"All right, father, I think."
"Satisfied with the verdict?"
"I"d be pretty hard to please if I weren"t," Joe laughed.
Mr. Louden rubbed his beard again. "I was there," he said, without emotion.
"At the trial, you mean?"
"Yes." He offered his hand once more, and again they shook. "Well, come around and see us," he said.
"Thank you. I will."
"Well," said Mr. Louden, "good-day, Joe."
"Good-day, father."
The young man stood looking after him with a curious smile. Then he gave a slight start. Far up the street he saw two figures, one a lady"s, in white, with a wide white hat; the other a man"s, wearing recognizably clerical black. They seemed to be walking very slowly.
It had been a day of triumph for Joe; but in all his life he never slept worse than he did that night.
XXVI
ANCIENT OF DAYS
He woke to the chiming of bells, and, as his eyes slowly opened, the sorrowful people of a dream, who seemed to be bending over him, weeping, swam back into the darkness of the night whence they had come, and returned to the imperceptible, leaving their shadows in his heart.
Slowly he rose, stumbled into the outer room, and released the fluttering shade; but the sunshine, springing like a golden lover through the open window, only dazzled him, and found no answering gladness to greet it, nor joy in the royal day it heralded.
And yet, to the newly cleaned boys on their way to midsummer morning Sunday-school, the breath of that cool August day was as sweet as stolen apples. No doubt the stir of far, green thickets and the twinkle of silver-slippered creeks shimmered in the longing vision of their minds" eyes; even so, they were merry. But Joseph Louden, sighing as he descended his narrow stairs, with the bitterness still upon his lips of the frightful coffee he had made, heard the echo of their laughter with wonder.
It would be an hour at least before time to start to church, when Ariel expected him; he stared absently up the street, then down, and, after that, began slowly to walk in the latter direction, with no very active consciousness, or care, of where he went. He had fallen into a profound reverie, so deep that when he had crossed the bridge and turned into a dusty road which ran along the river-bank, he stopped mechanically beside the trunk of a fallen sycamore, and, lifting his head, for the first time since he had set out, looked about him with a melancholy perplexity, a little surprised to find himself there.
For this was the spot where he had first seen the new Ariel, and on that fallen sycamore they had sat together. "REMEMBER, ACROSS MAIN STREET BRIDGE AT NOON!" And Joe"s cheeks burned, as he recalled why he had not understood the clear voice that had haunted him. But that shame had fallen from him; she had changed all that, as she had changed so many things. He sank down in the long gra.s.s, with his back against the log, and stared out over the fields of tall corn, shaking in a steady wind all the way to the horizon.
"Changed so many things?" he said, half aloud. "Everything!" Ah, yes, she had changed the whole world for Joseph Louden--at his first sight of her! And now it seemed to him that he was to lose her, but not in the way he had thought.
Almost from the very first, he had the feeling that nothing so beautiful as that she should stay in Canaan could happen to him. He was sure that she was but for the little while, that her coming was like the flying petals of which he had told her.
He had lain upon the earth; and she had lifted him up. For a moment he had felt the beatific wings enfolding him with gentle protection, and then saw them lifted to bear the angel beyond his sight. For it was incredible that the G.o.ds so loved Joe Louden that they would make greater gifts to him than this little time with her which they had granted him.
"Changed so many things?"
The bars that had been between him and half of his world were down, shattered, never more to be replaced; and the ban of Canaan was lifted.
Could this have been, save for her? And upon that thought he got to his feet, uttering an exclamation of bitter self-reproach, asking himself angrily what he was doing. He knew how much she gave him, what full measure of her affection! Was not that enough?--Out upon you, Louden! Are you to sulk in your tent, dour in the gloom, or to play a man"s part, and if she be happy, turn a cheery face upon her joy?
And thus this pilgrim recrossed the bridge, emerging to the street with his head up, smiling, and his shoulders thrown back so that none might see the burden he carried.
Ariel was waiting on the porch for him. She wore the same dress she had worn that Sunday of their tryst; that exquisite dress, with the faint lavender overtint, like the tender colors of the beautiful day he made his own. She had not worn it since, and he was far distant when he caught the first flickering glimpse of her through the lower branches of the maples, but he remembered.... And again, as on that day, he heard a far-away, ineffable music, the Elf-land horns, sounding the mysterious reveille which had wakened his soul to her coming.
She came to the gate to meet him, and gave him her hand in greeting, without a word--or the need of one--from either. Then together they set forth over the sun-flecked pavement, the maples swishing above them, heavier branches crooning in the strong breeze, under a sky like a Della Robbia background. And up against the glorious blue of it, some laughing, invisible G.o.d was blowing small, rounded clouds of pure cotton, as children blow thistledown.
When he opened her parasol, as they came out into the broad sunshine beyond Upper Main Street, there was the faintest mingling of wild roses and cinnamon loosed on the air.
"Joe," she said, "I"m very happy!"
"That"s right," he returned, heartily. "I think you always will be."
"But, oh! I wish," she went on, "that Mr. Arp could have lived to see you come down the Court-house steps."
"G.o.d bless him!" said Joe. "I can hear the "argument"!"
"Those dear old men have been so loyal to you, Joe."
"No," he returned; "loyal to Eskew."
"To you both," she said. "I"m afraid the old circle is broken up; they haven"t met on the National House corner since he died. The Colonel told me he couldn"t bear to go there again."
"I don"t believe any of them ever will," he returned. "And yet I never pa.s.s the place that I don"t see Eskew in his old chair. I went there last night to commune with him. I couldn"t sleep, and I got up, and went over there; they"d left the chairs out; the town was asleep, and it was beautiful moonlight--"
"To commune with him? What about?"
"You."
"Why?" she asked, plainly mystified.
"I stood in need of good counsel," he answered, cheerfully, "or a friendly word, perhaps, and--as I sat there--after a while it came."
"What was it?"
"To forget that I was sodden with selfishness; to pretend not to be as full of meanness as I really was! Doesn"t that seem to be Eskew"s own voice?"
"Weren"t you happy last night, Joe?"
"Oh, it was all right," he said, quickly. "Don"t you worry."
And at this old speech of his she broke into a little laugh of which he had no comprehension.
"Mamie came to see me early this morning," she said, after they had walked on in silence for a time. "Everything is all right with her again; that is, I think it will be. Eugene is coming home. And," she added, thoughtfully, "it will be best for him to have his old place on the Tocsin again. She showed me his letter, and I liked it. I think he"s been through the fire--"
Joe"s distorted smile appeared. "And has come out gold?" he asked.
"No," she laughed; "but nearer it! And I think he"ll try to be more worth her caring for. She has always thought that his leaving the Tocsin in the way he did was heroic. That was her word for it. And it WAS the finest thing he ever did."
"I can"t figure Eugene out." Joe shook his head. "There"s something behind his going away that I don"t understand." This was altogether the truth; nor was there ever to come a time when either he or Mamie would understand what things had determined the departure of Eugene Bantry; though Mamie never questioned, as Joe did, the reasons for it, or doubted those Eugene had given her, which were the same he had given her father. For she was content with his return.