A Singular Metamorphosis Part 5

His hand approached his face with a futile attempt to hide the smile which would come. Adelina's face was soon mantled with a slight blush; but, nevertheless, she bravely rose and made a motion to act upon the suggestion, knowing that all eyes were upon her, and that the doctor's remark was made more from a desire to note the effect of it than from any expectation that it would be materialized.

"As we are the ones who have unintentionally wronged Ralph, surely, we are the ones to make the reparation to him, poor boy," said Adelina.

The "poor boy" was said as though "poor dear" was what was really meant.

That interpretation may only have been from undue exercise of the imaginative faculty--we shall not presume to say. No one would have denied the allegation more firmly or indignantly than Adelina. At any rate, she did not seem to weigh long the question as to which one of the party was the one to make the advances. If the opportunity was fortuitous, it was at least most desirable for herself and Ralph, but we shall come to that later.

It was not easy for the girl to go immediately to Ralph, but the desire to talk with him was the dominant sensation, and lesser ills gave way to personal desire. It would almost have appeared that the suggestion of Dr. Ellis was premeditated, and not wholly disinterested, for ere long Miss Tracy and he were seen going in the opposite direction from the way Adelina had taken. At Harold's instigation, Mary had exchanged letters with Dr. Ellis, but they pertained only to the condition and affairs of Edward Bamford. This scarcely justified the doctor in his sudden interest in his unknown correspondent who was at present a most desirable companion, in his opinion. Had the letters been of a personal character, Mary might unconsciously have made them contain a clue, and probably an interesting one, to her individuality. There was really nothing to inspire special interest, unless a thorough knowledge of orthography and rhetoric would count. It seems they did, or was it something else that had transpired? And they did not talk of Ralph now.

Perhaps the reason for that was they had been discussing him for so long.

Nothing was said that a third person could not profitably, or, at least _willingly_, have listened to. If, with the wish to tease Adelina, there had been a covert reason for the doctor's maneuver, let us not censure him too severely. Ralph might really be feeling lonely, left out in the cold, and so forth. Strange, how he could enter into Ralph's feelings, and thus a.n.a.lyse them, was it not? And yet, when we consider that he had made the mind, with its various emotions the study of years, it was not odd. It seems less strange when we consider that he was experiencing feelings similar to those he attributed to his young friend; not that Dr. Ellis had been lonely, strictly speaking, for propinquity to others was certain when they were in the same room with him. There is isolation in the largest crowds; in fact, such environment only intensifies at times our sense of desolation. When one is dying of nostalgia, of little avail is it then, that others about us speak our native tongue.

Well, this strategist was far from dying, but the accomplishment of his designs to converse with Mary alone, certainly gave him a radiant look, which betokened the best of terms between himself and the entire sentient world. Why he was giving a detailed account of certain events in his life to one he had known so short a time, we shall not endeavor to determine. Suffice it to say, that he was doing so, and Mary was listening with keen interest to whatever he might have to say regarding his past life, never questioning why the information was elicited. When but a lad he had been thrown upon his own resources, and, perhaps, this knowledge had begotten in Mary a pity for which she could scarcely give an adequate reason even to herself, had such a reason been demanded of her. A great amount of pity she had always possessed, much more than the average person; and yet, in this instance, the subject of her pity had long pa.s.sed the time when that pity was really needed, though when is true sympathy ever unwelcome or repulsed? Intuitively we know when it is real. Strange, is it not, that knowing this we still proffer the sympathy which is not genuine, and but a poor subst.i.tute for true fellow-feeling, and which we know must be detected as such by him who is the enforced recipient of it? Here the interest was not affected. Mary began to ask herself the cause of her sudden interest in this stranger, but she soon concluded that it must be solely due to his propinquity to Ralph during the latter's illness. Of course it was that. She felt relieved to know the cause, and to know that the excuse was sufficient--but was it?

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH TWO COUPLES TAKE A WALK.

Dr. Ellis proceeded to tell Mary of his boyhood; how he was employed by a bookseller, who, in return for the lad's services, only continued to withhold the merited compensation.

"I remained with him for two years," he went on to say. "Of course I was fed, and clothed, after a fas.h.i.+on, but I had no other incentive to work with him except fear."

"Why did you not run away?" questioned Mary, with reason.

"I did, but only to suffer the more from each attempt to gain my freedom. I was invariably caught. Banks would hear no pet.i.tions, and the curious crowd who witnessed my captures thought little of a runaway lad.

As for interfering, why, the thought of coming between father and son never entered their heads. When Banks insisted that he was my father, he was believed, and the word of a child was nothing. Each time I tried to escape I was flogged, not before others, for the man was too sharp for that, and was all kindliness when there were spectators. I was threatened with worse ills if I did not obey. I can see Banks yet, and hear his voice, as he said, 'You see, your word is doubted. I can prove that you have apprenticed yourself to me.' Oh, the horror of it!"

"Was the man usually cruel?"

"No; only when I crossed him or appeared dissatisfied. It was the humiliation of it that troubled me, child that I was. I was constantly watched, and seldom allowed to play with boys of my own age. I believe now that he feared I should discover that he had no power to control my movements."

"And how did you finally obtain your release?"

"Through the death of Banks, though I would have effected my escape sooner or later, I feel sure. Banks died, and his nephew fell heir to all that the former had so carefully h.o.a.rded. That same nephew had not cultivated the society of his uncle while living, strange though you may think it. Afterwards I took a position in a drug store; the study of pharmacy doubtless produced in me a desire to use the medicines I had been a.n.a.lyzing."

Mr. Bayne here strolled past the two who were thus earnestly engaged in converse, and, noticing that they were too much engrossed to observe his proximity, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, in an undertone, "Well, I declare! Dot _is_ beginning young, if her secret had aught to do with this affair. She certainly gave me the impression that her secret was a most important one, but who would have dreamed that she meant this--and she but a baby?" Here sheer astonishment ended the monologue, for ere he had taken many steps another couple appeared, walking toward him. "Now, which did Dot mean?" he began again; then he checked himself, and turned to see if he had erred; but, no, there were the two behind him, just where he had left them, or rather, pa.s.sed them, as much interested as ever, each with the other. In front he beheld this new couple possessing an equal appreciation of the advantages of communication with a desirable companion. That each did think the other a desirable companion was not to be doubted for a moment. Dot, in the meantime, had not consciously betrayed her secret or broken her word; still, older people may guess at childhood's secrets without trying to elicit confidences, and this child was habituated to the feeling that her father must share her thoughts. Now, the very fact that there was something to conceal, perhaps for the first time in her little life, only tended to give her an air of importance which was in itself a betrayal. Poor Dot had followed her father around until in pity he questioned his diminutive daughter. A few words were all that were necessary to give him an inkling of what had pa.s.sed.

"How did oo know, Papa?" This was equivalent to saying that his surmises were correct, but he comforted the innocent informant by telling her that her promise had not been broken, so that she ran off, relieved that Papa should know, and at the same time congratulating herself upon her ability to act as confidante. With an omniscient father, what was she to do?

Mr. Bayne would have pa.s.sed on with only a cheerful salutation, had not Adelina seen his wistful look, and kindly proposed that she and Ralph should retrace their steps and join him in his homeward walk. Was there ever one who enjoyed human companions.h.i.+p more than he, or, for that matter, the companions.h.i.+p of animals either? He seemed to love all things and wanted to be with them, but it was only his friends who could really appreciate the man. There was a look in his eyes which appealed to one; and why? Not because they asked for pity, but rather that they gave it, even when you knew that he was suffering himself. His wife had died when Pet was two years old, and Mr. Bayne had hidden his grief n.o.bly; yet the tell-tale eyes seemed at times to hold depths of sorrow patiently borne, for would he not see her again, that one who had been to him all love and tenderness? Had not the light in her dying eyes bidden him "Wait?" What is the look which comes to our loved ones' dying eyes? Is it a look of surprise as they are about to enter into a new life? Surely that look comes but once in a life, and that when the earthly life is drawing to its close, to be renewed in the glory of an endless one. How strange it is, that we, who have watched and been at the bedside of those loved ones, can follow no further, can never penetrate that mystery or lift the curtain till we, too, are called to take the same pathway. We turn to find the impress of a smile stamped on the face, giving to it peace, and seeming to tell of contentment and well-earned repose.

Often Mr. Bayne walked about the Tracy grounds, and he was doing so now, with the palpable hope that he might meet one, at least, of the household. He never thought of intruding, and it did not occur to him that his conversation could be welcomed save by those who were especially interested in him, and who had honored him by their friends.h.i.+p and leniency, as he chose to express it. He had no cause for this overweening modesty. Few in rural districts could be more beloved than he, not that there is not as much individual capacity for loving, but aggregately there cannot be as much love, owing to the restricted populace. Individually, he was certainly the object of much love and veneration. Wherever he went he appeared to carry peace, without apparent effort. He may have begun by cultivating with persistency the means of giving comfort, but later one felt that whatsoever he gave of comfort was given spontaneously. He loved all; what did it matter if they did not love in return? His mission was to alleviate suffering when possible; if not, then to impart such truths as would enable the sufferer to bear the anguish, mental or physical, as the case might be; not, as before stated, to question whether the love he bestowed so freely was in any measure returned. That was no concern of his. In his own immediate family he was in a measure dependent upon the attention of each member. He had always lived with it. Though it is true that that affection may have been taken naturally, yet he was always grateful for it; the fullest reciprocation followed. When the crucial test came he was willing to surrender all without a murmur. Would the curious onlookers p.r.o.nounce him heartless in consequence? There had never been, and it is safe to add there never would be, a crowd curious alone as to his welfare, provided he had ever mingled with the crowd. Respect attended him wherever he went, whether it was in the homeliest of cottages or at the most elaborate of functions. The latter he did not have the opportunity or the desire to attend, except at long intervals.

Mr. Bayne was not solicitous regarding the extent of the intervals; the longer the s.p.a.ce, the better.

"Were you going to run off without even asking how I was?" queried Adelina, reproachfully.

"That question was answered the moment I beheld you," responded the rector, with admirable policy.

"What a flatterer you are. Of all people in the world, you are the last who should use deceit."

"Is not what I intimate most true, Mr. Bamford?" asked Mr. Bayne, turning to him for confirmation of his a.s.severation.

"Most a.s.suredly," returned Ralph, adding mischievously, "Miss Fiske does not appear to think it possible that you may refer to the healthiness her countenance portrays, and not the beauty of it." This remark showed that he and Adelina must be on the best of terms. A few hours previous he would not have ventured such an utterance, nor would he have had even the inclination, after the estrangement resulting from what he was pleased to call Adelina's cruel treatment of him. Afterwards he would have done anything to condone for having had a single derogatory thought of her.

"What in the world have you there?" said Adelina. Could she believe the evidence of her eyes? If so, then Mr. Bayne had taken to the perusal of such books as related to the latest feminine modes of dress. Without impertinence she could ask about them, when her elderly friend was displaying the plates with such openness and disregard of public opinion.

"Oh, these? They are for Dot. Miss Carey, the mantua-maker, had told her to stop for them, but as I chanced to be pa.s.sing that way I thought I might act as purveyor with equal safety." This was said in a deprecatory manner, as though he had been caught in some act of which he ought to be ashamed; but until Adelina put the question to him it had never occurred to him that the carrying of such literary matter and accompanying ill.u.s.trations was not the most natural thing for a minister to be interested in.

"Dot, you see," he continued, in an explanatory way, "cuts out the pictures. Doubtless she will read about them when she is older." This was intended for Adelina's benefit, but she pretended to ignore the fact.

"If she does wait to profit by their suggestions until she is older, her outfit will be a little beyond the times," Adelina could not resist saying.

"She calls them paper dolls," he further elucidated.

"Well," said Adelina, laughing heartily, as they reached the rectory gate, "tell Dot I'll help keep house for the dolls."

"Wasn't he an old dear?" cried she, ecstatically, watching Mr. Bayne's retreating form.

"Who beside would have thought of carrying such things for a child?"

"I, that is, I would do as much for you," Ralph promptly responded.

"Oh, would you? I have a notion to put you to the test, and see what would come of your fine promises. I suppose I, in turn, should be expected to follow the child's example, simply to save your feelings, after you had so inconvenienced yourself, and betake myself to dolls'

housekeeping, too."

"Why not do it in reality--on a larger scale?" retorted Ralph, who had the propensity for turning things to his own advantage. Adelina said nothing. Ralph, feeling that he had possibly scored in his favor, continued to expatiate on the pleasures of housekeeping.

"I do not think that your experience can quite justify you in giving an opinion on the subject," replied Adelina, congratulating herself on not letting him have everything his own way.

"No; but experience teaches, and how am I to gain it alone? I am very docile, dear, and quite willing to learn of you."

Adelina softened visibly. "Perhaps," she said, thoughtfully, "if you had me to take care of you, you would be more prudent concerning your health."

"I am sure I would," eagerly. "Even Dr. Ellis says I am not careful enough."

"Why do you say _even_ Dr. Ellis? It would be more exact to say Dr.

Ellis, together with all rational beings, believes that of you."

"But you see I do not flatter myself that all rational beings do think of me," returned Ralph. "If you think of me, it does not seem to signify whether the rest do or not."

"How ungrateful to the rest of your friends!" she cried, wilfully misunderstanding him.

"You know well enough what I mean, dear. I could live without them, and their opinions."

"What a delicately implied compliment. You could live without me, too, if you only thought so."