Part 51 (2/2)

Lavendar: ”I will promise to bring David up just as he wishes; and I will tell him about my money; he doesn't know how rich I am; he will feel that he has no right to rob David of such a chance. And I will say that n.o.body could love him as I can.” Love him! Had she not given up everything for him, sacrificed everything to keep him? For his sake she had not married! In this rush of self-approval she sat up, and looked blindly off over the orchard below her at the distant hills, blue and slumberous in the suns.h.i.+ne. Then she leaned her head in her hands and stared fixedly at a clump of clover, green still in the yellowing stubble.... She had chosen her child instead of a convention which, less than a month ago, she had so pa.s.sionately desired; a month ago it seemed to her that, once married, she could do no more harm, have no more shame. Yet she had given all this up for David! ...

Suddenly she spurred her mind back to that talk with Dr. Lavendar: she would promise--anything! And planning her promises, she sat there, gazing with intent, unseeing eyes at the clover, until the chilly twilight drove her into the house.

It was not until Sat.u.r.day that she dared to go to the Rectory. It was early in the afternoon, just as the Collect Cla.s.s was gathering in the dining-room. She had forgotten it, she told Mary, as she closed her umbrella on the door-step. ”Can I wait in the study?” she asked, uncertainly;--there was time to go back! The task of telling part of the truth to this mild old man, whose eye was like a sword, suddenly daunted her. She would wait a few days.--she began to open her umbrella, her fingers blundering with haste,--but retreat was cut off: Dr. Lavendar, on his way to the dining-room, with Danny at his heels, saw her; she could not escape!

”Why, Mrs. Richie!” he said, smiling at her over his spectacles. ”Hi, David, who do you suppose is here? Mrs. Richie!”

David came running out of the dining-room; ”Did you bring my slag?” he demanded.

And she had to confess that she had not thought of it; ”You didn't tell me you wanted it, dear,” she defended herself, nervously.

”Oh, well,” said David, ”I'm coming home to-morrow, and I'll get it.”

”Would you like to come home?” she could not help saying.

”I'd just as lieves,” said David.

”Run back,” Dr. Lavendar commanded, ”and tell the children I'm coming in a minute. Tell Theophilus Bell not to play Indian under the table.

Now, Mrs. Richie, what shall we do? Do you mind coming in and hearing them say their Collect? Or would you rather wait in the study? We shall be through in three-quarters of an hour. David shall bring you some jumbles and apples. I suppose you are going to carry him off?”

Dr. Lavendar said, ruefully.

”Oh,” she faltered in a sudden panic, ”I will come some other time,”

but somehow or other, before she knew it, she was in the dining-room; very likely it was because she would not loosen the clasp of David's little warm careless hand, and so her reluctant feet followed him in his hurry to admonish Theophilus. When she entered, instant silence fell upon the children. Lydia Wright, stumbling through the catechism to Ellen Dale [Ill.u.s.tration: ”Dr. Lavendar,” said Helena, ”in regard to David.”] who held the prayer-book and prompted, let her voice trail off and her mouth remain open at the sight of a visitor; Theophilus Bell rubbed his sleeve over some chalk-marks on the blackboard;--”I am drawing a woman with an umbrella,” he had announced, condescendingly; ”I saw her coming up the path,”--but when he saw her sitting down by Dr. Lavendar, Theophilus skulked to his seat, and read his Collect ever with unheeding attention.

Then the business of the afternoon began, and Helena sat and listened to it. It was a scene which had repeated itself for two generations in Old Chester; the fathers and mothers of these little people had sat on these same narrow benches without backs, and looked at the blackboard where Dr. Lavendar wrote out the divisions of the Collect, and then looked at the sideboard, where stood a dish of apples and another of jumbles. They, too, had said their catechism, announcing, in singsong chorus that they heartily thanked their Heavenly Father that He had called them to this state of salvation; and Dr. Lavendar had asked one or another of them, as he now asked their children, ”What meanest thou by this word Sacrament?” ”What is the inward and spiritual grace?”

That afternoon, when he swooped down on David, Helen squeezed her hands together with anxiety; did he know what was the inward and spiritual grace? Could he say it? She held her breath until he had sailed triumphantly through:

_”A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness,”_ and so on. When he had finished, she looked proudly at Dr. Lavendar, who, to her astonishment, did not bestow a single word of praise!

”And yet,” said Helena to herself, ”he said it better than any of them, and he is the youngest!--David said it very well, didn't he?”

she ventured, in a whisper.

Dr. Lavendar made no answer, but opened a book; on which there was a cheerful shuffling as the children jostled each other in their efforts to kneel down in the s.p.a.ce between the benches; when all was still, Dr. Lavendar repeated the Collect. Helena dropped her face in her hands, and listened:

_”Grant, we beseech Thee, merciful Lord, to Thy faithful people pardon and peace, that they may be cleansed from all their sins, and serve Thee with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord.”_

_”Amen!”_ said the children, joyfully; and, scrambling to their feet, looked politely at the sideboard. David, who played host on these occasions, made haste to poke the apples at Mrs. Richie, who could not help whispering to him to pull his collar straight; and she even pushed his hair back a little from his forehead. The sense of possession came over her like a wave, and with it a pang of terror that made her lips dry; at that moment she knew the taste of fear in her mouth. When Dr. Lavendar spoke to her, she was unable to reply.

”Well, now, Mrs. Richie,” he said, ”I expect these little people can eat their apples without us; can't you, chickabiddies?”

”Yes, sir!” said the children, in eager chorus, eying the apples.

”You and I will go into the study for a while,” said Dr. Lavendar.

She followed him speechlessly...the time had come.

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