XI
The door settled heavily into place behind us, and we were in almostcomplete darkness. Somewhere in front of us was a glimmer of light. Ifelt the slight figure at my side drawing me forward, and I put myselfunder her guidance. Crossing the vestibule, we passed into the roombeyond. Although we trod lightly, the bare floor sent up sounds whichechoed loudly, it seemed to us. A ghostly light filled the chamber intowhich we had come, and made it look much larger than it really was. Theroof was lost above us, but there, before us, were the plain, brown,wooden benches forming the pews, and the nave leading down to the altarrailing. Along this a worn strip of carpet was placed. Slowly we wentforward, awed by the silent majesty of a place of worship. All at oncethere came to me a realization of the peculiar position in which I wasplaced--walking down a church aisle with a beautiful girl upon myarm--and my face grew red. I could tell it by the hot tingling at myneck and temples, but the gloom was deep enough to hide it from her. Thesudden force of what such a proceeding as this might mean made myheart--my staid, old, methodical heart--throb unwontedly. I hoped thatthe gloved hand resting so near to it did not feel its throbbings,although they sounded in my ears like a hammer on an anvil.
We had reached the railing. Before us rose the altar, with its imagesand its unlit tapers, its cloth of gold, and its silver appurtenances. Astretch of carpeted floor lay between it and us. Directly this side therailing was a narrow ledge. Salome suddenly bent her knees and restedthem upon this, placed her elbows upon the railing and bent her head inher hands. For a moment I gazed at the black bowed figure, then foundmyself imitating her attitude. In the stillness of the old church weknelt alone. Around us was utter silence, and the paling light of a deadday. Perhaps in the dark corners the ghosts of confessed sins werelurking; above the spot where we knelt many a "_Benedicite_" had fallenupon humble hearts waiting to receive it. She was praying. Perhapsconfessing to the Great Absolver the sinless sins which bore no crimsonstain, and praying His favor for the ones she loved. As well might aflower of the fields bow down and breathe out tales of grave misdeeds,for her heart was like a flower--yea, like the closed cup of a lily atnight, garbed in purity as white as holiness.
I watched her through the fingers I had placed over my face. This surelywas no sin, for my own heart was not still enough for prayer. She wasvery still, and only her small ear and a portion of her cheek werevisible. What did this half-stifling feeling mean which rose up in mythroat? I had never seen a woman in prayer, alone. Away back through thedimly lit aisles which led to a distant boyhood my mind had sometimesstrayed, and viewed a small white figure kneeling at its mother's sideat bedtime. That was myself, and her petitions were doubtless sent up bythe little cot where I lay asleep. A young girl praying! It is as sacredas the miracle of birth. And by this simple act, this girl had placed inme a greater trust than words could speak. She deemed me good enough tobe by her side when she approached her Creator--and was I worthy? Iknew I was not. And though my life had been free from those pollutingsins which glow like rubies in the souls of some men, I felt that here Ihad no fitting place, that her prayers would be clogged by theunholiness of my presence. She knelt, immovable as the statued Christwhich hung almost over our heads. The glow in the stained-glass windowsto our left had turned to a gray blur; the outlines of her figure weregrowing indistinct. As suddenly and as quickly as she had knelt, shearose, and with the freedom of a child took my arm as we retraced oursteps.
A young moon was tilted over in the sky near the horizon as we gainedthe open. The limitless depths above us were aglow with millions ofsparkling stars. We stood for a moment before going down to our horses.
"We'll be a little late getting back."
Again it was my companion who broke the silence.
"I'm sorry, for it will be because of me."
She laughed,--the bubbling notes so like the falling of a forest rivuletover a low rock ledge.
"It will not matter, unless we count the loss of sleep. Mother andfather know how I love the night, and when they know where I am, andwhom I am with, they are not concerned."
"I would gladly lose a night's rest for an experience like this. Youhave made me very much your debtor. How solemn and beautiful it all is!"My eyes took in all visible things in a comprehensive glance. "Do youcome here often?"
"No; I only care to come at the close of day, and my parents are gettingtoo old to be dragged around to humor my whims. It is too far to comealone, and so I miss it."
"Then did I really perform some sort of service for you in accompanyingyou here? I had imagined the favor all on your side."
"Let's call it square," she smiled. "I showed you the place, and youacted as my protector and escort. A very even bargain, I think. We hadbetter go now. We will have a fine ride home."
It was very dark on the cedar-bordered walk down which we went, andwhile I longed to offer assistance, I refrained. When we came to theroad, however, we found that there was enough light. The horses wererestless at their posts, and we mounted with considerable difficultyafter I had unhitched them. But Salome, peerless horsewoman that shewas, quickly had hers in hand, and mine soon became tractable of itsown accord. We proceeded at a smart canter until we reached theturnpike. There Salome suggested a gallop, and I could do nothing butassent, although fast riding was something to which I was notaccustomed. But I gradually accommodated myself to the long, undulatingleaps of my mount, and then began to enjoy it. It was highlyexhilarating as well as novel. Salome sat as though part of the animalshe managed so well, and as we swept along I kept my eyes upon her in akind of wonder. It was so new to me, and the skill with which her smallhand managed her mettled horse was nothing short of a marvel.
We did not talk much during this part of our ride. Occasionally shewould fling a remark across at me above the thud of the hammering feet,but I think the beauty of the night and the wonderful silence sat uponour minds, and made our tongues unwilling for speech. Sometimes theroad was open and clear, and then I could see her eyes, like veiledstars. And around and about us were fields of growing corn and ripeningwheat, and infolding us close, as in a filmy garment, was thatindescribable odor of green things and of dew-wet turf. Then the pikewould sweep around a curve, like the stretch of a winding river, andbordering each side of the highway were clumps and rows of giganticforest-trees. Oftentimes their boughs would intertwine above, and whatseemed to be the black mouth of a tunnel would confront us. Into thisapparent pit of darkness we would dash, but the horses never shied. Theyknew well the ground their fleet hoofs were spurning, and they knew thatfarther on was home,--a good stall, and a rack full of musky clover hay.Under the trees I could not see Salome. Now and again some sparks offire would shoot out when a hoof struck a stone. Then out into the openagain. The pace our steeds had assumed of their own free will was nomean one, and when scarcely an hour had gone we were riding slowlythrough the meadow to the big whitewashed gate giving entrance to theyard. The young moon had grown weary, and tumbled out of the sky; butthe stars seemed brighter--they looked as though the dew which sparkledon the grass below us had washed their tiny faces on its way to earth.The Milky Way appeared as a phantom lace curtain stretched across thesky.
I opened the gate from my horse, and held it back for Salome to passthrough. When she had done this, I followed, and the gate clanged back.The noise of its shutting notified Inky and Jim of our arrival, for theywere waiting sleepily as we came up to the fine stone steps of the oldhome, and at once took charge of the horses. I helped Salome up thesteps by placing my hand beneath her elbow. We stood for a moment on theedge of the porch.
"We must move around gently," I suggested. "The old folks have doubtlessbeen asleep an hour."
"Bless their dear hearts!" she answered with earnest fervor. "Mothersays you move like a mouse," she resumed, and I could see the faintglint of her teeth as she smiled. "My room is upstairs, and I am not solikely to disturb them. Have you enjoyed your day?"
"It has been _very_ pleasant," I answered warmly. "I feel mor
e gratefulto you than I can say for being so nice to a stranger who happens to bea guest in your home. But I love the woods, and the fields, and thepure, fresh air which blows straight down from heaven. This much we havein common. Will you let me go with you again--sometimes? I would notbore you, nor presume too much."
In my great earnestness I had come closer to her.
"I am out of doors a great deal, and you may go with me often, if youwish. I enjoyed having you to-day."
This was said just as seriously as my question had been put. Then, inone of those rare changes of which her nature was capable, she added:
"You know I need a protector in my various rambles, and you shall be myesquire when I go forth in state to see my flower subjects scattered allover the farm. My knight-errant, too, to espouse my cause should snake,or dog, or an enraged animal of the pastures seek to do me harm."
"Gladly, your majesty," I answered gallantly, falling into the spiritwhich her words betokened, and bowing low. "Behold your vassal; commandme when you will."
A whispered "good-night," a faint echo of that enchanting laugh, and shehad slipped through the door and was gone.
I did not tarry long, for the beauty of the night had suddenly paled.Everything had grown darker, and, by habit, I thought of my easy-chairand pipe, and went in also. Salome was standing at the farther end ofthe long, broad hall, with a lighted candle in her hand. Her hat hadbeen removed, and her tangled hair was half down. The riding habit hadalso disappeared, and she was robed in some sort of a loose house gownwhich fell away into a train. Her back was towards me, and she had onefoot on the first step of the curved stairway which went up from thatpoint. She heard me turn the key in the lock, and looked back. I wenttowards her; why, I do not know. She waited until I had come quiteclose.
"I haven't anything very particular to say," I began, I fear veryconfusedly. But my foolish feet had led me to her, obedient to thedictates of a foolish mind, and I had to speak first.
"I have been in mother's room," she answered, opening her eyes verywide, as a child does when it hears a sound in the dark. "I went forthis wrapper, and would you believe it, I did not waken either of them!Mother sleeps very lightly, too!"
"You have performed quite a feat," I assured her, at once put at ease byher genuineness. "Have you planned anything for to-morrow?"
"Father has some sheep on the lower farm that are sick, and I am goingto take them some salt, because that is good for their blood."
"May I help you salt the sheep? I'll carry the salt, if you will let mego."
She turned her head sideways, with a slight uplifting of the brows, asthough hesitating.
"Ye-e-e-s, I guess so," she replied at last, doubtfully. "Do you knowanything about sheep?"
"Nothing more than I have read. They are very docile, I believe, and agreat many of our clothes come from their backs."
"But that isn't all." There was the wisdom of Solomon on the fresh youngface, shadowed by disarranged tresses. "Some of them have horns, like acow, only they grow back instead of out. And they'll run you sometimes,when they take a notion. Can you run, Mr. Stone?"
The picture which came to my mind of the staid and dignified Abner Stoneflying across a meadow with coat-tails streaming, and an irate ram athis heels, brought a broad smile to my face.
"Yes; I _can_ run. But I promise not to desert you if danger comes."
"Then be ready in the morning. I will say good-night again, for I knowyou must tell this day's doings to your pipe before you retire."
Our entire conversation at the foot of the stair had been in lowwhispers, and I whispered back her good-night, and turned to go. Then,like Lot's wife, I looked behind me. She had reached the first landing,where the stairway curved. She saw me, and peered forward, holding thecandle above her head. The loose sleeve of her dress fell back with themotion, and the bare symmetry of her rounded forearm gleamed upon theblackness like ivory upon ebony. I waved my hand; she waved hers, thenwas gone.
I sank into a chair and bowed my head in my hands, my soul torn by thepangs of a new birth.
The Love Story of Abner Stone Page 11
