Rockhaven

by Charles Clark Munn

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE MOOD OF THE BELLS

  There were two church bells on Rockhaven, one at each village, and everySunday evening, year in and out, they called the piously inclinedtogether, always at the same time. That at Northaven sounded the sweeterto Winn, since its call came over a mile of still water, like an echo tothe one in Rockhaven. He had noticed them, one answering the other, manytimes before, each time to return in thought to the hillside home wherehe was born and to the same sweet sound that came on Sunday from thevillage two miles away. It had been to him what seemed long years sincehe heard them, yet now, this evening, while he waited in the littleporch of Mona's home for her and her mother to join him churchward, andthis call came sweetly through the still evening air, it carried a newpeace to his vexed spirit, and the threatened upset of his mission toRockhaven faded away. Once more he was a boy again, and for a timewithout a care.

  And when Mona appeared, dressed in a simple white muslin, a white hoodof knitted wool half hiding the coiled masses of her jet black hair, hereyes filled with tender light, Winn, in spite of his moroseness and thebitter lessons in love he had learned, felt it a proud privilege to walkbeside her.

  The usual number, mostly womankind, were emerging from the scatteredhouses along the way to the church, and as Winn and Mona, together withher mother and Mrs. Moore, followed the one plank walk which led to thechurch, the last call of the bells came at longer intervals.

  When the church was reached the lamps had been lighted, but the whiteheadstones, dotting the upward slope just back of it, still showedfaintly in the twilight.

  The services were simple as usual, the few dozen who gathered all joinedin the same hymns of praise their ancestors had sung in the same church.What the minister said was not new or eloquent; and yet the prayer heuttered seemed to Winn to contain an unusually touching strain. It wasthe mood of the bells still on him, for he had never known what churchbelievers call a change of heart; and while the devotions of the peoplewere pathetic in their very simplicity, they seemed more like a plea forpity than an expression of thanks. When the services were ended, andall rising joined in "The Sweet By and By," never before had it voicedsuch a plaintive appeal as it did then in Winn's estimation.

  When he and Mona, loitering behind the rest, reached her little dooryardwhere the scent of many blooming flowers saluted him, they paused amoment. Mrs. Moore had seated herself on the porch for a social chatwith Mrs. Hutton, the faint disk of a new moon showed in the westernsky, and in spite of the resolution taken weeks before, Winn could notresist the temptation of longer privacy with his companion.

  "Let us walk up to the top of Norse Hill," he said, "and look out overthe harbor. I feel like it to-night."

  "Here is where I come to be alone," he observed when they had reachedthe ancient beacon and were looking down over the village. "I wonder whobuilt this odd tower and for what use; do you know?"

  "I have been told it was built by Leif Ericson," she replied, "ever somany years ago, to prove he first discovered this country. Uncle Jesssays it was, and that is why this is called Norse Hill."

  There was a jutting ledge around its base, and they seated themselvesupon it. Winn drew out his cigar case. "You won't mind my smoking, willyou, Mona?" he said in a familiar tone, as he lighted his cigar.

  "Why, no," she answered, in the same tone, "I love to see you enjoyyourself."

  For a time they silently scanned the peaceful picture that lay beforethem. The sheltered harbor across which the faint path of moonlightquivered in the undulating ground swell that reached in from the sea;the old mill sombre and solemn and barely outlined to the right; beyondit Northaven with its scattered lights, and below them the few thattwinkled in Rockhaven. Not a sound reached them except the low wave-washat the foot of the cliff just back of where they sat. They were alonewith their hopes and troubles, their joys and heartaches. It was not atime or place for immediate converse, and Winn quietly contemplated thepeaceful scene while Mona covertly watched him. To her he was anunsolved enigma, and yet his earnest, honest brown eyes, his open, frankway, and his half-tender, half-cynical speeches had been for many weeksher daily thought. What oppressed him now was an added mystery. She hadheard that most of his men working in the quarry had been laid off, butnot for worlds would she seem so inquisitive as to ask why.

  And so she watched him, half hoping, half expecting, he would confide inher.

  "I have been out of sorts, little girl," he said suddenly, with anintuitive feeling that she expected an explanation of his silence; "andas I told you this afternoon I took a long tramp to drive my mood away.It did not do it, but something else has, and that was your churchbells."

  "I am very glad," she responded with sudden interest, "I wish they wouldring every evening."

  "Yes," he continued, not heeding her delicate sympathy, "they havecarried me back to my boyhood and the country village near where I wasborn. I wish I could go back to those days and feel as I did then," headded, a little sadly, "but one can't. Life and its ambitions sweep uson, and youth is forgotten or returns only in thought. If one could onlyfeel the keen zest of youth and enjoy small pleasures as children do,all through life, it would be worth living. I should be grateful if Iwere as happy and care-free as you are, Mona."

  "I am not very happy," she answered simply. "Did you think I was?"

  "You ought to be," he asserted; "you have nothing to worry about unlessit is your ambition to become a great artist, and as I have told you,you had better put that out of your thoughts. You could be, but itwould bring you more heartaches than you can imagine. Put it away, Mona,and live your simple life here. To struggle out of your orbit is tocourt unhappiness. I was thrust out of mine by death and poverty," headded sadly, "when an awkward and green country boy, knowing absolutelynothing of city ways and manners, and placed among those who think allwho come from the farms must be but half civilized and stupid. It is theshallow conceit of city-bred people always and the greatest mistake theymake. My aunt sent me to a business college, and for a year my lifethere was a burden. The other fellows made game of my clothes, myopinions, and, worse than that, a jest of all the moral ideas in whichmy good mother had instructed me. Later on, when I began to get out intothe world, I found the same disposition to sneer at all that is pure andgood in life. The young men I became acquainted with called me agoody-good because I acted according to conscience and refused to drinkor gamble. They seemed to take a pride in their ability to pour downglass after glass of fiery liquor, and when I asserted that to visitgambling dens and all other resorts of vice was to demean one's self,and positively refused to follow them, they laughed me to scorn. Theyseemed to take a pride in their vices in a way that was disgusting tome. Then, as if to prove what a stupid greenhorn I was, they pointed outmen who stood well socially, attended church, had wives and families,and yet led lives that were a shame and disgrace in my estimation. Theyproved to me what they asserted in various ways, so I could not doubtit. It was all a revelation, and for a time upset all my ideas and ledme to think my early training in the way I should walk a stupid waste ofopportunity.

  "Beyond that, and perhaps the worst of all, I was made to think thatreligious belief was arrant nonsense and used as a cloak for evildoings; that none except silly old women and equally silly young girlswere sincere in pious professions; that belief in God was an index toshallowness, and prayer a farce.

  "It began to seem to me that I really had been brought up wrong andtrained in absurd ways, and that unless I threw my moral scruples to thewinds, I should be a jest and a laughing-stock to all city people. Wegrow to feel, and think, and live like those we meet daily, and when Icame here, among you whose lives and morals were so unlike city folksand so like those of the people among whom I was reared, it seemed as ifI had gone back to my boyhood home.

  "I think the sound of your church bells, Mona, was an influence morepotent than all else to carry my thoughts and feelings home again."

  He paused a moment to look out seawar
d and along the broadening path ofmoonlight as if it led into a new life and a new world, while Monawatched his half-averted face. All this was a revelation to her of hisinner self, his nature and impulses. She had thought tenderly of himbefore; now he seemed the embodiment of all that was good and true andmanly--a hero she must fain worship.

  "Life is a puzzle-board, dear," he said at last, as if that sparklingroadway had been followed into a better one; "we all strive forhappiness in it and know not where or how it may be found. We wish toplease ourselves first, and to share it with those who seem akin to us.Few really desire to annoy others or give them pain. Then again we areselfish, and our own needs and hungers seem all important. We are alittle vain ofttimes, carnal always, unthinking, and seldom generous. Weforget that it is more blessed to give than to receive, that a clearconscience is as necessary to happiness as good digestion is to health,and that we cannot walk alone through life. We must depend upon othersfor about all the happiness we receive, and they on us. Then again wehad best remain with those we understand and who know us best. They andthey only can or will seem near to us. Your bells have carried me backto those with whom I am allied by nature; and among them and in the pureand simple life they live, I feel that peace and contentment may befound. With you it is the same, my dear, and it is to keep you hereamong those akin to you that I say what I have of the great world. Donot wish to enter it; do not imagine you will find happiness there, foryou cannot. Here you are loved and understood, here are those you knowand can trust, and here every cliff, and gorge, and grove, every flower,and bird, and ocean voice, contains a childish memory. Were you to leavethem behind every call of the church bells at eventide would carry yourheart back to these scenes again, as it has mine to those of my youth.No, dear, be warned in time and remain content."

  He meant it for her good, but she thought only of a similar bit ofadvice he had given her once before, and one that wounded her to theheart.

  For a little longer they sat and watched the moonlight scene; Winnunconscious that beside him was a girl whose ennobling ambition andsweet, patient nature was a prize any man might feel proud to win, andMona quivering with an unaccountable heartache; and then he rose to go.

  "It is getting late, dear," he said in his familiar way, "and we'd bestgo home. You may catch cold if we stay here longer."

  And Cupid, hovering on the old stone tower, turned away in sorrow for awasted opportunity.

  But Winn held out his hand to assist Mona, and be it said to his credit,he retained hers in a warm clasp until her gate was reached.

  "Good night, dear," he said then as he opened it for her to enter, "andsweet dreams."