Part 34 (1/2)
AN OUTBURST.
”I saw the new moon late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm.”
”Miss Marvin, does 'yestreen' mean 'last night'?”
”It does.”
”Then I wish the fellow would say 'last night,'” grumbled Master Calvin.
”And how could the new moon have the old moon in her arm?”
Hester explained.
”But moons haven't arms.” He pushed the book away pettishly.
”I hate this poetry! Why can't you teach me what I want?”
”That,” said Hester, ”is just what I am trying to discover.
Will you tell me what you want?”
To her amazement, he bent his head down upon his arms and broke into sobbing. ”I don't know what I want! Everyone hates me, and I--I hate it all!”
Somehow, Hester--who had started by misliking the child, and only with the gravest misgivings (yielding to pressure from his father) had consented to teach him in her spare hours--was beginning to pity him. This new feeling, to be sure, suffered from severe and constant checks; for he was unamiable to the last degree, and seldom awoke a spark of liking but he killed it again, and within five minutes, by doing or saying something odious. He differed from other children, and differed unpleasantly.
He had taken the full tinge of his sanctimonious upbringing; he was pharisaical, cruel at times, incurably twisted by his father's creed that wrong becomes right when committed by a pious person from pious motives.
(His mother had once destroyed a cat because she found herself growing fond of it and believed that a Christian's soul must be weaned of all earthly affections.) He appealed to Hester's pity because, with all this, he was unhappy.
She had been teaching him languidly and inattentively to-day, being preoccupied with a letter in her pocket; and to this letter, having set him to learn his verses from Sir Patrick Spens, she let her thoughts wander. It ran:--
”My dear Miss Marvin,--After much hesitation I have decided to commit to writing a proposal which has been ripening in my mind during our three months' acquaintance. My age and my convictions alike disincline me to set too much store on the emotion men call 'love,' which in my experience is illusory as the attractions provoking it are superficial. But as a solitary man I have long sighed for the blessings of Christian companions.h.i.+p, or a union founded on mutual esteem and fruitful in well-doing. While from the first not insensible to your charms of person, I have allowed my inclination to grow because I detected in you the superior graces of the mind and a strength of character which could not be other than sustaining to the man fortunate enough to possess you for a helpmeet. In short, my dear Miss Marvin, you would gratify me in the highest degree by consenting to be Mrs. R. I am, as you are probably aware, well-to-do. The circ.u.mstances of my being a widower will not, I hope, weigh seriously against this proposal in the mind of one who, while retaining the personal attractions above mentioned, may be reasonably supposed to have set aside the romantic illusions of girlhood. Awaiting your reply, which I trust may be favourable, I remain, yours very truly,”
”S. Rosewarne.”
”P.S.--Your exceptional gifts in the handling of children a.s.sure me that my son Calvin would receive from you a care no less than motherly. He would meet it, I feel equally sure, with a responsive affection.”
The tone of this letter made Hester tingle as if some of its phrases had been thongs to scourge her.
Yet it must be answered.
That this odious man should have dared--and yet for weeks she had seen it coming. Incredible as she found it that a man from whom every nerve of her body recoiled with loathing should complacently ignore the signs, should complacently persevere in a.s.suming himself to be agreeable and in pressing that a.s.sumption, she had to admit that the offer did not take her wholly by surprise. What bruised her was the insufferable obtuseness of the wording. How was it possible for a human being to sit down in good faith and pen such sentences without guessing that they hurt or insulted?
Nevertheless she blessed the impulse which had prompted him to write; for in writing he could be answered. All day she had gone in dread of meeting him face to face.
Once or twice, while she pondered her answer, she had glanced up at the child, as if _he_ could explain his father. What fatal unhappy gift had they both, by which in all that they said or did they earned aversion?
When the child broke down, she arose with a pang of self-reproach, crossed to his chair, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
”Listen to me, Calvin,” she said. ”You have told me one thing you want: you want people to like instead of disliking you. Well, the quickest way is to find out what they want, and do it, forgetting yourself; and then, perhaps quite suddenly, you will wake up and discover not only that people like you already, but that you yourself are full of a happiness you can't explain.”
The gust of his sobbing grew calmer by degrees. He lifted his head a little, but not to look her in the face.
”Is that puzzling to you?” she asked. ”Well, then, just give it a small trial in practice, and see how it works. I want you, for instance, to learn those verses. You don't like them; but by learning them you will please me, and you want to please me. Try now!”