Miriam Coles Harris

“ Missy saw all this, and much more, of their life, and wondered, as she lay on the lounge that had been brought for her into her mother's room. She saw and wondered, at the interested happy lives of the women in long black dresses, who came and went, in their gliding, silent way, in and out of her mother's room. She could not help seeing, that in the offices, to which the inevitable bell was always calling them, there was no monotony, not so much weariness as in the one-day-in-seven service in a country parish. ”

“ Goneril had had two children in her early disastrous marriage; one had died, and one had lived to go to destruction in his father's steps, so she always bore about with her a sore heart, and the passionate love of children, which she could not repress, she always fought down fiercely with both hands. Her sharp words did not soothe Missy much. She cried and cried as if there were nothing left to live for, and the fact that Mr. Andrews was there and was trying to make her hear him above Goneril's tirade, did not help matters in the least. ”

“ Patient doing of duty against the grain may be better than not doing duty at all, but it always writes a weary mark across the face. That mark which her mother's face had borne, ever since Missy could remember it, was gone.
Weary no doubt she often was, for her hand and brain were rarely idle now; but it was the healthy weariness that brings the sleep of the just, and wipes out toil with rest. Neither did Missy understand—how could she?—the bliss of those hours spent in the little gallery that overlooked the empty and silent church. ”

“ Then Missy watched while her mother, with a look of more open suffering than was usual with her, leaned her head back upon the pillows, and pressed her hands silently together. "How pretty she is, poor mamma," she thought. "Every one admires her, though she is so faded and suffering. Beauty is a great gift," and then she began slowly to walk up and down, gazing in at the windows as she passed them, and looking at the picture framed by the hangings within. The light of the fire and the light of the lamp both fell on the reclining figure of her mother. ”

“ When your heart is broken by this sorrow; when you sink under the weariness of life without him, then we can talk together in one language, and you can understand me. But it will be too late—Oh, mamma, hear me—but what is the use of talking!—remember how young he is, how little of life he knows! Think how useful, how honorable, his work might be. I cannot comprehend you; I cannot think what magic there is about this idea of the monastic life. Why must St. John be better than other men of his generation? Why cannot he serve God and live a good life as better men have done before him? ”

“ It seemed to her that it would be intolerable to watch out these hours of darkness and silence; she must penetrate them. She felt as if her solicitude and wretchedness would be half gone if the night were lifted, and the day come again. Ten o'clock struck—eleven—the outsiders, one by one, dropped off. There were left two or three men who had been hired by some of the gentlemen to watch the night out by the bonfire; Mr. Andrews' own man, the Varians' man, and Missy and Goneril. Eliza, the nurse, worn out and useless, had gone to bed. ”

“ We shall win you to it, dear child; when you see what it is, your prejudice will wear away." [Pg 376]
"Prejudice!" cried Missy, passionately. "What is not prejudice? Yours and St. John's have cost me dear. Oh, mamma, how could you have had such an alien child? Why must we see everything in such a different light? You and St. John are always of one mind. I am shut out from you by such a wall. I am so lonely, so wretched, and perhaps you can't understand enough to pity me. Oh, mamma, you are all I have in the world! ”

“ She knew what all Yellowcoats was saying about Mr. Andrews and his cousin, for they said that to her openly. And she surmised what they did not say openly to her, to wit: that the cause of her own unhappy looks was her disappointment in the matter. How can one help unhappy looks? One can help unhappy words; one can do all sorts of things that are meant to mean happy acts, but how to keep the cloud off one's face at all hours and moments, is an art yet in the bowels of time. Missy knew she looked unhappy, and she knew she could not dissemble it. ”

“ Andrews was talking very earnestly, and in a manner unusual to him. One could not help seeing that nothing short of the events of yesterday could have made it possible for him to speak so. His heart had been jarred open, as it were, by the great shock, and had not yet closed up again. It wouldn't take many hours more to do it; Missy realized that perhaps he wouldn't speak so again in his life; the moment was precious to her, because, whether she liked him or not, there is a pleasure in looking into reserved people's hearts; one knows it cannot happen every day. ”

“ She knew she was sensible, she knew she was a spit-fire; she knew Mr. Andrews did not mean to ask her to marry him. All this was no news; he had a right to say what he had said, to an intimate friend. She could not expect to be considered sacred. Why shouldn't Mr Andrews talk about her to his friend? He had not been absolutely disrespectful; he had only mentioned facts—a little jocosely to be sure; and a woman hates to be spoken jocosely of between two men, even if admiringly. And Missy hated to be spoken of, at all. ”

“ Missy drew a long breath. She didn't care for Yellowcoats' gossip now, while she heard St. John's voice, and poured out her fretted soul in the prayers of her childhood. Perhaps she never knew how much she owed her brother, and those disapproved austerities of his. We do not always know what the saints win for us, nor how much the fuller we may be for our holy neighbor's empty stomach. And the children tumbled and twisted about on their seats, and Jay went to sleep, and Gabby eyed her neighbors, and Missy did not mind. ”

“ She was as gentle and as tender and as coaxing as if she were taking care of little Jay. It is a question how much sentiment a man in severe pain is capable of feeling. But certainly it ought to have been a solace to any one to be tended by such a sweet little nurse as this. Who would think that she could spit fire, or snub her neighbors, or "boss" it, even over servants?
Missy was a born nurse. She was quick-witted, nimble-fingered, sure-footed, and she was coaxing and tender when people were "down." ”

“ If there had been a man in the house, she would have risked ridicule, and roused him to go out and see that all was right. But the men slept at the stable—there was absurdity, and a little impropriety, in her going out alone at such an hour to call the men. It would rouse Mrs. Varian, no doubt, and give her a sleepless night. And as for Miss Varian, it would furnish her a weapon which would never wear out, if, as was probable, nothing should be found out of order about the place, or on the beach. No one likes to be laughed at; no one less than Miss Rothermel. ”

“ Some of Missy's happiest hours were spent skimming over the bay like a May-fly. No one could recall her to duty or bondage till she chose. She almost forgot Aunt Harriet when she was across the harbor; housekeeping cares fell from her when she pushed off into the water, [Pg 191] and only came back when the keel grated on the shore again. To-night she drew a long breath of freedom as she pulled herself, with light-dipping oars, far out on the serene blue bay, and then, resting, held her breath and listened. ”

“ When a woman is too ill to be talked to about her duties even, it is hard to expect her to perform them with rigor. When Missy, baffled and humbled, returned from that unfortunate mission, she acknowledged to herself she had attempted an impossibility. "She cannot see, she never has seen—probably she never will be obliged to see, what neglect her children are suffering from. She is too ill to be able to take in anything outside her sick room. The cross laid on her requires all her strength. It is cruelty to ask her to bear anything more. ”

“ The Andrews cottage had been occupied by people whose delight it was to be considered swell. They drove all sorts of carts, and sailed all manner of boats, and owned all varieties of dogs. The village gazed at them, and the residents who were entitled to be considered on a visiting equality, called on them, and all united to gratify their ambition to be talked about. At these two houses, poor Missy felt she would be excused from calling. Indeed, no one seemed to notice the omission; it is so easy to sink down into obscurity, and to become nobody. ”

“ Missy put in, in not the most perfectly suave tone.
"A neighbor, in the summer," went on Miss Varian, as if she had not spoken, "a neighbor in the summer comes across after dinner, and smokes his cigar at the beach gate, if any of the family are sitting on the lawn. In rainy weather he comes over for a game of cards; occasionally he comes in time for tea; if he has a sail-boat, he takes his neighbors out sometimes to sail; he brings them peaches, the very first that come to market, and he never minds changing a book at the library in town." ”

“ How is it that you do not perceive that it is not death, but life, that I have led you in to see? That I have shown you your brother, girded with a new strength, clothed with a new honor; set apart for the service of God forever. [Pg 170] Missy, he is not lost to us, dear, while we believe in the Communion of Saints."
"Mamma, I don't believe in it! I don't believe in anything. You have overthrown my faith. You have killed me."
"Listen to reason, Missy, if not to faith. St. John is happy; happier than I ever knew him, even as a child; he is happy, even in this time of transition and suspense. ”

“ She paced the beach below the lawn, or sat under shelter of the boat-house, and watched the bonfire which the men had made a few feet off, and which sent a red light out a little way upon the black waters.
A little way, alas, how little a way! Missy's eyes were always strained eagerly out into the darkness beyond; her ears were always listening for something more than the lonely sounds she heard. ”

“ He knows what he gives up, and he knows what he gains. He knows that he is sure of misconception, reprobation, scorn, and I do not think it weighs a straw with him. What would weigh with you, and possibly with me, is literally of no force at all with him. You know he never thought at all what the world might say about him, not from disrespect to the opinion of others, but from deep indifference, from perfect unconsciousness. That is nature, and not grace, but it makes the step less hard. The separation from us, Missy, the giving up his home, that has been a battle indeed ”

“ Andrews died late in August. Late in September, one afternoon, Missy walked up and down at the foot of the lawn, and pondered deeply on the state of things. That anything could go on worse than things went on in the house next door, she felt to be improbable. That any children could be more neglected, more fretted, more injudiciously treated, she knew to be impossible. She did not mind it much that the servants plundered their master, and that waste and extravagance went on most merrily. ”

“ She was the kindest and busiest person in Yellowcoats, but she had a sense of humor, and she also was very particular about her own daughters, one of whom was with her in the carriage. Who could doubt what view she took of Miss Rothermel's aspirations? Missy watched breathlessly the faces; the mammas alone talked, the daughters listened, with smiles and rather pursed-up mouths. Superior the whole party seemed to feel themselves, as people always seem to feel when they have a little story against their neighbors, not reflecting that their own turn may come next. ”

“ Missy smiled calmly, but said nothing. It always calmed her to see her step-aunt in a temper with Goneril: it gave her a feeling of superiority. She never would have endured the woman for a day, but she was quite willing her elder should, if she chose. The poor lady's blindness would have given every one a feeling of tenderness, if she had not been too sharp and petulant to permit any one to feel tender long. ”

“ He hurried across the lawn and entered the garden. Missy was busy at the door of the greenhouse, with a vine that seemed not to meet her approbation. Her basket stood at her feet, half-full of the late blooming flowers that she had picked in the garden as she came along.
"Good morning, Miss Rothermel," said Mr. Andrews, rather irresolutely, pausing behind her. She had not heard his approach, and started. He felt that it was unwarrantable, his coming in this way into the garden; but starvation and perplexity and want of shaving-water will drive a man to almost anything. ”

“ John took it in hand. It seemed to him so renovated and advanced, in comparison, that he could not understand his sister's slight shudder and look of repugnance as they entered the bare hall. Of course there were no carpets, as became a Sisters' house, and the rooms that Missy saw as she passed them were very plain indeed as to furniture, and very uncheerful as to outlook. Naturally, you cannot have a house in the midst of the lowest population of a large city, whose windows would have a pleasing or cheerful outlook. ”

“ She even drove to a house in one of the bye-streets of the village, to see if a certain Ellen, whose black eyes and white aprons had always met her approval, was still out of a situation. All these were at her command—cook, waitress, and nurse. It was fascinating to have everything go so smooth. How delightful to have your own way; how heavenly to make people carry out your plans. Through it all there ran one little thread of doubt as to the steadfastness of Mr. Andrews; this only gave the matter zest. She felt as if it were quite a stirring little vaudeville ”

“ One of the maids, hearing her voice, ran towards her from a group where she had been standing uselessly telling her story over and over.
"What is all this, Ann?" she said, hurrying forward to meet the girl.
"O Miss Rothermel! Oh! Oh!" she cried, and bursting into tears ran off, throwing her apron over her head. Missy's limbs shook under her. Her one thought was, of course, her mother. She struggled forward through the crowd, on this part of the lawn, all men.
"Keep back now, keep back. We don't want no women here," cried a man, pushing her away, without looking at her. ”

“ By and by Jay came in, accompanied by the new waitress, who explained from her master that Miss Gabrielle was under punishment and was not to have any dinner. She would come back at bedside. Jay looked a little doubtfully at Missy. He had not forgotten his repulse. When the woman had gone out of the door, she said,
"Come Jay, I think we'd better be friends, old fellow," and taking him in her arms, kissed him a dozen times. Jay felt as if a great cloud had lifted off the landscape. Why had everybody been so horrid? There must have been something the matter with people. ”

“ Missy sat down to read it, knowing it was from Mr. Andrews.
"It seems fated," he wrote, "that you are to suffer for your kindness to my children. It is needless for me to tell you how much mortification I feel on account of my little girl's misconduct. I am sure your kind heart has already made many excuses for her, and has divined how great my chagrin is at finding her capable of such wrong dispositions. I have to remind myself very often that her life has been what it has, through no fault of hers, else I might feel harshly towards her. ”

“ Believe me, it is the subtle work of a crafty enemy; he cannot be contented with the common round, the daily task; he is not satisfied to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly; he must do some great thing."
"We shall see," said her mother, gently. "His vocation will be tested. You know it will be long before he is permitted to enter the order he has chosen. He may not be accepted."
"Not accepted!" cried Missy. "A man with money, influence, talent—Oh, we need not flatter ourselves. ”

“ Mr. Andrews, I beg you'll have a little mercy on us. Missy will kill off all the household if you let her have her way about ventilation."
"Oh! n'importe," cried Missy, as Mr. Andrews stood irresolute and embarrassed. "Mr. McKenzie and I may die of asphyxia, but that would be better than Aunt Harriet's getting neuralgia. Pray sit down, Mr. Andrews, I really am used to it."
"And I," said Miss Varian, going on uninterruptedly with her dinner, "am quite familiar with these cases of asphyxia. Pray don't be disturbed, Mr. Andrews. Miss Rothermel has them two or three times a week." ”

“ It is all very well to say, don't think of such things if you know you're doing right. It takes a very advanced saint not to mind what people think, and Missy, poor Missy, was not that. She longed to say her prayers, and felt she had never needed to say them more; but it was as if a thousand little devils, with as many little prongs, were busy in a swarm around her. To add to all her fretting thoughts, Aunt Harriet was particularly trying, Goneril was more audacious, the children were exasperating, even sitting still and in their Sunday clothes. ”

“ It is scarcely possible to love life and see good days with the same zest after this sorrowful journey. It abates one's relish for enjoyment, it tempers one's thirst for present pleasures; it loosens one's hold upon things mundane. That is the certain good it does, and the uncertain, how infinite!
Poor Missy felt like a penitent child, after that illness of hers. ”

“ By and by a carriage coming out met a carriage driving in, directly before the Andrews' house. They stopped. The ladies bent eagerly forward and talked in low tones; more than one glance flashed towards the closed blinds of the widower's house. Missy's cheeks were scarlet and her breath came quick; but she was fascinated and could not look away. It was gentle Mrs. Olor and her pretty young daughters—who could dread anything from them? Stirring Mrs. Eve was just giving them the information that she had received from the waitress at the Varians' door. ”