CHAPTER XV.
THE WEB BROKEN.
"Poverty," says Beranger, "is always superstitious." So indeed is humanextremity of any sort. Julia's healthy constitution had resisted thethreatened illness, the feverishness had gone with the headache. Shefelt now only one thing: she must have a friend. But the hard piousnessof Cynthy Ann's face had never attracted her sympathy. It had alwaysseemed to her that Cynthy disapproved of her affection quite as much asher mother did. Cynthy's face had indeed a chronic air of disapproval. Anervous young minister said that he never had any "liberty" when sisterCynthy Ann was in his congregation. She seemed averse to all he said.
But now Julia felt that there was just one chance of getting advice andhelp. Had she not in her dream seen Cynthy Ann with a broom? She wouldask help from Cynthy Ann. There must be a heart under her rind.
But to get to her. Her mother's affectionate vigilance never left heralone with Cynthy. Perhaps it was this very precaution that hadsuggested Cynthy Ann to her as a possible ally. She must contrive tohave a talk with her somehow. But how? There was one way. Black-eyedpeople do not delay. Bight or wrong, Julia acted with sharp decision.Before she had any very definite view of her plan, she had arisen andslipped on a calico dress. But there was one obstacle. Mr. Humphreyskept late hours, and he might be on the front-porch. She might meet himin the hall, and this seemed worse to her than would the chance ofmeeting a tribe of Indians. She listened and looked out of her window;but she could not be sure; she would run the risk. With silent feet andloud-beating heart she went down the hall to the back upper porch, forin that day porches were built at the back and front of houses, aboveand below. Once on the back-porch she turned to the right and stood byCynthy Ann's door. But a new fear took possession of her. If Cynthy Annshould be frightened and scream!
AT CYNTHY'S DOOR.]
"Cynthy! Cynthy Ann!" she said, standing by the bed in the little bareroom which Cynthy Ann had occupied, for five years, but into which shehad made no endeavor to bring one ray of sentiment or one traceof beauty.
"Cynthy! Cynthy Ann!"
Had Cynthy Ann slept anywhere but in the L of the house, hershriek--what woman could have helped shrieking a little whenstartled?--her shriek must have alarmed the family. But it did not."Why, child! what are you doing here? You are out of your head, and youmust go back to your room at once." And Cynthy had arisen and wasalready tugging at Julia's arm.
"I a'n't out of my head, Cynthy Ann, and I _won't_ go back to myroom--not until I have had a talk with you."
"What _is_ the matter, Jule?" said Cynthy, sitting on the bed andpreparing to begin again her old fight between duty and inclination.Cynthy always expected temptation. She had often said in class-meetingthat temptations abounded on every hand, and as soon as Julia told hershe had a communication to make, Cynthy Ann was sure that she would findin it some temptation of the devil to do something she "hadn't orterdo," according to the Bible or the Dis_cip_line, strictly construed.And Cynthy was a "strict constructionist."
Julia did not find it so easy to say anything now that she had announcedherself as determined to have a conversation and now that her auditorwas waiting. It is the worst beginning in the world for a conversation,saying that you intend to converse. When an Indian has announced hisintention of having a "big talk," he immediately lights his pipe andrelapses into silence until the big talk shall break out accidentallyand naturally. But Julia, having neither the pipe nor the Indian'sstolidity, found herself under the necessity of beginning abruptly.Every minute of delay made her position worse. For every minuteincreased her doubt of Cynthy Ann's sympathy.
"O Cynthy Ann! I'm so miserable!"
"Yes, I told your ma this morning that you was looking mis'able, andthat you had orter have sassafras to purify the blood, but your ma is sotook up with steam-docterin' that she don't believe in nothin' butcorn-sweats and such like."
"Oh! but, Cynthy, it a'n't that. I'm miserable in my mind. I wish I knewwhat to do."
"I thought you'd made up your mind. Your ma told me you was engaged toMr. Humphreys."
Julia was appalled. How fast the spider spins his web!
"I a'n't engaged to him, and I hate him. He got me to say yes when I wascrazy, and I believe he brought about the things that make me feel sonigh crazy. Do you think he's a good man, Cynthy Ann?"
"Well, no, though I don't want to set in no jedgment on nobody; but Idon't see as how as he kin be good and wear all of them costly apparelsthat's so forbid in the Bible, to say nothing of the Dis_cip_line. TheBible says you must know a tree by its fruits, and I 'low his'n ismostly watch-seals. I think a good sound conversion at the mourners'bench would make him strip off some of them things, and put them intothe missionary collection. Though maybe he a'n't so bad arter all, ferJonas says that liker'n not the things a'n't gold, but pewter washedover. But I'm afeard he's wor'ly-minded. But I don't want to be too hardon a feller-creatur'."
CYNTHY ANN HAD OFTEN SAID IN CLASS-MEETING THATTEMPTATIONS ABOUNDED ON EVERY HAND.]
"Cynthy, I drempt just now I was a fly and he was a spider, and that hehad me all wrapped up in his web, and that just then you came alongwith a broom."
"That must be a sign," said Cynthy Ann. "It's good you didn't dreamafter daylight. Then 'twould a come true. But what about _him?_ Ithought you loved Gus Wehle, and though I'm afeard you're makin' a idolout o' him, and though I'm afeard he's a onbeliever, and I don't nowayslike marryin' with onbelievers, yet I did want to help you, and Ibrought a note from him wunst and put it under the head of your bed. Iwas afeard then I was doin' what Timothy forbids, when he says not to bepertakers in other folks's sins, but, you see, how could I help doin'it, when you was lookin' so woebegone like, and Jonas, he axed me to doit. It's awful hard to say you won't to Jonas, you know. So I put theletter there, and I don't doubt your ma mistrusted it, and got a holton it."
"Did he write to me? A'n't he going with that Betsey Malcolm?"
"Can't be, I 'low. On'y this evenin' Jonas said to me, says he, when Itole him you was engaged to Mr. Humphreys, says he, in his way, 'Thehawk's lit, has he? That'll be the death of two,' says he, 'fer she'lldie on it, an' so'll poor Gus,' says he. And then he went on to tell ashow as Gus is all ready to leave, and had axed him to tell him of anynews; but he said he wouldn't tell him that. He'd leave him some hope.Fer he says Gus was mighty nigh distracted to-day, that is yisterday,fer its most mornin' I 'low."
Now this speech did Julia a world of good. It showed her that Gus wasnot faithless, that she might count on Cynthy, and that Jonas was herfriend, and that he did not like Humphreys. Jonas called him a hawk.That agreed with her dream. He was a hawk and a spider.
"But, Cynthy Ann, I got a letter night before last; ma threw it in thewindow. In it Gus said he released me. I hadn't asked any release. Whatdid he mean?"
"Honey, I wish I could help you. It's that hawk, as Jonas calls him,that's at the bottom of all this trouble. I don't believe but what he'stold some lies or 'nother. I don't believe but what he's a bad man. Iallers said I didn't 'low no good could come of a man that puts oncostly apparel and wears straps. I'm afeard you're making a idol of GusWehle. Don't do it. Ef you do, God'll take him. Misses Pearsons made aidol of her baby, a kissin' it and huggin' it every minute, and I said,says I, Misses Pearsons, you hadn't better make a idol of a perishin'creature. And sure enough, God tuck it. He's jealous of our idols. But Ican't help helpin' you. You're a onbeliever yet yourself, and I 'lowtaint no sin fer you to marry Gus. It's yokin' like with like. I wishyou was both Christians. I'll speak to Jonas. I don't know what I oughtto do, but I'll speak to Jonas. He's mighty peart about sech things, isJonas, and got as _good_ a heart as you ever see. And--"
"Cynth-ee A-ann!" It was the energetic voice of Mrs. Anderson rousingthe house betimes. For the first time Julia and Cynthy Ann noticed theearly light creeping in at the window. They sat still, paralyzed.
"Cynth-ee!" The voice was now at the top of the stairs, for Mrs.Anderson always carried the war into Africa if
Cynthy did not wakeat once.
"Answer quick, Cynthy Ann, or she'll be in here!" said Julia, slidingbehind the bed.
"Ma'am!" said Cynthy Ann, starting toward the door, where she met Mrs.Abigail. "I'm up," said Cynthy.
"Well, what makes you so long a-answerin' then? You make me climb thesteps, and you know I may drop down dead of heart-disease any day. I'llgo and wake Jule."
"Better let her lay awhile," said Cynthy, reproaching herself instantlyfor the deception.
Mrs. Anderson hesitated at the top of the stairs.
"Jul-yee!" she called. Poor Jule shook from head to foot. "I guess I'lllet her lay awhile; but I'm afraid I've already spoiled the child byindulgence," said the mother, descending the stairs. She relented onlybecause she believed Julia was conquered.
"I declare, child, it's a shame I should be helping you to disobey yourmother. I'm afeard the Lord'll bring some jedgment on us yet." ForCynthy Ann had tied her conscience to her rather infirm logic. Better tohave married it to her generous heart. But before she had finished thehalf-penitent lamentation, Jule was flying with swift and silent feetdown the hall. Arrived in her own room, she was so much relieved as tobe almost happy; and she was none too soon, for her industrious motherhad quickly repented her criminal leniency, and was again climbing thestairs at the imminent risk of her precarious life, and calling"Jul-yee!"