Robert E. Knowles

“ A few of the superfluities do seem to be a little unevenly distributed—but the great holy luxuries of life are as freely vouchsafed the peasant as the king. The glory and the beauty of life itself; the shelter of a mother's arms and the deeper shelter of her heart; the first dismantling kiss of love; the earliest glimpse of your first-born's face—these are for the ploughman as well as the poet or the prince.
And there is another moment when life's so often tawny tide glows with the very light of heaven. It came to me and Gordon the day he led little Harold in, to look upon his sister's face. ”

“ And if ever a man was happy in his work, that man was Gordon Laird. In his work, I say—for our home lay still under the shadow of its great and bitter sorrow. After one or two unsatisfactory letters, followed by a final one of despairing note, no word had come from Harold. This was what Gordon had feared. Those months stand out before me now, each one almost separate in its pain, like sombre mountain peaks robed in cloud. I know all about the anguish of those who roam some desert waste searching for a spring, or with parched lips upturned to the unsoftening skies. ”

“ And they were frank, so frank and honest—eager, too, inquisitive, in a reverent sort of way; penetrating they seemed to be—the more penetrating because they were rather veiled—and they looked to be in quest of truth, and love, and life. Yes, life; I think the eyes of the Reverend Gordon Laird had more of life in them than any others I have ever seen—not bright, or animated, or brilliant, or anything of that sort; but life, with all its mystery and loneliness and longing, seemed to lie deep in them, like water in a silent well. ”

“ Gordon's look of love was beautiful. "No," he said, "never again, here—and we'll wait, my darling," the words coming low and passionate. "Look," as he cast his eyes within the door, "she wants you—she's motioning for you."
Which was true enough, and in a moment I was bending over the dying form.
"You'll comfort mother, and Martha, won't you—and the children—when I'm gone? Poor Martha, she'll have it all to do now," the words coming faint and pitiful; "all the work, I mean—she works so hard. And she has to go to the factory, even after she sits up all night." ”

“ Whatever has been before of pain, or whatever may be ahead of sorrow, he said, neither the one nor the other can ever make pure gladness as if it had never been. It belongs to you forever, said the Reverend Gordon Laird.
I should have known that I had no right to be so happy. For one thing, Charlie had gone back to Savannah, and I should have been miserable over that, if conscience had been half as faithful as it should have been. Then, besides, he was waiting for my decision about Europe and the yacht—and I had no claim to happiness till that was settled. ”

“ Uncle Henry and Aunt Agnes wrote me once or twice, and always sympathetically enough. But it was evident that they recognized through it all how wide was the gulf that divided me from the days and scenes of girlhood. And they sent their "respects" to Gordon, which is about the politest form of epitaph that can be graven on the tomb of friendship.
It was in the very midst of this parched and dreary plain (to quote the words with which I began the chapter) that a spring of living joy suddenly flung forth its waters; amid the troublous winds, our hearts found the dearest of all earthly havens. ”

“ We could not—we dared not—know; but suddenly the old man on the stage—oh! the perjured wastery of simulated love like that—broke forth with a wild outcry of love and rapture as he leaped towards the soiled and wasted prodigal before him.
And then—and then—mingling with the father's chant, there came from the bowed and broken wanderer one single note; a little cry, a muffled plaint of penitence and hope. It was such a little sound, subdued and faltering as became a broken heart, and it was almost lost in the father's louder strain—but I heard it, and my soul laid hold of God. ”

“ Harold was well on his way in school—clever, like his father—and his sister had left the days of babyhood behind, when a new influence came into our quiet lives, a new Life into our little circle.
It was our daughter's birthday night, and Gordon had asked some friends to dinner. For, as I should have said before, he was simply crazy about Dorothy, which was the name we had bestowed upon our daughter—it had been my mother's. Nobody need tell me that a father's master passion is anything else than his first-born girl. ”

“ But Gordon's face was like marble. In the last appeal a Scotchman is always Scotch—and I knew Gordon was thinking of that last night when he had been all but turned from uncle's door. "Not while we have a crust to eat or a hand to toil," he said, in a tone so low and resolute that I actually feared to press my argument with another word; "no child of mine shall be dependent on his father's enemy;" which language smote me to the heart—nor do I think Gordon would have uttered it in a calmer mood. ”

“ Both the children, and their grandfather too, were in bed and sound asleep when Gordon and I went up-stairs together about ten o'clock. We went into the children's room, for they were still unparted, the little bed nestling close to the big one; and we stood long above the slumbering forms, our eyes swimming as we looked.
"I wonder if it's really so," I heard Gordon murmur.
"What, darling?" I said.
"That God pities us—like we pity them," the sentence finished in a broken voice. "It solves all life's problems—if that's really so." ”

“ I verily believe grandfather and I prayed him back between us.
The very day after Gordon's father entered into rest I was sitting in the gloaming, thinking of the life that had gone from us; one never knows how dear is an aged life, till the silver-haired presence is withdrawn. And I heard something that started my heart singing heavenward with gratitude.
Gordon and Dorothy were at the piano, on which our daughter now loved to show her new-found skill. And softly on the evening air there floated out to me the strains of the hymn he had asked her to play. ”

“ So it was no wonder that his humble pulpit became like a golden fount to parched and thirsty souls; and the pathway trodden by the throng that pressed about it became ever more deep and wide.
People came to Gordon's little church from every part of Hertford. I did not wonder at this, for rich and poor alike will crowd about a spring; but little by little it became evident that not a few of our worshippers were from Gordon's old congregation in St. Andrew's. It's wonderful how everybody loves a hero—especially if the hero doesn't know he's one. ”

“ Not a word did I say to Gordon. But the first night we were there, after Dorothy had been safely stored away, I was sitting beside him, looking out over the moonlit harbour. The night was hushed, the ocean calm; voices of darkey stevedores floated softly up to us as they moved hither and thither with their creaking wheelbarrows on the wharf.
Suddenly Gordon turned his face full on mine in the moonlight. "Helen," he began huskily, "do you know what room this is, Helen?" ”

“ Gordon hurled back at him; "both of you live on the defenseless and the poor. It's sickening," and Gordon's voice rang higher, "to hear you, or him, prating about the Gospel, while he makes his wealth out of human misery—and you, you oppress the poor—you grind their faces, and you know it. You take your blood money from poor girls that have to toil in that sweat-box of yours—and you don't care whether they live or die, so long as they serve your selfish ends. ”

“ He leaped to where Gordon stood, and at his presence the men fell back.
"You shan't injure this man," he shouted hoarsely. "Not that I contend he doesn't deserve it—but he's my guest," the word echoing clear. "He's my guest," uncle repeated, for he knew the magic of the word; "he's a stranger amongst us—and an ignorant stranger at that. I'll take the fool home," he went on, casting at Gordon one of the most contemptuous glances I ever saw from human eyes, "and I'll deal with him myself. I'll promise you to deal with him—he's my guest. And you shall do as you please with the nigger." ”

“ Then came Gordon's thunderbolt: "It seems to me," he cried hotly, recklessly, "it seems to me you couldn't have much more fusion than you have already—this negro's half white himself;" which proved more, as I knew it would, than any Southern man would stand.
"Then you can take what you deserve, curse you for a nigger-lover," I heard the Colonel retort madly, his voice lost in the roar of hate, the wild outcry for vengeance that burst from the infuriated crowd. All resistance was now swept away, and a few ringleaders at the front fairly clutched at Gordon. ”

“ It was ruddy, as the sea-polished faces of those Scotchmen are so apt to be; a strong Scottish face it was, serious, almost stern when in repose—all Scotchmen naturally think much about Eternity—and yet the lips, thin and mobile, looked as if laughter were never far away. The mouth was really remarkable, evidently framed for public speech, although its proximity to a very resolute jaw lent it a look of Scottish fixity that really wasn't there at all, even if he was the Reverend Gordon Laird. ”

“ Giddens' hand flew forward, unarmed; and he struck Gordon full in the face. We were too late—we might as well have raced with lightning. Before we could speak or move, Gordon's mighty grip was on his throat, and he wrenched him back, back, till his head struck with a thud against the corner wall. There is something marvellous about these Scotchmen when madness seizes them. So reserved, so silent, so inscrutable, there is no race on earth so calm and none so deadly. And strength—such fearful strength! ”

“ My uncle was rudely flung aside—I could hear his voice in protest through the storm. Then, exactly what I feared, some of the assassins, more maddened than the rest, jerked the rope from the negro's neck and flung it with a loud cry over Gordon's head. This was to the crowd what the taste of blood is to the tiger, and a fiendish yell broke from a hundred throats. It is not likely they really meant to kill him—but no one could forecast the limit of their violence.
I wouldn't have cared if there had been a million men and every man a Nero. ”

“ And very winsome was little Dorothy, laughing up into her father's eyes, reading there, as children are not slow to do, the signs of a consuming love. Grandfather Laird was dozing in the big armchair in the corner, his hand still resting on his shepherd's staff; dear old grandfather, whose race was nearly run, the strong Scottish face stamped more and more with the simple grandeur of his nature as he came nearer to the eternal verities on which his mind had dwelt so long. ”

“ Yet I could see, all through the early evening, that the debate had left its impress upon Gordon. It was really wonderful how a question of this kind took hold of him; anything human, especially if connected with sorrow or injustice, seemed to kindle him as nothing else could do. More than once he harked back to it within the next hour or two when he and I were alone. "It's beyond my understanding," he broke out, "how any man—especially a Christian gentleman like your uncle—can defend an institution that made one man a slave of another." ”

“ It matters not how parched and bare the plain of life may be, one living spring of joy can enrich and beautify it all. One master gladness can make the heart strong against all the ills of life; it matters not how fierce and angry be the winds, if the heart have shelter. If God be for us who can be against us?
Gordon and I had certainly had our share of the ills of life ”

“ Indeed, I never rise early now, around five or six, without the feeling that some one dear to me is going far away. I remember the sweet calm of the early dawn, the first glad notes of the singing birds, careless of human tears, the sparkle of the dew upon the little lilac bush before the door, as we went past it with Harold's trunk. What a hard time I had to press into Harold's hand the poor little dollar I had saved from our scanty means as my own special gift—how pathetic it was to see the care with which he tucked it away in a painfully capacious pocketbook that grandfather had given him ”

“ No woman is ever quite content to tell the very year, but the decade does not matter. And my mother has often told me what a lovely October day it was—my dawn was mingled with the deepening twilight, and the flowers were still abloom in the garden, and some darky children were playing in the dusty road before the door, and the soft autumn sky was now wreathed in smiles, now bathed in tears, fitting symbol of the checkered life that lay before me. ”

“ It was a sweet and delicate suggestion on Gordon's part that we should go southward again for a day or two, to begin our married life under the dear familiar skies I loved so well. Wherefore we set sail that evening, exactly at seven o'clock, on the Old Bay Line, our destination to be Old Point Comfort, which we would reach the following morning.
It is really a pathetic thought that the bridal joy comes only once into a maiden's life, so quickly past and gone. It leads, no doubt—or ought to lead—into a deeper peace and a more steadfast love ”

“ I think love needs a good solid foundation to build on," as she nodded emphatically towards my uncle.
"Yachts aren't very solid things," retorted the latter calmly; "and Europe's a long piece away. And if my views on love aren't what they ought to be, blame Agnes there," as he looked in unevasive tenderness towards his wife.
I caught the look she cast back at him; it made me think of the lonely bridge. I glanced, too, at the bloom-laden magnolia—and the thought flashed through my mind that an old raft, as uncle said, might be made heavenly enough. ”

“ I said, looking up a little testily, I fear.
"Oh, only this; when anybody has a sorrow so much greater—like ours—financial troubles don't amount to much. I want Harold—oh, Helen, I want our boy back again," with which he broke out, strong man though he was, into such a storm of crying as would have done credit to the tearfullest of women.
This puzzled, almost alarmed, me. Indeed, I was beginning to fear, and not without more reasons than one, that the long tension of grief and disappointment were proving too much for Gordon's intense and sensitive nature. ”

“ And when the Judgment Day shall dawn—concerning which I have no doubt, but much misgiving—the most oft-repeated charge against our poor weak womanhood will be that we sold ourselves for nought. Some of our loveliest will be the first to learn, in that great day, how deadly was the barter of their bodies—and of so much more. I have often heard uncle say that when a horse is sold its halter always goes along—but no one ever told me that when a girl sells her body, that sale includes the soul. ”