The Diary of a Saint. Bates Arlo

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ In new surroundings he may turn over a new leaf. Oh, I would so like to write to him, and to tell him how much I hope for this fresh start, but I hardly like to open the envelope.

      I have been this afternoon to call on Miss West. The Watsons are not exactly of my world, but it seemed kind to go. If you were really honest, Ruth Privet, you would add that you wanted to see what Miss West is like. It is all very well to put on airs of disinterested virtue; but if George had not spoken of this girl it is rather doubtful whether you would have taken the trouble to go to her in your very best bib and tucker, – and you did put on your very best, and wondered while you were doing it whether she would appreciate the lace scarf you bought at Malta. I understand you wanted to impress her a little, though you did try to make yourself believe that you were only wearing your finest clothes to do honor to her. What a humbug you are!

      Olivia Watson came to the door, and asked me into the parlor, where I was left to wait some time before Miss West appeared. I confessed then to myself how I had really half hoped that she would not be in; but now the call is over I am glad to have seen her. I am a little confused, but I know what she is.

      She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw. She has a clear color, when she flushes, like a red clover in September, the last and the richest of all the clovers of the year. Then her hair curls about her forehead in such dear little ringlets that it is enough to make one want to kiss her. She speaks with a funny little Western burr to her r's which might not please me in another, but is charming from her lips, the mouth that speaks is so pretty. Yes, George was right.

      Of her mind one cannot say quite as much. She is not entirely well bred, it seemed to me; but then we are a little old-fashioned in Tuskamuck. She did notice the scarf, and asked me where I got it.

      "Oh," she said, when I had told her, "then you have been abroad."

      "Yes," I said, "I went with my father."

      "Judge Privet took you abroad several times, didn't he?" Olivia put in.

      "Yes; I went with him three times."

      "Oh, my!" commented Miss West. "How set up you must feel!"

      "I don't think I do," I answered, laughing. "Do you feel set up because you have seen the West that so few of us have visited?"

      "Why, I never thought of that," she responded. "You haven't any of you traveled in the West, have you?"

      "I haven't, at least."

      "But that ain't anything to compare with going abroad," she continued, her face falling; "and going abroad three times, too. I should put on airs all the rest of my life if I'd done that."

      It is not fair to go on putting down in black and white things that she said without thinking. I am ashamed of the satisfaction I found myself taking in her commonness. I was even so unfair to her that I could not help thinking that she somehow did not ring true. I wonder if a woman can ever be entirely just to another woman who has been praised by the man she cares for? If not I will be an exception to my sex! I will not be small and mean, just because Miss West is so lovely that no man could see her without – well, without admiring her greatly.

      January 22. I went down to the grist-mill this afternoon to see Deacon Daniel, and to represent to him the sufferings of the faithful at frozen prayer-meetings. He was standing in the door of the mill, which was open to the brisk air, and his mealy frock gave a picturesque air to his great figure. He greeted me pleasantly, as he always does.

      "I've come on business," I said.

      "Your own or somebody's else?" he asked, with a grin.

      "Not exactly mine," I admitted.

      "What has Aunt Naomi sent you for now?" he demanded.

      I laughed at his penetration.

      "You are too sharp to be deceived," I said. "Aunt Naomi did send me. They tell me you are trying to destroy the church by freezing them all to death at the prayer-meetings."

      "Aunt Naomi can't be frozen. She's too dry."

      "That isn't at all a nice thing to say, Deacon Richards," I said, smiling. "You can't cover your iniquities by abusing her."

      He showed his teeth, and settled himself against the door-post more comfortably.

      "Why didn't she come herself?" he inquired.

      "She said that she was afraid you'd pop her into the hopper. You see what a monster you are considered."

      "I wouldn't be willing to spoil my meal."

      Deacon Daniel likes to play at badinage, and if he had ever had a chance, might have some skill at it. As it is, I like to see how he enjoys it, if I am not always impressed by the wit of what he says.

      "Deacon Richards," I said, "why do you freeze the people so in the vestry?"

      "I haven't known of anybody's being frozen."

      "But why don't you have a fire?" I persisted. "If you don't want to build it, there are boys enough that can be hired."

      "How is your mother to-day?" was the only answer the deacon vouchsafed.

      "She's very comfortable, thank you. Why don't you have a fire?"

      "Makes folks sleepy," he declared; and once more switched off abruptly to another subject. "Did you know Tom Webbe's gone off?"

      "Yes."

      "Where's he gone?"

      "I don't know. Why should I?"

      "If you don't know," Deacon Daniel commented, "I suppose nobody does."

      "Why don't you have a fire in the vestry?" I demanded, determined to tire him out.

      "You asked me that before," he responded, with a grin of delight.

      I gave it up then, for I saw that there was nothing to be got out of him in that mood. I looked up at the sky, and saw how the afternoon was waning.

      "I must go home," I said. "Mother may want me; but I do wish you would be reasonable about the vestry. I'll give you a load of wood if you'll use it."

      "Send the wood, and we'll see," was all the promise I could extract from the dear old tease.

      Deacon Daniel was evidently not to be cornered, and I came away without any assurance of amendment on his part. The faithful will have still to endure the cold, I suppose; but I have made an effort.

      What I said to Deacon Richards and what Deacon Richards said to me is not what I sat down to write. I have been lingering over it because I hated to put down what happened to me after I left the mill. Why should I write it? This diary is not a confessional, and nothing forces me to set these things down. I really write it as a penance for the uncharitable mood I have been in ever since. I may as well have my thoughts on paper as to keep turning them over and over in my mind.

      I crossed the foot-bridge and turned up Water Street. I went on, pleased by the brown water showing through the broken ice in the mill-flume, and the fantastic bunches of snow in the willows beyond, like queer, white birds. I smiled to myself at the remembrance of Deacon Daniel, and somehow felt warmed toward him, as I always do, despite all his crotchety ways. He radiates kindness of heart through all his gruffness.

      Suddenly I saw George СКАЧАТЬ