V.
Sim was mending the pasture fence as Lily came down the road toward him.He had delayed going to dinner to finish his task and was just aboutready to go when Lily spoke to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Burns. I am just going down to see Mrs. Burns. Itmust be time to go to dinner--aren't you ready to go? I want to talkwith you."
Ordinarily he would have been delighted with the idea of walking downthe road with the school-ma'am, but there was something in her lookwhich seemed to tell him that she knew all about his trouble, and,besides, he was not in good humor.
"Yes, in a minnit--soon's I fix up this hole. Them shoats, I b'lieve,would go through a key-hole, if they could once get their snoots in."
He expanded on this idea as he nailed away, anxious to gain time. Heforesaw trouble for himself. He couldn't be rude to this sweet andfragile girl. If a _man_ had dared to attack him on his domesticshortcomings, he could have fought. The girl stood waiting for him, herlarge, steady eyes full of thought, gazing down at him from the shadowof her broad-brimmed hat.
"The world is so full of misery anyway, that we ought to do the best wecan to make it less," she said at last, in a musing tone, as if herthoughts had unconsciously taken on speech. She had always appealed tohim strongly, and never more so than in this softly-utteredabstraction--that it was an abstraction added to its power with him.
He could find no words for reply, but picked up his hammer and nail-box,and slouched along the road by her side, listening without a word to hertalk.
"Christ was patient, and bore with his enemies. Surely we ought to bearwith our--friends," she went on, adapting her steps to his. He took offhis torn straw hat and wiped his face on his sleeve, being muchembarrassed and ashamed. Not knowing how to meet such argument, he keptsilent.
"How _is_ Mrs. Burns?" said Lily at length, determined to make himspeak. The delicate meaning in the emphasis laid on _is_ did not escapehim.
"Oh, she's all right--I mean she's done her work jest the same as ever.I don't see her much"----
"I didn't know--I was afraid she was sick. Sadie said she was actingstrangely."
"No, she's well enough--but"----
"But what is the trouble? Won't you let me help you, _won't_ you?" shepleaded.
"Can't anybody help us. We've got 'o fight it out, I s'pose," hereplied, a gloomy note of resentment creeping into his voice. "She'sben in a devil of a temper f'r a week."
"Haven't you been in the same kind of a temper too?" demanded Lily,firmly, but kindly. "I think most troubles of this kind come from badtemper on both sides. Don't you? Have you done your share at being kindand patient?"
They had reached the gate now, and she laid her hand on his arm to stophim. He looked down at the slender gloved hand on his arm, feeling as ifa giant had grasped him; then he raised his eyes to her face, flushing apurplish red as he remembered his grossness. It seemed monstrous in thepresence of this girl-advocate. Her face was like silver; her eyesseemed pools of tears.
"I don't s'pose I have," he said at last, pushing by her. He could nothave faced her glance another moment. His whole air conveyed theimpression of destructive admission. Lily did not comprehend the extentof her advantage or she would have pursued it further. As it was shefelt a little hurt as she entered the house. The table was set, but Mrs.Burns was nowhere to be seen. Calling her softly, the young girl passedthrough the shabby little living-room to the oven-like bedroom whichopened off it, but no one was about. She stood for a moment shudderingat the wretchedness of the room.
Going back to the kitchen, she found Sim about beginning on his dinner.Little Pet was with him; the rest of the children were at theschool-house.
"Where is she?"
"I d' know. Out in the garden, I expect. She don't eat with me now. Inever see her. She don't come near _me_. I ain't seen her sinceSaturday."
Lily was shocked inexpressibly and began to see more clearly themagnitude of the task she had set herself to do. But it must be done;she felt that a tragedy was not far off. It must be averted.
"Mr. Burns, what have you done? What _have_ you done?" she asked interror and horror.
"Don't lay it all to _me_! She hain't done nawthin' but complain f'r tenyears. I couldn't do nothin' to suit her. She was always naggin' me."
"I don't think Lucretia Burns would nag anybody. I don't say you're_all_ to blame, but I'm afraid you haven't acknowledged you were _any_to blame. I'm afraid you've not been patient with her. I'm going out tobring her in. If she comes, will you _say_ you were _part_ to blame? Youneedn't beg her pardon--just say you'll try to be better. Will you doit? Think how much she has done for you! Will you?"
He remained silent, and looked discouragingly rude. His sweaty, dirtyshirt was open at the neck, his arms were bare, his scraggly teeth wereyellow with tobacco, and his uncombed hair lay tumbled about on hishigh, narrow head. His clumsy, unsteady hands played with the dishes onthe table. His pride was struggling with his sense of justice; he knewhe ought to consent, and yet it was so hard to acknowledge himself toblame. The girl went on in a voice piercingly sweet, trembling with pityand pleading.
"What word can I carry to her from you? I'm going to go and see her. IfI could take a word from _you_, I know she would come back to the table.Shall I tell her you feel to blame?"
The answer was a long time coming; at last the man nodded an assent, thesweat pouring from his purple face. She had set him thinking; hervictory was sure.
Lily almost ran out into the garden and to the strawberry patch, whereshe found Lucretia in her familiar, colorless, shapeless dress, pickingberries in the hot sun, the mosquitoes biting her neck and hands.
"Poor, pathetic, dumb sufferer!" the girl thought as she ran up to her.
She dropped her dish as she heard Lily coming, and gazed up into thetender, pitying face. Not a word was spoken, but something she saw theremade her eyes fill with tears, and her throat swell. It was puresympathy. She put her arms around the girl's neck and sobbed for thefirst time since Friday night. Then they sat down on the grass underthe hedge, and she told her story, interspersed with Lily's horrifiedcomments.
When it was all told, the girl still sat listening. She heard Radbourn'scalm, slow voice again. It helped her not to hate Burns; it helped herto pity and understand him:
"You must remember that such toil brutalizes a man; it makes himcallous, selfish, unfeeling, necessarily. A fine nature must eitheradapt itself to its hard surroundings or die. Men who toil terribly infilthy garments day after day and year after year cannot easily keepgentle; the frost and grime, the heat and cold will soon or late enterinto their souls. The case is not all in favor of the suffering wives,and against the brutal husbands. If the farmer's wife is dulled andcrazed by her routine, the farmer himself is degraded and brutalized."
As well as she could Lily explained all this to the woman, who lay withher face buried in the girl's lap. Lily's arms were about her thinshoulders in an agony of pity.
"It's hard, Lucretia, I know--more than you can bear--but you mustn'tforget what Sim endures too. He goes out in the storms and in the heatand dust. His boots are hard, and see how his hands are all bruised andbroken by his work! He was tired and hungry when he said that--he didn'treally mean it."
The wife remained silent.
"Mr. Radbourn says work, as things go now, _does_ degrade a man in spiteof himself. He says men get coarse and violent in spite of themselves,just as women do when everything goes wrong in the house--when the fliesare thick, and the fire won't burn, and the irons stick to the clothes.You see, you both suffer. Don't lay up this fit of temper againstSim--will you?"
The wife lifted her head and looked away. Her face was full of hopelessweariness.
"It ain't this once. It ain't that 't all. It's having no let-up. Justdoin' the same thing right over 'n' over--no hope of anything better."
"If you had a hope of another world"----
"Don't talk that. I don't want that kind o' comfert. I want a decentchance here. I want 'o re
st an' be happy _now_." Lily's big eyes werestreaming with tears. What should she say to the desperate woman?"What's the use? We might jest as well die--all of us."
The woman's livid face appalled the girl. She was gaunt, heavy-eyed,nerveless. Her faded dress settled down over her limbs, showing theswollen knees and thin calves; her hands, with distorted joints,protruded painfully from her sleeves. And all about was theever-recurring wealth and cheer of nature that knows no fear orfavor--the bees and flies buzzing in the sun, the jay and kingbird inthe poplars, the smell of strawberries, the motion of lush grass, theshimmer of corn-blades tossed gayly as banners in a conquering army.
Like a flash of keener light, a sentence shot across the girl's mind:"Nature knows no title-deed. The bounty of her mighty hands falls as thesunlight falls, copious, impartial; her seas carry all ships; her air isfor all lips, her lands for all feet."
"Poverty and suffering such as yours will not last." There was somethingin the girl's voice that roused the woman. She turned her dull eyes uponthe youthful face.
Lily took her hand in both hers as if by a caress she could impart herown faith.
"Look up, dear. When nature is so good and generous, man must come to bebetter, surely. Come, go in the house again. Sim is there; he expectsyou; he told me to tell you he was sorry." Lucretia's face twitched alittle at that, but her head was bent. "Come; you can't live this way.There isn't any other place to go to."
No; that was the bitterest truth. Where on this wide earth, with itsforth-shooting fruits and grains, its fragrant lands and shining seas,could this dwarfed, bent, broken, middle-aged woman go? Nobody wantedher, nobody cared for her. But the wind kissed her drawn lips as readilyas those of the girl, and the blooms of clover nodded to her as if to aqueen.
Lily had said all she could. Her heart ached with unspeakable pity and asort of terror.
"Don't give up, Lucretia. This may be the worst hour of your life. Liveand bear with it all for Christ's sake--for your children's sake. Simtold me to tell you he was to blame. If you will only see that you areboth to blame and yet neither to blame, then you can rise above it. Try,dear!"
Something that was in the girl imparted itself to the wife,electrically. She pulled herself together, rose silently, and startedtoward the house. Her face was rigid, but no longer sullen. Lilyfollowed her slowly, wonderingly.
As she neared the kitchen door, she saw Sim still sitting at the table;his face was unusually grave and soft. She saw him start and shove backhis chair--saw Lucretia go to the stove and lift the tea-pot, and heardher say, as she took her seat beside the baby:
"Want some more tea?"
She had become a wife and mother again, but in what spirit the puzzledgirl could not say.
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