Part 17 (1/2)

”I thank you for this,” he said. ”It makes my way easier.”

CHAPTER XIV

The story of the altercation between the young minister and a part of his congregation was well bruited about the town, and all united in placing the fault heavily on the young man's shoulders. As for him, he did not care. He was wild with the enjoyment of his new-found freedom.

Only now and again, as he sat at the table the morning after, and looked into the sad faces of Eliphalet and his guardian, did he feel any sorrow at the turn matters had taken.

In regard to Elizabeth, he felt only relief. It was as if a half-defined idea in his mind had been suddenly realised. For some time he had believed her unable either to understand him or to sympathise with his motives. He had begun to doubt the depth of his own feeling for her.

Then had come her treatment of him last Sunday, and somehow, while he knew it was at her father's behest, he could not help despising her weakness.

He had spent much of the night before in packing his few effects, and all was now ready for his departure as they sat at breakfast. Mrs.

Hodges was unusually silent, and her haggard face and swollen eyes told how she had pa.s.sed the night. All in a single hour she had seen the work of the best part of her life made as naught, and she was bowed with grief and defeat. Frederick Brent's career had really been her dream.

She had scarcely admitted, even to herself, how deeply his success affected her own happiness. She cared for him in much the same way that a sculptor loves his statue. Her att.i.tude was that of one who says, ”Look upon this work; is it not fair? I made it myself.” It was as much her pride as it was her love that was hurt, because her love had been created by her pride. She had been prepared to say, exultingly, ”Look where he came from, and look where he is;” and now his defection deprived her for ever of that sweet privilege. People had questioned her ability to train up a boy rightly, and she had wished to refute their imputations, by making that boy the wonder of the community and their spiritual leader; and just as she had deemed her work safely done, lo, it had come toppling about her ears. Even if the fall had come sooner, she would have felt it less. It was the more terrible because so unexpected, for she had laid aside all her fears and misgivings and felt secure in her achievement.

”You ain't a-eatin' nothin', Hester,” said her husband, anxiously. ”I hope you ain't a-feelin' bad this mornin'.” He had heard her sobbing all night long, and the strength and endurance of her grief frightened him and made him uneasy, for she had always been so stoical. ”Had n't you better try an' eat one o' them buckwheat cakes? Put lots o' b.u.t.ter an'

mola.s.ses on it; they 're mighty good.”

”Ef they 're so good, why don't you eat yoreself? You been foolin' with a half a one for the last ten minutes.” Indeed, the old man's food did seem to stick in his throat, and once in a while a mist would come up before his eyes. He too had had his dreams, and one of them was of many a happy evening spent with his beloved boy, who should be near him, a joy and comfort in the evening of his life; and now he was going away.

The old man took a deep gulp at his coffee to hide his emotion. It burned his mouth and gave reason for the moisture in his eye when he looked up at Fred.

”What train air you goin' to take, Fred?” he asked.

”I think I 'll catch that eight-fifty flier. It 's the best I can get, you know, and vestibuled through, too.”

”You have jest finally made up yore mind to go, have you?”

”Nothing could turn me from it now, Uncle 'Liph.”

”It seems like a shame. You 'ain't got nothin' to do down in Cincinnaty.”

”I 'll find something before long. I am going to spend the first few days just in getting used to being free.” The next moment he was sorry that he had said it, for he saw his guardian's eyes fill.

”I am sorry, Frederick,” she said, with some return to her old asperity, ”I am sorry that I 've made your life so hard that you think that you have been a slave. I am sorry that my home has been so onpleasant that you 're so powerful glad to git away from it, even to go into a strange city full of wickedness an' sin.”

”I did n't mean it that way, Aunt Hester. You 've been as good as you could be to me. You have done your duty by me, if any one ever could.”

”Well, I am mighty glad you realise that, so 's ef you go away an' fall into sinful ways you can't lay none of it to my bringin'-up.”

”I feel somehow as if I would like to have a go with sin some time, to see what it is like.”

”Well, I lay you 'll be satisfied before you 've been in Cincinnaty long, for ef there ever was livin' h.e.l.ls on airth, it 's them big cities.”

”Oh, I have got faith to believe that Fred ain't a-goin' to do nothin'

wrong,” said Eliphalet.

”n.o.body don't know what n.o.body 's a-goin' to do under temptation sich as is layin' in wait fur young men in the city, but I 'm sh.o.r.e I 've done my best to train you right, even ef I have made some mistakes in my poor weak way an' manner.”