Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said: "He must be better."
At the table she asked, "How do you find yourself now?"
"Much given to appet.i.te." Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said, abruptly, "Do you believe in witchcraft?"
"Well, no, sir," said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback.
"I do!" continued he, emphatically.
"When and where have you had experience of the black art?"
"This morning, and in your house, sir."
"You seem none the worse for it," said his host, smiling.
"Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer if I am practiced upon any more."
"Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witchery this exceeds,"
said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appet.i.te comes of it."
"It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result," replied Gregory. "What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salem witches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything like mine."
"You must remember that the question of what was agreeable or otherwise scarcely entered into a Puritan"s motives."
"I am not so sure of that," he answered, quickly. "It has ever seemed to me that the good people of other days went into persecution with a zeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will have their excitements, and a good rousing persecution used to stir things like the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day."
"Granting," said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor--and these must be mainly charged to the age--still you must admit that among them were earnest men who did from good motives what appears very wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principles were embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evil through the suffering and death of these poor creatures."
"And then consider the simplicity and ease of the persecutor"s method,"
continued Gregory, mockingly. "A man"s head has become full of supposed doctrinal errors. To refute and banish these would require much study and argument on the part of the opponent. It was so much easier to take an obstinate heretic"s head off than to argue with him! I think it was the simplicity of the persecutor"s method that kept it in favor so long."
"But it never convinced any one," said Annie, "and the man killed merely goes into another world of the same opinion still."
"And there probably learns, poor fellow, that both were wrong, and that he had better have been content with good dinners and a quiet life, and let theology alone."
"The world would move but slowly, if all men were content with "good dinners and a quiet life,"" said Annie, satirically. "But you have not answered my question. Could not good, earnest men have been very cruel, believing that everything depended on their uprooting some evil of their day?"
"To tell the truth, Miss Walton," he replied, a little nettled, "I have no sympathy with that style of men. To me they are very repulsive and ridiculous. They remind me of the breathless, perspiring politicians of our time, who b.u.t.ton-hole you and a.s.sert that the world will come to an end unless John Smith is elected. To me, the desperate earnestness of people who imagine it their mission to set the world right is excessively tiresome. For one man or a thousand to proclaim that they speak for G.o.d and embody truth, and that the race should listen and obey, is the absurdity of arrogance."
"If we were to agree with you, should we not have to say that the prophets should have kept their visions to themselves, and that Luther should have remained in his cell, and Columbus have coasted alongsh.o.r.e and not insisted on what was to all the world an absurdity?"
"Come, Miss Walton," said Gregory, with a vexed laugh as they rose from the table, "you are a witch. I am willing to argue with flesh and blood, but I would rather hear you sing. Still, since you have swept away these clouds so I can have my ramble, I will forgive you for unhorsing me in our recent tilt."
"If you would mount some good honest hobby and ride it hard, I doubt whether any one could unhorse you," she replied in a low tone, as she accompanied him to the parlor.
"Men with hobbies are my detestation, Miss Walton."
"Nevertheless, they are the true knights-errant of our age. Of course it depends upon what kind of hobbies they ride, or whether they can manage their steeds."
"Miss Walton, your figure suggests a half-idiot, with a narrow forehead and one idea, banging back and forth on a wooden horse, but making no progress--in other words, a fussy, bustling man who can do and talk but one thing."
"Your understanding of the popular phrase is narrow and literal, and while it may have such a meaning, it can also have a very different one. Suppose that, instead of looking with languid eyes alike upon all things, a man finds some question of vital import, or a pursuit that promises good to himself and to others and that enlists his interest.
He comes at last to give it his best energies and thought. The whole current of his life is setting in that direction. Of course he must ever be under the restraints of good sense and refinement. A man"s life without a hobby is a weak and wavering line of battle indefinitely long. One"s life with a hobby is a concentrated charge."
There was in Miss Walton"s face and manner, as she uttered these words, that which caused him to regard her with involuntary admiration.
Suddenly he asked, "Have you a hobby?"
Her manner changed instantly, and with an arch look she said, "If you detest a man with a hobby, what a monster a woman with one would be in your eyes!"
"I have admitted that you are a witch."
"Oh, I am a monster already, and so have no character to lose. But where is your penetration? If a man with a hobby is idiotic, narrow-browed, fussy and bustling, excessively obtrusive with his one idea, a woman must be like him with all these things exaggerated. Has it not occurred to you that I have a hobby of the most wooden and clumsy order?"
"But that was my idea of a hobby. You have spiritualized my wooden block into a Pegasus--the symbol of inspiration. Have you such a hobby?"
"I have."
"What is it?"
She went out of the room, saying smilingly over her shoulder, "You must find that out for yourself."
CHAPTER X
A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON
Gregory was soon off for his ramble. The storm had cleared away, leaving the air so warm and genial as to suggest spring rather than fall; but he was quite oblivious of the outer world, and familiar scenes had not the power to awaken either pleasant or painful a.s.sociations. He was trying to account for the influence that Annie Walton had suddenly gained over him, but it was beyond his philosophy.
This provoked him. His cool, worldly nature doubted everything and especially everybody. He believed in the inherent weakness of humanity, and that if people were exceptionally good it was because they had been exceptionally fortunate in escaping temptation. He also had a cynical pleasure in seeing such people tripping and stumbling, so that he might say in self-excusing, "We are all alike."
And yet he was compelled to admit that if Annie"s goodness was seeming it was higher art than he had known before. There was also an unconscious a.s.sertion of superiority in her manner that he did not like. True, things had turned out far better than he had expected.
There was no cant about her. She did not lecture him or "talk religion"
in what he regarded as the stereotyped way, and he was sure she would not, even if they became better acquainted. But there is that in genuine goodness and n.o.bility of character that always humiliates the bad and makes them feel their degradation. A real pity and sympathy for him tinged her manner, but these qualities are not agreeable to pride.
And it must be admitted that she had a little self-righteous satisfaction that she was so much better than this sadly robbed and wounded man suddenly appearing at the wayside of her life. In human strength there is generally a trace of arrogance. Only divine strength and purity can say with perfect love and full allowance for all weakness and adverse influences, "Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more."
Gregory had now reached a rustic bridge across a little stream that, swollen from the recent rain, came gurgling and clamoring down from the hills. Leaning upon the rail he seemed to watch the foaming water glide under his feet; but the outward vision made no impression on his mind.
At last in the consciousness of solitude he said: "She told me I must find her out. I will. I will know whether she is as free from human frailty as she seems. I have little doubt that before many days I can cause her to show all the inherent weaknesses of her s.e.x; and I should think New York and Paris had taught me what they are. She has never been tempted. She has never been subjected to the delicate flattery of an accomplished man of the world. I am no gross libertine. I could not be in this place. I could not so wrong hospitality and the household of my father"s friend. But I should like to prove to that girl her delusion, and show her that she is a weak woman like the rest; that she is a pretty painted ship that has never been in a storm, and therefore need not sail so confidently. We all start on the voyage of life as little skiffs and pleasure boats might cross the ocean. If any get safely over, it is because they were lucky enough not to meet dangerous currents or rough weather. I should like her better with her piquant ways if she were more like myself. Saints and Madonnas are well enough in pictures, but such as I would find them very uncomfortable society."
With sudden power the thought flashed upon him, "Why not let her make you as she is?" Where did the thought come from? Tell me not that the Divine Father forgets His children. He is speaking to them continually, only they will not hear. There was a brief pa.s.sionate wish on the part of this bad man that she might be what she seemed and that he could become like her. As the turbulent, muddy Jordan divided that G.o.d"s people might pa.s.s through, so this thought from heaven found pa.s.sage through his heart, and then the current of sinful impulse and habit flowed on as before. With the stupidity of evil he was breaking the clew that G.o.d had dropped into his hand even when desperately weary of his lost state. He is wrecked and helpless on the wide ocean; a ship is coming to his rescue; and his first effort is that this vessel also may be wrecked or greatly injured in the attempt.
There is no insanity like that of a perverted heart. The adversary of souls has so many human victims doing his work that he can fold his hands in idleness. And yet according to the world"s practice, and we might almost say its code, Gregory purposed nothing that would be severely condemned--nothing more than an ordinary flirtation, as common in society as idleness, love of excitement, and that power over others which ministers to vanity. He had no wish to be able to say anything worse of her than that under temptation she would be as vain and heartless a coquette as many others that he knew in what is regarded as good society. He would have cut off his right hand, as he then felt, rather than have sought to lead her into gross sin.
And yet what did Gregory purpose in regard to Annie but to take the heavenly bloom and beauty from her character? As if they can be lovely to either G.o.d or man of whom it can be said only, They commit no overt crime. What is the form of a rose without its beauty and fragrance?
They who tempt to evil are the real iconoclasts. They destroy G.o.d"s image.