Barriers Burned Away Read online

  CHAPTER XXIV

  NIGHT THOUGHTS

  Dennis passed out of the heavy, massive entrance to the wealthy brewer'smansion with a sense of relief as if escaping from prison. The duskinessand solitude of the street seemed a grateful refuge, and the nightwind was to his flushed face like a cool hand laid on a feverish brow.He was indeed glad to be alone, for his was one of those deep, earnestnatures that cannot rush to the world in garrulous confidence whendisturbed and perplexed. There are many sincere but shallow people whomust tell of and talk away every passing emotion. Not of the abundanceof their hearts, for abundance there is not, but of the uppermost thingin their hearts their mouths must speak, even though the subjects beof the delicate nature that would naturally be hidden. Such mentalconstitutions are at least healthful. Concealed trouble never preysupon them like the canker in the bud. Everything comes to the surfaceand is thrown off.

  But at first Dennis scarcely dared to recognize the truth himself, andthe thought of telling even his mother was repugnant. For half an hourhe walked the streets in a sort of stupor. He was conscious only ofa heavy, aching heart and a wearied, confused brain. All the time,however, he knew an event had occurred that must for good or evilaffect his entire existence; but he shrank with nervous dread fromgrappling with the problem. As the cold air refreshed and revived him,his strong, practical mind took up the question almost without volition,and by reason of his morbid, wearied state, only the dark anddiscouraging side was presented. The awakening to his love was a verydifferent thing to Dennis, and to the majority in this troubled world,from the blissful consciousness of Adam when for the first time he sawthe fair being whom he might woo at his leisure, amid embowering roses,without fear or thought of a rival.

  To Dennis the fact of his love, so far from promising to be the sourceof delightful romance and enchantment, clearly showed itself to be thehardest and most practical question of a life full of such questions.In his strong and growing excitement he spoke to himself as to a secondperson: "Oh, I see it all now. Poor, blind fool that I was, to thinkthat by coveting and securing every possible moment in her presenceI was only learning to love art! As I saw her to-night, so radiant andbeautiful, and yet in the embrace of another man, and that man evidentlyan ardent admirer, what was art to me? As well might a starving manseek to satisfy himself by wandering through an old Greek temple asfor me to turn to art alone. One crumb of warm, manifested love fromher would be worth more than all the cold, abstract beauty in theuniverse. And yet what chance have I? What can I hope for more thana passing thought and a little kindly, condescending interest? Clerkand man-of-all-work in a store, poor and heavily burdened, the ideaof my loving one of the most wealthy, admired, and aristocratic ladiesin Chicago! It is all very well in story-books for peasants to fallin love with princesses, but in practical Chicago the fact of myattachment to Miss Ludolph would be regarded as one of the richestjokes of the season, and by Mr. Ludolph as such a proof of rusticityand folly as would at once secure my return to pastoral life."

  Then hope whispered, "But you can achieve position and wealth as othershave done, and then can speak your mind from the standpoint ofequality."

  But Dennis was in a mood to see only the hopeless side that night, andexclaimed almost aloud: "Nonsense! Can it be even imagined that she,besieged by the most gifted and rich of the city, will wait for a poorunknown admirer? Mr. Mellen, I understand, approaches her from everyvantage-ground save that of a noble character; but in the fashionableworld how little thought is given to this draw back!" and in hisperturbation he strode rapidly and aimlessly on, finding some reliefin mere physical activity.

  Suddenly his hasty steps ceased, and even in the dusk of the streethis face gleamed out distinctly, so great was its pallor. Like a rayof light, a passage from the Word of God revealed to him his situationin a new aspect. It seemed to him almost that some one had whisperedthe words in his ear, so distinctly did they present themselves--"Beye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."

  Slowly and painfully he said to himself, as if recognizing the mosthopeless barrier that had yet been dwelt upon, "Christine Ludolph isan infidel."

  Not only the voice of reason, and of the practical world, but also thevoice of God seemed to forbid his love; and the conviction that hemust give it all up became a clear as it was painful. The poor fellowleaned his head against the shaggy bark of an elm in a shadowy squarewhich the street-lamps could but faintly penetrate. The night windswayed the budding branches of the great tree, and they sighed overhim as if in sympathy.

  The struggle within his soul was indeed bitter, for, though thus farhe had spoken hopelessly, he had not been altogether hopeless; but nowthat conscience raised its impassable wall high as heaven, which hemust not break through, his pain was so great as to almost unman him,and such tears as only men can weep fell from his eyes. In anguish heexclaimed, "That which might have been the chief blessing of life hasbecome my greatest misfortune."

  Above him the gale caused two fraying limbs to appear to moan in echoof the suffering beneath.

  "This then must be the end of my prayers in her behalf--my ardenthope and purpose to lead her to the truth--she to walk through honored,sunny paths to everlasting shame and night, and I through dark andpainful ways to light and peace, if in this bitter test I remainfaithful. Surely there _is_ much to try one's faith. And yet it must beso as far as human foresight can judge."

  Then a great pity for her swelled his heart, for he felt that her casewas the saddest after all, and his tears flowed faster than ever.

  Human voices now startled him--some late revellers passing homeward.The tears and emotion, of which we never think of being ashamed whenalone with Nature and its Author, he dreaded to have seen by hisfellows, and hastily wiping his eyes, he slunk into the deeper shadowof the tree, and they passed on. Then, an old trait asserting itself,he condemned his own weakness. Stepping from the sheltering trunkagainst which he was leaning, he stood strong and erect.

  The winds were hushed as if expectant in the branches above.

  "Dennis Fleet," he said, "you must put your foot on this folly hereand now."

  He bared his head and looked upward.

  "O God," he said, solemnly, "if this is contrary to Thy will--Thy willbe done."

  He paused a moment reverently, and then turned on his heel and stroderesolutely homeward.

  A gust of wind crashed the branches overhead together like the clashof cymbals in victory.

  The early spring dawn was tingeing the eastern horizon before the gayrevel ceased and the mansion of the rich brewer was darkened. All thelong night, light, airy music had caused late passers-by to pause amoment to listen, and to pity or envy the throng within, as dispositiondictated. Mr. Brown was a man who prided himself on lavish and rathercoarse hospitality. A table groaning under costly dishes and everyvariety of liquor was the crowning feature, the blissful climax of allhis entertainments; and society from its highest circles furnished anabundance of anxious candidates for his suppers, who ate and criticised,drank to and disparaged, their plebeian host.

  Mrs. Brown was heavy in every sense of the word, and with her hugeperson draped with acres of silk, and festooned with miles ofpoint-lace, she waddled about and smiled and nodded good-naturedly ateverybody and everything.

  It was just the place for a fashionable revel, where the gross, repulsivefeatures of coarse excess are veiled and masked somewhat bythe glamour of outward courtesy and good-breeding.

  At first Christine entered into the dance with great zest and a decidedsense of relief. She was disappointed and out of sorts with herself.Again she had failed in the object of her intense ambition, and thoughconscious that, through the excitement of the occasion, she had sungbetter than ever before, yet she plainly saw in the different resultsof her singing and that of Dennis Fleet that there was a depth in thehuman heart which she could not reach. She could secure only admiration,superficial applause. The sphere of the true artist who can touch andsway the popular heart seemed beyond
her ability. By voice or pencilshe had never yet attained it. She had too much mind to mistake thecharacter of the admiration she excited, and was far too ambitious tobe satisfied with the mere praise bestowed on a highly accomplishedgirl. She aspired, determined, to be among the first, and to be asecond-rate imitator in the world of art was to her the agony of adisappointed life. And yet to imitate with accuracy and skill, notwith sympathy, was the only power she had as yet developed. She sawthe limitations of her success more clearly than did any one else, andchafed bitterly at the invisible bounds she could not pass.

  The excitement of the dance enabled her to banish thoughts that wereboth painful and humiliating. Moreover, to a nature so active and fullof physical vigor, the swift, grace motion was a source of keenenjoyment.

  But when after supper many of the ladies were silly, and the gentlemenwere either stupid or excited, according to the action of the "invisiblespirit of wine" upon their several constitutions--when after manyglasses of champagne Mr. Mellen began to effervesce in frothysentimentality and a style of love-making simply nauseating to one ofChristine's nature--she looked around for her father in order to escapefrom the scenes that were becoming revolting.

  Though of earth only in all the sources of her life and hopes, she wasnot earthy. If her spirit could not soar and sing in the sky, it alsocould not grovel in the mire of gross materiality. Some little time,therefore, before the company broke up, on the plea of not feelingwell she lured her father away from his wine and cigars and a knot ofgentlemen who were beginning to talk a little incoherently. Makingtheir adieux amid many protestations against their early departure,they drove homeward.

  "How did you enjoy yourself?" asked her father.

  "Very much in the early part of the evening, not at all in the latterpart. To sum up, I am disgusted with Mr. Mellen and these Browns ingeneral, and myself in particular."

  "What is the matter with Mr. Mellen? I understand that the intriguingmammas consider him the largest game in the city."

  "When hunting degenerates into the chase and capture of insects, youmay style him game. Between his champagne and silly love-making, hewas as bad as a dose of ipecac."

  Christine spoke freely to her father of her admirers, usually makingthem the themes of satire and jest.

  "And what is the trouble with our entertainers?"

  "I am sorry to speak so of any one whose hospitality I have accepted,but unless it is your wish I hope never to accept it again. They allsmell of their beer. Everything is so coarse, lavish, and ostentatious.They tell you as through a brazen trumpet on every side, 'We are rich.'""They give magnificent suppers," said Mr. Ludolph, in apology.

  "More correctly, the French cook they employ gives them. I do notobject to the nicest of suppers, but prefer that the Browns be not onthe _carte de menu_. From the moment our artistic programme ended,and the entertainment fell into their hands, it began to degenerateinto an orgy. Nothing but the instinctive restraints of good-breedingprevents such occasions from ending in a drunken revel."

  "You are severe. Mr. Brown's social effort is not a bad type of theentertainments that prevail in fashionable life."

  "Well, it may be true, but they never seemed to me so lacking in goodtaste and refinement before. Wait till we dispense choice viands andwines to choicer spirits in our own land, and I will guarantee amarvellously wide difference. Then the eye, the ear, the mind, shallbe feasted, as well as the lower sense."

  "Well, I do not see why you should be disgusted with yourself. I amsure that you covered yourself with glory, and were the belle of theoccasion."

  "That is no great honor, considering the occasion. Father, strange asit may seem to you, I envied your man-of-all-work to-night. Did younot mark the effect of his singing?"

  "Yes, and felt it in a way that I cannot explain to myself. His tonesseemed to thrill, and stir my very heart. I have not been so affectedby music for years. At first I thought it was surprise at hearing himsing at all, but I soon found that it was something in the musicitself."

  "And that something I fear I can never grasp--never attain."

  "Why, my dear, they applauded you to the echo."

  "I would rather see one moist eye as the tribute to my singing thanto be deafened by noisy applause. I fear I shall never reach high art.Men's hearts sleep when I do my best."

  "I think you are slightly mistaken there, judging from your train ofadmirers," said Mr. Ludolph, turning off a disagreeable subject witha jest. The shrewd man of the world guessed the secret of her failure.She herself must feel, before she could touch feeling. But he hadsystematically sought to chill and benumb her nature, meaning it toawake at just the time, and under just the circumstances, that shouldaccord with his controlling ambition. Then reverting to Dennis, hecontinued: "It won't answer for Fleet to sweep the store any longerafter the part he played to-night. Indeed, I doubt if he would bewilling to. Not only he, but the world will know that he is capableof better things. What has occurred will awaken inquiry, and may soonsecure him good business offers. I do not intend to part readily withso capable a young fellow. He does well whatever is required, andtherefore I shall promote him as fast as is prudent. I think I canmake him of great use to me."

  "That is another thing that provokes me," said Christine. "Onlyyesterday morning he seemed such a useful, humble creature, and lastevening through my own folly he developed into a fine gentleman; andI shall have to say, 'By your leave, sir'; 'Will you please dothis'?--If I dare ask anything at all."

  "I am not so sure of that," said her father. "My impression is thatFleet has too much good sense to put on airs in the store. But I willgive him more congenial work; and as one of the young gentleman clerks,we can ask him up now and then to sing with us. I should much enjoytrying some of our German music with him."