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The Diary of a Saint

Chapter 3 MARCH

Word Count: 9000    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

rd composure. Hannah is rather shocked that she should be so entirely unmoved in the face of death, and the dear, foolish old soul, steeped

sterday, "that you could persuade your mother t

dn't oblige

, think of her

w how Mother always felt about those things. It certainly couldn't do

ing her feelings, but I might have known that he

d because I'm going to die than if I were going to live. I

ke down with tears, Mother put out

be troubled. Where there are 'many mansions,' don't you think there may be one e

whether I shall be as serene and absolutely unterrified as Mother is. It is after all only the terror of the unknown. Why should we be more ready to think of the unknown as dreadful than as delightful? We certainly hail the thought of new experiences in the body; w

of them as deprived of it; but the more beautiful it is, the more I am assured that whatever power made the earth must be able to make something better. If life is good, a higher

. This

rooding universe about us unless we have hold of some human hand! Yet we are so small,-the poor, naked, timorous soul, a single fleck of thistle-down tossed about by all the winds which fill the immensities of an infinite universe. Why should we not be afraid? Father would say, "Why should we?" He believed that the universe took care of everything in it, because everything is part of itself. "You've only to think of our own human instinct of self-preservation on a scale as great as you can conceive," he told me the day before he died, "and you get some idea of the way in which the universal must protect the particular." I am afra

ng in the human heart, overcomes the narrowness of creeds in the face of the great tragedy of deat

esus. Her Heavenly Father'll look after her. I guess she sees things some different now she's face to face with Him; and I

ght to the actual application of the awful belief she professes, and she is too human not to feel that a

f the bleak chill of the earth; and the question whether she is anywhere and is conscious at all is in my mind constantly. She must be; she cannot have gone out like a candle-flame. She said to Mr. Saychase, that day Hannah brought him and Mother was too gentle to refuse to see him, that she had always believed G

't you think, Mr. Saychase, I am near enough to the end

t there in the sky, which to us looks so wide, so thick with stars which might be abiding-places. She may have met Father. How much he, at least, must have to tell her! Whethe

tter a thought. It is wonderful that anything could so hold me that I have not been moved, but they came back the day after the funeral, and I did not hear of it until a coup

he could not help reflecting that my duty to Mother had been the thing which kept us apart, and th

of pain, but where would be the good? Nothing could come of it but new suffering. We were both outwardly calm and self-possessed, I know, and talked less like lovers than like men of business. So

ow and then. I think he was astonished that I showed no more feeling about our past. I cannot have him unhappy through me, and he must feel that at least I accept my fate serenely, or he will be troub

nd by have lived through his first love for his wife, and if so what will be left? That is not my concern; but would this same thing have come if I had been his wife, and should I now find myself, if we had been married when we hoped to be, only a friend who could not so fill his heart as to shut out a new love? Better a hundredfold that it shoul

he has done with loving her must feel as if she were shamed. That is nonsense, however, and I fought against the feeling. Now I am happy in the thought that at least I have done one thing. I have made it pos

enerally assume that the family pride behind this is weak if it is not wicked; but surely the ideal of an honorable race, cultivated and right-minded for generations, is a thing to be cherished. The growth of civilization must depend a good deal upon having these ideas of family preserved somehow. Father used to say the great weakness of modern times is that nowadays the best of the race, instead of saying to those below, "Climb up to us," say, "We will come down to you." I suppose this is hardly a fair summing up of modern views of social conditions, though of course I know very little about them; but I am su

e snips and with loving glances which were like those a mother gives her pet child in dressing it for a party. The sun came in at the bay window, and the geraniums which are the pr

ness; "that slip of heather that came from the wr

rom the wreath that Cousin Mehitable sent for Mother. Miss Charlotte had asked me if

"It is partly that it would always remind me

had begun to come through the bark under the green water. It was as if she had herself somehow accomplished the miracle of creation. I c

bled. Unconsciously, I am sure, she glanced arou

ore she had time to speak, "I forgo

idently troubled between the wish to oblige me and th

as foolish enough not to think of t

the morning, and at this time of the year the room would be warm enough for them till I came

eyes. "If you will come over after breakfast and stay until after

to jail and was met by a beggar. 'I've nothing to give you but time,' he said, 'and that his H

s trying to be entertaining and to make me cheerful. I did come away with my

in her big voice, and somehow all the time is thinking, I can see, of brightening the days for me. Peter was compl

it came about. I suppose that she was thinking of Mother and wanted me to know what Mother had been to her. Perhaps, too, she may have had a

nd a cultivated man. I am afraid he did not care very much for the comfort of others; and Aunt Naomi always speaks of him as a rake who broke his wife's heart. Charlotte took care of him after Mrs. Kendall died, and was devoted to him, they say. S

to me like an old book that I read so long ago that I onl

fore; but I suppose it passed out of peopl

d been engaged, Miss

"That was like her. She was more than a mother to me at the time"-She broke off, and then

e with the tears running unchecked down her wrinkled cheeks. She did not seem conscious of them, and the thought

old scarecrow in a cornfield. I suppose no young person ever really believes that an old woman can have been beautiful unless there's

thickly. I felt as if I were being led into some sacred room, closed many years, but where the dead had once lain. Pe

of course. I knew it all along; and I vowed to myself over and over that I wouldn't care for him. When a girl tells herself that she won't love a man, Ruth," she broke in with a bitter laugh, "the thing's done already. It

could do to keep control of myself. I could not have spoken, even if there had been anything to say.

happen and we shall get what we want. Then father found out; and then-and then-I don't blame father, Ruth. He was right. I see now that he was right. Of course it wou

firelight, but she did not wipe them away. I was crying myself, for her old sorrow and mine seemed all part of the

h; and of course it was natural that he couldn't understand how father would feel about the family

s

ope he was happy. I think probably he was. Men are happy

I put my arms about her, and kissed her. Then she made a joke, and wiped her eyes, and through supp

o be a little more deliberate, so I have the few hours of her journey in which to expect her. It is all part of her brisk way. She can never move fast enough, talk quickly enough, get through whatever she is doing with rapidity enough. I remember Father's telling her once th

en she spoke of Mother. I think that she loved

ic for that. But she was too sweet and human for an angel. For my part I

eristic that it brought me t

me to the point of her erran

o see how soon you expect t

ed anything abou

isregarding my feeble protest. "You might want to come back s

y surprise; but it did rather take my breath away to find my future so complete

of giving up the hous

live where you please. Don't I know that for this ten years you and Aunt Martha haven't spent half yo

stare at he

at are left of the family now, and I'm the head of it. You are a foolish thing anyway, and let everybody impose on your good-nature. You need somebo

en me a blow in the face

anded. "It's all over, and you know I always s

country lawyer

reputation. Don't outrage his memory by calling him a rustic. For my part I neve

but with Cousin Mehitable one is never su

I beg your pardon, Ruth. But now all that is past and gone, and fortunately the family is still well enough remembered in Boston fo

me then will har

you to know the younger generation. Besides, those you know will not have forgotten you. A Privet is not so easily forgo

liment in this manner, and it prevents me

Miss Charlotte did not come over to-day, so we were alone together. No s

in Boston," she

not live in Bost

. What else s

go on liv

s living, do you? How long is it since you heard any music, o

irely lacking in Tuskamuck; but I remarked that I had all the books tha

y; "and I dare say they are very worthy creatures. But you know yourself

tely alone as for family I am. Cousin Mehitable is the only near relative I have in the world, and why should I not be with her? It would be delightful. Perhaps I may manage to get in a week or two in town now and then; but I cannot go away for long. There would be nobody to start the reading-room, or keep up the Shakespeare Club; and w

vet, and violets, and steel beads, and two or three white ostrich tips; a bonnet an angel couldn't resist, Ruth!"-and this bonnet must form part of the church service on Easter. The con

worse form than making jo

resist sometimes the temptation to tease her; "or at

When you live with me I shall insist upon

ch she always takes up its defense; "I was speaking of your bonnet, your Paris b

g the church in her excitement, "but it isn't really. It's as modest

her, "but you know you're a worldly old thing. You'd insist

d grave and sho

re is no church in Tuskamuck, so I suppose it is not to be wondered

rches, as you know

es,-conventicles. However, when you

ght that I shouldn'

I didn't mind that.

nd I shall enjoy it. To think of the picture galleries fills me with joy already. I should be willing to cross the Atlantic just to see once more the enchanting tailor of Moroni's in the National Gallery. It is odd, it com

ging camps, and it is said they were not sober. They were Brownrigs, and part of the family in the little red house. The mother and the daughter are left. I hope it is not heart

just now to be forced upon my atte

y, and I believe that secretly and only half consciously she envies me my mental freedom. Sometimes I have suspected her of leading me on to say things which she would have felt it wrong to say herself because they are unorthodox, but which she has too much common sense not to sympathize with. She is convinced, though, that such freedom of thought as mine is wrong, and she nobly deprives herself of the pleasure of being frank in her thoughts when this would involve any reflection upon the theological conventions which are her rule of life. She gratifies a lively mind by feeding it on scraps of gossip and commenting on them in her pungent way; she is never unkind in her thought, I am sure, but sh

in Tuskamuck, and I tried to decide whether I should come in time to be like Aunt Naomi, a general carrier of news from house to house, an old maid aunt to the whole vill

Naomi said, with a grimness which showed me there w

nded. "I confess

ckedness here that isn't generall

f that everywhere, I suppose; but I never ha

considerable lunch on her green veil before she spoke again-though

ou knitting

s for the Turner boy. He brings our milk,

"His mother has so many babies that she

nk the poor thing would be discouraged. I

ll the poor in the town; but if you could stop her incr

rk like this, I feel it is d

tting milder," I observed, "you ar

his chance to dwell on her pet

u've got to look out for that

rig girl?"

realized something terrible was coming, though I had nothing to go upon but th

on't see what such creatures are allowed to live for. Think what kind of a mother she will

!" was all

very charitable, but it does make

king about," I interrupted. "H

ther's gone off and left her, and sh

her has

dance, if there was anybod

the town. She collects news from the air, I believe. I reflected t

ith her if she's down w

but she's about twice as bad as nobody, I should think. If I was sick, an

l, I had rather not know it. We were fortunately interrupted, and Aunt Naomi went soon, so I heard no more. I was sick with the loathsomeness of h

s of the old people of the town whom I can just remember, and she is full of reverence for both Father and Mother. Of course I never talk theology with her, but I am surprised sometimes to find that under the shell of her orthodoxy is a good deal of liberalism. I suppose any kindly mortal who accepted the old creeds made allowances for those nearest and dearest

lowly twirling his hat and fixing his eyes on it as if he were blind. I tried to say something, but only stumbled on in little commonplaces about the weather, to which he paid so little attention that it was evident he

hen I could not bear the silence

mine with a look of

he said in his slow way, "but there's nob

ated. "What h

went on, "and you'll have to excuse me, Miss R

nd I felt my ha

aby," he said

could not speak, and after a little hesitation he c

s to me, if it could only have been the Lord's will, I would h

worse than death. When one dies you can at least speak of the happiness that has been and the consolation of the memory of this. In disgrace wha

time that we sat there

ng to help the girl. Bad as she is, she's sick, and she's a woman. I don't know where Tom is, and I'm that baby's grandfather." His

instinct of a good man to screen his wife, and plainly was af

dfully put out, as she naturally would be, and of course I don't like

ded. He of course must have thought of this himself, but he liked to have me agree with him and be good to him. He will do his duty, and what is more he will do his best, but he will do it with very little help from Mrs. Webbe, I am afraid. Poor Deacon Daniel! I could have put my arms round his neck and kissed his weather-beaten cheek, but he would not have understood. I su

of the letter; but it seemed to me that it was better to have said nothing. I thought I should open it before saying anything; and I needed to consider whether the time had come when I was justified in reading it. Tom trusted me, and I was bound by that; yet surely he ought to be to

k at the thought that he had degraded himself so. It seemed almost as if in holding his letter I was touching her, and I would gladly have thrown it in the fire unopened. Th

very easy to forgive me for saying it now, but it is true. I never knew better how completely you have possession of me than I do just at this moment, when I know I am writing what you will read hating me. No, I suppose you can't really hate anybody; but you mu

by the pity of it, that I could not trust myself to think. I sat down

Brownrig girl is ill of pneumonia. Her bab

le; but if he does not the baby must go through life with a brand of shame on her. The world is so cruel to illegitimate children! Perhaps it has to be; at least Father believed that the only preservation of society l

om Webbe's living in the same house with that dreadful creat

r. I am so thankful that I have not to decide. I know I should be too weak to be just, and then I should be always unhappy

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