The Crossing [24]
himself laughing loudest. Nor were these gentlemen satisfied with that. They crowded around Mr. Riddle and slapped him on the back, Mr. Darnley joining in with the rest. And presently Mr. Riddle flung away his sword, and laughed, too, giving his hand to Mr. Darnley.
At length Mr. Darnley turned to Nick, who had stood all this while behind them, unmoved.
``My friend,'' said he, seriously, ``such is your regard for human life, you will probably one day--be a pirate or an outlaw. This time we've had a laugh. The next time somebody will be weeping. I wish I were your father.''
``I wish you were,'' said Nick.
This took Mr. Darnley's breath. He glanced at the other gentlemen, who returned his look significantly. He laid his hand kindly on the lad's head.
``Nick,'' said he, ``I wish to God I were your father.''
After that they all went home, very merry, to breakfast, Nick and I coming after them. Nick was silent until we reached the house.
``Davy,'' said he, then, ``how old are you?''
``Ten,'' I answered. ``How old did you believe me?''
``Eighty,'' said he.
The next day, being Sunday, we all gathered in the little church to hear Mr. Mason preach. Nick and I sat in the high box pew of the family with Mrs. Temple, who paid not the least attention to the sermon. As for me, the rhythm of it held me in fascination. Mr. Mason had written it out and that afternoon read over this part of it to Nick. The quotation I recall, having since read it many times, and the gist of it was in this wise:--
``And he said unto him, `What thou wilt have thou wilt have, despite the sin of it. Blessed are the stolid, and thrice cursed he who hath imagination,--for that imagination shall devour him. And in thy life a sin shall be presented unto thee with a great longing. God, who is in heaven, gird thee for that struggle, my son, for it will surely come. That it may be said of you, ``Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.'' Seven days shalt thou wrestle with thy soul; seven nights shall evil haunt thee, and how thou shalt come forth from that struggle no man may know.' ''
CHAPTER VI
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES
A week passed, and another Sunday came,--a Sunday so still and hot and moist that steam seemed to rise from the heavy trees,--an idle day for master and servant alike. A hush was in the air, and a presage of we knew not what. It weighed upon my spirits, and even Nick's, and we wandered restlessly under the trees, seeking for distraction.
About two o'clock a black line came on the horizon, and slowly crept higher until it broke into giant, fantastic shapes. Mutterings arose, but the sun shone hot as ever.
``We're to have a hurricane,'' said Nick. ``I wish we might have it and be done with it.''
At five the sun went under. I remember that Madame was lolling listless in the garden, daintily arrayed in fine linen, trying to talk to Mr. Mason, when a sound startled us. It was the sound of swift hoof beats on the soft drive.
Mrs. Temple got up, an unusual thing. Perchance she was expecting a message from some of the gentlemen; or else she may well have been tired of Mr. Mason. Nick and I were before her, and, running through the house, arrived at the portico in time to see a negro ride up on a horse covered with lather.
It was the same negro who had fetched me hither from Mr. Lowndes. And when I saw him my heart stood still lest he had brought news of my father.
``What's to do, boy?'' cried Nicholas to him.
The boy held in his hand a letter with a great red seal.
``Fo' Mistis Temple,'' he said, and, looking at me queerly, he took off his cap as he jumped from the horse. Mistress Temple herself having arrived, he handed her the letter. She took it, and broke the seal carelessly.
``Oh,'' she said, ``it's only from Mr. Lowndes. I wonder what he wishes now.''
Every moment of her reading was for me an agony, and she read slowly. The last words she spoke aloud:--
`` `If you do not wish the
At length Mr. Darnley turned to Nick, who had stood all this while behind them, unmoved.
``My friend,'' said he, seriously, ``such is your regard for human life, you will probably one day--be a pirate or an outlaw. This time we've had a laugh. The next time somebody will be weeping. I wish I were your father.''
``I wish you were,'' said Nick.
This took Mr. Darnley's breath. He glanced at the other gentlemen, who returned his look significantly. He laid his hand kindly on the lad's head.
``Nick,'' said he, ``I wish to God I were your father.''
After that they all went home, very merry, to breakfast, Nick and I coming after them. Nick was silent until we reached the house.
``Davy,'' said he, then, ``how old are you?''
``Ten,'' I answered. ``How old did you believe me?''
``Eighty,'' said he.
The next day, being Sunday, we all gathered in the little church to hear Mr. Mason preach. Nick and I sat in the high box pew of the family with Mrs. Temple, who paid not the least attention to the sermon. As for me, the rhythm of it held me in fascination. Mr. Mason had written it out and that afternoon read over this part of it to Nick. The quotation I recall, having since read it many times, and the gist of it was in this wise:--
``And he said unto him, `What thou wilt have thou wilt have, despite the sin of it. Blessed are the stolid, and thrice cursed he who hath imagination,--for that imagination shall devour him. And in thy life a sin shall be presented unto thee with a great longing. God, who is in heaven, gird thee for that struggle, my son, for it will surely come. That it may be said of you, ``Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.'' Seven days shalt thou wrestle with thy soul; seven nights shall evil haunt thee, and how thou shalt come forth from that struggle no man may know.' ''
CHAPTER VI
MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES
A week passed, and another Sunday came,--a Sunday so still and hot and moist that steam seemed to rise from the heavy trees,--an idle day for master and servant alike. A hush was in the air, and a presage of we knew not what. It weighed upon my spirits, and even Nick's, and we wandered restlessly under the trees, seeking for distraction.
About two o'clock a black line came on the horizon, and slowly crept higher until it broke into giant, fantastic shapes. Mutterings arose, but the sun shone hot as ever.
``We're to have a hurricane,'' said Nick. ``I wish we might have it and be done with it.''
At five the sun went under. I remember that Madame was lolling listless in the garden, daintily arrayed in fine linen, trying to talk to Mr. Mason, when a sound startled us. It was the sound of swift hoof beats on the soft drive.
Mrs. Temple got up, an unusual thing. Perchance she was expecting a message from some of the gentlemen; or else she may well have been tired of Mr. Mason. Nick and I were before her, and, running through the house, arrived at the portico in time to see a negro ride up on a horse covered with lather.
It was the same negro who had fetched me hither from Mr. Lowndes. And when I saw him my heart stood still lest he had brought news of my father.
``What's to do, boy?'' cried Nicholas to him.
The boy held in his hand a letter with a great red seal.
``Fo' Mistis Temple,'' he said, and, looking at me queerly, he took off his cap as he jumped from the horse. Mistress Temple herself having arrived, he handed her the letter. She took it, and broke the seal carelessly.
``Oh,'' she said, ``it's only from Mr. Lowndes. I wonder what he wishes now.''
Every moment of her reading was for me an agony, and she read slowly. The last words she spoke aloud:--
`` `If you do not wish the