Part 19 (1/2)
There was one face with no hidden guilt in it, no shame. I read into the depths of that clear mind. It said: 'I have conquered my wilderness.' I have never known another such woman as Mrs. Falconer. She never speaks of herself; but when I am with her, I feel that the struggles of my life have been nothing.”
”Yes,” he continued, out of kindness trying to take no notice of his companion's silence, ”she holds in quietness her land of the spirit; but there are battle-fields in her nature that fill me with awe by their silence. I'd dread to be the person to cause her any further trouble in this world.”
The schoolmaster started up, went into the cabin, and quickly came out again. The parson, absorbed in his reflections, had not noticed:
”You've thought I've not sympathized with you in your affair with Amy. It's true. But if you'd ever loved this woman and failed, I could have sympathized.”
”Why don't you raise the money to build a better church by getting up a lottery?” asked John, breaking in harshly upon the parson's gentleness.
The question brought on a short discussion of this method of aiding schools and churches, then much in vogue. The parson rather favoured the plan (and it is known that afterwards a better church was built for him through this device); but his companion bore but a listless part in the talk: he was balancing the chances, the honour and the dishonour, in a lottery of life.
”You are not like yourself to-day,” said the parson reproachfully after silence had come on again.
I know it,” replied John freely, as if awaking at last.
”Well, each of us has his troubles. Sometimes I have likened the human race to a caravan of camels crossing a desert--each with sore on his hump and each with his load so placed as to rub that sore. It is all right for the back to bear its burden, but I don't think there should have been any sore!”
”Let me ask you a question,” said John, suddenly and earnestly. ”Have there ever been days in your life when, if you'd been the camel, you'd have thrown the load and driver off?”
”Ah!” said the parson keenly, but gave no answer.
”Have there ever been days when you'd rather have done wrong than right?”
”Yes; there have been such days--when I was young and wild.” The confession was reluctant.
”Have you ever had a trouble, and everybody around you fell upon you in the belief that it was something else?”
”That has happened to me--I suppose to all of us.”
”Were you greatly helped by their misunderstanding you?”
”I can't say that I was.”
”You would have been glad for them to know the truth, but you didn't choose to tell them?”
”Yes; I have gone through such an experience.”
”So that their sympathy was in effect ridiculous?”
”That is true also.”
”If you have been through all this,” said John conclusively, ”then without knowing anything more, you can understand why I am not like myself, as you say, and haven't been lately.”
The parson moved his chair over beside the school-master's and took one of his hands in both of his own, drawing it into his lap.
”John,” he said with affection, ”I've been wrong: forgive me! And I can respect your silence. But don't let anything come between us and keep it from me. One question now on this our last Sunday night together: Have you anything against me in this world?”
”Not one thing! Have you anything against me?”
”Not one thing!”