II.
Y
“YES, but we must bear in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that it not only concerns us here to come to the help of oppressed humanity in the aggregate; but that we have set ourselves at the task of working within distinct boundaries. Therefore, while with all my heart I can concur in the views advanced by Consul With, at the same time, I must insist that we should not go beyond our proper limits. It is possible enough that need—and what now especially interests us, moral depravity among young girls—that it may be just as great—yes, perhaps much greater in St. Paul’s parish than here in St. Peter’s. But I believe, indeed, thatif our labors are really to bring forth visible fruits for blessing, we should confine ourselves to the bounds indicated by God himself, and that is—I think—our own parish.”
“Oh, how true that is that the chaplain says;” said Mrs. Bentzen joyfully. “It is just as it was before I took my own poor. All that I gave, that we poured forth, it disappeared without doing any good, and there were only more and more, who came and begged. But now I only let the maid say: ‘We have our own to take care of.’ So one is sure that no unworthy person gets it, and so one can see the invisible fruits—no, blessed fruits. How was it the chaplain expressed it; it was at once so true and so graceful?”
“Visible fruits for blessing,” said the chaplain with a modest blush.
“Yes—that was it,” said the lady, and repeated the words half aloud, so as to remember them.
“I, for my part, do not even think that it is right to give and help indiscriminately,” said the young wife of the new chief of police, and modestly cast down her handsome eyes.
The chaplain bowed in acknowledgment to the lady, and remarked that it was also said in the Scriptures, that it is not right to take bread from children and cast it before small dogs. Besides, he added some comments, in which he again insisted that the institution for fallen women, which they weremet there to organize, ought to confine its labors strictly within the limits of St. Peter’s parish.
Merchant With, had, in fact, not the least objection to that. He had spoken some common-place words on the spur of the moment, in order to say something. Now he had to explain that it had been his intention as it were in large outlines—hem—to give a suggestion of what according to his—hem—opinion should be done concerning this—hem—this social evil.
The chaplain complimented him on the valuable contribution the Consul had made to the illumination of the matter. After which the discussion on that point was considered at an end, and the name proposed by the chaplain was adopted: The Institution for Fallen Women in St. Peter’s Parish.
Consul With stroked his black moustache, and stole an opportunity to look at his watch. It was his wife who had compelled him to take part in this meeting, at which no men except himself and the chaplain were to be found. Aside from them, it was a selection of the finest ladies of the town, who had come together on this occasion at the solicitation of the chaplain. Consul With was included, because they desired one of the town’s wealthiest and best names among the founders.
Malicious men might perhaps think that Consul Withlooked a little strange in an organization of just that character; for in reality, he did not have the best reputation.
Some found an excuse for him, in the circumstance that Consul With had done almost the same as Kierkegaard has it that Luther did, namely, married an ironing-board. For Mrs. With was certainly one of the flattest one’s eyes were like to meet.
Others thought she deserved nothing better, for being so foolish as to imagine that the handsome Otto With had chosen her for anything but old sailor Randulf’s money.
But the Consul himself was so easy and smooth, so companionable and affable that the reports slid off from him. Those who knew him intimately, laughed at him; he was now quite beyond reformation; but the most thought that he was not so bad as was told.
Meanwhile matters were progressing; the preliminary labors were discussed and divided among those who were present. That, in its turn, was not without its difficulties, and the chaplain had to be careful to the last degree, to maneuver among all these ladies without offending somebody.
He noticed, especially, that there were several of the ladies who aspired to the post of secretary of the Institution. And that was partly the chaplain’s own fault. For he had, half in sport, described it as interesting and responsible in thisway to keep a big, thick register with red and blue headings.
The police-chief’s wife seemed to have been especially smitten by this thick register; and every time the secretaryship came under discussion, she let her handsome eyes rest upon the chaplain in a shy appeal.
But there were others who might be worthier of that distinction. First, there was Mrs. With, in whose elegant parlors the meeting was taking place, and from whom they expected the heaviest contribution. But the chaplain had shrewdly devised a compromise with her by making her husband, Consul With, chairman of the Institution.
Then there was the wealthy Mrs. Fanny Garman, from Sandsgaard? To be sure, she looked as if she was only bored and did not trouble herself about anything; but it might be that she would take a slight illy; one can never be sure about it.
And then it was a great problem, too, whether properly he ought not tender his pastor’s wife this secretaryship. Pastor Martens had, in his wife’s behalf, accepted the invitation to take part in the organization. But he had added, to be sure, that, although his Lena was interested with heart and soul in the matter, yet she was so weakly that, like a quiet housewife, she remained entirely within the sheltered enclosureof her home. Neither was she present at the meeting.
The chaplain began to grow uneasy; he was comparatively strange in the parish; and the founding of this Institution for Fallen Women in St. Peter’s parish was really to be his great debut. Now he felt the difficulties already; this secretaryship—what was he to do with it? But while he was sitting and writhing in all these considerations, there was a knock at the door, and Miss Falbe walked in.
After a hasty salutation to Mrs. With, she began curtly and emphatically, turning to the assembled company:
“I have been informed that you are organizing a society for rescuing young girls; and as I thought there might be a rush for places, I have made haste to present a young girl who very badly needs rescue from her environment. You certainly know her too, Mrs. Bentzen; it is little Elsie, at Madam Speckbom’s.”
Mrs. Bentzen tossed her head and brushed a thread off of her dress—of course she knew her; everybody knew the little out-cast; but she must plainly understand—
Several of the other ladies also muttered and whispered to each other; but Consul With was so unguarded as to call out:
“Ah! you mean Loppen, Miss Falbe—a handsome—hem, hem!”
It did no good to cough; the ironing-board sent him a look and Mrs. Garman laughed openly behind her large fan. But Miss Falbe continued her recommendation, describing all the temptations of life at the Ark.
“That Miss Falbe can bear to live at such a house,” said the ironing-board aside.
Miss Falbe forced herself to be silent. But when no one seemed disposed to make any response, the little wife of the chief of police said:
“Pardon, I am yet so strange here; but does the young girl you speak of, live within the bounds of St. Peter’s parish?”
That keen-witted question made so good an impression on the chaplain, that he decided she should have the secretaryship. But it was soon brought to light that the Ark really was inside the limits of St. Peter’s parish; and then again ensued a short, painful pause. For every one was anxious to oppose Miss Falbe, but no one saw what excuse they were to give.
Then the chaplain said: “Pardon, Miss Falbe; but as you know the object of this institution, you also understand what class of people in society we are starting out to rescue. Allow me, therefore, one question: Is the girl proposed by you, a fallen woman?”
“That I do not know,” answered Miss Falbe hurriedly,and colored; but just after, she continued composedly: “She is no more than seventeen years old and just on that account I hoped she could be saved. For, from the surroundings in which she has grown up, it seems to me almost a necessity that she must fall and go down, as we so often see girls in her position do.”
“Yes, Miss, to that I must answer, that in the first place I do not share these modern views about necessity. I, for my part, believe—and I am—even if the new wisdom of our times will laugh at me—I am happy to believe that right there, where human eyes see the certain, the necessary way to destruction, that right there is the place for God’s loving providence. And as to the matter itself,” added the chaplain, and looked about among the company, “I must now repeat what I have already had the honor to point out in this connection—that, just as have we found it our duty to confine our labors to a certain parish, so we must also maintain that our work of rescue comprehend a distinct class of our fellow men. That, too, we have intended to indicate in the name we have chosen: The Institution for Fallen Women—so only for the unfortunates whom we designate fallen women—of St. Peter’s Parish.”
This address was received with subdued, but warm approval, by all the ladies around the table; and severalmight be heard—“certainly,” “that is clear,” “it must be that way of course.”
For a moment it looked as it Miss Falbe would return a sharp answer; she was often that unaccountable; but she stopped and let it pass with a dry apology, “that she had mistaken,” as she expressed it.
Then she left the company.
“That’s always the way with Miss Falbe,” exclaimed Mrs. With, when the door was closed. “Something disagreeable’s always tagging after her.”
“She is so dreadfully severe,” said Mrs. Bentzen.
“I fear she lacks the proper spirit,” said the chaplain with a mild solemnity.
“So far as I know,” insinuated the police-chief’s wife in her guileless tone, “Miss Falbe is not a member of any charitable organization in town.”
“No, we had her with us at first in the Foundling’s Home,” answered Mrs. Bentzen. “But she was so unmanageable and domineering, and at last came the story of the quack doctor.”
This story was then related. It was the more suitable for the occasion, as it turned just on this same Elsie, whom Miss Falbe had presented. The wife of the police-chief inquired very anxiously about the difference between the ages of MissFalbe and the young girl—a shrewdness which the chaplain could not fail to recognize to himself.
When just then Dr. Bentzen came in—he was the family physician—they had already had a full account of the whole scandal.
When he heard what they were talking about, he turned his red nose up in air, and began to rake down the Ark from top to bottom, in a torrent of words. It was a disgrace to the whole town; Puppelena was a thieves’ go-between, who kept a dolt of a musician to fool the police. Miss Falbe and her brother were of about the same stripe; but when he came to Madam Speckbom and Loppen, he talked himself into such a fury that his wife, as was her wont, had to go over to him, and soothe him, and gently push him out of doors.
After these interruptions they could not get affairs under way again. Mrs. Fanny Garman had buttoned her gloves, and they had seen the Sandsgaard horses before the window long ago. Mrs. Fanny had not opened her mouth, except to gape. Now and then she made a grimace of weariness to Consul With, which he answered when he dared.
The chaplain would have preferred to close with a little benediction. But it did not happen so. The ladies’ silk dresses rustled and crackled so much as they now began to rise, that he did not manage to begin.
This Institution was besides a little different from the numerous missions and charitable associations, where religious people are usually so prominent. The most of the ladies present commonly did not take part in such affairs; and it had been precisely the chaplain’s design for this Institution to gather the most aristocratic ladies, who would otherwise confine themselves to furnishing financial support alone.
By this, it was by no means his intention to make his Institution more aristocratic and exclusive than the other organizations of the town. But he was of the opinion that the ministers of our day pay too much attention to the middle class, and neglect to admonish those who stand highest in society, and think themselves in the possession of the loftiest culture.
That was the idea he wished to carry out.
But the town understood him, alas! not at all. And just as competition and strong rivalry always hold sway among the innumerable organizations for all sorts of missions and the numberless swarms of bazaar-committees for every imaginable purpose, so they were all united in looking with envious eyes upon this new rival—this aristocratic, highly-connected Institution for Fallen Women of St. Peter’s Parish—with Consul With for chairman.