Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 13

She looked wistfully at me while she dried her china. "May I help you, Mrs. Flaxman? It never occurred to me before that I might share your burdens. I should learn to have cares, as well as others."

"I always like to have you with me, dear. Sometimes I try to make myself believe G.o.d has given you to me, instead of my own little Medoline."

"Had you a daughter once?"

"Yes; and, like yourself, named after your own dear mother."

"Oh, Mrs. Flaxman, and you never told me. Was she grown up like me?"

"She was only six years old when she died, just a month after her father; but the greater grief benumbed me so I scarce realized my second loss until months afterward."

"Is it so terrible, then, to lose one's husband?"

"It depends greatly on the husband."

"The widow Lark.u.m cries constantly after hers, but he was bread-winner, too. A hungry grief must be a double one."

"Did Mr. Winthrop say anything further to you about being out last night?"

"A little," I replied, with scarlet cheeks; "but he will never do so again. I shall not give him cause to reprove me."

"That is the most lady-like course. You are no longer a little girl, or a school-girl either."

I wiped my plates in silence, but my mortification was none the less intense. I realized then, more keenly than ever, that I must preserve the proprieties, and confine myself to the restrictions of polite society.

The breezy, unconventional freedom Mrs. Flaxman had for those few months permitted me had been so keenly enjoyed. I fretted uneasily at the forms, and ceremonies of artificial life, while the aboriginal instincts, which every free heart hides away somewhere in its depths, had been permitted too full development.

The china cleansed, and put away, I stood surveying the s.h.i.+ning pieces that comprised our breakfast equipage, and like the tired clock in the fable, thought wearily of the many hundred times Mrs. Flaxman had washed those dishes; of the many thousand times they, or others, would go through the same operation, until Mrs. Winthrop's sands of time had all run out, and Oaklands gone to decay, or pa.s.sed into other hands.

"Isn't it tiresome work was.h.i.+ng dishes--the same yesterday, to-day and fifty years hence? I wish I had been created a man; they don't have such sameness in their work."

"Are you sure, dear? Fancy a bookkeeper's lot, or a clerk's reckoning up columns of figures so like there is not a particle of variety; not a new or thrilling idea in all their round of work from January to December, unless we except a column that won't come right. That may have a thrill in it now and then, but certainly not a joyous one. After we return from New York, if you pay attention to a clerk's work in the stores we visit, you will acknowledge a lady's household tasks delightful in comparison.

The farmer's life has the most variety, and comes nearest to elementary things and nature's great throbbing vitals; but as a rule they are a dissatisfied lot, and unreasonably so, I think."

"Come to look at things generally, it's a very unsatisfactory sort of world, anyway. I think it's affairs might just as well get wound up as not. There have been plenty of one variety of beings created, I should think, to fill up lots of room in the starry s.p.a.ces, and there are so many to suffer forever."

"It is hardly reverent, dear, for us to criticise G.o.d's plans. It is His world, and we are His creatures; and we may all be happy in Him here, and there be happy with Him forever. Besides, life does not seem monotonous when we are doing His will."

"But I know so few who are doing His will save you, and that poor blind Mr. Bowen. I read my Bible every day, and sometimes I get thinking over its words, and I reckon there will only be one here and there fit to enter Heaven. All our friends nearly would be terribly out of place to be suddenly transplanted to the Heavenly gardens. What could they talk about to the s.h.i.+ning ones? The fas.h.i.+ons, and social gossips, and fancy work and amus.e.m.e.nts would all be tabooed subjects there, I expect."

"You do not know many people yet. I thank G.o.d there are thousands longing to serve Him. I think, dear, you must have a touch of dyspepsia this morning; your thoughts are so morbid."

"Oh no, indeed; I am quite well. But shall we see any of those people you describe in New York?"

"If we stay long enough, doubtless we shall. I have a few rare friends there whose friends.h.i.+p often gives me the feeling of possessing unlimited riches."

"I wish I had such friends," I exclaimed, with sudden longing. "You and the Mill Road folk are the only ones I have on this side the ocean, and the most I care much for on the other already think in another language from mine."

"Yours will not be a friendless life, I feel certain. I see elements in your impulsive nature that must attract those who love the true and unselfish."

"Oh, Mrs. Flaxman, what a delicious compliment to give me, just when I was most discouraged about myself! Mr. Winthrop finds me such a nuisance, and all your pretty and elegant lady friends I know care so little for me that I can't but believe that I am a poor specimen, although you speak so kindly."

"You will be wise to learn the art of not thinking much about your merits. I find these the happiest lives who live most outside of self; and they are the most helpful to others."

"But we have mainly to do with ourselves. How can we help wondering if our particular barque on the voyage of life is to be a success or not?"

"It lies with ourselves whether it is or no."

"But persons like Mrs. Lark.u.m and the Blakes, how can they have a successful voyage, when they are so poor and lowly?"

"You must get the thought out of your mind that being poor and humble makes any difference in G.o.d's sight. When Christ visited our planet his position was as lowly as the Blakes; his purse as empty as the widow Lark.u.m's. We are such slow creatures to learn that character itself is the only greatness in G.o.d's sight. Our ancestry and rent roll are the small dust of the balance with Him."

"But Mr. Winthrop thinks most of those things--the ancestry and wealth."

"We must not sit in judgment on any one's thoughts, and we must not take any man's gauge of character in the abstract as the correct one; only take the word of G.o.d."

I went out into the suns.h.i.+ne to think over Mrs. Flaxman's little lecture; a good deal comforted with the reflection that Mrs. Blake might have more weight in the balances of Heaven than I had thought. The garden was looking very shabby--its splendid midsummer glory had only a few flowers left to show what had been there, and these only the thick-petaled, substantial blossoms as free from perfume as the products of the vegetable garden. I grew melancholy. A premonition of my own sure coming autumn season, towards the end of life, was forecasting its cold shadow over the intervening years which made the November suns.h.i.+ne grow dim; and I gladly re-entered the house. I went very meekly to the library-door and tapped. Quite a long pause, and then I heard my guardian's study door which opened into the library, shut; and a second after he stood before me. I thought he gave me a surprised glance, since it was only the second time I had come into his presence there unsummoned.

"May I take some of the money you gave me this morning to Mrs. Lark.u.m, before I leave for New York?"

"If you have time. Usually it takes ladies some hours to prepare for a journey such as you have before you to-day."

"I am sorry to say I am not a regulation lady. I can get ready in half an hour."

"That is a quality in your s.e.x that will cover a mult.i.tude of sins."

"I am glad you have at last found something good in me," I said, sorrowfully.

"You must not personally apply every generalization your friends may make in their conversation."

"Then you give me permission to go?"

"It strikes me you are rus.h.i.+ng to the other extreme. I have never interfered with your rambles, except at unseemly hours. Mill Road at mid-day is quite safe for the most unconventional young lady in Cavendish."

I bowed my thanks, and turning away heard the library door shut. I could fancy the expression on my guardian's face as he returned to his books.

But, as I put on my wraps, my heart grew lighter although Mr. Winthrop's last observation made me wince. I took a crisp ten dollar bill. Surely, I reflected, that could not be a dangerous sum to entrust the widow with, considering that she had a helpless father, and half-clad children to look after. I took the kitchen on my way and begged a generous slice of meat from the cook to carry to Tiger.

"Most like they'll have their own dinner off it first; they'll think it a sin to give such meat to a dog," I heard her mutter as I left the kitchen. On my way I met Emily Fleming and Belle Wallace. They laughingly inquired where I was going with my bundles; but I a.s.sured them it was an errand of mercy, and could not therefore be explained. Miss Emily's plump features and bright black eyes took a slightly contemptuous expression as she a.s.sured us I was rapidly developing into a Sister of Charity.

"Better be that than an idler altogether like the rest of us," the more gentle natured Belle responded.

"If you are getting into a controversy I will continue my journey," I said, nodding them a pleasant good morning and going cheerfully on my way, thinking of Tiger's prospective gratification, coupled with that of the widow Lark.u.ms.

Going first to the Blakes, I found Tiger stretched out on the doorstep.

He wagged his tail appreciatively, but did not growl as I stroked his s.h.a.ggy coat.

Examining him by daylight, I saw that he was a fine specimen of his species. Daniel explained to me afterward that he was a cross between a St. Bernard and Newfoundland--a royal ancestry, truly, for any canine, and unlike human off-shoots from the best genealogical trees, quite sure of inheriting the finest qualities of his ancestors. I went into the house, the dog limping after me. Mrs. Blake heard my voice and came in in some alarm. She looked surprised to see me sitting by the table with Tiger's ma.s.sive head in my lap, while I unrolled the meat. She also stood watching, and when the juicy steak was revealed, her own eyes brightened as well as Tiger's. "I haven't seen such a piece of meat in many a day.

It minds me so of Oaklands."