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From Jest to Earnest

<h1 id="id01759" style="margin-top: 6em">CHAPTER XXII.</h1> <h5 id="id01760">"YOU MUST WAIT AND SEE."</h5> "How can you leave Miss Martell?" asked Lottie, as Hemstead approached propitiatingly with a large armful of the choicest evergreens. "Well, I can," he replied with a smile. "As yet, but the next time you will stay longer, and the next longer still." "That depends. I would not remain at her side, nor at any one's, if I thought they were tiring of me a little." "O, she got tired of you." "Well, yes; a little, I think. She suddenly seemed to lose her interest in the conversation. Still she was very good to talk to me as long and as kindly as she did. She is a very superior woman. It has never been my good fortune to meet just such a lady before." "Make the most of your rare 'good fortune.'" "I have." "And now that she is tired of you, you come back to me as a dernier ressort." "Coming back to you, is like coming back home, for you have given me the only home-like feeling that I have had during my visit." The language of coquetry was to Lottie like her mother-tongue, and she fell into it as naturally as she breathed. Only now, instead of suggesting the false hope that he had been missed and she had cared, it expressed her true feeling, for she did care. De Forrest now returned from a momentary absence, and had it not been for his garrulity the little group would have been a rather silent one. Both young men sought to supply Lottie with the sprays of green that she was twining. She took the evergreens chiefly from De Forrest's hands, but gave her thoughts and eyes to Hemstead. He, with man's usual penetration, thought De Forrest the favored one, and was inclined to reverse his half-formed opinion that she was destined to pathetic martyrdom, because bound by an engagement to a man whom she could not love. "He can't think much of me," thought Lottie, with a sigh, "or he couldn't speak so frankly." She, too, was losing her wonted quick discernment. Only lynx-eyed Bel Parton partially surmised the truth, and suspected that Lottie was developing a genuine, though of course a passing interest, in the student whom at first she had purposed to beguile in mere reckless sport. During the remainder of the afternoon and evening, De Forrest was Lottie's shadow, and she could escape him, and be with Hemstead, only by remaining with all the others. She was longing for another of their suggestive talks, when, without the restraint of the curious and unsympathetic, they could continue the theme that De Forrest had interrupted on Sunday afternoon. She was thinking how to bring this about, when the old plan of visiting Mrs. Dlimm occurred to her, and she adopted it at once. Getting a moment aside with Hemstead, by being down to breakfast a little before the others, she said, "After my naughty behavior in regard to our visit to Mrs. Dlimm, will you still take me there?" "I wish you would give me a chance," he answered eagerly. "Well, I will, at ten this morning. But please say nothing about it. Drive to the door in the cutter, and I will be ready. If the matter is discussed, there may be half a dozen other projects started." Hemstead ate but an indifferent breakfast, and there was also a faint glow of expectant excitement in Lottie's face. Hemstead promptly sought his aunt, and asked if he might have a horse and the single sleigh. "I hope another time will answer," said Mrs. Marchmont, carelessly. "Addie wishes the horses this morning, but I believe proposes taking you all out." But Hemstead was not to be baffled, and acted with more energy than prudence perhaps. Lottie from her window saw him posting with long strides towards the village, and exultingly surmised his object. At ten he drove up to the door with a neat little turnout from the livery stable; and she tripped down and took a seat at his side, and they were off before the rest of the household realized their purpose. They all looked at each other questioningly, as a few moments later they gathered in the parlor for a general sleighride. Mr. Dimmerly, who had quietly watched proceedings, broke out into his cackling laugh, as he chuckled, "He shows his blood. A dozen seminaries could not quench him utterly." Mrs. Marchmont frowned. She rigidly applied the rules of propriety to all save her own children, and she justly thought that both Hemstead and Lottie had failed in courtesy to her and her guests, by stealing away, as it were, without any explanations. But people of one idea often fail in more than mere matters of courtesy; and Hemstead and Lottie were emphatically becoming people of one idea. And they both had misgivings and a sense of wrong-doing as they drove away without a word of explanation. Mrs. Marchmont was still more puzzled when Addie exclaimed petulantly, "I thought the agreement was that Lottie should carry out the joke when and where we could all enjoy it." The lady was led to suspect that there was something on foot that might need her investigation, and she quietly resolved to use her eyes and ears judiciously. She well knew that her proud and fashionable sister, Lottie's mother, would hold her to strict account if Lottie did anything foolish. Bel merely shrugged her shoulders cynically. She had a certain kind of loyalty to her friend, and said all her harsh things to Lottie herself, and not behind her back. De Forrest had no other resource than to believe that Lottie was carrying out the practical joke; but a sorry jest he found it that morning, during which he scarcely spoke to any one. They drove over to town for Harcourt, but he greatly provoked Addie by pleading that his business would not permit absence. During the rest of the drive they all might have formed part of a funeral procession. But the snow-crystals did not sparkle in the sunlight more brightly than Lottie's eyes, as she turned to her companion, and said, "I am so delighted that we are safely off on our drive." "O, it's the 'drive' you are thinking of. That is better than I hoped. I thought we were visiting Mrs. Dlimm." "So we are, and I want to see her too," said Lottie, with a sudden blush. "Well, I'm glad you don't dread the long, intervening miles, with no better company than mine." "It's a good chance to learn patient endurance," she replied, with a look delightfully arch. "So please drive slower." The horse instantly came to a walk. "That is the other extreme," she continued. "You always go to extremes, as, for instance, your quixotic purpose to go out among the border ruffians." "Honestly, Miss Marsden," said Hemstead, his laughing face suddenly becoming grave, "you do not now think, in your heart, my purpose to be a home missionary 'quixotic'?" "I don't know much about my heart, Mr. Hemstead, except that it has always been very perverse. But I now wish I had a better one. You have disturbed the equanimity with which I could do wrong most wofully. I even feel a little guilty for leaving them all this morning, with no explanations." "It was hardly right, now I think of it," said Hemstead, reflectively. "Have you just thought of it? How preoccupied you have been! What have you been thinking about? Yes, it was wrong; but as it is the first wicked thing I have caught you in I am quite comforted. I have been hoping all along that you would do something just a little bit encouragingly wicked." "How little you understand me! My wickedness and consequent twinges of conscience have been my chief sources of trouble thus far." "O, well, your conscience is like Auntie Jane. A speck of dust gives her the fidgets where other people would not see any dust at all. If your conscience had to deal with my sins there would not be ashes and hair-cloth enough for you." "What good can ashes, hair-cloth, or any kind of self-punishment, or even self-condemnation, do us?" "Well, we ought to be sorry, at least." "Certainly, but there must be more than that. Many a wrong-doer has been sincerely sorry, but has been punished all the same. I cannot tell you, Miss Marsden, how much good you did me on Sunday afternoon. My mind had been dwelling on the attributes of God,—upon doctrines as if they were things by themselves and complete in themselves. I almost fear that I should have become, as I fear some are, the disciple of a religious system, instead of a simple and loyal follower of Christ. But you fixed my eyes on a living personality, who has the right to say, 'I forgive you,' and I am forgiven; who has the right to say, 'I will save you,' and I am saved. If He is the Divine Son of God, as He claims to be, has He not the right?" "Yes. He must be able to do just what is pleasing to Him," said Lottie. "Then look upon Him as you saw Him at the grave of Lazarus,—the very embodiment of sympathy. Suppose that in sincere regret for all the wrong you have ever done, and with the honest wish to be better, you go to such a being and cry, 'Forgive.' Can you doubt His natural, inevitable course towards you? If pardoning love and mercy should encircle you at once, would it not be in perfect keeping with His tears of sympathy?" "And is that all I have to do to get rid of the old, dark record against me? O, how black it looked last Saturday!" "That is all. What more can you do? Who was it that said, 'Be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee'?" "Mr. Hemstead," said Lottie, in a low tone, "I have felt very strangely—differently from any time before in all my life—since last Sunday afternoon. I seemed to look upon Christ as if He were before me, and I saw the tears in His eyes, as I saw them in yours the evening you said such plain things to me, and I have felt a peculiar lightness of heart ever since. That hymn we sang on Sunday evening expressed so exactly what I felt that I was overpowered. It appeared written for me alone. Do you think that I can be a Christian?" Hemstead's eyes glistened, and his heart bounded at the thought; but he felt that he was in a grave and responsible position, and after a moment's thought answered wisely: "I can base no safe and positive answer on your feeling. I have already learned, from my own experience and that of others, that religious feeling is something that comes and goes, and cannot be depended upon. The test question is, How will you treat this Jesus whom you have seen, and who has proved Himself both worthy to win and keep your trust? A little strong feeling and sentiment in regard to Him can not do you much good. What practical relation do you intend to hold towards Him? No doubt many that saw Him weep, and then raise Lazarus after he had been four days dead, were profoundly moved, but the majority went on in their old ways all the same. You abound in strong common sense, and must see that more that even sincere, deep feeling is necessary. What do you propose to DO? Are you willing to take up your cross and become His faithful follower?" "That involves a great deal," said Lottie, with a long breath. "It does indeed," he replied earnestly. "I would give my life to make you a Christian, and yet I would not seek to win you for Him by false pretences, or hide any part of the rugged path of self-denial. Count well the cost. But, believe me, Miss Marsden," he added, in a tone that brought a sudden paleness to her cheek, "not following Him involves far more that is sad and terrible." Tears stood in Lottie's eyes. She was silent a few moments, and was evidently thinking deeply. The young clergyman was desperately in earnest, and fairly trembled in the eagerness of his expectation. He hoped that Lottie would come to a solemn and half-heroic and formal decision. But he was both puzzled and disappointed by the sudden and brusque manner with which she turned upon him as she said: "Where is the heavy cross that I must take up? Show it to me, and I will think about it. Where is the rugged path? This one that leads to Mrs. Dlimm is very pleasant. I don't see anything very awful in being a Christian nowadays. Of course I shall have to give up all my old nonsense and flirt—Well, I suppose I might as well say it out. But there are no Inquisitions, with thumbscrews and racks, any longer. Come, Mr. Hemstead, you are a Christian. What heavy cross are you bearing? I hope you are not in the rugged path of self-denial this morning, while taking me to Mrs. Dlimm's. I don't know any one who appears to enjoy the good things of life more than you. I don't know what answer to give to your solemn and far-reaching questions. I haven't much confidence in what Lottie Marsden will do. All I know is that I feel as I imagine one of those children did whom Jesus took in his arms and blessed." "But suppose," urged her anxious spiritual guide, who felt that she was giving a reason for her faith that would hardly satisfy the grave elders of the church,—"suppose that at some future time He should impose a heavy cross, or ask of you painful self-denial, would you shrink?" She turned her dewy eyes upon him with a look of mingled archness and earnestness that he never forgot, and said significantly, "I do not remember the New Testament story very perfectly, but when the last, dark days came, women stood by their Lord as faithfully as the men,—didn't they?" Hemstead bowed his head in sudden humility, and said: "You are right. It was not woman who betrayed, nor did woman desert or deny Him. Still I treasure the suggestion of your answer beyond all words." The tears stood thick in Lottie's eyes, and she was provoked that they did. Her strong feelings were quick to find expression, and Hemstead seemed to have the power, as no one else ever had, to evoke them. But she had a morbid dislike of showing emotion or anything verging toward sentiment; therefore she would persist in giving a light and playful turn to his sombre earnestness. "I did not mean," she said, "to be so hard upon the men, nor to secure so rich a tribute to my sex. I imagine we all stand in need of charity alike. Only do not expect too much of me. I dare not promise anything. You must wait and see." "Though you promise so little, you inspire me with more confidence than many whom I have heard make great professions"; and the light of a great joy and a great hope shone in his eyes. "You look very happy, Mr. Hemstead," said Lottie, gratefully. "Would you be very glad to have me become a Christian?" He looked at her so earnestly that the rich blood mounted to her very brow. After a moment, he replied, in a low, trembling tone: "I scarcely dare trust myself to answer your question, and yet I do not exaggerate when I assure you that if I could feel that you were a Christian before I go away, it seems as if I could never see a dark day again. O Miss Marsden, how I have hoped and prayed that you might become one!" Her head bowed low in guilty shame. She compared her purpose towards him with his towards her. Before she thought, the words slipped out, "And for all my wrong to you, you seek to give me heaven in return." He looked at her inquiringly, not understanding her remark; but after a moment said, "It would be heaven to me on earth, even in my lonely work in the West, if I could remember that, as a result of our brief acquaintance, you had become a Christian." "Well," she said emphatically, "our acquaintance does promise to end differently from what I expected; and it is because you are different. You are not the kind of a man that I expected you would be." "But I understood you from the first," remarked Hemstead, complacently. "My first impression when you gave me your warm hand, and the only true welcome I received, has been borne out. Though at times you have puzzled me, still, the proof you gave—on the evening of my arrival—of a true, generous, and womanly nature, has been confirmed again and again. It has seemed to me that your faults were due largely to circumstances, but that your good qualities were native." Again Lottie turned away her burning cheeks in deep embarrassment. Should she tell him all? She felt she could not. To lose his good opinion and friendship now seemed terrible. But conscience demanded that she should be perfectly frank and sincere with him, and her fears whispered, "He may learn it from the others, and that would be far worse than if I told him myself." But her moral strength was not yet equal to the test. The old, prevailing influences of her life again swayed her, and she guided the conversation from the topic as a pilot would shun a dangerous rock. "I will tell him all about it at some future time," she thought; "but not yet when the knowledge might drive him away in anger." She seized upon one of his words, which, when spoken, had jarred unpleasantly upon her feeling. "Why do you speak of our acquaintance as brief? Are we to be strangers again after this short visit is over?" "I most positively assure you that you can never be a stranger to me again," he said eagerly. "But in a few days you will go to New York, and I thousands of miles in another direction. If I should tell you how you will dwell in my thoughts like an inspiration, I fear you would think me sentimental. But in your absorbing city life I fear that I shall soon become as a stranger to you." "Well," said Lottie, averting her face, "I don't think I'll promise you anything this time either. You must wait and see. But is that dreadful frontier life of yours a foregone conclusion?" "Yes," he said, with quiet emphasis. "There are plenty of heathen in New York, Mr. Hemstead. You found one of them in me, and see how much good you have done; at least, I hope you have." "There are also plenty of Christians in New York to take care of them. I commend some of the heathen to you." "I fear that they will remain heathen for all that I can do." "No, indeed, Miss Marsden. Please never think that. No one has a right to say, 'I can do nothing,' and you least of all. Apart from your other gifts, you abound in personal magnetism, and almost instantly gain control of those around you." "How mistaken you are! I have no control over you." "More than you think, perhaps," he said, flushing deeply. It was his heart that spoke then, and not his will, instructed by deliberate reason. She too blushed, but said laughingly, "What are words? Let me test my power. Take a church in New York, instead of a thousand miles out of the world." "You are not in earnest," he said, a little sadly. "You would not seek to dissuade me from what I regard as a sacred duty?" "But is it 'a sacred duty'? There are plenty of others—less cultivated, less capable of doing good—in the refined and critical East." "That is not the way a soldier reasons. Some one must go to the front of the battle. And what excuse can such a vigorous young fellow as I am have for hanging back?" As he turned his glowing face upon her she caught his enthusiasm, and said impulsively, "And in the front of the battle I would be, if I were a man, as I often wish I were." "The line of God's battle with evil is very long, Miss Marsden. I think you can find the front in New York as truly as I in the West. In this fight woman can often do as much as man. Won't you try?" "I shall not promise you anything," she said. "You must wait and see." They were now before the parsonage in the hamlet of Scrub Oaks. The sound of the bells brought Mrs. Dlimm's faded face to the window, and on recognizing them she clapped her hands for joy, as one of her own children might have done; and a moment later was smiling upon the little porch, the very embodiment of welcome. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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