Part 16 (2/2)
”Make one word of it, David--I am not a sister to you.”
”I don't say that, but you might be kinder; you are against me just when I want you with me the most.”
”Now this is what I like,” said Eve, cheerfully; ”this is plain speaking. So now it is my turn, my lad. Do you remember Balaam and his a.s.s?”
”Sure,” said David; but, used as he was to Eve's transitions, he couldn't help staring a little at being carried eastward ho so suddenly.
”Then what did the a.s.s say when she broke silence at last?”
”Well, you know, Eve; I take shame to say I don't remember her very words, but the tune of them I do. Why, she sang out, 'Avast there! it is first fault, so you needn't be so hasty with your thundering rope's end.”'
”There! You'd make a nice commentator. You haven't taken it up one bit; you are as much in the dark as our parson. He preached on her the very Sunday you came home, and it was all I could do to help whipping up into the pulpit, and s.n.a.t.c.hing away his book, and letting daylight in on them.”
David was scandalized at the very idea of such a breach of discipline.
”That is ridiculous,” said he; ”one can't have two skippers in a church any more than in a s.h.i.+p, brig, or bark. But you can let daylight in on me.”
”I mean. To begin: the a.s.s was in the right and Balaam in the wrong; so what becomes of your 'first fault?' She was frugal of her words, but every syllable was a needle; the worst is, some skins are so thick our needles won't enter 'em. Says she, 'This seven years you have known me; always true to the bridle and true to you. Did ever I disobey you before? Then why go and fancy I do it without some great cause that you can't see?' Then the man's eyes were open, and he saw it was destruction his old friend had run back from, and galled his foot to save his life; so of course he thanked her, and blessed her then. Not he. He was too much of a man.”
”Ay, ay, I see; but what is the moral? for I have no heart to expound riddles.”
”Oh, I'll tell you the moral sooner than you'll like, perhaps. The a.s.s is a type, David. In Holy Writ you know almost everything is a type.
When a thing means one thing and stands for another, that's a type.”
”Ducks can swim--at least I've heard so. Now if you could tell me what she is a type of?”
”What, the a.s.s? Don't you know? Why, of women, to be sure--of us poor creatures of burden, underrated and misunderstood all the world over.
And Balaam he stands for men, and for you at the head of them,” cried she, turning round with flas.h.i.+ng eyes on David; ”you have known me and my true affection more than seven years, or seventeen. I carried you in my arms when you were a year old and I was six. You were my little curly-headed darling, and have been from that day to this. Did ever I cross you, or be cold or unkind to you, till the other day?”
”No, Eve, no, no, no! Come sit beside me.
”Then shouldn't you have said, 'Don't s...o...b..r _me;_ I won't have it; you and I are bad friends.' Oughtn't you to have said, 'Eve could never give herself the pain of crossing me' (no, there isn't a man in the world with gumption enough to say that--that is a woman's thought); but at least you might have said, 'She sees rocks ahead that I can't.' (Balaam couldn't see the drawn sword ahead, but there it was.) it was for you to say, 'My sister Eve would not change from gay to grave all at once, and from indulging me in everything to thwarting me and vexing me, unless she saw some great danger threatening your peace of mind, your career in life, your very reason, perhaps.'”
”I have been to blame, Eve; but speak out and let me know the worst.
You have heard something against her character? Speak plain out, for Heaven's sake!”
”It is all very well of you to say speak plain out, but there are things girls don't like to speak about to any man. But after what you said, that you would listen to me if I--so it is my duty. You will see my face red enough in about a minute. Two years ago I couldn't have done this even for you. It is hard I must expose my own folly--my own crime.”
”Why, Eve, la.s.s, how you tremble! Drop it now! drop it!”
”Hold your tongue!” said Eve, sharply, but in considerable agitation.
”It is too late now, after something you have said to me. If I didn't speak out now, I should be like that bad man you told us of, who let out the beacon light when the wind was blowing hard on sh.o.r.e. Listen, David, and take my words to heart. The road you are on now I have been upon, only I went much farther on it than you shall go.” She resumed after a short pause: ”You remember Henry d.y.k.e?”
”What, the young clergyman, who used to be always alongside you at our last anchorage?”
”Yes. He was just such a man as Miss Fountain is a woman. He was but a dish of skim-milk, yet he could poison my life.”
<script>