Part 23 (2/2)

”I've seen some strange doings in my time,” he said, after one of his pauses, ”and I tell you there's as much human nature among church members as there is among outsiders. Sometimes I've thought 'twas because they needed grace worse than most folks that the Lord elected some of 'em. I've been called on to settle quarrels among professors that would astonish you; and I've had a hand in their love affairs too, once or twice, when they got things so tangled up that they couldn't straighten 'em out for themselves,” he added with a little chuckle.

”Love affairs!” repeated Esther, catching at the chance of a story.

”Why, how was that? Do tell me one of them, grandfather.”

He clucked to Dobbin, drew his hand across his face in the meditative way that suggested a stroking of memory, and began slowly:-

”I guess the queerest one I ever had anything to do with, and the one that bothered me most in my own mind, was that affair between Jotham Radley and those two girls. You see they were both bound to have him; and for the life of him he couldn't seem to settle on which one it should be.”

”_They_ were bound to have _him_?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Esther. She had heard of two lovers to one lady, but this sort of a case was new in her acquaintance.

”Well, I don't know as I or' to say _they_ were,” said the old gentleman, correcting himself. ”It was Huldy's mother on one side, and 'twas Polly herself on the other. You see, Jotham had been keeping company a good while with Huldy, and folks gener'ly thought 'twas a match between them, but he got to carrying on with Polly Green 'bout the time he was building her father's barn. I always thought she must have led him on. He was a wonderful easy man to be pulled round by women folks, and Polly was a smart girl, there's no denying that.

”Well, it began to be common talk that they were engaged, and then Huldy's folks spoke out and said 'twas no such thing; it was all settled between him and Huldy long ago, and her mother showed the linen she'd spun and the bed quilts she'd pieced for housekeeping. It got to be a good deal of a scandal, for Jotham was clerk of the church, and some folks, specially the women, thought it or' to be stopped. So we deacons talked it over together, and then two of us went to see Jotham and asked him how it was about it. He didn't say much, one way or t'other-acted sort o' queer 'n' shame-faced; but he agreed the talk or' to be stopped, and said he'd have it settled in a week.

”I guess he found it harder to settle than he counted on, for Polly was a dreadful spirited girl, and Huldy's mother was the kind that couldn't be put off. Anyhow, instead of easing up, the talk kept getting louder, and Jotham didn't show his face in the meeting-house for two Sundays.

Well, the deacons felt that he was trifling with 'em, and that time we went in a body to deal with him.

”Deacon Simms did the bulk of the talking, and he told Jotham pretty straight what he thought about a man's whiffling round between two girls as he did, and then he told him if he couldn't settle the business for himself the church would have to settle it for him. At that Jotham spoke out like a man distracted, and said he wished to goodness we would. I asked him if he'd abide by our decision, and he said he'd abide by anything the girls would.

”I must say I didn't much like the business, but we went the next day to see the girls. Polly cried, and took on, and according to her account Jotham had certainly said some wonderful pointed things for a man that didn't know his own mind. As for Huldy, she looked sick and scared, and 'twas much as we could do to get a word out of her. Her mother was ready enough to talk, but Jotham warn't engaged to _her_ anyhow, and I stood to it that we couldn't settle the thing by the way _she_ looked at it. I always suspicioned that if Huldy'd spoke up and freed her mind, she might have made out the best case, but she wouldn't do it.

”Seemed as if she didn't want to commit him, and the other deacons thought 'twas a clear case he ought to marry Polly. It sort of 'peared to me that it or' to be Huldy, but of course I couldn't prove it, and anyway 'twas three to one. So I gave in to the rest, and to settle all the talk, we had Jotham and Polly published in church the next Sunday.

They did say Jotham turned dreadful white when they told him how we'd settled it, but he married Polly at the set time, and as far as I know they always got along well together.”

”What become of Huldah?” queried Esther.

”Huldy?” said the deacon, reflecting. ”Well, she stayed single till she must have been upward of thirty; then she married a widower, and everybody said 'twas a good match.”

There was silence for some time, then Esther said, with her eyes on the sky, over which the clouds were s.h.i.+fting uneasily, ”Grandfather, do you think a person _could_ have any doubt in his own mind as to which one of two people he cared for most, if-if he was really in love with either of them?”

”I ain't sure but he might,” said the deacon, slowly. ”It takes a good while to get acquainted with folks, and I don't know but it's about as hard sometimes to know your own mind, as 'tis to know anybody else's-even if 'tis inside of you.” And then he added briskly, ”But it stan's to reason that a man or' to have a care how far he goes before he gets things cleared up.”

She seemed not to hear the last remark. ”But if you had known a person for a long, long time,” she said insistently, ”there couldn't be any doubt then, could there?”

Again, like the wise man he was, the deacon answered slowly, ”Well, a body or' to get his mind made up in a reasonable length of time,” he said. ”There was Nathan Weyler went to see Patty Foster every Sat.u.r.day night for thirty years before he asked her to marry him. I should call that _slow_! But there _is_ such a thing as seeing so much of folks-being so close to 'em, you know-that you don't really get as good a sight at 'em as you would if they were farther off. It's getting your attention drawn somewhere else, and seeing what's in other folks sometimes, that wakes you up to what there is in those you thought you knew best.”

Esther, whose eyes had been fixed on her grandfather's face intently during this reply, looked suddenly back at the sky. She had thought there were no stars to-night, but she was aware, all at once, that there were four or five s.h.i.+ning straight before her. Had they all come out in the last moment, or was it an ill.u.s.tration of what he had just been saying?

Her voice shook a little, and she did not look at her grandfather as she asked her next question. ”But if it came to you that there _was_ more in somebody than you had realized-if you saw more to admire than you ever did before-_that_ wouldn't be enough, would it? I mean, it wouldn't be right to marry for anything but love, would it?” She broke suddenly off, then began again with a nervous, half-incoherent swiftness. ”That man, for instance, that you were telling me about, and Huldah. If he had just felt sorry for her, and it kept coming to him all the time that he hated to leave her, because-because he had known her so long, and he knew it would be hard for her, and she was so good and true-all that wouldn't be enough to make him marry her, would it?”

Strange that she should be so deeply stirred over that old story of so long ago! Her hands trembled so much that she had to press them together to hold them still when she had finished.

He was a keen-witted man, Ruel Saxon. Perhaps it may have crossed his mind at that moment that he was being called once more, at this late hour of his life, to lend a hand in straightening out some tangled skein of love, but if so he did not reveal it.

”No,” he said distinctly, ”no; there's nothing else but love will do.

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