Barriers Burned Away Page 30

  CHAPTER XXIX

  DENNIS'S LOVE PUT TO PRACTICAL USE

  The day following his unlucky criticism of the pictures was one ofgreat despondency to Dennis. He had read in Christine's face that hehad wounded her sorely; and, though she knew it to be unintentional,would it not prejudice her mind against him, and snap the slenderthread by which he hoped to draw across the gulf between them the cord,and then the cable, that might in time unite their lives?

  In the evening his restless, troubled spirit drove him, in spite ofthe rain, to seek to be at least nearer to her. He felt sure that inthe dusk and wrapped in his greatcoat he would not be noticed, but wasmistaken, as we have seen. He was rewarded, for he heard her sing asnever before, as he did not believe she could sing. For the first timeher rich, thoroughly trained voice had the sweetness and power offeeling. To Dennis her song seemed like an appeal, a cry for help, andhis heart responded in the deepest sympathy. As he walked homeward hesaid to himself: "She could be a true artist, perhaps a great one, forshe can feel. She has a heart. She has a taste and skill in touch thatfew can surpass. I can scarcely believe the beautiful coloring andfaultless lines of that picture are her work." He long for a chanceto speak with her and explain. He felt that he had so much to say, andin a thousand imaginary ways introduced the subject of her painting.He hoped he might find her sketching in some of the rooms again. Hethought that he knew her better for having heard her sing, and thathe could speak to her quite frankly.

  The next day she came to the store, but passed him without the slightestnotice. He hoped she had not seen him, and, as she passed out, soplaced himself that she must see him, and secured for his pains onlya slight, cold inclination of the head.

  "It is as I feared," he said, bitterly. "She detests me for havingspoiled her triumph. She is not just," he added, angrily. "She has nosense of justice, or she would not blame me. What a mean-spiritedcraven I should have been had I shrunk away under her taunts yesterday.Well, I can be proud too."

  When she came in again he did not raise his eyes, and when she passedout he was in a distant part of the store. Christine saw no tall muffledfigure under her window again, though she had the curiosity to look.That even this humble admirer, for whom she cared not a jot, shouldshow such independence rather nettled and annoyed her for a moment.But she paid no more heed to him than to the other clerks.

  But what was the merest jar to Christine's vanity cost Dennis adesperate struggle. It required no effort on her part to pass him bywithout a glance. To him it was torture. In a few days she ceased tothink about him at all, and only remembered him in connection with herdisappointment. But she was restless, could settle down to no work, andhad lost her zest in her old pleasures. She tried to act as usual,for she saw her father's eye was on her. He had not much indulgencefor any one's weaknesses save his own, and often by a little coldsatire would sting her to the very quick. On the other hand, hisadmiration, openly expressed in a certain courtly gallantry, nourishedher pride but not her heart. Though she tried to keep up her usualroutine, her manner was forced before him and languid when alone. Buthe said, "All this will pass away like a cold snap in spring, and theold zest will come again in a few days."

  It did, but from a cause which he could not understand, and which hisdaughter with consummate skill and care concealed. He thought it wasonly the old enthusiasm rallying after a sharp frost of disappointment.

  Dennis's pride gave way before her cool and unstudied indifference.It was clearly evident to him that he had no hold upon her lifewhatever, and how to gain any he did not see. He became more and moredejected.

  "She must have a heart, or I could not love her so; but it is so incasedin ice I fear I can never reach it."

  That something was wrong with Dennis any friend who cared for him atall might see. The Bruders did, and, with the quick intuitions ofwoman, Mrs. Bruder half guessed the cause. Mr. Bruder, seeingpreoccupation and sometimes weary apathy in Dennis's face, would say,"Mr. Fleet is not well."

  Then, as even this slight notice of his different appearance seemedto give pain, Mr. Bruder was patiently and kindly blind to his pupil'sinattention.

  Dennis faithfully kept up all his duties on Sunday as during the week;but all was now hard work. Some little time after the unlucky morningwhich he could never think of without an expression of pain, he wentto his mission class as usual. He heard his boys recite their lessons,said a few poor lame words in explanation, and then leaned his headlistlessly and wearily on his hand. He was startled by hearing a sweetvoice say, "Well, Mr. Fleet, are you not going to welcome a new laborerinto your corner of the vineyard?"

  With a deep flush he saw that Miss Winthrop was in charge of the classnext to him, and that he had been oblivious to her presence nearly anhour. He tried to apologize. But she interrupted him, saying: "Mr.Fleet, you are not well. Any one can see that."

  Then Dennis blushed as if he had a raging fever, and she was perplexed.

  The closing exercises of the school now occupied them and then theywalked out together.

  "Mr. Fleet," she said, "you never accepted my invitation. We have notseen you at our house. But perhaps your circle of friends is so largethat you do not wish to add to it."

  Dennis could not forbear a smile at the suggestion, but he said, inapology, "I do not visit any one, save a gentleman from whom I amtaking lessons."

  "Do you mean to say that you have no friends at all in this great city?"

  "Well, I suppose that is nearly the truth; that is, in the sense youuse the term. My teacher and his wife--"

  "Nonsense! I mean friends of one's own age, people of the same cultureand status as yourself. I think we require such society, as truly aswe need food and air. I did not mean those whom business or duty broughtyou in contact with, or who are friendly or grateful as a matter ofcourse."

  "I have made no progress since my introduction to society at MissBrown's," said Dennis.

  "But you had the sincere and cordial offer of introduction," said MissWinthrop, looking a little hurt.

  "I feel hardly fit for society," said Dennis, all out of sorts withhimself. "It seems that I can only blunder and give pain. But I amindeed grateful for your kindness."

  Miss Winthrop looked into his worn, pale face, and instinctively knewthat something was wrong, and she felt real sympathy for the lonelyyoung man, isolated among thousands. She said, gently but decidedly:"I did mean my invitation kindly, and I truly wished you to come. Theonly proof you can give that you appreciate my courtesy is to acceptan invitation for to-morrow evening. I intend having a little musicalentertainment."

  Quick as light flashed the thought, "Christine will be there." He said,promptly: "I will come, and thank you for the invitation. If I amawkward, you must remember that I have never mingled in Chicago society,and for a long time not in any."

  She smiled merrily at him, and said, "Don't do anything dreadful, Mr.Fleet."

  He caught her mood, and asked what had brought her down from hertheological peak to such a valley of humiliation as a mission school.

  "You and Miss Ludolph" she answered, seriously. "Between you, you gaveme such a lesson that afternoon at Miss Brown's that I have led adifferent life ever since. Christine made all as dark as despair, andagainst that darkness you placed the fiery Cross. I have tried to clingto the true cross ever since. Now He could not say to me, 'Inasmuchas ye did it not.' And oh!" said she, turning to Dennis with a smilefull of the light of Heaven, "His service is so very sweet! I heardlast week that teachers were wanted at this mission school, so I came,and am glad to find you a neighbor."

  Dennis's face also kindled at her enthusiasm, but after a moment grewsad again.

  "I do not always give so lifeless a lesson as to-day," he said, in alow voice.

  "Mr. Fleet, you are not well. I can see that you look worn and greatlywearied. Are you not in some way overtaxing yourself?"

  Again that sensitive flush, but he only said: "I assure you I am well.Perhaps I have worked a little hard. That is all." />
  "Well, then, come to our house and play a little tomorrow evening,"she answered from the platform of a street car, and was borne away.

  Dennis went to his lonely room, full of self-reproach.

  "Does she find Christ's service so sweet, and do I find it so dull andhard? Does human love alone constrain me, and not the love of Christ?Truly I am growing weak. Every one says I look ill. I think I am, inbody and soul, and am ceasing to be a man; but with God's help I willbe one--and what is more, a Christian. I thank you, Miss Winthrop; youhave helped me more than I have helped you. I will accept yourinvitation to go out into the world. I will no longer mope, brood, andperish in the damp and shade of my own sick fancies. If I cannot winher, I can at least be a man without her;" and he felt better andstronger than he had done for a long time. The day was breaking again.

  In accordance with a custom that was growing with him ever since thememorable evening when Bill Cronk befriended him, he laid the wholematter before his Heavenly Father, as a child tells an earthly parentall his heart. Then he added one simple prayer, "Guide me in allthings."

  The next day was brighter and better than its forerunners. "For somereason I feel more like myself," he thought. After the excitement andactivity of a busy day, he said, "I can conquer this, if I must."

  But when he had made his simple toilet, and was on his way to MissWinthrop's residence, his heart began to flutter strangely, and heknew the reason. Miss Winthrop welcomed him most cordially, and puthim at his ease in a moment, as only a true lady can. Then she turnedto receive other guests. He looked around. Christine was not there;and his heart sank like lead. "She will not be here," he sighed. Butthe guests had not ceased coming, and every new arrival caused a flutterof hopes and fears. He both longed and dreaded to meet her. At last,when he had almost given up seeing her, suddenly she appeared, advancingup the parlor on her father's arm. Never had she seemed so dazzlinglybeautiful. He was just then talking to Mr. Winthrop, and for a fewmoments that gentleman was perplexed at his incoherent answers and thechanges in his face. Having paid their respects to the daughter, Mr.and Miss Ludolph came toward Mr. Winthrop, and of course Dennis hadto meet them. Having greeted them warmly, Mr. Winthrop said, "Of courseyou do not need an introduction to Mr. Fleet."

  Dennis had shrunk a little into the background, and at first they hadnot noticed him. Mr. Ludolph said, good-naturedly, "Glad to see you,Mr. Fleet, and will be still more glad to hear your fine voice."

  But Christine merely bowed as to one with whom her acquaintance wasslight, and turned away. At first Dennis had blushed, and his hearthad fluttered like a young girl's; but, as she turned so coolly away,his native pride and obstinacy were aroused.

  "She shall speak to me and do me justice," he muttered. "She mustunderstand that I spoke unconsciously on that miserable morning, andam not to be blamed. As I am a man, I will speak boldly and securerecognition." But as the little company mingled and conversed beforethe music commenced, no opportunity offered. He determined to showher, however, that he was no country boor, and with skill and tastemade himself agreeable.

  Christine furtively watched him. She was surprised to see him, as theidea of meeting him in society as an equal had scarcely been suggestedbefore. But when she saw that he greeted one after another with graceand ease, and that all seemed to enjoy his conversation, so that alittle knot of Miss Winthrop's most intelligent guests were about himat last, she felt that it would be no great condescension on her partto be a little more affable. In her heart, though, she had not forgiventhe unconscious words that had smitten to the ground her ambitioushopes.

  Then again, his appearance deeply interested her. A suppressedexcitement and power, seen in the glow and fire of his dark eyes, andfelt in his tones, stirred her languid pulses.

  "He is no vapid society-man," she said to herself; and her artist eyewas gratified by the changes in his noble face.

  "Look at Fleet," whispered her father; "could you believe he wassweeping the store the other day? Well, if we don't find out his worthand get what we can from him, the world will. We ought to have had himup to sing before this, but I have been so busy since your illnessthat it slipped my mind."

  Miss Winthrop now led Christine to the piano, and she played a classicalpiece of music in faultless taste. Then followed duets, solos, quartets,choruses, and instrumental pieces, for nearly all present were musicalamateurs. Under the inspiration of this soul-stirring art, coldnessand formality melted away, and with jest and brilliant repartee,alternating with song, there gathered around Miss Winthrop's pianosuch a group as could never grace the parlors of Miss Brown. Sometimesthey would carry a new and difficult piece triumphantly through; againthey would break down, with much laughter and good-natured rallying.

  Dennis, as a stranger, held back at first; but those who rememberedhis singing at the tableau party were clamorous to hear him again, andthey tested and tried his voice during the evening in many and variedways. But he held his own, and won greener laurels than ever. He didhis very best, for he was before one whom he would rather please thanall the world; moreover, her presence seemed to inspire him to dobetter than when alone. Christine, like the others, could not helplistening with delight to his rich, clear tenor, and Mr. Ludolph wasundisguised in his admiration.

  "I declare, Mr. Fleet, I have been depriving myself of a good deal ofpleasure. I meant to have you up to sing with us before, but we havebeen under such a press of business of late! But the first evening Iam disengaged you must surely come."

  Christine had noticed how quietly and almost indifferently Dennis hadtaken the many compliments showered on him before, but now, when herfather spoke, his face flushed, and a sudden light came into his eyes.Dennis had thought, "I can then see and speak to her." Every now andthen she caught his eager, questioning, and almost appealing glance,but he made no advances. "He thinks I am angry because of his keencriticism of my picture. For the sake of my own pride, I must not lethim think that I care so much about his opinion;" and Christine resolvedto let some of the ice thaw that had formed between them. Moreover,in spite of herself, when she was thrown into his society, he greatlyinterested her. He seemed to have just what she had not. He could meether on her own ground in matters of taste, and then, in contrast withher cold, negative life, he was so earnest and positive. "Perhaps papaspoke for us both," she thought, "and I have been depriving myself ofa pleasure also, for he certainly interests while most men only wearyme."

  Between ten and eleven supper was announced; not the prodigal abundanceunder which the brewer's table had groaned, but a dainty, elegantlittle affair, which inspired and promoted social feeling, though the"spirit of wine" was absent. The eye was feasted as truly as the palate.Christine had stood near Dennis as the last piece was sung, and heturned and said in a low, eager tone, "May I have the pleasure ofwaiting on you at supper?"

  She hesitated, but his look was so wistful that she could not wellrefuse, so with a slight smile she bowed assent, and placed the tipsof her little gloved hand on his arm, which so trembled that she lookedinquiringly and curiously into his face. It was very pale, as was everthe case when he felt deeply. He waited on her politely but silentlyat first. She sat in an angle, somewhat apart from the others. As hestood by her side, thinking how to refer to the morning in theshow-room, she said: "Mr. Fleet, you are not eating anything, and youlook as if you had been living on air of late--very unlike yourappearance when you so efficiently aided me in the rearrangement ofthe store. I am delighted that you keep up the better order of things."Dennis's answer was quite irrelevant.

  "Miss Ludolph," he said, abruptly, "I saw that I gave you pain thatmorning in the show-room. If you only knew how the thought has painedme!"

  Christine flushed almost angrily, but said, coldly, "Mr. Fleet, thatis a matter you can never understand, therefore we had better dismissthe subject."

  But Dennis had determined to break the ice between them at any risk,so he said, firmly but respectfully: "Miss Ludolph, I did understandall, the moment I saw
your face that day. I do understand how you havefelt since, better than you imagine."

  His manner and words were so assured that she raised a startled faceto his, but asked coldly and in an indifferent manner, "What can youknow of my feelings?"

  "I know," said Dennis, in a low tone, looking searchingly into herface, from which cool composure was fast fading--"I know your dearesthope was to be among the first in art. You staked that hope on yoursuccess in a painting that required a power which you do not possess."Christine became very pale, but from her eyes shone a light beforewhich most men would have quailed. But Dennis's love was so true andstrong that he could wound her for the sake of the healing and lifehe hoped to bring, and he continued--"On that morning this cherishedhope for the future failed you, not because of my words, but becauseyour artist eye saw that my words were true. You have since beenunhappy--"

  "What right have _you_--you who were but a few days since--who are astranger--what right have you to speak thus to me?"

  "I know what you would say, Miss Ludolph," he answered, a slight flushcoming into his pale face. "Friends may be humble and yet true. Butam I not right?"

  "I have no claim on your friendship," said Christine, coldly. "But,for the sake of argument, grant that you are right, what follows?" andshe looked at him more eagerly than she knew. She felt that he hadread her very soul and was deeply moved, and again the superstitiousfeeling crept over her, "That young man is in some way connected withmy destiny."

  Dennis saw his power and proceeded rapidly, for he knew they might beinterrupted at any moment; and so they would have been had anythingless interesting than eating occupied the attention of others.

  "I saw in the picture what in your eyes and mine would be a fataldefect--the lack of life and true feeling--the lack of power to live.I did not know who painted it, but felt that any one who could paintas well as that, and yet leave out the soul, as it were, had not thepower to put it in. No artist of such ability could willingly orignorantly have permitted such a defect."

  Christine's eyes sank, their fire faded out, and her face had thepallor of one listening to her doom. This deeper feeling mastered themomentary resentment against the hand that was wounding her, and sheforgot him, and all, in her pain and despair.

  In a low, earnest tone Dennis continued: "But since I have come toknow who the artist is, since I have studied the picture more fully,and have taken the liberty of some observation"--Christine hung onhis lips breathlessly, and Dennis spoke slowly, marking the effect ofevery word--"I have come to the decided belief that the lady who paintedthat picture can reach the sphere of true and highest art."

  The light that stole into Christine's face under his slow, emphaticwords was like a rosy dawn in June; and the thought flashed throughDennis's mind, "If an earthly hope can so light up her face, what willbe the effect of a heavenly one?"

  For a moment she sat as one entranced, looking at a picture far offin the future. His words had been so earnest and assured that theyseemed reality. Suddenly she turned on him a look as grateful and happyas the former one had been full of pain and anger, and said: "Ah, donot deceive me, do not flatter. You cannot know the sweetness and powerof the hope you are inspiring. To be disappointed again would be death.If you are trifling with me I will never forgive you," she added, insudden harshness, her brow darkening.

  "Nor should I deserve to be forgiven if I deceived you in a matterthat to you is so sacred."

  "But how--how am I to gain this magic power to make faces feel andlive on canvas?"

  "You must believe. You yourself must feel."

  She looked at him with darkening face, and then in a sudden burst ofpassion said: "I don't believe; I can't feel. All this is mockery,after all."

  "No!" said Dennis, in the deep, assured tone that ever calms and securesattention. "This is not mockery. I speak the words of truth andsoberness. You do not believe, but that is not the same as cannot. Andpermit me to contradict you when I say you _do_ feel. On this subject sonear your heart you feel most deeply--feel as I never knew any one feelbefore. This proves you capable of feeling on other and higher subjects,and what you feel your trained and skilful hand can portray. You felt onthe evening of that miserable day, and sang as I never heard you singbefore. Your tones then would move any heart, and my tears fell with therain in sympathy: I could not help it."

  Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously, and her breath came hard andquick.

  "Oh, if I could believe you were right!"

  "I know I am right," he said, so decidedly that again hope grew rosyand beautiful in her face.

  "Then again," he continued, eagerly, "see what an advantage you haveover the most of us. Your power of imitation is wonderful. _You can copyanything you see._"

  "Good-evening, Miss Ludolph. Where have you been hiding? I have twicemade the tour of the supper-room in my search," broke in the volubleMr. Mellen. Then he gave Dennis a cool stare, who acted as ifunconscious of his presence. An expression of disgust flitted acrossChristine's face at the interruption, or the person--perhaps both--andshe was about to shake him off that Dennis might speak further,when Miss Winthrop and others came up, and there was a general movementback to the parlors.

  "Why, Christine, what is the matter?" asked her friend. "You look asif you had a fever. What has Mr. Fleet been saying?"

  "Oh, we have had an argument on my hobby, art, and of course don'tagree, and so got excited in debate."

  Miss Winthrop glanced keenly at them and said, "I would like to haveheard it, for it was Greek meeting Greek."

  "To what art or _trade_ did Mr. Fleet refer?" asked Mr. Mellen, with aninsinuation that all understood.

  "One that you do not understand," said Christine, keenly.

  The petted and spoiled millionaire flushed angrily a moment, and thensaid with a bow: "You are right, Miss Ludolph. Mr. Fleet is acquaintedwith one or two arts that I have never had the pleasure of learning."

  "He has at least learned the art of being a gentleman," was the sharpretort.

  The young man's face grew darker, and he said, "From the _sweeping_nature of your remarks, I perceive that Mr. Fleet is high in yourfavor."

  "A poor pun made in poorer taste," was all the comfort he got fromChristine.

  Dennis was naturally of a very jealous disposition where his affectionswere concerned. His own love took such entire possession of him thathe could not brook the interference of others, or sensibly considerthat they had the same privilege to woo, and win if possible, that hehad. Especially distasteful to him was this rich and favored youth,whose presence awakened all his combativeness, which was by no meanssmall.

  Mr. Mellen's most inopportune interruption and covert taunts provokedhim beyond endurance. His face was fairly white with rage, and for amoment he felt that he could stamp his rival out of existence. In thelow, concentrated voice of passion he said, "If Mr. Mellen should losehis property, as many do, I gather from his remarks that he would stillkeep up his idea of a gentleman on charity."

  Mr. Mellen flushed to the roots of his hair, his hands clenched. Inthe flashing eyes and threatening faces of the young men thosewitnessing the scene foresaw trouble. A light hand fell on Dennis'sarm, and Miss Winthrop said, "Mr. Fleet, I wish to show you a picture,and ask your judgment in regard to it."

  Dennis understood the act, and in a moment more his face was crimsonwith shame.

  "Miss Winthrop, you ought to send me home at once. I told you I wasunfit for society. Somehow I am not myself. I humbly ask your pardon."

  "So sincere a penitent shall receive absolution at once. You weregreatly provoked. I trust you for the future."

  "You may," was the emphatic answer. After that pledge Mr. Mellen mighthave struck him and received no more response than from a marble statue.

  Mr. Mellen also took a sober second thought, remembering that he wasin a lady's parlor. He walked away with his ears tingling, for theflattered youth had never had such an experience before. The few whowitnessed the scene smiled significantly, as did C
hristine halfcontemptuously; but Miss Winthrop soon restored serenity, andthe remaining hours passed away in music and dancing. Christine did notspeak to Dennis again--that is, by word of mouth--but she thought ofhim constantly, and their eyes often met;--on his part that same eager,questioning look. She ever turned hers at once away. But his wordskept repeating themselves continually, especially his last sentence,when the unlucky Mr. Mellen had broken in upon them--"You can copyanything you see."

  "How noble and expressive of varied feeling his face is!" she thought,watching it change under the playful badinage of Miss Winthrop.

  "How I would like to copy it! Well, you can--'You can copy anythingyou see.'" Then like a flash came a suggestion--"You can make himlove you, and copy feeling, passion, life--from the _living_ face.Whether I can believe or feel, myself, is very doubtful. This I cando: he himself said so. I cannot love, myself--I must not; I do notwish to now, but perhaps I can inspire love in him, and then make hisface a study. As to my believing, he can never know how utterlyimpossible his faith is to me."

  Then conscience entered a mild protest against the cruelty of theproject. "Nonsense!" she said to herself; "most girls flirt for sport,and it is a pity if I cannot with such a purpose in view. He will soonget over a little puncture in his heart after I have sailed away tomy bright future beyond the sea, and perhaps Susie will comfort him;"and she smiled at the thought. Dennis saw the smile and was entrancedby its loveliness. How little he guessed the cause!

  Having resolved, Christine acted promptly. When their eyes again met,she gave him a slight smile. He caught it instantly and lookedbewildered, as if he could not believe his eyes. Again, when a littlelater, at the urgent request of many, he sang alone for the first time,and again moved his hearers deeply by the real feeling in his tones,he turned from the applause of all, with that same questioning look,to her. She smiled an encouragement that she had never given him before.The warm blood flooded his face instantly. All thought that it was thegeneral chorus of praise. Christine knew that she had caused it, andsurprise and almost exultation came into her face. "I half believe heloves me now," she said. She threw him a few more kindly smiles fromtime to time, as one might throw some glittering things to an eagerchild, and every moment assured her of her power.

  "I will try one more test," she said, and by a little effort she luredto her side the offended Mr. Mellen, and appeared much pleased by hisattention. Then unmistakably the pain of jealousy was stamped onDennis's face, and she was satisfied. Shaking off the perplexed Mr.Mellen again, she went to the recess of a window to hide her look ofexultation.

  "The poor victim loves me already," she said. "The mischief is done.I have only to avail myself of what exists from no fault of mine, andsurely I ought to; otherwise the passion of the infatuated youth willbe utterly wasted, and do no one any good."

  Thus in a somewhat novel way Christine obtained a new master inpainting, and poor Dennis and his love were put to use somewhat as ahuman subject might be if dissected alive.