CHAPTER VI
LORENZO RATH
IT wasn't to be supposed for a minute that Lorenzo Rath, a real liveyoung man and an artist, shouldn't take first place in the town talk.Jane's remarkable religion might attract the attention of a few who weresufficiently religious themselves to be naturally shocked over thewaffles and depressed over the invalid's recovery, but Lorenzo was ofinterest to every one.
"If he ain't took already, there's a fine chance for Emily," Mr.Cattermole said benevolently to his daughter. Being a man, he naturallysupposed that Mrs. Mead would never have come by such an idea if shehadn't had a bright old father to point it out to her.
"Emily doesn't want to marry," said Mrs. Mead, compressing her lips andexpanding her dignity simultaneously; "she wouldn't marry an artist,anyway."
"Maybe he ain't much of an artist," said Mr. Cattermole, with a tendencyto look on the bright side. "Why don't Emily want to marry? I thoughtgirls always wanted to marry. They did when I was young."
"It's different nowadays," said Mrs. Mead, with condescending reserve."You don't understand, Father, but nothing is like it used to be. Theworld is getting all changed. When Emily was an only child, she waslooked upon as very odd, but most women have an only child nowadays.Life is quite different."
"I'd like to see Emily married," said Mr. Cattermole, thoughtfully.
"Emily has had plenty of chances," said her mother, waving the brave,tattered mother-lie that seems to cover over such cruel wounds.
"Has she really?" said Mr. Cattermole, in genuine surprise. "I didn'tknow that. And she wouldn't have 'em! Laws sakes! Who, for instance?"
"No one you knew," said his daughter, telling the truth then.
"Sarah knew 'em, I suppose?" (Sarah was Mrs. Cowmull.)
"No, no one Sarah knew."
"Think of that now! Why, I s'posed there wasn't nothing Sarah didn'tknow."
In voicing this opinion Mr. Cattermole voiced the town opinion, too. Itwas popularly supposed that Sarah Cowmull always knew everything. Butshe didn't know the status of Lorenzo Rath's heart, and Lorenzo Rathhimself puzzled her not a little.
Lorenzo puzzled everybody, mainly because he was so open and simple thateven a child must have suspected him of keeping something back. Suchfrankness was unthinkable, such innocence incredible.
"Why, he's gallivanting all over with Madeleine, and yet she's gottenanother man's picture on her table!" said Miss Debby to Katie Croft.
"And he's skipping in Mrs. Ralston's gate at all hours," said KatieCroft--"no kind of ceremony to him. The other day he see mother in thewindow, and he waved his hat at her and give her an awful turn. Shedon't see well, and thought he threw a stone at her. She ain't used tocity ways; she's used to country ways. I had to let her smell camphorfor a good hour, and while she was smelling, the kitchen fire went out.I wish he'd keep his hat on his head another time. My life's hard enoughwithout having a artist suddenly set to, to cheer up mother."
"What do you think of Mrs. Ralston's niece? Think she's nice?"
"Nice! With Susan Ralston about as lively as a cricket! I don't thinkmuch of such new ways. I don't know whatever Matilda will say. She'sjust got life all systematized, and now here's Susan up and out of bed.I'm so scared the girl'll come over and go at mother, I don't know whatto do."
"My, suppose Mrs. Croft was to be up and about!" said Miss Debby,opening her eyes widely. "Whatever would you do?"
"Do! I know what I'd do." Young Mrs. Croft looked dark and mysterious."I know just exactly what I'll do. And I'm all ready to do it, and ifI'm interfered with, I will do it,--good and quick, too."
"How is old Mrs. Croft now?" Miss Debby asked.
"Oh, she's grabbin' as ever. I never see such a disposition. She'salways catching at me or the cat or something. Seems to consider it away of attracting attention. Crazy folks has such crazy ideas, and she'scrazy,--crazy as a loon."
Katie Croft took up her market basket and went on up the street. MissDebby stayed behind to wait for the noon mail. "Katie's so bitter," shesaid to herself, shaking her head; "she ought to be more grateful forbeing supported."
Miss Debby forgot that there are few things so irritating in this worldas being supported. It is a situation which has become especiallyunpopular lately, particularly with women and political motives.
But no old worn-out aphorism held for one minute in the breezy bloom ofthe House Where Jane Lived.
"Oh, I'm so happy," Susan exclaimed many times daily, "I'm so happy. Inever felt nothing like your sunshining in all my life before, youSunshine Jane, you! I feel like my own cupboards, all unlocked and airedand nice and used again."
Jane stopped caroling as she kneaded bread and laughed--which soundedequally pleasant.
"I'm as happy as you are, Auntie; it's so nice to be in heaven."
"I used to think maybe I'd die suddenly and find myself there some day,"said Susan. "I'm glad I didn't."
"It's better to live suddenly than to die suddenly," said Jane, merrily;"when people are awfully bothered sometimes, I've heard their friendssay: 'But if you died suddenly, it would work out somehow,' and I wantedto say: 'Why not live suddenly instead of dying suddenly, and theneverything's bound to come out splendidly.'"
"Oh, Jane, what a grand idea,--to live suddenly! That's what I've done,surely."
"Yes," said Jane, "that's what I did, too. Instead of fading out oflife, we just bloomed into life. It's just as easy, and a million timesmore fun."
"And it's all so awfully agreeable," said Susan. "My things look sonice, all set different, and it's so pleasant having folks coming in,and I like it all, and we haven't to fuss with the garden."
"I attend to the garden!" cried a voice outside, and a mysterious handshoved a basket of peas over the window-ledge.
"I know who that is," said Susan; "it's that boy, and he's smeltcinnamon rolls and come to lunch. How do you do?"
Lorenzo, brown and merry, was getting in at the window.
"Why, you've really been weeding!" exclaimed Susan.
"Of course! I've tended the garden ever since you gave it up."
"I declare! Well, I never. Jane, we must give him a bite of something."
"Yes, that's what I came for," said Lorenzo, cheerfully, "cookies,jelly-roll,--anything simple and handy. Madeleine and I were outwalking, discussing our affairs, and when I stopped for the garden, shewent on for her mail. I'm awfully hungry."
"People say you're engaged to her," said Susan. Jane turned to get thetin of cookies.
"Yes, naturally. People say so much. She is a pretty girl, isn'tshe?--but then there's Emily Mead. I must look at myself on all sidesand consider carefully. Old Mr. Cattermole took me to drive yesterdayand told me that he was healthy and his dead wife was healthy and that,except for what killed him, Mr. Mead was healthy, too; and there wasEmily, perfectly healthy and the only grandchild, and why didn't I comeover often,--it wasn't but a step."
"Well, you do beat all," said Susan. Jane offered the tin of cookies.Lorenzo took six. They were all laughing.
Later, when he'd gone away, Susan said, almost shyly this time: "Jane, Idon't want to interfere, but he _is_ in love."
"With Madeleine?"
"With you."
"Auntie," Jane came to her side, "you mustn't speak in that way aboutme. I can't marry,--not possibly. I'm a Sunshine Nurse, and I shall be aSunshine Nurse till I die. I'll make homes happy, but I shall never haveone of my own."
Susan looked frightened and timid. "But why?"
"For many reasons. And all good ones."
There was that in the young girl's tone that ended the subject for thetime being.
But Susan thought of it a great deal, and alone in her room that night,Jane thought, too. She had made herself ready for bed, and then sat downby the window, clasping her hands on the sill. Lorenzo Rath wasbuoyantly dear and jolly, and she realized that he was the nicest manthat she had ever met. It had all been fun, great fun, and she hadenjoyed it mightily. But with all her learning Jane was not
so very muchfarther along the Highway to Happiness than some others. In many casesshe was only a holder of keys as yet--the distinct knowledge to begained by unlocking secrets with their aid was as yet not hers. To holdthe keys and look at the doors is to realize what power means,--but tounlock is to use it. Jane was still a novice; she left the doors lockedand was content to hold the keys, and no more.
The next night Lorenzo appeared again. "I'm half-dead," he said. "I'vetramped twelve miles, sketching."
"Dear, dear," said Susan, "seems like nobody in this world ever wantswhat's close to."
"Sometimes it's no use to want what's close to," said Lorenzo, "or elsewhat's close to is like Emily Mead, and you just ache to run."
"Emily Mead is a very nice girl," said Jane, in a tone clearlyreproachful.
Lorenzo just laughed. But then Susan made some excuse to slip away. "Iwonder if you'd help me a little," he said then, hesitating a bit.
"Is it something that I can do? Of course I'll help you if I can."
"It's something very necessary."
"Necessary?"
"To my welfare and happiness."
"What is it?"
"I think--I'm--falling in love."
"Oh, dear," Jane was carefully tranquil.
"I've never really been in love in my life, so I can't be sure. But Ithink it's that."
Jane said nothing. The room was getting dark.
"I've never seen any one so pretty in all my life as Miss Mar," said theyoung artist, slowly. "You know we're old friends."
"Oh, she's lovely," said Jane, with sudden fervor.
"I thought that we might make up little picnics and walks and things?"hesitated the young man.
"Of course," said Jane, heartily. "And you can come here all you like.Auntie likes you both so much."
Lorenzo Rath stood by the door. "Were you ever in love?" he askedbluntly.
"No," said Jane. "I've never had the least little touch of it."
"Haven't you ever thought about it?"
"No, I've never had time. I've never seen any man that I could or wouldmarry."
"Never?"
"Never."
"That's too bad," said Lorenzo Rath slowly. "Seems to me you'd make sucha splendid wife."
She laughed a little. Then she had to wink quickly to drive back tearswhich leapt suddenly.
"I won't say any more," said Lorenzo. She thought that he did not careto speak of Madeleine to her.
Then she went. And later she found herself sitting in her own roomagain, sitting by the same window, thinking. "Poor Emily Mead and herillusory millionaire! I'm about as silly as she is," thought Jane. "Andyet I know it's higher and more beautiful to make life lovely for othersthan to make it lovely for one's self." She sighed because thereflection--all altruistic as it was--was not quite the truth, and shewas true enough herself to feel jarred by the slightest cross-shadow offalsehood. Truth plays as widely and freely as the sunbeams themselvesand goes as straight to the heart of each and all.
Finally she opened a little book and read aloud a few pages to herselfin a low tone. "I know I'm on the right path," she said, when she hadclosed the book; "the thing is to stick resolutely to keeping onstraight ahead. And I must be absolutely content with all that comes.You have to be content if you're going to grow in goodness, for you haveto know that you've been trying and been successful." She sat still awhile longer and then rose with a deep, long breath. "Well, to-day'sbeen something, and to-morrow I'll be something better, I know."
The truth did shine then, and she went to bed calmed, but was hardlystretched down between the cool sheets when Susan rapped at the door.
"Come in."
"Oh, Jane, I can't sleep. I've got to thinking of when Matilda comesback, and I'm scared blue."