The Copy-Cat [85]
warily, lest it turn fiercely upon the one who pitied. Christopher was a handsome man, and his face had an almost classic turn of feature. His forehead was noble; his eyes full of keen light. He was only a farmer, but in spite of his rude clothing he had the face of a man who followed one of the professions. He was in sore trouble of spirit, and he was going to consult the minister and ask him for advice. Christopher had never done this before. He had a sort of in- credulity now that he was about to do it. He had always associated that sort of thing with womankind, and not with men like himself. And, moreover, Stephen Wheaton was a younger man than himself. He was unmarried, and had only been settled in the village for about a year. "He can't think I'm com- ing to set my cap at him, anyway," Christopher reflected, with a sort of grim humor, as he drew near the parsonage. The minister was haunted by marriageable ladies of the village. "Guess you are glad to see a man coming, instead of a woman who has doubts about some doctrine," was the first thing Christopher said to the minister when he had been admitted to his study. The study was a small room, lined with books, and only one picture hung over the fireplace, the portrait of the minister's mother -- Stephen was so like her that a question concerning it was futile. Stephen colored a little angrily at Christopher's remark -- he was a hot-tempered man, although a clergyman; then he asked him to be seated. Christopher sat down opposite the minister. "I oughtn't to have spoken so," he apologized, "but what I am doing ain't like me." "That's all right," said Stephen. He was a short, athletic man, with an extraordinary width of shoul- ders and a strong-featured and ugly face, still indica- tive of goodness and a strange power of sympathy. Three little mongrel dogs were sprawled about the study. One, small and alert, came and rested his head on Christopher's knee. Animals all liked him. Christopher mechanically patted him. Patting an appealing animal was as unconscious with the man as drawing his breath. But he did not even look at the little dog while he stroked it after the fashion which pleased it best. He kept his large, keen, melancholy eyes fixed upon the minister; at length he spoke. He did not speak with as much eagerness as he did with force, bringing the whole power of his soul into his words, which were the words of a man in rebellion against the greatest odds on earth and in all creation -- the odds of fate itself. "I have come to say a good deal, Mr. Wheaton," he began. "Then say it, Mr. Dodd," replied Stephen, without a smile. Christopher spoke. "I am going back to the very beginning of things," said he, "and maybe you will think it blasphemy, but I don't mean it for that. I mean it for the truth, and the truth which is too much for my comprehension." "I have heard men swear when it did not seem blasphemy to me," said Stephen. "Thank the Lord, you ain't so deep in your rut you can't see the stars!" said Christopher. "But I guess you see them in a pretty black sky sometimes. In the beginning, why did I have to come into the world without any choice?" "You must not ask a question of me which can only be answered by the Lord," said Stephen. "I am asking the Lord," said Christopher, with his sad, forceful voice. "I am asking the Lord, and I ask why?" "You have no right to expect your question to be answered in your time," said Stephen. "But here am I," said Christopher, "and I was a question to the Lord from the first, and fifty years and more I have been on the earth." "Fifty years and more are nothing for the answer to such a question," said Stephen. Christopher looked at him with mournful dissent; there was no anger about him. "There was time before time," said he, "before the fifty years and more began. I don't mean to blaspheme, Mr. Wheaton, but it is the truth. I came into the world whether I would or not; I was forced, and then I was told I was a free agent. I am no free agent. For fifty years and more I have thought about it, and I have found out that, at least.