Part 6 (1/2)

”Just beyond the oak,” he replied; ”she was standing in a thicket covered with tangled vines as foul and poisonous as herself. I had all unthinking almost walked into her when suddenly I heard a snarl like some ravenous beast; I saw her horrible claws uplifted as though she were about to spring on me and tear me limb from limb. I jumped back, my heart almost standing still, thinking naught but that my end had come.

She came no farther, but contented herself with crouching there and glaring at me with those awful eyes of hate that seemed to burn into my very soul.”

”Canst thou go with me where thou hast seen this witch or devil?” I said boldly, although I had not overly much stomach for the venture.

As I said this he drew back and trembled violently as he cried out, ”Nay, not even for the very hope of a safe hereafter would I go to that accursed place.”

”Then remain there, thou gentle coward, whilst I go,” commanded I.

Again he clutched me by the arm and cried out, ”Nay, go not, Brother Jabez; even if she touch thee not her look will blast thee like lightning.”

”I fear her not,” bragged I, and strode away, leaving him shuddering with the terror that had not yet grown cold, and with apprehensions for me.

I had no trouble in finding the thick bush and entangling vines Brother Martin had pointed out to me. As I approached its dark, forbidding front, I trembled like a leaf, and then grew angry at my weakness. Then I went on, resolutely forcing my way into the vile vines that caught me all about my face and body and limbs so that I was ready to affirm naught human could penetrate such a wilderness; but though I looked carefully for any signs that would show that some one or something had thrust itself into these exasperating vines I could find nothing, even though I had in all these years learned much of the ways of the woods and its signs.

In great bewilderment I was about to turn back to chide Brother Martin with having seen nothing but a creature of his own imagining when I saw in a small gully at the farther boundary of the thicket a footprint, small, a woman's surely, in the soft, clayey soil. Had the imprint been that of a cloven foot I could not have been more startled; for I knew that the Sisterhood seldom, if ever, came to the Brother woods, and the good wives and daughters of the near-by settlers were too timid and honest to trespa.s.s on our lands. Much perturbed, for I knew this thing boded evil to our community, I walked slowly back to my waiting brother, vague remembrances strangely flitting through my mind, but making no impression at the time, of how Sonnlein had come to me, and the midnight beating of our Brother Beissel.

I found Brother Martin, still pale and fearful, anxiously wanting to know what I had learned. ”Nothing,” I said, ”of witch or devil, but the substantial print of a woman's foot.”

”Was there no smell of brimstone? No cloven footprint?” he persisted.

”Nay, thou simple one, else I had told thee. Say thou naught of this; for they who would not believe thee would only laugh at thee, and if any believe what could that avail?”

”Nothing, dear Brother Jabez, nothing,” he said mournfully, a strange, fixed look in his wild eyes. ”A woman with an evil eye once looked upon my little brother as he lay laughing in the cradle my father had hewn out of a log. Until then the child was strong and healthy, never having been sick; but from that day he wasted away, with naught that could help or cure him, and within a month we laid him down in his little resting-place in the orchard nigh our cabin. They whom the evil eye look upon live not long.” And then, as one who goes forth to certain death, he looked up at me smiling bravely through all his fears and said, ”If my time hath come, let it come quickly, His servant waiteth.”

I found it impossible to free him from this melancholy mood, and so we walked back slowly and sadly to our _Kammers_, saying nothing more.

A week pa.s.sed, Brother Martin quietly, with resignation, doing his lowly duties each day; but we all could see he was in failing health. Only he and I knew, however, that the tortures of mind he was enduring far outweighed the lesser pains of the flesh; for I hesitate not to say of saint as well as sinner, that until death be actually at hand, they fear alike the inevitable end.

On a Friday night, just a week from the Friday our brother had seen this thing, the midnight services being over, and the Brethren and Sisters having returned to their _Kammers_ to rest their weary heads on their hard wooden blocks, we were startled by the ringing of the Kloster bell.

Clear and loud it pealed through the cold quietness of the night. Like a flash, though I had not thought of it before, I cried out to Brother Obed, who had the adjoining cell, ”'Tis Brother Martin,” though not more than a half-hour had expired since we had returned, he with us, from our midnight devotions.

Suddenly the pealing notes ceased, and then came the slow, solemn tolling of the bell, a custom followed ever after on the death of any of our number, until forty-eight were measured out, which I knew was about our brother's age. His cell was on the floor below, where I hastened as soon as the last year of his life had been tolled. A number of the Brethren, with bowed heads, stood sadly in the narrow _Kammer_, in the still narrower doorway and corridor. I had been filled, ere I saw him, with a dread that his death agony might have had its terrors increased a thousand-fold by the awful memory of the witch; for I knew he had never forgotten it. But when I looked down on the slight form and peaceful face resting on the hard bench and still more mortifying pillow, I saw no trace of any overpowering, death-dealing vision.

Instead, his face, though greatly wasted and altered, was as composed as though he had merely fallen asleep in the arms of his beloved. The little window looking out from his _Kammer_, as soon as the last spark of life had died out, had been opened so that his soul could take its flight unhindered and unmolested to that place of pure delights ”where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.”

At the funeral, which was the following midnight, as we carried the body out of the _Berghaus_ a bucket of water was poured upon the sill and swept up, and the door immediately closed so that his spirit could not return again to its earthly home, and to make further a.s.surance against such a return three crosses were marked upon the door jamb with red earth.

We buried him who had thus pa.s.sed away in the prime of his life, down in the meadow nigh to where in later years we built our Brother house. It was a dark, stormy night, no moon and no stars to lighten up the gloom of the sky or the still deeper darkness in our hearts; but with our f.a.got torchlights sputtering fitfully, almost blown out by the wind at times, we laid him to rest at the midnight hour with all the honors and rites and ceremonies of our holy order.

Thus, on this weird, stormy night, in such contrast to the peace and gentleness of this earnest, zealous warrior of the faith who for almost nine years had abided with us, we left in the meadow his mortal remains, but took back with us the remembrance of his G.o.dly services and his truth and fidelity unto his profession and brotherhood during his short life.

CHAPTER IX

A LOVE FEAST

But when a lady chaste and fair, n.o.ble, and clad in rich attire, Walks through the throng with gracious air, As sun that bids the stars retire-- Then where are all thy boastings, May?

What hast thou beautiful and gay Compared with that supreme delight?