The End of the World: A Love Story

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE WRONG PEW.

  August's own good sense told him that the advice of Jonas was not good.But he had made many mistakes of late, and was just now inclined to takeanybody's judgment in place of his own. All that was proud andgentlemanly in him rebelled at the thought of creeping into anotherman's house in the night. Modesty is doubtless a virtue, but it is avirtue responsible for many offenses. Had August not felt so distrustfulof his own wisdom, nothing could have persuaded him to make his love forJulia Anderson seem criminal by an action so wanting in dignity. Butback of Jonas's judgment was that of Andrew, whose weakness wasQuixotism. He wanted to live and to have others live on theconcert-pitch of romantic action. There was something of chivalry in theproposal of Jonas, a spice of adventure that made him approve it onpurely sentimental grounds.

  The more August thought of it, and the nearer he was to its execution,the more did he dislike it. But I have often noticed that people of arather quiet temperament, such as young Wehle's, show _vis inertiae_ inboth, ways--not very easily moved, they are not easily checked when oncein motion. August's velocity was not usually great, his momentum wastremendous, and now that he had committed himself to the hands of JonasHarrison and set out upon this enterprise, he was determined, in hisquiet way, to go through to the end.

  Of course he understood the house, and having left the family inmeeting, he had nothing to do but to scale one of the pillars of thefront-porch. In those Arcadian days upper windows were hardly everfastened, except when the house was deserted by all its inmates fordays. Half-way up the post he was seized with a violent trembling. Hisposition brought to him a confused memory of a text of Scripture: "Hethat entereth not by the door ... but climbeth up some other way, thesame is a thief and a robber." Bred under Moravian influence, hehalf-believed the text to be supernaturally suggested to him. For amoment his purpose wavered, but the habit of going through with anundertaking took the place of his will, and he went on blindly, as Bakerthe Nile explorer did, "more like a donkey than like a man." Once on theupper porch he hesitated again. To break into a man's house in this waywas unlawful. His conscience troubled him. In vain he reasoned that Mrs.Anderson's despotism was morally wrong, and that this action was rightas an offset to it. He knew that it was not right.

  I want to remark here that there are many situations in life in which aconscience is dreadfully in the way. There are people who go straightahead to success--such as it is--with no embarrassments, no fire in therear from any scruples. Some of these days I mean to write an essay on"The Inconvenience of having a Conscience," in which I shall proceed toshow that it costs more in the course of a year or two, than it would tokeep a stableful of fast horses. Many a man could afford to driveDexters and Flora Temples who would be ruined by a conscience. But Imust not write the essay here, for I am keeping August out in the nightair and his perplexity all this time.

  August Wehle had the habit, I think I have said, of going through withan enterprise. He had another habit, a very inconvenient habitdoubtless, but a very manly one, of listening for the voice of hisconscience. And I think that this habit would have even yet turned himback, as he had his hand on the window-sash, had it not been that whilehe stood there trying to find out just what was the decision of hisconscience, he heard the voices of the returning family. There was notime to lose, there was no shelter on the porch, in a minute more theywould be in sight. He must go ahead now, for retreat was cut off. Helifted the window and climbed into the room, lowering the sash gentlybehind him. As no one ever came into this room but Jonas, he felt safeenough. Jonas would plan a meeting after midnight in Cynthy Ann's room,and in Cynthy Ann's presence.

  In groping for a chair, August drew aside the curtain of thegable-window, hoping to get some light. Had Jonas taken to cultivatingflowers in pots? Here was a "monthly" rose on the window-seat! Surelythis was the room. He had occupied it during his stay in the house. Buthe did not know that Mrs. Anderson had changed the arrangement betweenhis leaving and the coming of Jonas. He noticed that the curtains werenot the same. He trembled from head to foot. He felt for the bureau, andrecognized by various little articles, a pincushion, a tuck-comb, andthe sun-bonnet hanging against the window-frame, that he was in Julia'sroom. His first emotion was not alarm. It was awe, as pure and solemn asthe high-priest may have felt in the holy place. Everything pertainingto Julia had a curious sacredness, and this room was a temple into whichit was sacrilege to intrude. But a more practical question took hisattention soon. The family had come in below, except Jonas and CynthyAnn--who had walked slowly, planning a meeting for August--and Mr.Samuel Anderson, who stood at the front-gate with a neighbor. Augustcould hear his shrill voice discussing the seventh trumpet and thethousand three hundred and thirty and five days. It would not do to bediscovered where he was. Beside the fright he would give to Julia, heshuddered at the thought of compromising her in such a way. To go backwas to insure his exposure, for Samuel Anderson had not yet half-settledthe question of the trumpets. Indeed it seemed to August that the worldmight come to an end before that conversation would. He heard Humphreysenter his room. He was now persuaded that the room formerly occupied byJulia must be Jonas's, and he determined to get to it if he could. Hefelt like a villain already. He would have cheerfully gone toState's-prison in preference to compromising Julia. At any rate, hestarted out of Julia's room toward the one that was occupied by Jonas.It was the only road open, and but for an unexpected encounter he wouldhave reached his hiding-place in safety, for the door was but fifteenfeet away.

  In order to explain the events that follow, I must ask the reader to goback to Julia, and to events that had occurred two hours before.Hitherto she had walked to and from meeting and "singing" withHumphreys, as a matter of courtesy. On the evening in question she hadabsolutely refused to walk with him. Her mother found that threats wereas vain as coaxing. Even her threat of dying with heart-disease, thenand there, killed by her daughter's disobedience, could not move Julia,who would not even speak with the "spider." Her mother took her into thesitting-room alone, and talked with her.

  "So this is the way you trifle with gentlemen, is it? Night before lastyou engaged yourself to Mr. Humphreys, now you won't speak to him. Tothink that my daughter should prove a heartless flirt!"

  I am afraid that the unfilial thought came into Julia's mind thatnothing could have been more in the usual order of things than that thedaughter of a coquette should be a flirt.

  "You'll kill me on the spot; you certainly will." Julia felt anxious,for her mother showed signs of going into hysterics. But she put herfoot out and shook her head in a way that said that all her friendsmight die and all the world might go to pieces before she would yield.Mrs. Anderson had one forlorn hope. She determined to order thatforward. Leaving Julia alone, she went to her husband.

  "Samuel, if you value my life go and speak to your daughter. She's gotyour own stubbornness of will in her. She is just like you; she _will_have her own way. I shall die." And Mrs. Abigail Anderson sank into achair with unmistakable symptoms of a hysterical attack.

  I am aware that I have so far let the reader hear not one word of SamuelAnderson's conversation. He has played a rather insignificant part inthe story. Nothing could be more _comme il faut_. Insignificance was hischaracteristic. It was not so much that he was small. It is not so bad athing to be a little man. But to be little and insignificant also isbad. There is only one thing worse, which is to be big andinsignificant. If one is little and insignificant, one may beoverlooked, insignificance and all. But if one is big and insignificant,it is to be an obtrusive cipher, a great lubber, not easily kept outof sight.

  Appealed to by his wife, Samuel Anderson prepared to assert hisauthority as the head of the family. He almost strutted into Julia'spresence. Julia had a real affection for her father, and nothingmortified her more than to see him acting as a puppet, moved by hermother, and yet vain enough to believe himself independent and supreme.She would have yielded almost any other point to have save
d herself themortification of seeing her father act the fool; but now she haddetermined that she would die and let everybody else die rather thanwalk with a man whose nature seemed to her corrupt, and whose touch waspollution. I do not mean that she was able to make a distinct inventoryof her reasons for disliking him, or to analyze her feelings. She couldnot have told just why she had so deep and utter a repugnance to walkinga quarter of a mile to the school-house in company with this man. Shefollowed that strong instinct of truth and purity which is thesurest guide.

  "Julia, my daughter," said Samuel Anderson, "really you must yield to meas head of the house, and treat this gentleman politely. I thought yourespected him, or loved him, and he told me that you had given consentto marry him, and had told him to ask my consent."

  In saying this, the "head of the house" was seesawing himself backwardand forward in his squeaky boots, speaking in a pompous manner, and withan effort to swell an effeminate voice to a bass key, resulting insomething between a croak and a squeal. Julia sat down and cried inmortification and disgust. Mr. Anderson understood this to beacquiescence, and turned and went into the next room.

  JULIA SAT DOWN IN MORTIFICATION.]

  "Mr. Humphreys, my daughter will be glad to ask your pardon. She is overher little pet; lovers always have pets. Even my wife and I have had ourdisagreements in our time. Julia will be glad to see you in thesitting-room."

  Humphreys drew the draw-strings and set his face into its broadest andmost parallelogrammatic smile, bowed to Mr. Anderson, and stepped intothe hall. But when he reached the sitting-room door he wished he hadstaid away. Julia had heard his tread, and was standing again with herfoot advanced. Her eyes were very black, and were drawn to a sharpfocus. She had some of her mother's fire, though happily none of hermother's meanness. It is hard to say whether she spoke or hissed.

  "Go away, you spider! I hate you! I told you I hated you, and you toldpeople I loved you and was engaged to you. Go away! You detestablespider, you! I'll die right here, but I will not go with you."

  But the smirking Humphreys moved toward her, speaking soothingly, andassuring her that there was some mistake. Julia dashed past him into theparlor and laid hold of her father's arm.

  "Father, protect me from that--that--spider! I hate him!"

  Mr. Anderson stood irresolute a moment and looked appealingly to hiswife for a signal. She solved the difficulty herself. On the whole shehad concluded not to die of heart-disease until she saw Julia married tosuit her taste, and having found a hill she could not go through, shewent round. Seizing Julia's arm with more of energy than affection, shewalked off with her, or rather walked her off, in a sulky silence, whileMr. Anderson kept Humphreys company.

  I thought best to keep August standing in the door of Julia's room allthis time while I explained these things to you, so that you mightunderstand what follows. In reality August did not stop at all, butwalked out into the hall and into difficulty.