Then they passed to other topics, Mr. Stewart proving himself to be a golden talker upon an immense variety of subjects, while the car, having been very gently attached to the engine, began to glide out of the station with an easy motion almost akin to that of a ship, the great machine being beautifully balanced upon many springs so that even the casually laid road-bed did not make it jolt, only sway and roll slightly, keeping up the nautical comparison. Meanwhile Miss Stewart had taken C. B. out upon the observation platform and was pointing out to him the various wonders through which they were passing, finding intense enjoyment in his utter bewilderment and childlike curiosity. And when it dawned upon her that he had never even seen a railroad before, hardly realized that such a thing existed, she experienced all the pleasure of a generous nature at being able to give another such a novel series of delightful new sensations.
And such sensations! C. B. was always so calm and satisfied with the way that he believed God was leading him that any one, even his intimate friends, might have been forgiven for calling him stolid, unimpressionable, really not competent to feel very much. But then no one could enter into the quiet sanctuary of his mind where sat enthroned his Eternal Friend and Guide. Occasionally, as Miss Stewart pointed out to him some new marvel of Nature, such as travellers have long chanted the praise of, on that wonderful railroad line from San Francisco to New York, he would hold up his hands and murmur—
“How wonderful and glorious are your works, O my Father.” And at such times she would gazeupon him with awe as feeling that he was in a very special sense favoured by the Most High.
Then when the train flew along some swaying cobweb-like trestle bridge with the mist beneath hiding the awful depths and a suggestion of impalpability, of travelling upon the track of a moonbeam, was impossible to avoid, she would cling to him in real terror, feeling, as all sensitive intelligences must in those situations, how tenuous a thread separated them from the next world. But she always failed to see any change in the steady gaze of his eye, or to feel any tremor in his firmly knit muscles, not even when they swung out around some tremendous curve on the scarp of a mountain and the struts beneath them sprung and complained at their weight.
At last she felt a little piqued; it seemed so strange that this entirely inexperienced man could be so free from any apprehension while she who had seen it all so often before trembled to her heart’s core. Was it insensibility or inability to grasp the wonderful facts, or was it superiority of mind to all things happening upon earth because of intimacy with the Creator of all things? And so she asked him why he seemed so unimpressed with all these marvels that all other people held in such awe and reverence; did he not really think them very wonderful and inspiring? And he, turning his deep eyes from her, answered—
“My dear young lady, itisall very wonderful, but when I look up at the stars and the sun, or out upon the sea, I feel more impressed at these glorious works of my Father. And I feel very small but very happy; I think that He who does all these things by the word of His Power condescends to notice me, to assure me that I am precious in His sight. I amnot unconscious or dense really—I do admire and wonder, but I cannot for one moment forget the Glory of God which is to this amazing show as the substance is to the shadow. I feel much more than this, but I cannot say, I only love and worship.”
Alas for Miss Stewart’s happiness, she had grown to love this simple stalwart man with an intensity that frightened her, as she had felt that she was absolutely proof against any feeling of the kind. To all her openness and kindness he responded respectfully yet almost as her equal, but though the invitation to do so was almost palpable he never overstepped an invisible line drawn between them. Old man Stewart was indeed wise when he decided that this was a man to be trusted to the limit.
And so the great car sped on through freezing cold and scorching heat, parched up desert and glowing prairie, until it drew near to the young giant of the West, Chicago, that centre of the marvels of the United States, humming with evil, fragrant with good, but in any case fully, luxuriantly alive.
It must not be supposed that in all these long conversations with Miss Stewart, while her father told stories turn about with the contented Captain Taber, C. B. ever forgot his friend for one moment. The memory of Merritt had faded almost entirely, or only came now and then with a little pang of contrition that such devoted love as he had been shown by that strange man had been so little requited. Had he been given to reasoning these things out he would have known that the secret of his love for Captain Taber was that he had been able to give himself up entirely to his service, for it will ever be found that the deepest love is that which gives itself to the beloved object. True love is self-sacrificing, not passively recipient, and so even in this beautiful journey, surrounded by all luxury and associated with so charming a personality as that of Miss Stewart, C. B. never for one instant wavered in his deep affection for his charge.
One night within a hundred miles of Chicago they suddenly felt the flying train slow down, and then with a couple of heavy jolts come to a standstill. C. B. was with the captain at the time rendering him some personal service, and at the shock they both looked inquiringly around and at one another.
“There’s something wrong,” said the captain. “I wonder what has happened?” He had hardly uttered the words when through the unnatural silence there came a faint shriek, and C. B., with one glance at his friend, rushed out into the body of the car and main saloon.
There were Mr. and Miss Stewart seated in two armchairs with a truculent looking man clad in the picturesque garb of the cowboy standing before them holding a heavy revolver pointed at them, while both man and woman held their hands high above their heads. At the sound of C. B.’s footsteps the intruder wheeled and shouted, “Stop right there,” but he spoke to the wrong individual. Without an instant’s hesitation C. B. sprang at him, there was a flash, a stunning report, and a crash of glass, and there upon the floor lay the intruder with C. B. on top of him easily tearing the revolver from him with one hand, while with the other clutching his throat. At the same moment Miss Stewart and her father disappeared. But they returned almost instantly, each armed with a revolver, and Mr. Stewart bringing in addition a length of gay cord torn from the heavy curtain before his sleeping-place. With this C. B. bound the hands of the villainous-looking fellow he had captured so securely that he could not move them and looked around for another piece for the feet.
But Mr. Stewart said sternly, “Never mind that. Mary, watch him, and if he moves, shoot him. Come, Mr. Christmas, we’ll get the others.” And at the word C. B. followed where Mr. Stewart led, finding in Miss Stewart’s apartment two more men, who caught unawares submitted to be bound as the first one had been, under cover of Mr. Stewart’s revolver.
“Now,” said Mr. Stewart, “we must look out for the rest of the gang, who are probably walking up and down outside. But first, out lights,” and touching a switch the whole car was immediately in darkness. But as soon as they stepped out upon the observation platform they heard a couple of shots. Mr. Stewart, fully cognizant of all these Western tactics, carefully marked the direction of the flashes and fired there twice, sinking down at once and dragging C. B. with him.
After waiting about a minute and hearing a low groan from the darkness, he said—
“I don’t think there’s any more of ’em about, and we must go and see to the engineer and his fireman,” finding them both cruelly tied up. They released them, and Mr. Stewart curtly ordered them to put on all the speed they could for Chicago, where explanations might be made in quiet. Then turning to the car they hunted up the attendants, who they found had all been treated similarly to the engineer. They released them, and putting the captives in charge of the conductor in the baggage car they returned to their quarters, finding Miss Stewart still in charge of the scoundrel they had forgotten.
She was soon relieved of her watch and then, with a heightened colour, turned to C. B. and said—
“Forgive me for what I said to you.”
C. B. stared at her and asked—
“What can you mean, Miss Stewart? How can I forgive you when you have never done me wrong?”
Then the young lady bursting into tears sobbed, “Oh, yes, I have. I thought you were dull, stupid, and hardened because you didn’t make a fuss, as I expected you to. And now you act like this—it’s heaping coals of fire on my head.”
At this Mr. Stewart came along and said—
“Come, my girl, get to your bed, we shall be in Chicago in about an hour and you need all the rest you can get.”
She obeyed with a look full of gratitude at C. B., who stood quite bewildered at the sudden and strange march of events.
He was not relieved when Mr. Stewart, holding out his hand, blurted out, “Mr. Christmas, you’re the whitest man I know. And if you can believe me, there isn’t anything that lies in my power to do for you that I won’t do on the word. So give it a name and let me show my gratitude.”
It was then Mr. Stewart’s turn to feel astonished and set back, for C. B. with some dignity replied, “Mr. Stewart, I don’t understand you. I really haven’t done anything but what any man would have done. I can’t imagine what makes you American gentlemen and ladies try and spoil a poor man like me. Surely there is nothing wonderful or strange in my behaviour, nothing that any man among you would not have done under the same circumstances.”
“My good boy,” answered Mr. Stewart solemnly. “Of course you don’t know how your conduct appears to us, any more than we know how to regard you. I can only say that I feel very humble and ordinary alongside of a clean-souled man like you, and I know you’re worthy of any appreciation that can be tendered you. But hark, there’s the skipper’s bell, he’ll be anxious to know all about everything and you won’t tell him, but I will, whatever you say, so get along with you.” And C. B., still in a mental mist of wonder, rushed off to his charge.
Captain Taber was naturally in a feverish state of excitement through wonder. He had heard theshots and the rushing to and fro, imagined all kinds of happenings as he lay there helplessly fretting and yet ashamed of his want of confidence in the goodness of God. And now when C. B. came swiftly gliding in, his face all aglow with eagerness, a great wave of thankfulness rushed over him, and he held out both his hands, saying, “Thank God you’re all right; my boy, do tell me what has happened?”
Then, first having seen that the captain wanted for nothing, C. B. told him the stirring story in his own quiet, unexaggerated fashion, his simple eyes brightening and his breath coming short as he realized the danger they had all gone through and emerged triumphantly from, for their assailants were of that desperate class who value life at less than the smallest coin, are ready to dare anything in order to gratify their desire for plunder, and who in this case felt quite certain of securing a rich booty. They had lashed a huge log across the rails, and erected by its side a pole with a red light upon it, which made the engineer of the train slow up until he brought his engine butt up against the obstruction, and immediately found himself threatened by a couple of revolvers held at his face by desperate-looking men, who threatened him with instant death, unless he obeyed their command. Helpless to resist, he threw up his hands while they bound him and his mate, then boarded the train itself, with the result we know.
Presently, with a clanging of great bells and a hideous jolting over badly laid points, they rolled into the great station, where a little crowd of officials who were awaiting them sprang into the car as it came to a rest, and greeted Mr. Stewart with that mingled air of equality and deference which is sopeculiarly characteristic of the States between employés and their employers. In a few curt sentences Mr. Stewart informed the new-comers of the events of the last couple of hours, and then led the way to where his prisoners were lying, glaring like trapped wolves. In a few minutes they had been removed to a patrol wagon, which rumbled off with them to prison, and then Mr. Stewart turned to confront a couple of night reporters, who, with the keen scent for a story that all their class in the United States are noted for, begged to be “put next” to the adventure, whatever it was.
With a grim smile Mr. Stewart led them to the main saloon, bade them be seated, ordered a steward to bring them refreshments, and then sent for C. B. When our friend arrived Mr. Stewart introduced him to the reporters as the hero of the night, assured them that he would tell them all about it and, excusing himself, disappeared.
It is impossible for me to convey any adequate idea of the contrast between C. B. and his interlocutors, whose picturesque slang, eager faces, and ravenous pencils all seemed to him so strange. He could not imagine their errand, they were equally taken aback by his calm, straight gaze and transparent simplicity. But presently, after a rapier-like question or two, one reporter said to the other: “Hank, we’re up against a mighty big scoop. This hold up’s only a tail-piece, the story ahead of it’s the thing, and our friend here hain’t no idea of the height of it. Now less go slow an’ take it between us an’, hold on a minute——” He darted off and got the attendants to seal up the car to any outsiders, declaring that Mr. Stewart would see nobody till the morning, then returned to the feast.
So C. B. told his story to the reporters, who took it down with heaven knows what fantastic additions. They had never had such a lovely subject before, a man who answered all their questions straightly and simply, making no reservations. Many times they paused and looked at him, feeling uncertain whether some colossal joke was not being put upon them, but were reassured in spite of their brazen scepticism, and when at last they raced off to their offices with the spoil they both felt that they had had the time of their lives.
C. B. was rather glad when they went, for he was tired, and went straight to Captain Taber, whom he found sleeping sweetly. And, as all the car was quiet, he too went to his comfortable bed, and, entirely unexcited by the stirring events of the day, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he awoke it was to have thrust into his hand by one of the car attendants two newspapers, each with flaming headlines, describing in American journalese the happenings of the past night. Glancing through the two and a half columns of gush he felt his blood surge up into his head to find himself portrayed as a hero of the highest eminence, his life history sketched out, in fact all his quiet, open talk with those two guileful strangers transmogrified into something that took his breath away. And even then he was unable to grasp more than the remote fringe of the significance of those two newspaper reports; he did not dream of the millions who would read his story all over the United States and Canada within the next twenty-four hours, or the fact that within a week or two the whole of the civilized world would be talking about him.
At present his feeling was one of extreme annoyance at seeing his name in print, and making ahurried toilet he hastened to his friend, Captain Taber, whom he found propped up in bed eagerly devouring the story, and occasionally chuckling with laughter as he came across some exceptionally turgid piece of description, or a sentence of such extraordinary jargon of slang that even an educated American could hardly translate it. It gave him thrills of great joy, and when he saw the face of C. B. as he stood holding the two papers before him, he laughed as C. B. had never heard him since his disaster.
When at last he had ceased C. B. said quietly, “I don’t know why you are so amused, sir, for I see you have been reading what those two men wrote from what I told them last night. I think it was very wrong of them, and I feel so ashamed of myself. I do wish I had known that they were going to print it, I wouldn’t have told them a word. Besides, there’s a great deal of it that isn’t true at all. It seems that where they couldn’t remember what I told them they made up a bit to join the story together. I must say though that it is wonderful how they can have done it at all. It seems only a few minutes ago that I was talking to them and here it is all in the newspapers.”
“My dear, innocent Christmas,” burst in the captain, “as I’ve so often told you, you’re too good for this world. To think how utterly out of touch with all these things, railways, telegraphs, newspapers, etc., you are. But try and see if you can what a lot of good your story will do. Your life lived without effort in the sight of God has had much more influence than you ever dreamed of or would imagine, think then of the benefits that even this poor presentment of a bit of that life will confer upon millions of people who will read it. I hain’tafraid that you’ll get above yourself by hearing yourself praised, I know to whom you’ll give all the glory, but I do hope that you won’t refuse to see any more of these fellows, who are sure to be after you directly. And look here, if I know my countrymen, an’ I think I do a little, they’ll be lots of other folks after you to-day. You’ll be offered big money to lecture and show yourself—but I don’t think I can spare you,” and the helpless man looked upon him wistfully.
That brought C. B. to his side in a moment, saying—
“Dear friend, I’ve often told you that I don’t want money, and as for making a show of myself or talking about what I’ve done the idea’s horrible. Since you wish it, I’ll see the newspaper men and talk to them, but please remember that I’m not leaving you while you want me, and when I do leave you because you don’t need me any more, I’m going straight back home.”
“All right, my boy, I never had any real doubt, only the mere thought of losing you was so dreadful to my poor selfish heart. I’ve got to lean on you so that I feel I couldn’t live without you now. For to-day, anyhow, I’ll get one of the attendants to look after me; you’ll be wanted all day long by one person and another. Oh me, I wish this affray had never happened; I don’t know how long we may be kept waiting——”
Just then there was a firm tap at the door, and to the captain’s “Come in” Mr. Stewart entered the room. As soon as greetings were exchanged the captain inquired eagerly—
“Is this thing going to delay us long, sir? I’m so anxious to get home.”
Mr. Stewart’s brow contracted as he replied—
“Not if I can help it, captain. It wouldn’t hinder you anyhow, because you know nothing of it; but your friend’s a principal witness. Still, I know how knit you are together—you can’t do without him. My influence is not here what it is in San Francisco, but I’ll use what I’ve got to get the trial expedited for your sake.” Then turning to C. B., he said, “Well, Christmas, you’ve got fame by the bucketful this morning, haven’t ye? How do you like it?”
“Not a little bit, Mr. Stewart,” interrupted the captain; “he came in here to me this morning with his face all afire. An’ but that I don’t think he can get real angry, I believe he would have been mad with me because he found me laughing over the story. However, I’ve soothed him by telling him what a lot of good it will do, and now, I think, he’ll be quite reconciled to the next batch of reporters that comes along.”
“That’s principally what I’ve come in about, captain,” said Mr. Stewart. “So far, the report has been all right and there’s no harm done, but I’m a bit afraid that the gang that will surely arrive presently will try to mix up Mary’s name with it, invent some fool story about her and Christmas that’ll hurt us all like the devil. Now, what I wanted to do was to warn you, Christmas, on this one point. Tell those fellows everything you can, for the more you tell ’em the less chance they’ll have to invent; but try and make ’em keep my girl’s name out of it, won’t ye?” This last almost imploringly.
C. B. drew himself up a little as he replied—
“How could I tell them anything about Miss Stewart beyond what has been already printed, unless I told falsehoods, invented a story like a reporter does? I know nothing, and if I did Ishould refuse to say anything about another person’s business.”
Mr. Stewart looked doubtfully at him as if mistrusting, not his truthfulness or honour, but his ability to prevent those reporters from turning him inside out like a glove, and gave a sigh, which Captain Taber noticing, made him remark, “I think, Mr. Stewart, that you can trust C. B.’s invincible honesty and truth to be a match for men who are so accustomed to deal with the opposite qualities that they will be hopelessly overmatched.”
At that moment an attendant knocked at the door, and entering, said—
“Three gentlemen to see Mr. Adams.”
“All right, Billy,” answered Mr. Stewart. “Go on, my boy; we can’t do better I’m sure than leave you to yourself in this matter. I was a fool to try and interfere.” And he gave C. B. a playful push out of the door.
The attendant was waiting for him and ushered him into the main saloon, where there sat three of the most divergent types of men one could imagine. One had, in spite of his good, well-cut clothes, an air of seediness about him, want of brushing, cigar ash, up all night kind of appearance; he was a reporter. The next was obviously a parson of sorts, yet with a keen business air about him too, which rather belied his white tie. The third was the most objectionable person of the three, as far as looks went. He was gross, with a great belly and bulbous nose. His rather dirty hands were loaded with heavy rings, and a massive gold watch-chain lay across the big rotundity of his stomach. His clothes were of a violent pattern check, his broad-brimmed felt hat was worn at the back of his head, a gaudyboutonnièreadorned his coat lapel, a fatcigar was between his purple lips, he fingered a huge roll of bills ostentatiously, and spat frequently wherever it pleased him.
As soon as C. B. appeared all three arose and extended their hands in greeting. They all began to talk at once, but the reporter, holding up his hand, said—
“Gentlemen, please let’s start fair. We can’t do a thing like this. I was here first, but I’m willing to meet you any reasonable way, and I propose to shake for the first deal.” Before either of the others could reply C. B. said quietly—
“Are all you gentlemen reporters?”
“Me every time,” answered the reporter gaily, but the other two expressed their feelings at the question by a very decided negative.
“Then,” went on C. B., “I think if this gentleman,” nodding to the reporter, “will have a moment’s patience, I can promise him I will not keep him waiting long. What do you wish with me, sir?” to the parson. That gentleman said immediately—
“Oh, my committee have authorized me to invite you to preach at our church in —— Street to-night and incidentally tell the story of your late experiences. They are prepared to meet your views as to the honorarium, within limits, of course.”
“Thank you very much,” replied C. B. “No. And you?” turning to the gross man.
“Wall, I guess I’m the representative of the Mammoth Vaudeville Syndicate of the United States, and I’m prepared to book you for a hundred nights at $100 a night to reel off that yarn of yours on the stage an’——”
“Thank you,” interrupted C. B. “No.”
“And now,” turning to the reporter, andabsolutely ignoring the other two. “I am at your service.”
The reporter gave a wicked little snigger at the two discomfited competitors and plunged into his business.
From thenceforward throughout, the whole of the time of C. B. was thus occupied, but to every other class of persons beside reporters he returned the same curt answer “No.” All, however, did not take it as the first pair had done, the photographers especially being almost painfully persistent. But, having made up his mind to a certain course of action, believing it to be right, there was no hope of turning C. B.; he was adamant, although as kind and yielding as could be in anything that he felt did not matter.
At last, as he was dismissing the fiftieth interviewer, Mr. Stewart came in and laying his hand upon C. B.’s shoulder said kindly—
“Come on, dear boy, and have some food, you must need it. Billy, if anybody else calls and wants to see Mr. Adams, tell them that he is engaged until 6 p.m., and that no one is to see him until then. Now you understand what I mean. No one, whatever their business may be.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the attendant, and C. B. left to wash his face and hands and have a comfortable meal.
It was, except for C. B., the happiest luncheon any of them had taken for a long time, for C. B.’s solemn description—he had hardly any idea of a joke—of the various demands of his visitors made them rock with laughter. Especially Captain Taber; but Miss Stewart was quite sympathetic, except that she could not help smiling at the simplicity of C. B.’s supposition that the majority ofthese people would take “No” for an answer. He said—
“We were taught, ‘let your yea be yea, and nay, nay, for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil’; and yet some of these people wouldn’t believe me, though I said no as plainly as I could say it more than a dozen times.”
“Ah, well,” said Mr. Stewart at last, “your best time is yet to come. This afternoon you are to be at the Court to give evidence at the trial, and then, if I mistake not, there will be fun. Hallo, what’s that?” as an attendant came hurriedly in with a dirty envelope which he handed to C. B., saying—
“I wouldn’t have brought it, sir, but the guy that give it me held a gun at me head and said if I didn’t he’d empty it into me.”
Not a word was spoken as C. B. opened it and read—
“There’s a thousand dollars in gold ready for you if you say in court you never seen the prisoners before, that you don’t recognize ’em. There’s another thousand if they get acquitted through your evidence. And there’s sudden death for the hull gang of you if they get sent up. Bearer waits.”
C. B. then handed the note to Mr. Stewart, who quietly tore it in pieces and handed the little pile to the attendant saying—
“Give him that. And call Simpson in.” The man disappeared and a minute later a big pleasant-looking man came in and walked up to Mr. Stewart, who said—
“Simpson, Mr. Adams here has just received an offer of a thousand dollars to refuse identification, two thousand if the road agents are acquitted, and sudden death to all of us if they’re not. I’ve tornthe note up and given it back to the man, but that doesn’t matter, of course. Just attend to it, won’t ye.”
And Simpson bowed and retired, while the party resumed their luncheon. But Miss Stewart looked grave and said little, though she looked at C. B. occasionally with keenest concern. Otherwise there was no apparent change of demeanour in any of the men. And after coffee, while the two Americans smoked, C. B. sat in calmest mood and meditated over the events of the morning.
At 2 p.m., a hack being in waiting, the two men and Miss Stewart were driven to the Court through the swarming streets, C. B. remarking once or twice that he never thought there were so many people in the world. He also inquired earnestly what they were all hurrying so for, and Mr. Stewart told him that all the people he saw were divided into two classes, the one class rushing after money to add to their already overfat store in order to get more power, the other, and by far the larger class, were being hunted by the gaunt spectre of want. They had to rush or starve, and when one of them fell by the wayside there was little hope of him ever rising again, his fellows would trample him to death.
C. B. heaved a great sigh and thought sadly of the lot of these poor people as compared with the happiness of his own folk, and a great longing came over him for that peaceful isle. The next moment he repented of the feeling as being cowardly. He thought if these poor folk had to bear the burden of what he took to be intolerant misery, he could surely endure to look upon them doing so. And then they pulled up at the Court.
Like a man in a dream C. B. was conducted to a place where he and his friends were allowed to seat themselves, and there he gazed around and listened uncomprehendingly, his mind in a whirl of wonder.At last their case was called, and the prisoners, each guarded by a warder, stood up for identification. There was some little trouble about the oath, which Miss Stewart and her father took unhesitatingly, but which C. B., after having it explained to him two or three times, resolutely refused to utter. His attitude was reported to the judge, who said sharply—
“What religion do you profess?”
“Christianity,” respectfully replied C. B.
“Yes, but what sect, branch, or denomination of Christianity do you belong to?” snapped the judge.
“I do not know of any,” calmly replied C. B.
“Come, come,” the judge went on, growing irritable, “we must have no paltering with the time of the Court. If you are a Christian you must take the oath, unless you have any conscientious objections. Why do you object to swear?”
A bright ray of intelligence lit up C. B.’s face as he realized the question, and he gravely answered—
“I was taught in the Bible to swear not at all, but to let my yea be yea and my nay nay, for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.”
“I see,” sneered the judge, and, turning to the Clerk of the Court, “let him affirm. He’s only a new kind of crank after all.” So C. B. was allowed to make his affirmation to tell the truth, Miss Stewart gazing at him with wonder-filled eyes as she realized how immeasurably above these keen-faced unscrupulous men of the world and of law was this quiet young man with the peaceful face standing among them like a visitor from some other world.
The preliminaries being completed he was asked for his story of the “Hold up,” and gave it in a manner that impressed every one in Court, especially the judge, for it was clear, succinct and unbiassed,not a needless word or repetition. When he had concluded he was asked if he identified the men before him as the intending robbers, and unhesitatingly answered yes. Then the prisoner’s counsel took him in hand, a man with a great reputation for compelling the most innocent of witnesses to contradict themselves and look like perjurers, a master of that vile practice of making witnesses suffer more than the criminal. But for once he had met his match. To his thundering invective, abuse, sarcasm, and crafty suggestions C. B. presented his unconscious integrity and perfect innocence. He could not be terrified or made contradict himself, and his past life, that bug-bear of so many witnesses who are perfectly honest and truthful as well as desirous of aiding justice, had no dark corners in it. And after a few minutes the loud-voiced advocate retired discomfited, not having been able to shake C. B.’s evidence in the least, but having conclusively directed the attention of the public to the wonderful sincerity of the witness.
Mr. Stewart’s evidence was taken more briefly, as it was in effect but a repetition of C. B.’s, and Miss Stewart, in accordance with the chivalric American custom, was spared as much as possible. In these later days I see that woman is no longer immune from insult and contumely as a witness, even in America, but at the time of which I write it would have fared ill there with any lawyer who should have dared to browbeat a woman in a witness box. So that the trial really took very little time. The addresses of counsel were brief, for indeed the abominable gang, of which the three men in the dock formed the principal part, had for long terrorized the district where at last they were caught, and except among their own class, which, however,is a very numerous one in Chicago, they had no sympathizers.
So when the judge rose to deliver his charge to the jury he was brief and incisive. “We have here,” he said, “three road agents who have been caught by their intended victims. There is no manner of doubt as to their intentions or identity. They have attempted to bribe the principal witness, and failing in that they have threatened his life if he does his duty to society, both courses, I am glad to say, being signally unsuccessful. I await your verdict with confidence, because it is high time that we in Chicago show the rest of the States that they have no monopoly of justice, a statement which has rather frequently been made of late.”
Without retiring the jury returned a unanimous verdict of guilty, and the judge immediately took up his parable again to the effect that he entirely agreed with the jury’s verdict, and that he sentenced all the prisoners to ten years in the State prison. “And,” he added, “if either of these innocent persons who have so manfully done their duty here to-day are molested in any way, I trust that the State of Illinois will rise to the occasion and hunt the vermin who would commit such a crime from the face of the earth.”
In ten minutes they were all in the carriage again and driving back to the car, a stranger to C. B. seated beside the driver. Before they had reached the car, however, there was a little tinkling noise in the carriage which made them all look at each other in wonder, until Mr. Stewart pointed quietly with his forefinger to two tiny round holes in the windows, showing the passage of a bullet. Miss Stewart turned very pale, but as she looked at C. B. and saw how absolutely unconcerned he was, hercolour came back and she softly murmured what had become a sort of litany to her, her thanks for having been privileged to know such a man.
They reached the car without further incident, to find it besieged by a crowd of people who wanted all sorts of things, principally interviews and photographs, and others who only wanted to gape and shake hands, for which somehow Americans have a mania. But the man on the box, leaping down, made a way through the crowd for the three friends, and as soon as they were within the car Mr. Stewart said—
“As soon as we have ‘line clear’ tell the engineer to get out of this, and let us have dinner as soon as you will, with the blinds and shutters down. I don’t want any potting at me while I am having my food.”
In ten minutes the attendant returned with the news that the engine was now backing on and that in a few seconds they would be on their way out of the great Lake City at a good rate.
All this time Captain Taber had been suffering tortures of suspense. He had not learned the secret possessed by his friend. “Thou shalt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.” To C. B.’s inquiry how he felt he replied hastily, “Oh, my dear man, don’t bother about my health, that’s as usual, but I’m et up with longing to know how you got on in the midst of all them Chicago sharks. Do tell me, but say, first, are we gettin’ out o’ this?”
“We’re off in a minute, I believe,” answered C. B., and as he spoke the car began to move.
“Thank God,” breathed the skipper, and C. B. settled down to the task of telling him the whole story in his easy, simple style. It took but little time in the telling, and as soon as he had finished the skipper, beaming on him with a smile of intensesatisfaction, pointed to a pile of newspapers lying on a chair, and said with a touch of pride, “There’s American enterprise for you, you seem to be the best talked-of man in Chicago to-day.”
C. B. made a small grimace expressive of his utter want of desire to read more about himself and replied—
“I am only grateful to get away. It is all very wonderful, but I don’t like it, and I am sure it is not good for you, you don’t look nearly as well as when I left you last. Ah, there’s nothing like the peace of God for soul and body, and I’m afraid there’s little room for it among your people.”
“Don’t say that,” eagerly interrupted the skipper. “In dear Fairhaven there is peace, and please God we’ll soon be there. Then you’ll see the difference between the welter of Chicago and a New England village.” Just then Mr. Stewart and his daughter walked in, and after warmly greeting the captain, Mr. Stewart said drily—
“Well, we’ve escaped, and now if we have luck we’ll be in Boston in about thirty-six hours. I hope so, for I begin to feel my fingers itch for business again. I haven’t got the hang of you fellows’ minds quite. I want to be in the midst of it all again. But you wouldn’t understand, so I shan’t try to explain. Mind, I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but I can’t feel as you do, that’s all.”
Then Miss Stewart chimed in quietly—
“Daddy, you know they are right. What good do we get out of all this fret and hurry? Mr. Christmas seems to me to know better than any of us how to live, and as far as I am concerned I am willing to learn of him both how to live and die.”
“That’s all very well,” rejoined her father lightly, “but in the meantime in order to live at all we musthave some food, and I guess it’s about ready now. The car’s going a good lick, near forty miles an hour, and I don’t think the friends of our late guests have got much chance to molest us.” And in pleasant mood they all sat down to a comfortable meal.
After dinner C. B. retired with the captain, leaving Miss Stewart and her father alone. They sat silent for a few minutes, and then Miss Stewart, rising, came over to her father, who sat meditatively puffing at his cigar and murmured—
“Daddy, what shall I do?”
“How, my dear?” responded her father, with a look of deepest love in his eyes as he bent them upon her. “I’ve always talked to you about everything since ever I can remember, and I am so glad because it helps me to say what I want now, for I could not even say it to mother.”
“Go on, dear one,” murmured the old man soothingly.
“I love that young man, daddy, with all my heart and soul and strength. And I know that I am not doing wrong, because all that I love in him comes direct from God, the God whom he’s always talking about and knows so well. But he doesn’t love me, I’m afraid, at least he doesn’t show any sign that he does, and what am I to do?”
Her father looked at her seriously and said nothing for a minute. Then he said—
“My darling girl, you can’t throw yourself at a man, not if he was half an angel. I love the young fellow too, and if he came to me and asked me for you, I should forget all about dollars and send him to you. But he hasn’t, and if I know anything of him he won’t. I don’t believe he’s ever had a thought about marryin’ or givin’ in marriage. In fact, I’llown to you that I can’t make him out. He’s a different breed of man to any that I ever met before. However, dear one, believe this, your father’s with you, heart and soul, and short of going to him and askin’ him if he’ll be kind enough to take my daughter for a wife, I’ll do anything you ask me. Your happiness, my love, that’s what I live for.”
And the train sped relentlessly onward until in thirty-four hours from Chicago the big car rolled easily into the huge station at Boston, where by some mysterious means another coterie of journalists were awaiting them. Again poor C. B. was chosen as the medium whereby the Bostonians could acquire the information that apparently they thirsted for. But as no man can possibly have such an experience as he and remain quite ignorant of the task imposed upon him, so C. B. rose to the occasion, and surprised the interviewers by the astuteness of his answers. Of course he had been coached by both Mr. Stewart and Captain Taber, and something was due also to the difference between the methods of the journalists of Boston and those of Chicago. At any rate an hour after their arrival they were all safely installed in the comfortable Parker House, and feeling more at home than they had done since they left San Francisco or rather theGolden Gate.
And now for the first time Captain Taber sent a telegram acquainting his wife and children with the fact that he would soon be among them. He had not done so before, so as not to prolong their suspense, and as to writing, it had been quite out of the question as they had come more swiftly than a letter could have done. So that now while they were imagining him sailing about looking for whales in some unfrequented ocean on the other side of the world, there suddenly came to them the shock ofhis being quite near, and their hearts sank beneath the apprehension of calamity.
The news fled from one end of Fairhaven to the other, and over to New Bedford and its environs with great swiftness, for it was felt that something serious must have happened to the ship or her skipper would not have come home. And such excitement as these stern New Englanders ever allow themselves to feel steadily rose until it affected the whole neighbourhood.
Meanwhile the little group at the Parker House had come to the parting of the ways, and Mr. Stewart, remembering his daughter’s earnest appeal, was almost at his wits’ end what to do in the matter. He felt that to offer to go farther with the two men would be superfluous and obtrusive, and yet he could not bear to part from them like this. For not only had he his daughter’s happiness very near his heart, but he had grown to love the patient suffering skipper, whose career had thus been cut short in the prime of his days, and he felt that now if ever was a time to make some good use of his great wealth. In his perplexity it suddenly occurred to him to do the straight thing, go to the skipper at once and tell him his trouble about his daughter, and then lead from that up to his intentions or desires about the skipper himself. Here was a case he felt where any diplomacy would fail.
And while he was thus deciding, his daughter in an agony of doubt and apprehension had locked herself in her cabin. She felt so helpless, so little confident that even her good and powerful father would be able to help her, and yet she seemed certain that unless she became the wife of C. B., life for her would be henceforth a dreary blank. And she was no foolish girl, but an extremely level-headed youngwoman, only—she had hardly all her life known what it was to have a desire thwarted, and now in what she felt must be the one object of her life there appeared no way of obtaining it. She had seen C. B. put aside with calm dignity offer after offer of wealth, she had listened to the kind level tones of his voice and noted that the ring of passion never came into it, and had sometimes wondered whether he was not an abnormal man in whom love was so diffused that it could never be concentrated upon one single object. Then with a despairing little moan she flung herself on her knees and prayed to God for this good man’s love. In this she felt a thrill of sympathy with her beloved one, who in reply to a question of her one evening as to what he did if he wanted something very much and saw no way of getting it, said—
“I should ask God for it, but I should ask Him too not to let me have it if it were not good for me.”
So she prayed with deepest fervour but without the proviso, and never felt that she might be doing so without any warrant, not feeling at all inclined to resign herself to the will of God, but feeling that unless she got what she craved for she was aggrieved. A very common attitude, an easily explainable one too, but oh, how sadly illogical. Because it is certain that if we believe in the Infinite Wisdom as well as Infinite Power of God we must be contented to be refused our requests sometimes. And all of us who have prayed earnestly to God for something we wanted very badly as we thought, have known what it is to get our request granted, and afterwards, it may be many years after, to repent bitterly that ever our prayer was heard. It is one of the experiences of all Christians, yet few indeed are there of us who learn to pray with absolute sincerity, “Thy will be done.”
Captain Taber, lying waiting for the summons to the train, recognized the firm tap on the door announcing Mr. Stewart, and cried heartily, “Come in.” His friend entered, noting with satisfaction that C. B. was not present—he had gone to see about the baggage. So advancing to Captain Taber’s side he held out his hand and said—
“I’ve come to bid you good-bye, my friend, for you are practically at home, and urgent business calls me away. But before I go I want to ask you one or two things in confidence. We know one another pretty well now, and I feel I can trust you with my life if necessary. First my daughter has confessed to me that she’s in love with that noble chap who has nursed you all the way home. I sounded him on the subject carefully when I felt inclined to suspect him of having designs, as a money grubber like myself would, and he satisfied me that his soul was as white, his mind as pure of any intention of the kind as an angel’s might have been.
“Then, as you know, I took no further precautions to keep them apart, for I felt I could trust my girl, and I knew he was sound. But she has been in love with him all the time, and at last feeling she was going to lose him came to her old daddy. And her old daddy, who would die for her, can’t help her here. The man doesn’t seem to understand love as ordinary men understand it. That he’s got no money and doesn’t want any doesn’t matter to me a straw. I’ve got a good deal more than is good for me, and I know to my cost just how little happiness there is in a lot of money. Tell me, dear man, could you find out for me soon, and let me know whether you think he has any of the love for my daughter that a husband ought to have, and if it is his modesty holding him back?
“Then about yourself! I know you’ve been a man who has used all the energy and wit you’ve had to good purpose as far as you were able, and that it’s very probable that this disaster that has overtaken you has found you but poorly fixed to face what may be and I hope will be a long life, but of enforced leisure. Now I have often made more money in an hour than you have in all your life by the hardest of hard work, and I am going to ask you as an act of kindness to me to let me do an act of justice, that is to settle upon you a sufficient sum to keep you and your wife in decent comfort all your life.”
Captain Taber was about to speak, but Mr. Stewart raised his hand saying—
“Hold on a minute! what I am proposing is not, cannot be, at all derogatory to your independence. It shall be known to none but you, and alas, that I should have to say so, I cannot claim it as a virtue, for in the first place I shall not miss it from my bank account, and in the next it will give me more real pleasure than anything else in the world except seeing my daughter happy. Now then.”
Two big tears rolled quickly out of Captain Taber’s eyes and down his cheeks as he strove to speak. At last he said—
“Stewart, I would refuse if I could, but how can I? I’m a broken man and all I have been able to save, having been a fairly lucky whaleman too, is five thousand dollars. I have three youngsters, two boys and a girl, none old enough to begin the world, and I have been worried about the future. But Christmas taught me to pray and rest in the Lord, and since then I’ve been happier, feeling that He would see me through in His own way.”
“That’s settled then,” replied Mr. Stewart going to the bell and touching it. “I’ll fix you $750 a year so tight that you can’t give it away or lend it to anybody except quarterly, and I guess that’ll see you through in Fairhaven without making you feel too wealthy. Now about the other matter. Here I’m in your hands and I feel that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to straighten this out. If you can help me to a successful issue I’ll feel eternally grateful.”
“Stewart,” solemnly responded Captain Taber, “I can assure you that I’ve often felt that I could pray that your daughter and Christmas would come together. I’ve watched them together, and I’ve watched him, and I’ve watched you, little as you think it, and I’ve just wore my head thin scheming. But I felt that you wouldn’t have it at any price. I wasn’t quite sure of Miss Stewart, and as for him, I often felt that I could shake him for not having more get up and git. But oh, Stewart, we need to reconsider our position when we think of him, so brave, kind, gentle and loving—I swear I haven’t yet been able to lay my finger on a sore spot in him yet, except maybe his temper, which has boiled over twice and made things hum. Now, honest injun, I don’t believe he loves your girl a bit more than he does me, and I feel sure that he loves her in the same way. That’s no good to her. She wants a husband as well as a friend. I may be wrong. Anyhow, I’ll know soon, and as soon as I know you shall. I cannot promise more honestly, because I have no more influence over him than the wind, nor I believe has anybody in this world unless it is some of those folks of his in Norfolk Island.”
Just then there came a tap at the door, and in walked C. B., his face bright and keen, saying—
“All is ready now, Captain Taber, and we’ve nice time to get to the dépôt I’m told.”
Mr. Stewart looked up quietly and said—
“Well, you haven’t left us much time to bid you good-bye, Christmas!”
A look of blank amazement stole over C. B.’s face as he said slowly—
“I had no idea that we were separating, it never occurred to me. Please forgive me,” and he looked so distressed that Mr. Stewart said kindly: “Don’t worry, of course you didn’t know. Captain Taber didn’t know until I told him just now. But it’s a fact all the same, and anyhow long farewells are bad for anybody. Mary will just come in and say good-bye, and we shall end a very pleasant trip in the usual way.”
C. B. still stood looking like a man who had received a very heavy blow when Miss Stewart came in through the half-open door looking very pale and worn. Her heavy-lidded eyes were full of tears, and the sight of her completed C. B.’s discomfiture. Sinking into a chair he covered his face with his hands and sobbed like a boy. “I didn’t know, I didn’t think,” wailed he, “or I would have been kinder, more thoughtful, more thankful. Oh, I am so sorry we are parting.”
Miss Stewart could bear it no longer, but rising swiftly from the chair she had sank into on first entering she rushed across to him flung her arms around his neck and cried—
“We need never separate unless you want to. If you only knew how we, well yes, I, love you....”
At this the young man lifted his face and looked at her. All his long dormant love towards her awoke at that gaze, and he reached for her with his long powerful arms, while she, blushing crimsonfrom her hair to her collar, laid her dear head upon his shoulder.
The two men in the background, looking on, felt their hearts swell, their eyes grow moist, and their throats become husky at the scene, but they turned solemnly to each other and shook hands. At that moment there was a loud rap at the door; it opened and a rough voice said—
“Th’ hackman says ye’ve just got time to get ye’re train if yez come now.”
They all sprang to their feet except the captain, and in two minutes were all seated in the hack being rattled at breakneck speed towards the station. On the way Mr. Stewart said—
“Well, I guess that business of mine’ll have to wait after all, for I can’t leave ye now until I see ye safe in New Bedford. But then Imustleave and attend to things. I’ve neglected them too long already.”
At this all laughed merrily, for the three of them had no idea of the magnitude of the interests involved, and the principal actor, Mr. Stewart, behaved in the fullness of his joy as if a million or so of dollars more or less could make no possible difference to him.
As they sped away through the pleasant New England scenery towards New Bedford, Mary Stewart was entirely happy. She sat by her lover’s side on one of the seats in the crowded car, entirely oblivious of the admiring glances directed at her by the men and at him by the women. She had all the literature of that stern historic coast at her tongue’s end, although this was her first actual visit, and vividly remembered now, as she had never done before, how deeply the story of the Pilgrim Fathers would touch her beloved one. And so she chatted away, interesting him beyond measure, but with all a woman’s tact, keeping back the painful side, the cruel intolerance, the witch burnings, whippings and other cruelties practised in the name of the gentle Saviour by a community which had only just escaped from the same sort of treatment.
So the time flew by until the train drew up at the funny little old station at New Bedford, much the same then as it is now, for the American railways do not believe in spending much money either on permanent way or stations. And as the train stopped, a bonny but sad-eyed woman pressed her face to the window of the car, and Captain Taber, forgetting his pain, rose up and tried to open the sash, for it was his wife. The effort was too muchfor him and he sank back into C. B.’s arms, ready to receive him, while she, having also recognized her beloved one, though so sadly changed, came gliding round with the swiftness of love up the aisle, and dodging under C. B.’s supporting arms laid the dear head on her breast. “My boy, my love, what have they done to you? My pet, my own!” At this sacred scene all eyes turned away, and most of them were wet.
But C. B., who had only yielded a little from innate delicacy, now said (he had never taken his eyes off his friend’s face)—
“Dear lady, your husband is well but weak. Please let us get him home where you can be in comfort together, and then you shall have him all to yourself.”
She turned a grateful eye upon C. B. and said—
“He evidently isn’t very well, will you help me to get him to a hack?”
C. B. looked round and caught Mr. Stewart’s eye, who standing outside the car, made signs that he had engaged a conveyance to take their friend up. So they carried the half-fainting man to the hack, which was roomy and comfortable, and were joined on the way by his eldest son and daughter, a stalwart pair of twelve and fourteen years old respectively. And then C. B., having seen his friend comfortably bestowed, and ascertained that his wife and children would have no difficulty in getting him into their house at their journey’s end, stepped aside and allowed them to drive off, his native modesty refusing to allow him to suggest that he might accompany them for fear of seeming to intrude.
And as he watched them drive away a sense of great loss and loneliness fell upon him. For themoment he forgot his good friends the Stewarts, forgot everything but the salient fact that he had faithfully fulfilled his task, and now at the end of it stood penniless and deserted in a strange town thousands of miles from his home. A man came up to him and asked him if he wanted a hotel, and he shrank back bewildered as he realized that he was in very truth homeless. Then with a joyful tide of recollection he thought of the Stewarts, and turned and rushed back into the dépôt meeting them just coming out.
And then the beautiful bright face of his beloved looking so searchingly at him as if she knew what he had just felt, and the knowledge of all that he possessed in her made his heart leap and his eyes fill. Mr. Stewart queried kindly, “Have ye disposed of our friend satisfactorily—handed him over to his folks?”
“Yes,” replied C. B. “His wife and son and daughter came for him, and as they said they could look after him all right and he was still half unconscious I stepped aside and let them drive away with him. I didn’t realize until they were gone how dependent I have been on him in another way. And then I remembered you and Mary here and I was full of gladness, because apart from our love I should have been very lonely in this big town. And I have no money. I am beginning to see that out in the world one must have money, and that it cannot be despised as I thought.”
Mary’s face glowed as she caught at C. B.’s arm and cried—
“Ah, you dear unselfish love, I am so glad that you will never need to know the value of money or worry about it. It is a good thing in its place, and I’m never going to run it down, for my deardaddy has taken care that I never needed any, only I do know so many people who are eaten up with the love of it, I’ve seen and heard of so many horrible things being done for it, that I dread its power.”
“All very well, my dear,” interposed her father drily; “in the meantime I’d like to suggest that this isn’t the most convenient place to hold forth on economic topics. The hack is waiting and we’ll get along to the hotel if you don’t mind.”
Mary laughingly assented and the old gentleman led the way to the hack, which speedily whirled them off to the comfortable old hostelry on Purchase Street, the Parker House, where in a few minutes they were quite at home, much more so, in fact, than they had been in the immense and luxurious building of the same name in Boston.
They went to their respective rooms and again C. B. felt the sense of loss that he had experienced when first the captain was taken away from him. He had realized that sooner or later they must separate, but in his constant fashion he had not anticipated trouble of that kind and now it seemed almost as if a limb had been lopped off. It was hard work too to keep down a rising feeling of resentment against those innocent ones who had claimed their own, not being aware what C. B. had been to him. While he thus thought a bell boy came up to him and asked—
“Are you Mr. Adams?”
C. B. answered courteously that he was.
“Then,” went on the messenger, “thar’s a boy here says he’d like to speak to ye,” and turning beckoned into the apartment the same lad whom C. B. had met at the station and known as Captain Taber’s son.
“Yes, my lad,” said C. B. kindly, “what can I do for you?”
“Father’s better now,” responded the youth, “but he’s in a terrible takin’ about your not comin’ to our house, we don’t know how t’ pacify him. The only thing would do was for me to come off at once and bring you along.”
C. B. immediately decided to go of course, but bade the youth wait while he informed his friends. Having done so and excused himself till dinner, he announced to the lad that he was ready, and in two minutes they were on their way to sweet Fairhaven. As they drove along, the youth, getting better of his shyness, asked question after question, the principal point of which was “How did you save my father’s life? he says he owes his life to you, and talks as if we’d pushed you off our doorstep.” This last in a somewhat aggrieved tone.
C. B. was hard put to it to explain to this keen lad all the circumstances of the case, but he did his best, and by the time they reached the captain’s modest home the lad knew nearly as much as he did himself about the matter.
As they pulled up at the porch they heard the captain’s voice within crying, “Run, Delia, see if that’s him; Lord, do make haste, do.” And Mrs. Taber came rushing out on the veranda with her face flushed, but as she saw C. B. she extended her hand saying—
“If I’d only known, but you didn’t let on a word; to think that in the first hour of that poor dear’s home-coming we should nearly quarrel over a stranger. Forgive me, won’t ye, I didn’t know.” And she literally dragged him into the room where, spread out to best advantage, the most valued possessions of the family were displayed. And inthe midst of it all lay Captain Taber, in an easy chair, a high flush upon his cheeks and a glitter in his eyes that made C. B. look very serious as he came towards him.
As he stooped over his friend, the skipper made a feeble grab at him with one hand and at his wife with the other, and in a voice broken with tears he exclaimed—
“Here, Delia, look at him! but for him you’d never seen me again, I know it. He’s borne with me with such overflowing, never-failing love from the other side of the world—I can’t ever tell you what this beloved fellow has been to me. An’ then to think that he should be left standin’ at the station like a hired man, it’s just heart-breakin’, that’s what it is.”
“Now, dear friend,” broke in the gentle voice of C. B., “you’re doing yourself harm and giving us all pain for nothing. Nobody was to blame. You were unconscious, your wife didn’t know me, we were all anxious that you should be got home as soon as ever it could be done, and of course I couldn’t stop to explain. Besides, I set out to bring you back to your wife and children, and once you were there what better thing could I do than step aside and let them rejoice over you?”
As he ceased the skipper looked up, his eyes still humid with love, and after gazing for a moment into C. B.’s clear eyes he turned to his wife with a happy sigh and said—
“Darling, don’t be hurt, forgive me if I’ve wounded you, but you can never know all that I and you owe to this man. He’s not only brought me back to you, he’s brought peace to my soul, he’s made me acquainted with God the Father. You know how you used to harp at me to get religion; you said itwas the one thing wantin’ to make you happy. Well, I’d never got it your way. I didn’t like your preachers, shan’t like ’em now any better than before, but I’ve seen Christ lived from day to day before my eyes, I know what lots of things in the Gospel mean as I never hoped to do, and I’m satisfied to be a child of God. But I’m afraid if I come across any of them cantin’, drawlin’, fat-mouthed, camp-meetin’ religionists I’ll have to tell ’em what I think of ’em. I’ve seen the real and it’s made me more fierce against the false. An’ it seems to me that the one thing that I can’t learn from this beautiful friend is patience and toleration.”
He sank back exhausted, and Mrs. Taber, looking reproachfully at C. B., said—
“There now, you are making yourself ill again. I wonder your friend, if he’s got so much control over you, doesn’t stop you from going on like that.”
C. B. was entirely unsophisticated, but his ear detected the note of enmity in the good woman’s voice, and he thanked God with all his heart that he had something to fall back upon. Nothing could have induced him to remain where he saw that he would be a daily bone of contention, even had he been as helpless and alone as for a few minutes that afternoon he had felt he was. He did not know, he could not explain, but he could feel that Mrs. Taber, though in other respects as good a woman as ever lived, would forget at once all his services to her husband in the jealousy of him occupying even a remote corner of her husband’s heart. And his mind was swiftly made up. Squeezing his friend’s hand, which indeed he had never released, he said—
“Mrs. Taber and dear friend, my job here is finished. I undertook to bring the captain homeat his request, and by the help of God and ever so many human agencies He has used I have succeeded. I never could have done it if it had not been for that. And now I must leave you. If the captain needed me God knows I’d stay as long as I could be of any use to him. But he has now some one to look after him far better than I can, his dear wife, and he knows that I have found dear friends, so he has no need to worry about what is to become of me. And I think that now is a good time to bid him good-bye, knowing how safe he is.”
“Stay,” cried Captain Taber, whose mind had been working fast as C. B. spoke, “I feel you’re right; I feel, too, that when you go out of this room I’ll never see you agen. But before you go pray; commend my dear wife and children and me to the God you’ve taught me to know and love.”
In an instant C. B. had slid to his knees, and amid a tense silence he lifted his streaming face and cried—
“O dear Father, take all this household into your loving keeping. Let them always know how good and kind and thoughtful you are, especially how you love them. Keep them in that knowledge day and night until the day dawns and the shadows flee away. Keep them happy, contented and useful, but especially kind and loving to all who are about them. And may we all meet again in the new world where Jesus is the Head of all and all are good like Him. For His sake, dear Father. Amen.”
Then rising to his feet he stooped over his friend and kissed him as men kiss the dying, turned and shook hands with Mrs. Taber and the three children, and turning swiftly left the house before they had so far recovered as to try and stop him. And as he went he knew that his duty to that fine fellow wasdone and that he would never see him again. We too have done with him, except to note that Mr. Stewart fulfilled his promise to the captain in fullest measure and so put him and his beyond the reach of want or that half dependence which is so painful to a gallant spirit that has to accept it for the sake of its dear ones.
It is a good step from the middle of Fairhaven back to the Parker House, but C. B.’s long legs made little of it. He was now free of his charge, free to go to the love that awaited him, and he could not help feeling grateful to God that such a termination had been reached, because he saw full well how hard he might have found it but for the Stewarts, how unconsciously he might have become a burden upon those whose load was almost more than they could carry themselves.
Filled with these reflections he did not notice the distance and reached the hotel before he was aware that he had travelled nearly as far. Mr. and Miss Stewart were sitting on the veranda talking, but Mary’s eyes, ever on the alert, saw him coming, and as he strode up the steps she came to meet him with both hands outspread, recognizing with the lightning intuition of love that now he was all her own. For she like Mrs. Taber had unconsciously resented a share in her loved one’s heart being held by anybody, although her claim was much slighter. And the first words she said to him were—