"Nor I. But I have it now."
"What does your religion compel you to give up? Peachie absolutely refuses to join the church because it won"t allow dancing, and the child loves to dance better than anything in the world. They tell me, too, that she dances like a fairy." Aunt Angie p.r.o.nounced it "fayry."
"Why, that is one of the best things about Christian Science. It requires you to give up no innocent pleasure. It only cautions one against indulging to excess in anything. Dancing, card-playing, games,--why, some of the best card-players I know are Christian Scientists, but they don"t lose their tempers when they lose a game and they don"t cheat to win. In fact, one of the most graceful things I have ever seen done was when two ladies tied for the prize--a beautiful gold vase--at a bridge party Addie gave just before she closed her house, and the lady who won had played coolly, well, and won by merit.
The other flung herself back in her chair with an exclamation, showing by her suffused face and clenched hands every sign of ill-temper. My sister-in-law brought the prize to the winner, who, with the prettiest grace imaginable, thanked her and then presented it, by Addie"s permission, to the vexed lady who had lost. You should have seen the recipient"s face! Surprise, humiliation, and cupidity struggled almost audibly for supremacy. She protested feebly, but ended by taking it. A number of others gathered around, attracted by the unusual scene, and suddenly the owner of the vase said to the giver of it: "I would like to know what church you go to." "Well, as none of you know, you may guess," she answered. They guessed Baptist, Methodist, Unitarian, Episcopal, and finally the recipient of the vase said: "No, you are all wrong. I believe she is a Christian Scientist, because no one but a Christian Scientist would give up a gold vase!""
"I like that," said Aunt Angie, promptly. "And I think the churches make a mistake in forbidding innocent pleasures. Oh, why don"t they dwell on the good instead of squabbling over the bad?"
"You have described one of the chief differences between the Christian Science and the other churches," cried Carolina. "Why, Aunt Angie, you are a ready-made Scientist!"
"Am I? Well, we shall see. Now tell me when you can go to see Flower.
Was Moultrie able to buy Araby for you?"
"No, Mr. Mazyck refused to sell her. But Moultrie has lent me Scintilla until he can find another good horse for me."
"But you especially wanted Araby, didn"t you?"
"Yes, because she is a direct descendant of the sire of my grandfather"s favourite saddle-horse. And she is simply perfect, Aunt Angie."
"I am afraid Barney Mazyck is hopeless. If he wants a thing, he wants it and is going to keep it."
"I know; but I have not despaired of getting her yet. Perhaps I am just as bent upon getting her as Mr. Barnwell Mazyck is upon keeping her."
"And in that case--"
"Well, I wouldn"t put any money on Mr. Mazyck!" laughed Carolina.
In the slight pause which ensued, Carolina could see that Mrs. La Grange was ill at ease. Suddenly she turned to the girl and said:
"My dear, doubtless you think it strange that I do not know beyond a doubt the state of my own little grandson"s sight, but--"
"I know," said Carolina, gently. "I have heard."
"Who told you? Some stranger?"
"No, Moultrie told me."
"Ah, then you have heard the truth! It is a terrible grief to us, Carolina. Think of the child! I do not know who my own grandson is descended from!"
"But you will know," said Carolina, earnestly. "And soon. I--we have a right to expect G.o.d"s harmony in our lives."
Mrs. La Grange looked at her curiously, but only said, with a sigh:
"I am sure I hope you may be right."
It was arranged that Carolina was to meet Mrs. La Grange at Flower"s the next afternoon at three o"clock.
"Can"t you go in the morning?" asked Mrs. La Grange.
"I have an appointment with the architect from Charleston and the builders at Guildford at ten. We wouldn"t get through in time, I am afraid, for there will be so much to discuss."
"Won"t you be too tired?"
"I never get tired. There is rest in action for me."
Mrs. La Grange shook her head, but not in disapproval.
"I hope I am going to like it. If I like all of it as well as I do the sample bits you have fed me with, I think, as you say, you may find that I have been a Scientist all my life without knowing it."
Mrs. La Grange looked into the girl"s pure, beautiful face scrutinizingly, as if to learn her secret of happiness, and, as she did so, she was surprised to see it suffused by a blush which rose in delicate waves to her hair. Looking about in surprise for a cause, Mrs.
La Grange saw her son Moultrie approaching. Could Carolina have recognized his step without seeing him, and was that blush for Moultrie?
The question could not be answered at once, nor did she see them together the next day, for Carolina was late in keeping her appointment, and, by the time she arrived, the awful truth was known. Mrs. La Grange had been so overcome that Moultrie was obliged to take her home.
The moment Carolina rode up to the house, she knew that something had happened. The house, a mere cabin, was ominously quiet, and no one came to meet her.
She dismounted hurriedly, fastened Scintilla to the fence, and ran up the steps. No one answered her knock. She pushed open the door and entered.
At first she saw no one, but presently she heard heavy breathing, and, crouching on the floor, in the darkest corner of the room, she saw Flower, holding the still form of her baby in her arms. Her posture and the glare in her eyes were tigerish.
With a low cry, Carolina sprang to her side.
"Oh, Flower, darling! What is the matter with your baby?"
"You may take him," said Flower, dully. "You care! You cared yesterday. I can tell. She only cares because Arthur is a La Grange.
You will care just because he a helpless little blind baby. Oh! oh!"
"Not blind, Flower! Don"t say it. Don"t think it. Your baby sees."
"No, Cousin Carol. You are good and kind, but Mrs. La Grange made me see for myself. We took a candle and held it so close to his eyes we nearly burned his little face--"
"You?" cried Carolina. "Were you in the room?"
"That"s what Moultrie said, but you don"t either of you know. When you have a child of your own, you will both understand that a mother can"t keep away. She must know the worst, and she must be there when it happens."
"Oh, poor Flower! Poor child!" cried Carolina, weeping unrestrainedly.
She cuddled the baby"s face in her neck, and Flower watched her apathetically. Flower"s face was suffused from stormy weeping, but she had wept herself out.
"And you had to bear this all alone, poor lamb!"
"I wanted to be alone! I wanted her to go. They meant to be kind, but they don"t love me, and they don"t love my little baby. I would rather be alone. Who could I send for--the priest? When he predicted it?"
"What did he predict?" asked Carolina, quickly.
"He was very angry because we went to New York to be married. He lost fifty dollars by it. That is what he charges even poor people like me.
And because I married a heretic, and because I was not married by a priest, he cursed me and my offspring. Then--" she broke off suddenly and cried: "Oh, why do I tell it all? Why do I trust even you?"
"Because you know that I can help you," said Carolina, gravely.