Part 18 (1/2)
”It's awful,” said Adah; ”I won't look at it any longer. I don't see why we can't have nice quiet showers that one can go to sleep in;” and she disappeared within the house. Reuben sat down on the piazza, in his quiet, undemonstrative way. Miss Warren came down and stood close to Mr. Yocomb's side, as if she half unconsciously sought the good man's protection.
Incessant lightnings played from some portion of the cloud, zigzagging in fiery links and forkings, while, at brief intervals, there would be an exceptionally vivid flash, followed more and more closely by heavier and still heavier explosions. But not a leaf stirred around us: the chirp of a cricket was sharply distinct in the stillness. The stars shone serenely over our heads, and the moon, rising to the left out of the line of the smoke and fire, was a.s.suming her silvery brightness, and at the same time rendering the burning mountain more lurid from contrast.
”Herbert, Herbert, now I know how brave you were,” I heard Miss Warren exclaim, in a low, awed tone.
I saw by the frequent flashes that she was very pale, and that she was trembling.
”You mean your brother,” I said gently.
With her eyes fixed on the threatening and advancing cloud as if fascinated by it, she continued in the same tone, that was full of indescribable dread: ”Yes, yes, I never realized it so fully before, and yet I have lain awake whole nights, going, by an awful necessity, over every scene of that terrible day. He stood in his place in the line of battle on an open plain, and he watched battery after battery come down from the heights above and open fire. He stood there till he was slain, looking steadily at death. This cloud that is coming makes me understand the more awful storm of war that he faced. Oh, I wish this hadn't happened,” and there was almost agony in her tone. ”I'm not brave as he was, and every nearer peal of thunder shakes my very soul.”
Mr. Yocomb put his hand tenderly on her shoulder as he said:
”My dear, foolish little child--as if thy Father in heaven would hurt thee!”
”Miss Warren,” I said earnestly, ”I have too little of Mr. and Mrs.
Yocomb's faith; but it seems impossible that anything coming from heaven could harm you.”
She drew closer to Mr. Yocomb's side, but still looked at the cloud with the same wide-eyed dread, as if spellbound by it.
”To me,” she resumed in her former tone, that only became more hurried and full of fear as the tempest approached, ”these awful storms are no part of heaven. They are wholly of earth, and seem the counterparts of those wild outbreaks of human pa.s.sion from which I and so many poor women in the past have suffered;” and a low sob shook her frame. ”I wish I had more of good Mr. Yocomb's spirit; for this appalling cloud seems to me the very incarnation of evil. Why _does_ G.o.d permit such things?”
With a front as calm and serene as that of any ancient prophet could have been, Mr. Yocomb began repeating the sublime words, ”The voice of Thy thunder was in the heavens; the lightnings lightened the world.”
”Oh, no, no!” cried the trembling girl, ”the G.o.d I wors.h.i.+p is not in the storm nor in the fire, but in the still small voice of love. You may think me very weak to be so moved, but truly I cannot help it. My whole nature shrinks from this.” I took her hand as I said warmly, ”I do understand you, Miss Warren. Unconsciously you have fully explained your mood and feeling. It's in truth your nature, your sensitive, delicate organism, that shrinks from this wild tumult that is coming.
In the higher moral tests of courage, when the strongest man might falter and fail, you would be quietly steadfast.”
She gave my hand a quick, strong pressure, and then withdrew it as she said, ”I hope you are right; you interpret me so generously that I hope I may some day prove you right.”
”I need no proof. I saw your very self in the garden.”
”How strange--how strange it all is!” she resumed, with a manner that betokened a strong nervous excitability. ”Can this be the same world--these the same scenes that were so full of peace and beauty an hour ago? How tremendous is the contrast between the serene, lovely June day and evening just pa.s.sed and this coming tempest, whose sullen roar I already hear with increasing dread! Mr. Morton, you said in jest that this was a day of fate. Why did you use the expression? It haunts me, oppresses me. Possibly it is. I rarely give way to presentiments, but I dread the coming of this storm inexpressibly. Oh!” and she trembled violently as a heavier peal than we had yet heard filled the wide valley with awful echoes.
”Not even a sparrow shall fall to the ground without your Father. We are safe, my child. G.o.d will s.h.i.+eld thee more lovingly than I;” and he drew her closer to him.
”I know what you say is true, and yet I cannot control this mortal fear and weakness.”
”No, Miss Warren, you cannot,” I said; ”therefore do not blame yourself. You tremble as these trees and shrubs will be agitated in a few moments, because you cannot help it.”
”You are not so moved.”
”No, nor will that post be moved,” I replied, with a reckless laugh. ”I must admit that I am very much excited, however, for the air is full of electricity. I can't help thinking of the little robins in a home open to the sky.”
Her only answer was a low sob, but not for a moment did she take her wide, terror-stricken gaze from the cloud whose slow, deliberate advance was more terrible than gusty violence would have been.
The phenomena had now become so awful that we did not speak again for some moments. The great inky ma.s.s was extending toward the eastward, and approaching the fire burning on the mountain-top, and the moon rising above and to the left of it; and from beneath its black shadow came a heavy, m.u.f.fled sound that every moment deepened and intensified.
Suddenly, as if shaken by a giant's hands, the tree-tops above us swayed to and fro; then the shrubbery along the paths seemed full of wild terror and writhed in every direction.