Part 29 (1/2)
”Don't ask me foolish questions!” said Calvin.
The lady at the head of the table wore a pretty smile which she shut away under her eyelids again and again, and looked gently at Calvin.
”Dear Agnes!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Knox, ”I never blamed her so much as that bold little creature, Podge Byerly! No one could make any impression upon Agnes's confidence until that bright little thing went to board with her. It is so demoralizing to take these working-girls, shop-girls and school-teachers, in where religious influences had prevailed! They became inseparable; Agnes had to entertain such company as Miss Byerly brought there, and it produced a lowering of tone. She looked around her suddenly when these crimes were found out, and all her old mature friends were gone. It is so sad to lose all the wholesome influences which protect one!”
Duff Salter had been eating his chicken and catfish very gravely, and as he stopped to sneeze and apologize he noticed that Calvin Van de Lear's face was insolent in its look toward his brother's wife.
”Wholesome influence,” said Calvin, ”will return at the news of her money, quick enough!”
”Poor dear Cal!” exclaimed the lady; ”he is still madly in love!”
”My friends,” spoke up Duff Salter, ”your father is a very sick man. Let us take him to a chamber and send for his doctor.”
Mr. Van de Lear had been neglected in this conversation; it was now seen that he was in collapse and deathly pale. He leaned forward, however, from strong habit, to close the meal with a blessing, and his head fell forward upon the table. Duff Salter had him in his arms in a moment, and bore him into the little parlor and placed him on a sofa.
”Give me some music, children,” he murmured. ”Oh, my brother Salter! I would that you could hear with me the rustling sounds I hear in music now! There are voices in it keeping heavenly time, saying, 'Well done!
well done!' My strong, kind brother, let me lean upon your breast. Had we met in younger days I feel that we would have been very friendly with each other.”
Duff Salter already had the meagre little man upon his breast, and his long, hale beard descended upon the pale and aged face.
Mrs. Knox Van de Lear seated herself at the piano and began a hymn, and Calvin Van de Lear accompanied her, singing ba.s.s. The old man closed his eyes on Duff Salter's breast, and Mr. Knox Van de Lear went out softly to send for a physician. Duff Salter, looking up at a catch in the singing, saw that Calvin Van de Lear was leaning familiarly on the lady's shoulder while he turned the leaves of the book of sacred music.
”I am very sick,” said the old clergyman, still shaken by the chills.
”Perhaps we shall meet together no more. My fellow-executor, do my part in this world! In all my life of serving the church and its Divine Master, I have first looked out for the young people. They are most helpless, most valuable. See that Sister Agnes is mercifully cared for!
If young Andrew Zane returns, deal gently with him too. Let us be kind to the dear boys, though they go astray. The dear, dear boys!”
Duff Salter received the brave little man's head again upon his breast, and said to himself:
”May G.o.d speedily take him away in mercy!”
The doctor, returning with Knox Van de Lear, commanded the minister to be instantly removed to a chamber, and Duff Salter, una.s.sisted, walked up-stairs with him like a father carrying his infant to bed. As they placed the wasted figure away beneath the coverlets, he put his arm around Duff Salter's neck.
”Brother,” he said hoa.r.s.ely, the chill having him in its grasp, ”G.o.d has blessed you. Can you help my new church?”
”I promise you,” said Duff Salter, ”that after your people have done their best I will give the remainder. It shall be built!”
”Now, G.o.d be praised!” whispered the dying pastor. ”And let Thy servant depart in peace.”
”Amen!” from somewhere, trembled through the chamber as Duff Salter, his feet m.u.f.fled like his voice, in the habit of mute people who walk as they hear, pa.s.sed down the stairway.
Duff Salter took his seat in the dining-room, which was an extension of Knox Van de Lear's plain parlor, and buried his face in his palms. Years ago, when a boy, he had attended preaching in Silas Van de Lear's little chapel, and it touched him deeply that the nestor of the suburb was about to die; the last of the staunch old pastors of the kirk who had never been silent when liberty was in peril. The times were not the same, and the old man was too brave and simple for the latter half of his century. As Duff Salter thought of many memories a.s.sociated with the Rev. Silas Van de Lear's residence in Kensington, he heard his own name mentioned. It was a lady's voice; nothing but acute sensibility could have made it so plain to a deaf man:
”Husband,” said the lady with the slumberous eyelids, ”go out with the pitcher and get us half a gallon of ale. Cal and Mr. Salter and myself are thirsty.”
”I have been for the doctor, Lottie; let Cal go.”
”Cal?” exclaimed the lady, very quietly raising her lashes. ”It would not do for him to go for _ale_! He is to be the junior pastor, my dear, as soon as papa is buried, over the Van de Lear church.”
”All right,” said the tired husband, ”I'll go. We must all back up Cal.”