Wee Wifie Part 34

"But my triumph was of brief duration. The next morning Raby treated me with almost chilling reserve. In vain I laughed, and talked, and strove to win him to merriment; his manner repelled all such attempts, and I was obliged to chat with Margaret.

"'Where are you going?' I asked, presently, when he had closed his books and was preparing to leave the room.

"'I am going up to West Point to see poor Lettie White,' he returned; 'her mother has been down this morning and tells me she is worse. You had better not accompany me, Crystal,' for I had started up from my chair.

"'And why not?" I exclaimed, in a hurt voice; 'it is such a delicious morning, and there is no such place as the West Point for a breeze; it will freshen me up for the evening.'

"'Well, do as you like,' he returned, coldly, and closed the door. The indifference of his tone wounded me. What could I have done to offend him; but I was never proud where Raby was concerned, so I put on my hat and accompanied him.

"For the first mile or two we were very silent. Raby walked on with his shoulders slightly bent, and his eyes fixed on the ground, a habit of his when he was thinking very deeply.

"'Raby,' I said at last, rather timidly, 'I wish you would walk a little slower, I want to talk to you;' and then he looked at me with some surprise.

"'I was only thinking of my next Sunday's sermon,' he replied, as if in apology for his want of attention. 'I told you you had better not come with me, Crystal.'

"'Oh, I know you did not want me,' I answered, lightly; 'your manner made that fact very apparent; but you see I wanted to come, and so I had my own way. Of course I know the text you will choose, Raby. What a pity that it is too far for me to come and hear that sermon. To think that neither Margaret nor I have ever heard you preach, and to lose that sermon of all others.'

"'What do you mean?' he answered, rather irritably, for my gay mood was clas.h.i.+ng with his somber one.

"'Oh, the text will be, "Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher. All is vanity;" that will be your subject, Raby, will it not?'

"He turned round at that, and a smile dispelled his gravity; and then he took my hand and put it on his arm, and held it gently there.

"'I think you have guessed my thoughts, Crystal,' he said, quietly, 'but not all of them. Do you know I have been thinking as we came along that you and I, dear child, have reached the cross-roads of life at last, where each must choose his or her path, and go on their way alone.'

"'Oh, Raby,' I exclaimed in some distress as I pressed closer to him; 'what can you mean by saying anything so dreadful. I hope your path and mine will always be the same.'

"'My dear,' he returned, gently--very gently; but there was pain and some strange solemn meaning in his face--'I disappointed you last night. You thought that I would not praise your finery or stoop to flatter your innocent vanity, that I held myself aloof from your girlish pleasure. Ah,' with a sudden change of tone, 'you little know what brilliant vision haunted me last night and drove sleep from my eyes; how it lured and tempted me from my sense of right; but G.o.d had mercy on His poor priest, and strengthened his hands in the day of battle.'

"The white abstracted look of his face, the low vehemence of his tone, thrilled me almost painfully; never had Raby looked or spoken like that.

"'No, my darling,' he went on, sorrowfully, 'I will never wrong the child I have guided and protected all these years, or take advantage of your youth and inexperience, by using my influence and condemning you to a life for which you are not fitted. Go forth into the world then, my Esther--did not Margaret compare you to Esther--make experience of its pleasures, its trials, its seductions, its false wooings, and its dazzling honors; if they tell you your beauty might win a coronet they would be right.'

"'Raby!'

"'Hus.h.!.+ let me finish; go into the world that claims you, but if it fail to please you--if it ever cast you away humbled and broken-hearted, then come back to me, my darling, come back to Raby; he will be praying for you here.'

"Shall I ever forget his tone; my tears fell fast as I listened to him.

"'What do you mean?' I sobbed; 'how have I offended you? Why do you propose to send me away from you?'

"'Nay,' he said, quietly, 'I am only speaking for your good. You are young, Crystal, but you must be conscious, indeed your manner told me so last night, that you have grace, beauty, and talents, triple gifts that the world adores. You will be its idol. Make your own election, then, my child, for you are now a woman. I will never seek to influence you, I am only a humble priest. What has such a one to do with a ball-room queen; the world's ways have never been my ways, for from my youth I have determined that "for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."'

"His calm steadfast voice awed me; every word seemed to rebuke my vanity and presumption. Ah, I saw it all now. Raby was disappointed with my choice; he had hoped--he had hoped otherwise.

"We had reached the end of our walk by this time. Before us was the poor cottage where Lettie White was dying. I took my hand from Raby's arm and sat down on the little stone bench by the bee-hives. Raby seemed to linger a moment, as though he expected me to speak to him, but I remained silent, and he turned away with a quick sigh and went into the house. Soon after I heard his voice through the upper window, where the white curtains were flapping in the breeze, and Lettie's weak tones answering him.

"Before me was a field of crimson clover; some brown bees were busily at work in it. There were scarlet poppies too gleaming in the hedge down below; the waves were lapping on the sands with a soft splash and ripple; beyond was the sea vast and crystalline, merged in misty blue.

Did I hear it with a dull whirring of repet.i.tion, or was it the voice of my own conscience: 'For me and my house, we will serve the Lord.'

"Raby came out presently, and we walked home, still silent. The dignity of his office was upon him; his lips were moving, perhaps in pet.i.tion for the dying girl.

"When we reached the house he went up to his room. The evening came. I got out our German books--Raby and I were studying together--and presently he joined me. In his absence of mind he had forgotten all about the ball, as I knew he would, and we were both absorbed in Schiller's magnificent 'Wallenstein' when Margaret entered, looking what Hugh Redmond called his 'Marguerite of Marguerites,' his pearl among women.

"Raby started and looked perplexed.

"'What, is it so late? You are dressed, Margaret, and this careless child has not commenced her toilet. Pray help her, Maggie, she will be dreadfully late.'

"Margaret gave me a wistful smile.

"'The carriage is here already,' she answered, quietly, 'and Mrs.

Montague is waiting. Crystal is not going to the ball, Raby.'

"'Not going?' He turned and looked at me, our eyes met, and then he understood.

"'Does not Margaret look lovely,' I asked in a.s.sumed carelessness, when the hall door had closed, and he came back to the room.

"For answer he took me in his arms.

"'Not half so fair as my Esther,' he said, tenderly, 'though she is not wearing her regal dress. I thank G.o.d,' and here his voice grew low and solemn. 'I thank G.o.d, Crystal, that my darling has chosen the better part that shall not be taken away from her.'"

CHAPTER XXV.

GO BACK TO RABY.

O calm grand eyes, extinguished in a storm, Blown out like lights o'er melancholy seas, Though shriek'd for by the s.h.i.+pwrecked.

O my dark!

My Cloud,--to go before me every day, While I go ever toward the wilderness, I would that you could see me bare to the soul.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

"Things went on very happily for a long time after this. The church at Sandycliffe was finished; Raby gave up his curacy, and read himself in; and then came the day when Margaret and I heard him preach.

"Shall I ever forget that day--it was Eastertide--and all that belonged to it? the last unclouded Sunday that was ever to rise upon me; the tiny flower-decked church already crowded with wors.h.i.+pers, the memorial window that Raby and Margaret had put in, sacred to the memory of their father, with its glorious colors reflected on the pavement in stains of ruby and violet; and lastly, the grave beautiful face of the young vicar as he looked round upon his little flock for the first time, his eyes resting for a moment as though in silent benediction on the vicarage seat.

"Were I to tell you what I thought of that sermon, you might think my praise partial, but there were many there, Hugh Redmond among them, who commented afterward on the eloquence and vivid power of the preacher. Hugh Redmond had accompanied us to church, for he and Margaret had been engaged some months, and they were always together.

He declared that that sermon had made a deep impression on him.

"Many were affected that day by Raby's deep searching eloquence, but none more so than a lady who sat alone under the pulpit, and who drew down her c.r.a.pe veil that no one might see her tears.

"I knew her well; she was a childless widow who had lately come to live at Sandycliffe in a pretty cottage about half a mile from the Grange, and with whom Margaret had become very intimate--a fair gentle-looking woman who had gone through much trouble, and who wished to devote her life to good works; and as I looked at her now, my own eyes misty with sympathy, did I ever imagine that the time was fast approaching when I should wrong her with the bitterest hatred, and even seek to lift my hand against her.

"And yet you were one of G.o.d's dear saints, Mona!