Ninth Chronicle. THE GREEN ISLE
Many a green isle needs must be In the deep sea of misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night and night and day, Drifting on his weary way.
--Shelley
Meantime in these frosty autumn days life was crowded with events in thelonely Simpson house at Acreville.
The tumble-down dwelling stood on the edge of Pliney's Pond; so calledbecause old Colonel Richardson left his lands to be divided in fiveequal parts, each share to be chosen in turn by one of his five sons,Pliny, the eldest, having priority of choice.
Pliny Richardson, having little taste for farming, and being ardentlyfond of fishing, rowing, and swimming, acted up to his reputationof being "a little mite odd," and took his whole twenty acres inwater--hence Pliny's Pond.
The eldest Simpson boy had been working on a farm in Cumberland Countyfor two years. Samuel, generally dubbed "see-saw," had lately found ahumble place in a shingle mill and was partially self-supporting. ClaraBelle had been adopted by the Foggs; thus there were only three mouthsto fill, the capacious ones of Elijah and Elisha, the twin boys, andof lisping, nine-year-old Susan, the capable houseworker andmother's assistant, for the baby had died during the summer; died ofdiscouragement at having been born into a family unprovided with foodor money or love or care, or even with desire for, or appreciation of,babies.
There was no doubt that the erratic father of the house had turned overa new leaf. Exactly when he began, or how, or why, or how long he wouldcontinue the praiseworthy process,--in a word whether there would bemore leaves turned as the months went on,--Mrs. Simpson did not know,and it is doubtful if any authority lower than that of Mr. Simpson'sMaker could have decided the matter. He had stolen articles for swappingpurposes for a long time, but had often avoided detection, and alwaysescaped punishment until the last few years. Three fines imposed forsmall offenses were followed by several arrests and two imprisonmentsfor brief periods, and he found himself wholly out of sympathy withthe wages of sin. Sin itself he did not especially mind, but the wagesthereof were decidedly unpleasant and irksome to him. He also mindedvery much the isolated position in the community which had lately becomehis; for he was a social being and would ALMOST rather not steal from aneighbor than have him find it out and cease intercourse! This feelingwas working in him and rendering him unaccountably irritable anddepressed when he took his daughter over to Riverboro at the time of thegreat flag-raising.
There are seasons of refreshment, as well as seasons of drought, in thespiritual, as in the natural world, and in some way or other dewsand rains of grace fell upon Abner Simpson's heart during that briefjourney. Perhaps the giving away of a child that he could not supporthad made the soil of his heart a little softer and readier for plantingthan usual; but when he stole the new flag off Mrs. Peter Meserve'sdoorsteps, under the impression that the cotton-covered bundlecontained freshly washed clothes, he unconsciously set certain forces inoperation.
It will be remembered that Rebecca saw an inch of red bunting peepingfrom the back of his wagon, and asked the pleasure of a drive with him.She was no daughter of the regiment, but she proposed to follow theflag. When she diplomatically requested the return of the sacredobject which was to be the glory of the "raising" next day, and he thusdiscovered his mistake, he was furious with himself for having slippedinto a disagreeable predicament; and later, when he unexpectedly faceda detachment of Riverboro society at the cross-roads, and met not onlytheir wrath and scorn, but the reproachful, disappointed glance ofRebecca's eyes, he felt degraded as never before.
The night at the Centre tavern did not help matters, nor the jollypatriotic meeting of the three villages at the flag-raising nextmorning. He would have enjoyed being at the head and front of thefestive preparations, but as he had cut himself off from all suchfriendly gatherings, he intended at any rate to sit in his wagon on thevery outskirts of the assembled crowd and see some of the gayety; for,heaven knows, he had little enough, he who loved talk, and song, andstory, and laughter, and excitement.
The flag was raised, the crowd cheered, the little girl to whom he hadlied, the girl who was impersonating the State of Maine, was on theplatform "speaking her piece," and he could just distinguish some of thewords she was saying:
"For it's your star, my star, all the stars together, That makes ourcountry's flag so proud To float in the bright fall weather."
Then suddenly there was a clarion voice cleaving the air, and he sawa tall man standing in the centre of the stage and heard him crying:"THREE CHEERS FOR THE GIRL THAT SAVED THE FLAG FROM THE HANDS OF THEENEMY!"
He was sore and bitter enough already; lonely, isolated enough; withno lot nor share in the honest community life; no hand to shake, noneighbor's meal to share; and this unexpected public arraignment smotehim between the eyes. With resentment newly kindled, pride wounded,vanity bleeding, he flung a curse at the joyous throng and drove towardhome, the home where he would find his ragged children and meet thetimid eyes of a woman who had been the loyal partner of his poverty anddisgraces.
It is probable that even then his (extremely light) hand was already onthe "new leaf." The angels, doubtless, were not especially proud of thematter and manner of his reformation, but I dare say they were glad tocount him theirs on any terms, so difficult is the reformation of thisblind and foolish world! They must have been; for they immediatelyflung into his very lap a profitable, and what is more to the point, aninteresting and agreeable situation where money could be earned by doingthe very things his nature craved. There were feats of daring to beperformed in sight of admiring and applauding stable boys; the horseshe loved were his companions; he was OBLIGED to "swap," for Daly, hisemployer, counted on him to get rid of all undesirable stock; power andresponsibility of a sort were given him freely, for Daly was no Puritan,and felt himself amply capable of managing any number of Simpsons;so here were numberless advantages within the man's grasp, and wagesbesides!
Abner positively felt no temptation to steal; his soul expanded withpride, and the admiration and astonishment with which he regardedhis virtuous present was only equaled by the disgust with which hecontemplated his past; not so much a vicious past, in his own generousestimation of it, as a "thunderin' foolish" one.
Mrs. Simpson took the same view of Abner's new leaf as the angels.She was thankful for even a brief season of honesty coupled with theSaturday night remittance; and if she still washed and cried and criedand washed, as Clara Belle had always seen her, it was either because ofsome hidden sorrow, or because her poor strength seemed all at once tohave deserted her.
Just when employment and good fortune had come to the step-children, andher own were better fed and clothed than ever before, the pain that hadalways lurked, constant but dull, near her tired heart, grew fierceand triumphantly strong; clutching her in its talons, biting, gnawing,worrying, leaving her each week with slighter powers of resistance.Still hope was in the air and a greater content than had ever been herswas in her eyes; a content that came near to happiness when the doctorordered her to keep her bed and sent for Clara Belle. She could not washany longer, but there was the ever new miracle of the Saturday nightremittance for household expenses.
"Is your pain bad today, mother," asked Clara Belle, who, only latelygiven away, was merely borrowed from Mrs. Fogg for what was thought tobe a brief emergency.
"Well, there, I can't hardly tell, Clara Belle," Mrs. Simpson replied,with a faint smile. "I can't seem to remember the pain these dayswithout it's extra bad. The neighbors are so kind; Mrs. Little has sentme canned mustard greens, and Mrs. Benson chocolate ice cream and mincepie; there's the doctor's drops to make me sleep, and these blanketsand that great box of eatables from Mr. Ladd; and you here to keep mecomp'ny! I declare I'm kind o' dazed with comforts. I never expected tosee sherry wine in this house. I ain't never drawed the cork; it doesme good enough jest to look at Mr. Ladd's bottle settin' on themantel-piece with the fire shinin' on the bro
wn glass."
Mr. Simpson had come to see his wife and had met the doctor just as hewas leaving the house.
"She looks awful bad to me. Is she goin' to pull through all right, sameas the last time?" he asked the doctor nervously.
"She's going to pull right through into the other world," the doctoranswered bluntly; "and as there don't seem to be anybody else to takethe bull by the horns, I'd advise you, having made the woman's lifeabout as hard and miserable as you could, to try and help her to dieeasy!"
Abner, surprised and crushed by the weight of this verbal chastisement,sat down on the doorstep, his head in his hands, and thought a whilesolemnly. Thought was not an operation he was wont to indulge in, andwhen he opened the gate a few minutes later and walked slowly towardthe barn for his horse, he looked pale and unnerved. It is uncommonlystartling, first to see yourself in another man's scornful eyes, andthen, clearly, in your own.
Two days later he came again, and this time it was decreed that heshould find Parson Carll tying his piebald mare at the post.
Clara Belle's quick eye had observed the minister as he alighted fromhis buggy, and, warning her mother, she hastily smoothed the bedclothes,arranged the medicine bottles, and swept the hearth.
"Oh! Don't let him in!" wailed Mrs. Simpson, all of a flutter at theprospect of such a visitor. "Oh, dear! They must think over to thevillage that I'm dreadful sick, or the minister wouldn't never thinkof callin'! Don't let him in, Clara Belle! I'm afraid he will say hardwords to me, or pray to me; and I ain't never been prayed to since I wasa child! Is his wife with him?"
"No; he's alone; but father's just drove up and is hitching at the sheddoor."
"That's worse than all!" and Mrs. Simpson raised herself feebly on herpillows and clasped her hands in despair. "You mustn't let them twomeet, Clara Belle, and you must send Mr. Carll away; your fatherwouldn't have a minister in the house, nor speak to one, for a thousanddollars!"
"Be quiet, mother! Lie down! It'll be all right! You'll only fretyourself into a spell! The minister's just a good man; he won't sayanything to frighten you. Father's talking with him real pleasant, andpointing the way to the front door."
The parson knocked and was admitted by the excited Clara Belle, whoushered him tremblingly into the sickroom, and then betook herself tothe kitchen with the children, as he gently requested her.
Abner Simpson, left alone in the shed, fumbled in his vest pocket andtook out an envelope which held a sheet of paper and a tiny packetwrapped in tissue paper. The letter had been read once before and ran asfollows:
Dear Mr. Simpson:
This is a secret letter. I heard that the Acreville people weren't niceto Mrs. Simpson because she didn't have any wedding ring like all theothers.
I know you've always been poor, dear Mr. Simpson, and troubled with alarge family like ours at the farm; but you really ought to have givenMrs. Simpson a ring when you were married to her, right at the veryfirst; for then it would have been over and done with, as they are solidgold and last forever. And probably she wouldn't feel like asking youfor one, because ladies are just like girls, only grown up, and I knowI'd be ashamed to beg for jewelry when just board and clothes costso much. So I send you a nice, new wedding ring to save your buying,thinking you might get Mrs. Simpson a bracelet or eardrops forChristmas. It did not cost me anything, as it was a secret present froma friend.
I hear Mrs. Simpson is sick, and it would be a great comfort to herwhile she is in bed and has so much time to look at it. When I hadthe measles Emma Jane Perkins lent me her mother's garnet ring, and ithelped me very much to put my wasted hand outside the bedclothes and seethe ring sparkling.
Please don't be angry with me, dear Mr. Simpson, because I like youso much and am so glad you are happy with the horses and colts; and Ibelieve now perhaps you DID think the flag was a bundle of washingwhen you took it that day; so no more from your Trusted friend, RebeccaRowena Randall.
Simpson tore the letter slowly and quietly into fragments and scatteredthe bits on the woodpile, took off his hat, and smoothed his hair;pulled his mustaches thoughtfully, straightened his shoulders, and then,holding the tiny packet in the palm of his hand, he went round to thefront door, and having entered the house stood outside the sickroom foran instant, turned the knob and walked softly in.
Then at last the angels might have enjoyed a moment of unmixed joy, forin that brief walk from shed to house Abner Simpson;'s conscience wakedto life and attained sufficient strength to prick and sting, to provokeremorse, to incite penitence, to do all sorts of divine and beautifulthings it was meant for, but had never been allowed to do.
Clara Belle went about the kitchen quietly, making preparations for thechildren's supper. She had left Riverboro in haste, as the change forthe worse in Mrs. Simpson had been very sudden, but since she had comeshe had thought more than once of the wedding ring. She had wonderedwhether Mr. Ladd had bought it for Rebecca, and whether Rebecca wouldfind means to send it to Acreville; but her cares had been so many andvaried that the subject had now finally retired to the background of hermind.
The hands of the clock crept on and she kept hushing the strident tonesof Elijah and Elisha, opening and shutting the oven door to look atthe corn bread, advising Susan as to her dishes, and marveling that theminister stayed so long.
At last she heard a door open and close and saw the old parson comeout, wiping his spectacles, and step into the buggy for his drive to thevillage.
Then there was another period of suspense, during which the house wasas silent as the grave, and presently her father came into the kitchen,greeted the twins and Susan, and said to Clara Belle: "Don't go in thereyet!" jerking his thumb towards Mrs. Simpson's room; "she's all beat outand she's just droppin' off to sleep. I'll send some groceries up fromthe store as I go along. Is the doctor makin' a second call tonight?"
"Yes; he'll be here pretty soon, now," Clara Belle answered, looking atthe clock.
"All right. I'll be here again tomorrow, soon as it's light, and if sheain't picked up any I'll send word back to Daly, and stop here with youfor a spell till she's better."
It was true; Mrs. Simpson was "all beat out." It had been a time ofexcitement and stress, and the poor, fluttered creature was dropping offinto the strangest sleep--a sleep made up of waking dreams. The pain,that had encompassed her heart like a band of steel, lessened its cruelpressure, and finally left her so completely that she seemed to see itfloating above her head; only that it looked no longer like a band ofsteel, but a golden circle.
The frail bark in which she had sailed her life voyage had been rockingon a rough and tossing ocean, and now it floated, floated slowly intosmoother waters.
As long as she could remember, her boat had been flung about in stormand tempest, lashed by angry winds, borne against rocks, beaten, torn,buffeted. Now the waves had subsided; the sky was clear; the sea waswarm and tranquil; the sunshine dried the tattered sails; the air wassoft and balmy.
And now, for sleep plays strange tricks, the bark disappeared from thedream, and it was she, herself, who was floating, floating farther andfarther away; whither she neither knew nor cared; it was enough to be atrest, lulled by the lapping of the cool waves.
Then there appeared a green isle rising from the sea; an isle so radiantand fairy-like that her famished eyes could hardly believe its reality;but it was real, for she sailed nearer and nearer to its shores, and atlast her feet skimmed the shining sands and she floated through theair as disembodied spirits float, till she sank softly at the foot of aspreading tree.
Then she saw the green isle was a flowering isle. Every shrub and bushwas blooming; the trees were hung with rosy garlands, and even the earthwas carpeted with tiny flowers. The rare fragrances, the bird songs,soft and musical, the ravishment of color, all bore down upon herswimming senses at once, taking them captive so completely that sheremembered no past, was conscious of no present, looked forward to nofuture. She seemed to leave the body and the sad, heavy things of thebody. The hummi
ng in her ears ceased, the light faded, the birds songsgrew fainter and more distant, the golden circle of pain receded fartherand farther until it was lost to view; even the flowering island gentlydrifted away, and all was peace and silence.
It was time for the doctor now, and Clara Belle, too anxious to waitlonger, softly turned the knob of her mother's door and entered theroom. The glow of the open fire illumined the darkest side of the poorchamber. There were no trees near the house, and a full November moonstreamed in at the unblinded, uncurtained windows, lighting up the bareinterior--the unpainted floor, the gray plastered walls, and the whitecounterpane.
Her mother lay quite still, her head turned and drooping a little onthe pillow. Her left hand was folded softly up against her breast, thefingers of the right partly covering it, as if protecting somethingprecious.
Was it the moonlight that made the patient brow so white, and where werethe lines of anxiety and pain? The face of the mother who had washedand cried and cried and washed was as radiant as if the closed eye werebeholding heavenly visions.
"Something must have cured her!" thought Clara Belle, awed and almostfrightened by the whiteness and the silence.
She tiptoed across the floor to look more closely at the still, smilingshape, and bending over it saw, under the shadow of the caressing righthand, a narrow gold band gleaming on the work-stained finger.
"Oh, the ring came, after all!" she said in a glad whisper, "and perhapsit was that that made her better!"
She put her hand on her mother's gently. A terrified shiver, a warningshudder, shook the girl from head to foot at the chilling touch. A dreadpresence she had never met before suddenly took shape. It filled theroom; stifled the cry on her lips; froze her steps to the floor, stoppedthe beating of her heart.
Just then the door opened.
"Oh, doctor! Come quick!" she sobbed, stretching out her hand forhelp, and then covering her eyes. "Come close! Look at mother! Is shebetter--or is she dead?"
The doctor put one hand on the shoulder of the shrinking child, andtouched the woman with the other.
"She is better!" he said gently, "and she is dead."