The Foe in the Household

CHAPTER XIX.

BUT the question which John Edgar would have asked of Edna was delayed, and that by an event which made it probable that a long time must elapse before he could ask it.

Sore sorrow fell, in an hour when it was least looked for, on Bishop Holcombe’s house; and the tidings seemed more evil than any ever carried about before among the miners’ wives and children.

Rosa had gone across the creek one afternoon by the foot-bridge, and had not come back. That bridge was the one which Bishop Rose had laid with his own hands ; it was the great trunk of a pine-tree, with a planed upper surface to which a hand-rail had been attached, and by it all foot-passengers crossed to the preacher’s house, while drivers and horsemen crossed the creek among the shallows further up the stream.

Rain had fallen in the morning, but in the afternoon the clouds had broken, and the sun come forth, and Delia had then sent Rosa to inquire after a neighbor’s sick child. Hours passed on ; the child did not return, and Delia became anxious. As evening approached she walked down to the bridge, and then across it, and stood on the further side looking up and down, and doubting which path to take. Finally she decided on that which she supposed her child must have taken ; but as she was about to go on, she heard a shout, or rather a cry, and looking down the stream, she saw Max Boyd advancing. He bore a bundle in his arms.

“ O, is it you?” he cried, as if his breath at every word would fail him. “I found her — down there — in the cove. She must have fallen — from the bridge ! ”

Delia stood still. It seemed for a moment as if she had not comprehended what he had said. Then, with a suddenness which seemed almost fierce, she caught the poor little wilted flower from his arms, and for a moment stood still gazing at her.

“ Madam ! ” he begged, “ let me — carry her for you, — pray, do let me ! ”

“ The doctor! ” she gasped.

Maxwell’s horse was browsing under the trees where he had left it when he leaped down the bank, to discover the body lying among the lilies and the reeds. He rode down to Emerald almost as fast as steam could have carried him, and found the doctor in his office, just come back, after twenty-four hours of hard driving and hard work. It took but one instant to awaken him to a full understanding of the tidings Maxwell brought, and one other to send him on towards Swatara.

Delia and Edna were bending over the lifeless body, seeking to reanimate the clay which had forever lost its quickening spirit, when he entered the house.

“Here is Friend Holcombe’s child,” said Delia, looking up as he came in.

From her voice he knew he need not tell her that her labor was in vain.

The doctor went to the bedside, Edna giving place to him. He stooped down and for a moment bent over little Rosa ; then he kissed her face and stood still. When Edna saw that, she went away, and left the doctor and Mrs. Holcombe alone. She understood that all was over, that nothing more was to be done.

The neighbors came to the house next day, old and young, men and women, little children also. It seemed as if they had all dropped their occupations as soon as the sad news reached them, that they might go down to the bishop’s house, — to dear Friend Holcombe’s house, — and give their tears, and offer their assistance.

The mother of Rosa received them all. She showed them her child. She said some things which the poor people would always remember as words spoken by the minister’s wife in her great affliction. Until her husband should come she must perform every duty. In their way, they said that it was incredible this lovely life should be torn from existence in an instant, — that it was impossible, — not to be endured.

Delia said not so. She stood within a cloud before Him who had taken her treasure away, and her secret thought was for the Lord alone.

Doctor Detwiler went for Friend Holcombe that night, following, him who hadgone up into the mountain bearing good tidings, with these evil.

“ She has done her work for us, Friend,” he said; “she has preached her gospel in its purity. Our darling drew out the best there was from all of us. O brother, I will not insult you by trying to comfort you.”

But Friend Holcombe was to be comforted. He said continually, “ Blessed be the Lord who gave us our child.”

People who saw him when he returned to his house never forgot how he not only bore his own sorrow, but strove also to comfort his wife. After he came she seemed to feel that her only safety was in silence, for rebellion was in her heart. Her own grief she could have borne ; but to see her husband robbed of the dear child who had been rest to him in weariness, and light in darkness, and an unfailing source of deep content! The hand of the Almighty had been laid where she felt the touch like a sword.

When Friend said to her: “ The Lord was very gracious when he sent Edna to make a place in your heart for herself. You will not feel now that she is taking our little daughter’s place, for you loved her before. May God spare her to you ! ” she answered, “ We have lost our child.”

“ Yes,” he said, “ her sweet presence is lost,— it is gone; and if we had the hope of her delightful company in this life only, — we should be miserable. But it is not so ; — we shall go to her.”

Vain were his consolations ; Delia ceased to weep and lament, but not to mourn. And so heavily was her mourning spirit burdened, that when he was about to leave home again on his pastoral business, Mr. Holcombe went to the doctor’s office and said to Detwiler: “ Delia does not sleep, she don’t eat anything, she don’t talk any. Ever since our—loss, she has been in a state that troubles me. You must do something for her, Michael.”

“There will soon be a reaction; I am waiting for it,” said the doctor.

“There must, or she will die,” answered Friend. “ You must do something for her; she must be brought out of this state.”

“ I think,” said Detwiler, after a few moments, which appeared to be moments of reflection, but were in fact moments of hesitation, — “ I think, Friend, it is more for you than for herself that she grieves.”

“ I have suspected that ! Tell her then — go to-day and tell her — that in all this affliction there is nothing more painful to me than that she should think so poorly of my Christian hope and faith, as to suppose that I have assumed the composure which it has pleased God to give me. She must not think that I steady myself only by remembering that I am the pastor of this people. Tell her I have tested the truth of the promise that as my day is my strength shall be. She will believe you.”

The doctor went to see Mrs. Holcombe that afternoon. Edna was sitting with Delia, and when she saw that he was coming she rose, took a book from the book-shelf, and as she passed by Delia stroked the hair from her forehead, and kissed her, as she might have kissed old Annie Gell, and then, without saying a word, went upstairs. There was a word which she would have liked to speak, — a name which Delia had not heard pronounced since the voice of her child had perished ; yet perhaps not because it was difficult for her to utter it, but because the sound might be unwelcome — she left it unsaid.

“Friend is n’t at home,” said Delia, as if it could only be her husband that the doctor had come to visit. “ Mr. Castle has had another turn.”

“ Yes,” he answered, sitting down beside her; “poor Castle is in a bad way. There is so much trouble in this world, Delia, that the best thing we can do, I find, is to accept the portion given us. Whichever way we turn, there is no escaping sorrow.”'

Why should he say these things to her ? Delia made a slight gesture of impatience. “ Michael, I understand all that,” she said.

“ Are you sure, Delia ? ” he answered. “ It is more and more a comfort to me that we had our darling to lose.”

“ Do you not see that it is n’t for myself that I mourn, — not for one moment?” she replied. “But to see Friend, and know that his heart is torn ! To be left here with Edna, and see Rosa lost to him ! The bolt of God’s wrath has fallen on me. You will never know what those two children were to me, — how I have held them off as lives which I must not love too well or come too near. He has often tried to comfort me by saying that God sent this child at a time when it was possible for her and Rosa to love each other like sisters, so that there should always seem to be a link between us two. I cannot bear it.”

“ Delia, it is what you must bear.”

She seemed as much startled by these words as if she had not before realized the necessity of the case.

“ I must,” she acknowledged ; and she bowed her head. “ I must. You are right.”

“ Then you can.”

“ Show me how I can.”

“ You know the consequences if you do not.”

“Yes, you are right; a bishop and a church disgraced.”

Do you mean to kill yourself with these reproaches ? ” exclaimed Detwiler. “The whole country is witness to the value of your good example as a Christian wife and mother, and as a public servant, moreover. Though I was in the dark when I urged the suit of this saint, I — ”

“ Be still,” cried Delia, and she hid her face. After many moments she looked up again. “If he had been taken away I could have borne it, because — because, Michael, he has become more than my life to me. I can say it without injustice to — to—”

“Yes, you may,” said the doctor. “ I acknowledge the step was the worst that a good woman could have taken. But, Delia, you took the step. And God gave you little Rosa. Remember, that dear child made Friend Holcombe’s life beautiful to him ; so beautiful that it always must be beautiful, for he can never lose her. Remember how her presence consecrated this house, — filled it with sweet thoughts of her. Do not grieve that she was given, or that she was taken. But do that which you are bound to do, maintain the honor of the church and your own honor.”

“ Act out my lie to the end, — till the whirlwind has left me desolate ! ”

“Be just to yourself, and to the minister of this people ; to your children, — to this rare girl, who will be a blessing to you, if you will but let her. Be just to your people ; they will never guess this which you have borne, — borne so long that it would actually seem treason to all the sacred relations you hold, if you should fail to bear it to the end.”

Delia rose and stood. “ I have lost my light,” she said, despairingly ; “are you speaking for the Devil, Michael ? ”

“For yourself, and all you love best, Delia ; that certainly is not the Devil. People who have lived as long as you and I have do not need so much hope and faith as simple courage to hold on, to endure. This poor makeshift is all I look for, for myself.”

The doctor had simply endeavored to keep her mind steadily on the fact that the time had passed for leaving the church, or for formally returning to it, persuaded that she would sooner recover her self-possession, and once more stand fast, if she saw that there was nothing for her to do but to keep the ground which she had kept so long. She was at last as much impressed by this fact, he perceived, as if she had never been convinced of it before.

In her present state of mind, he thought it best not to ask her whether she had spoken yet to Mr. Trost in reference to the certificate he had advised her to obtain from him. If she had not secured it, she was just now in no condition even to think of it.

“ There was another,” — Delia reflected when she was alone again, — “another who found no place for repentance, though he sought it carefully and with tears. My spirit is overwhelmed within me. My heart within me is desolate. Hear me speedily, O Lord ; my spirit faileth ; hide not thy face from me, lest I be like them that go down into the pit.”

CHAPTER XX.

MARY TROST went down to visit afflicted Mrs. Holcombe.

The trouble that had befallen the bishop’s family was still on everybody’s mind. The preacher and his wife had so identified themselves with the unfortunate, the suffering, and the afflicted, that now, when they were themselves in trouble, everybody was impressed with the necessity of saying some soothing word, or performing some soothing deed. But memorable was the day on which Mary Trost went to visit Mrs. Holcombe.

Delia was alone in the house. Doors and widows stood open. A sweet perfume of flowers was on the air. The stir made by the breeze, and the monotonous song of the locusts keeping up a constant accompaniment to whatever lively bird-tone, made the silence which environed the preacher’s house still more impressive to Mary as she approached. She had descended from the region of stillness as profound, but it had not impressed her as did this.

The two women had not met since the funeral of Guildersleeve. When Delia saw Mary coming she was reminded of that funeral, and of the conversation they had then held.

She answered the knock at the door, agitated at heart, but externally calm. Mary on the contrary was excited, and ready to burst into tears.

“ How dreadful sudden,” she exclaimed ; and she fell on Delia’s neck and kissed her.

But Delia received her embrace with so little perceptible emotion, with such apparent tranquillity of mind and body, that the girl recovered her self-possession as by a shock.

“ It was good of you to come down, Mary,” she said. “ I thought you would come. I am so glad to see you.”

Mary, disconcerted still by this composure, answered with difficulty, that she had not come to the funeral because Mr. Trost had been suffering from one of his attacks of rheumatism, and would not let her out of his sight.

“ I was so disappointed not to come,” she said. “ I hoped you would n’t think hard of our staying away. Grandpa was bound hand and foot. I expect everybody was here but us. To-day I made up my mind that I could n’t stay away any longer. But not that I expected there was anything I could do for you, Mrs. Hulcum, with all Swatara to run and see what was wanted.”

“Nothing is wanted, Mary, — nothing but resignation,” said Delia.

“ Father said this morning, laying on his bed, that he believed Friend Hulcum had all the Scripture promises to comfort him.”

“Yes,” said Delia, quickly, “he has!”

“ But I know it is hard to lay hold on ’em so as to get the good. We want what we’ve lost, — we don’t want a promise. That was what I felt about my mother.”

“ I am afraid you are right. But tell your father from me, that I believe his prayers have been answered already. My husband is wonderfully sustained. Your father has known what it is to lose dear children, Mary. It is something not to be talked about.”

“ And that is a reason why I hated to come. Such a wound does n’t bear dressing very often. . . . . I heard say there never was such a funeral in Swatara district. It would be strange if people didn’t know they never had or could have a kinder friend or teacher than Bishop Hulcum.”

In giving Friend his pastoral title, Mary had performed an act of civility which must never be expected of her grandfather.

Delia now rose, went to the bureau which stood in one corner of the room, and took from one of the drawers a scrap of paper. “ See,” she said, showing it to Mary, “ this is like our dear child.”

It was one of the drawings Edna had made of Rosa. She had succeeded in making a good likeness, — a wonderful likeness, it seemed to the eyes now bent upon it, examining the features one by one.

“ She has made another in colors,” Delia said.

“ You have done everything for that girl. How amazed Annie Gell would be to see her, Mrs. Hulcum ! And such a comfort now ! ”

“ We do think that she was sent to us by Divine Providence.”

“ And such a good, kind act of you ! Providence will reward it, and make her like a child to you, I’m sure.”

With her eyes on the picture of her child, Delia said : “Mary, I have thought of you a great many times since Mr. Guildersleeve’s funeral.”

Mary’s face flushed ; she had not expected that on this visit of condolence that awkward subject would be introduced. And yet she experienced a certain degree of relief, now that it was.

“ Have you ?” she said, gently ; and then, after a moment’s hesitation, “ I have had my trials, Mrs. Hulcum, but I didn't calculate to bring them down to this house of trouble.”

“ Your own dear mother could not be more anxious about your welfare, Mary, and that things should come out right with you.”

“ They are going to,” said Mary, with a firm voice and clear eyes. “ I have faith to believe it. But I have taken things into my own hands, for I remembered what you said, Mrs. Hulcum, and got scared of thinking what I might be let to do. One evening when Mr. Ent came over, I just told father all about it.”

“ You did ? You brave girl ! ”

“ He did n't expect that I would say anything, neither did I ; but O, the Lord must have been in it ! ”

Mrs. Holcombe rose from her chair with her arms extended. “ The Lord was in it ! ” she exclaimed. “ The Lord be praised ! You told your father all ! ”

Then the great and strong emotion which had impelled her forsook her again. She sat down and folded her hands, and was once more a calm image of sorrow. But Mary in that moment had felt herself drawn close to the mourning mother. In that moment, too, Delia had come nearer to joy than she had expected to come in this life.

“ O Mrs. Hulcum, I know you understand it all ! It is like coming to my own mother ! ” Tears hindered Mary’s speech. And so she was here to talk about herself! She had thought on her way down of the many consoling words and promises of Scripture which she would recall for Mrs. Holcombe, but here she was receiving instead of giving. And such was the experience of all who came to the preacher’s wife. It was even in these days of darkness as in other days, — evermore she was the munificent giver.

“ Dear child,” said Delia, “ tell me all about it.”

“ I was coming last week, when I first heard of your trouble, but not to talk of mine. I — I did n’t come here to-day, in your affliction, to talk about myself,” said Mary.

“ But tell me all,” said Delia. “ The merciful Lord has helped you.”

“I could n’t — But I must. It is no secret how Father Trost has been preaching,” said Mary, embarrassed.

“ I know ; but go on, dear child.”

“ I had n’t thought of telling him all, as you advised. When I began to wonder whether I really ought to, after Mr. Guildersleeve’s funeral, it frightened me to think of. But then he began to preach in that way, and I was scared both ways. I think he suspected. He came home one night when August was there, and I think after that he suspected. But I felt as if I could n’t bear that he should feel he could not trust me, if I did n't deserve it, when I was all he had. And then he began to preach that way, and I almost felt glad to think he did see that we were n’t doing the fair thing by him. Only it made me more determined to have everything open. I could n’t have consented to anything else after that, if I could have before. And Mrs. Hulcum, we never know how weak we are till we are tempted.”

“Dear child, how fearfully true that is ! ”

“ Yes,” said Mary, with more spirit, feeling the space for speech enlarged by Mrs. Holcombe’s sympathy. “ But I did feel so condemned when I thought what people might be saying about your church folks, all because of me ! I should have had to tell him, anyway, on that account. I could n't have you all suffering for my sake. And then I had never kept a secret from him. Every time I looked at him I seemed to hear a voice saying,’You hypocrite ! you ’re cheating the old man who has always been kind to you.’ You can’t never guess, Mrs. Hulcum, how that made me feel; and I am glad you can’t. But I was helped as I did n’t expect. O, it’s strange how there’s always ways we can get out of trouble if we really, really want to get out? ”

“It is always the Lord’s hand showing them. And you did not shut your eyes. O Mary, how He did love you ! How precious you are in his sight !”

If there was any need that the heart of Mary should be strengthened for the telling of this tale, she had an answer to her need in hearing Delia speak such works in such a tone.

“When August came in,” she continued, “he looked about the room, and saw poor father sitting there in the corner with his candle and his book ; and a look came on his face which I don’t believe I should ’a’ noticed any other time, but I had the same kind o’ feeling in my own mind ; and that was the reason I said to myself, ‘This is father’s house ; and if he has n’t a right to sit here and read o’ nights, who has ? ’ And it has seemed to me since that getting mad at myself so helped me, and was the best thing that could ’a’ happened. It put me on my guard against August and myself. You said what was true that day, Mrs. Hulcum, that ’t was all in my hands. What I saw in his face I read clear in my own heart. It made me know that if this went on I should side with August, and then where would it all end ? ‘ It’s got to end short off just here,’ I said to myself. ' I’m not going through the rest of my life thinking I ’ve cheated that old man.’”

“ But, Mary, that was an awful struggle.”

“ I can’t forget how much I owe you for helping me to get the better of my temptation. I seemed to hear you saying all the time, ‘Tell him everything,’ and that made me feel I could. I ’ll thank you for it, Mrs. Hulcum, now when I ’m sure that I did the right thing.”

“You will be gladder every day that you live,” said Delia. “ It is better to grieve for loss than gain.”

“I hope so,” said Mary. She was thinking of her possible loss, as yet. “Well,” she went on, “when August came in father put down his book and was glad to see him, of course ; he has a great respect for Mr. Ent, outside of the church. But August did n’t have much to say to him at first, and he answered pretty short; and that was what fired me up. Then he seemed to think it was unbecoming himself, for he changed his behavior. I noticed it all, because I was looking on and listening as I never did before to anybody’s talking. And I thought it was because August saw that I did n’t like the way he talked to father that he changed his tone. Father was asking about getting up a stone wall, and how August managed his ’n, and I was listening to what he answered, when it came into my mind that now was the time for me to speak, and I broke right in. ' Father,’ I said, ' I ought to let you know that August and I have a question between us which nobody can settle but you : he has asked me to marry him.’ I was terrible frightened, for it was a dreadful thing to say, with those two sitting there and looking at me in the way they did. But I looked right at father when I spoke. He is always kind to me. He is n’t what you might think, Mrs. Hulcum, if you never heard him speak except when he is preaching. I did n’t dare to look at Mr. Ent ; but, I shall never be afraid to look him in the face again.”

“Glory to God ! ” cried Delia, “you never will need to fear now.”

“In a minute, — for you must know how greatly he was surprised, — August said, ‘ And now I ask you, sir, to be as kind as Mary has been to me.’ I went and stood by him when he said that, for I seemed to feel I must. You can’t think how mazed father was. He did n’t say anything for a good while ; that is his way, and I never ask him a question a second time ; I wait till he answers. He leant his head on his hand awhile. At last he said, ‘ Why did n’t you tell me before ? ’ ‘ Because I was afraid to,’ I said. Then he asked if August had bid me keep quiet, and I could say no to that. But it was well I stood by August then, for he gave such a start, and looked so strange, I felt as if he might almost have knocked father down. Then he wanted to know why I told him now. I said because I was afraid to keep it from him. ‘ That’s reason enough,’ said he. ‘ Ent knows what his obligations are.’ ‘Yes, sir, I know my obligations very well,’ August said. 'Well,’ said father, ‘ do you mean to stand by ’em ? ’ ‘ What do you mean by that question ? ’ said August. ‘ I mean what I say,’ said father ; ‘are you going to be honest about this business, and come out and take my girl, supposing I let you have her, or are you going to stay where you are, and — ’ ‘And what, sir ? ’ said August. ‘ Go on, sir,’ said he, but he said it quietly ; yet it was terrible to hear. ‘ Are you going to stay where you are and cheat everybody ? ’ said father. ‘ That’s been done before. Easy enough to do, if you get the girl to consent. She says she’s told me of this because she is afeard to keep it. That sounds as if she was afeard of you.’ ‘ No, father,’ I said, ‘it’s of myself I’m afraid.’ — I’m going to tell you all, Mrs. Hulcum, because it’s no more than he’s preached, and I know you must have heard of it.”

It was now very evident to Delia that Father Trost had not betrayed her.

“Be sure you tell me all,” she said; “ I know he has a good heart, after all.”

“‘You’ve got good reason to be afeard,’ he said, ‘ and that’s the reason, Ent, why I’m called to fight your doctrine. You know yon can’t marry my girl if she don’t go with you, unless you turn about and go with her.’ ‘And I won’t let him do that,’ I said ; ‘he sha’ n’t show himself a turncoat for me.’ But I felt ashamed when I said that, as if I was the one that hindered him from doing it. I did think once it would be a fine thing to make a convert of August ; but I would n’t have him turned now, if I could. Then father was angry. ‘ If you had took her for your wife underhand, that would n’t ’a’ surprised me,’ he said. ‘ It’s a thing has been tried afore now by folks as high up as you are. I have n’t nothing against you, Ent,’ he said, ‘but I can’t have this going on any longer.’ ‘ I shall keep on hoping that you will change your mind about that,’ said August. ‘ I get as good gospel of Bishop Hulcum as I want,’ he said ; ‘ and the church is my home, if it does n’t please God to make another for me. I have n’t loved it any the less since you took to preaching so hard against it. I don’t know what you mean,’ he said, ‘throwing out such hints that some of our people have misbehaved as bad as you seem to think I could about Mary. But I think it would be better if you just spoke right out and told their names, and, though we are few in number, we would spare our false brethren.’ ”

“That was brave too,” said Delia. “ He deserves our thanks for saying that.”

“Was n’t it a good thing to say ! I thought I must tell you that. But father said that he did n’t bring charges against persons ; the system was wrong, and tempted folks to be dishonest. ‘Mary’s mind is settled about her religion,’ he said. Then I told him that it would n’t be unsettled even if I joined with Bishop Hulcum’s people ; and I don’t know what he said after that ; I think he felt I was lost — to him, anyway. When I stopped speaking, and August took my hand and held it, I could n’t help saying that I should go with them some time, because I cared more for August than I did for anything on earth except father. He said that was indecent talk ; but it was the truth, Mrs. Hulcum.”

“ And you could n't have spoken it except under those circumstances,” said Delia. “No girl could. But it was right to say it, on your grandfather’s account as well as on August’s.”

“ I told him I could stand by what I had said twenty years. But O, Mrs. Hulcum, that broke father down. ‘ Till the old man’s dead and gone,’ he said, and he cried like a child. But I told him no, only till he changed his mind.”

“ You could not have done more wisely than you have, Mary, whatever happens,” Delia said.

“ I really think August respects me more than he did,” said Mary, with blushing hesitation. “I knew I was right, but — it may be all’s over between us,”

In spite of this doubt, however, Mary had talked all the trouble out of her heart and out of her eyes, and she looked strong enough for the constancy of any number of years. When she went away from Mrs. Holcombe, she looked as happy as if she had altogether forgotten that her visit had been one of condolence at a house of mourning.

It was then a recollection, not an anticipation against which Father Trost had launched his bolt There was but one thing to be done ; the old man was ill ; Delia would visit him.