The Redemption of David Corson Part 42

With that instantaneous movement in which his disordered conceptions of life invariably re-formed themselves, the chaotic events of the past s.h.i.+fted themselves into a purposeful and comprehensible series, and revealed beyond peradventure the hand of G.o.d.

And as this conclusion burst upon him, he broke into the conversation of Mantel and the lumberman with the warmest exclamations of grat.i.tude and happiness.

They talked a long time in the quiet night, asking and answering questions. The two friends besought the evangelist to accompany them to their rooms, but he said:

"I have given you my message and must pa.s.s on. My work is to bear testimony. I sow the seed and leave its cultivation and the harvest to others."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

THE GREAT REFUSAL

"But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful."

Too busy with their own thoughts to talk on the way home, on entering their rooms Mantel threw himself into a chair, while David nervously began to gather his clothes together and crowd them hastily into a satchel.

"What's up?" asked Mantel.

"I'm off in the morning."

"Which way are you going?"

"There is only one way. I am going to find Pepeeta."

"Do you really expect to succeed?"

"Expect to! I am determined!"

"It's a sudden move."

"Sudden! everything is sudden. Events have simply crashed upon me lately! When I think of the fluctuations of hope and despair, of certainty and uncertainty through which I have gone in the past few hours, I am stupefied."

"And I never go through any! My life is like a dead and stagnant sea--nothing agitates it. If I could once be upheaved from the bottom or churned into a foam from the top, I think I might amount to something."

"You ought to quit this business, Mantel, and come with me. I am going to find Pepeeta, take her back to that quiet valley where I lived, and get myself readjusted to life. I need time for reflection, and so do you. What do you say? Will you join me? I cannot bear to leave you? You have been a friend, and I love you!"

"Thanks, Corson, thanks. You have come nearer to stirring this dead heart of mine than any one since--well, no matter. I reciprocate your feeling. I shall have a hard time of it after you have gone."

"Then join me."

"It is impossible."

"But why? This life will destroy you sooner or later."

"Oh--that's been done already."

"No, it hasn't. There are more n.o.ble things in you than you realize.

What you need is to give them scope and let them out."

"You don't know me. What you see is all on the surface. If I ever had any power of decision or action it has gone. I am the victim, and not the master of my destiny. I am drifting along like a derelict, with no compa.s.s to guide, rudder to steer or anchor to grip the bottom."

"Make another effort, old man, do! Look at me. I was in as bad a fix as you are only a little while ago."

"Yes; but see what has happened to you! Circ.u.mstances have tumbled you out of the nest, and of course you had to fly. I wish something would happen to me! I would almost be glad to have lightning strike me."

"What you say is true in a way, of course. I know I don't deserve any credit for breaking out of this life. But don't you think a man can do it alone, without any such frightful catastrophes to help him? It seems to me, now, that I could. I feel as if I could burst through stone walls."

"Of course you do, my dear fellow, and you can. But something has put strength into you! That's what I need."

"Well, let me put it into you! Lean on me. I can't bear to leave you here and see you go down! Come, brace up. Make an effort. Decide. Tear yourself away!"

"You actually make my heart flutter, Davy; I feel as if I would really like to do it. But I can't. It's no use. I shouldn't get across the ferry before I'd begin to hang back."

"But you don't belong to this life. You are above it, naturally. You ought to be a force for good in the world. Society needs such men as you are, and needs them badly. Come! If I can break these meshes you can."

"No, my dear fellow, that's a non-sequitur. There is different blood flowing in our veins, and we have had a different environment and education. As far back as I know anything about them, my people have all lived on the surface of life, and I have floated along with them. But, by heavens--I have at least seen down into the depths!"

"Well, I have my inheritance of bad blood also. I had a father who was not only weak but wicked."

"Yes, but think of your mother."

"Mantel, you are carrying this too far. A man is something more than the mere chemical product of his ancestor's blood and brains! Every one has a new and original endowment of his own. He must live and act for himself."

"Maybe so, but everything seems, at least, to be a fixed and inevitable consequence of what has gone before. I don't want to disparage this last act of yours, but see how far back its roots reach into the past. See what a chain of events led up to it, and what frightful causes have been operating to bring you up to the sticking point! How long ago was it that you were just as ready to throw up the game?"

"Horrible! Don't speak of it! It makes me tremble. I am not worthy to defend or even advocate a life of endeavor and victory, Mantel, and I will not try; but I know that I am right."

"Yes, Dave, you are right; I know it as well as you. I am only talking to ease my conscience. I know I ought to snap these cords, and I know I can. But I also know that I am grinding here in this devil's mill while every bad man makes sport and every good man weeps! And I know that I shall keep on grinding while you and thousands of other n.o.ble fellows with less brains, perhaps, and fewer chances than mine, make wild dashes for liberty and do men's work in the world. But here I am, cold and dead, and here I remain."

"Can nothing persuade you--not love? I love you, Mantel! Come, let us go together. Who knows what we can do if we try? I must persuade you!"

"I am like a s.h.i.+p in a sea of glue. You touch me, but you don't persuade me! It's no use. I cannot budge. The aspirations you awaken in my soul leap up above the surface like little fishes from a pond, and as quickly fall back again! No, I cannot go. Don't press me--it makes me feel like the young man in the gospel, who made what Dante calls 'the great refusal;' he saw that young man's 'shade' in h.e.l.l."

They were sitting on the sill of a deep window in what had once been one of the most fas.h.i.+onable mansions of the city. The sash was raised, and the light of the moon fell full upon their young faces. They ceased speaking after Mantel had uttered those solemn words, and looked out over the housetops to the water of the great river. It was long after midnight, and not a sound broke the stillness. Fleecy clouds were drifting across the sky, and a vessel under full sail was going silently down the river toward the open sea. They had involuntarily clasped each other's hands, and as their hearts opened and disclosed their secrets they were drawn closer and closer together until their arms stole about each other's necks. For a few brief moments they were boys again. The vices that had hardened their hearts and shut their souls up in lonely isolation relaxed their hold. That sympathy which knit the hearts of David and Johnathan together made their's beat as one.

David broke the silence. "I cannot bear to leave you, Mantel. Join me.

Such feelings as these which stir us so deeply to-night do not come too often. It must be dangerous to resist them. I suppose there are slight protests and aspirations in the soul all the time, but these to-night are like the flood of the tide."

"Yes," said Mantel; "the Nile flows through Egypt every day, but flows over it only once a year."

"And this is the time to sow the seed, isn't it?"

"So they say. But you must remember that you feel this more deeply than I do, Davy. I am moved. I have a desire to do better, but it isn't large enough. It is like a six-inch stream trying to turn a seven-foot wheel.

"Don't make light of it, Mantel!"