," I said sadly, "you would, in the good old times, have followedit over stony pavements, in midnight penance, or now into any thornypath which it pointed out; and I believe that many such paths lead awayfrom the God of whom Mrs. Yocomb spoke to-day. Miss Warren, I'm a manof the world, and probably you think my views on these subjects are notworth much. It's strange that your own nature does not suggest to youthe only sure guide. It seems to me that conscience should always go totruth for instructions. The men who killed your brother thought theywere right as truly as he did; but history will prove that they werewrong, as so many sincere people have been in every age. He did notsuffer and die uselessly, for the truth was beneath his feet and in hisheart."
"Dear, brave, noble Herbert!" she sighed. "Oh, that God had spared himto me!"
"I wish he had," I said, with quiet emphasis. "I wish he was with youhere 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 lowvoice.
"Yes. In science, religion, ethics, or human action, nothing canlast--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 evenself-respect--without truth. My nature would be pitiful indeed did itnot teach me that."
She had interpreted my words in a way that intensified the influence ofMrs. Yocomb's sermon. To be false to the trust that she had led heraffianced to repose in her still seemed the depth of degradation. Ifeared that she would take this view at first, but believed, if my hopehad any foundation, she would think my words over so often that shewould 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 toher, when I had seemingly spoken words that not only sanctioned butmade the course which harmonized with her love imperative? Even thepossibility that in the long days and nights of my delirium I hadunconsciously wooed and won her heart, so thrilled and overcame me thatI dared not trust myself longer in her presence, and I went out on thepiazza--a course eminently satisfactory to Mr. Hearn, no doubt. I thinkhe regarded our interview as becoming somewhat extended. He had glancedat me from time to time, but my manner had been too quiet to disturbhim, and he could not see Miss Warren's face. The words he overheardsuggested a theological discussion rather than anything of a personalnature. It had been very reassuring to see Miss Warren turn from me asif my words had ceased to interest her, and my coming out to talk withAdah confirmed the impression made by my manner all along, that we werenot very congenial spirits. It also occurred to me that he did not findchatting with Adah a very heavy cross, for never had she lookedprettier than on that summer evening. But now that Miss Warren wasalone he went in and sat down by her, saying so loudly that I could nothelp hearing him, as I stood by the window:
"I think you must have worsted Mr. Morton in your theologicaldiscussion, for he came out looking as if he had a great deal to thinkabout that was not exactly to his taste; but Miss Adah will--" and thenhis companion began playing something that drowned his voice.
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