Winning His Way

  CHAPTER VI.

  PAUL'S FRIENDS.

  For five months Paul had been leader of the choir, and so faithfullywere his duties performed, so excellent his drill, and so good his tasteand mature his judgment, so completely were the choir under his control,that the ministers from the surrounding parishes, when they exchangedwith Rev. Mr. Surplice, said, "What glorious singing they have at NewHope!" It was so good, that people who never had been in the habit ofattending church hired pews,--not that they cared to hear Mr. Surplicepreach and pray, but it was worth while to hear Azalia Adams and DaphneDare sing a quartette with Paul and Hans, and the whole choir joining inperfect time and in sweetest harmony.

  Paul believed that a thing worth doing at all was worth doing well. Hisheart was in his work. It was a pleasure to sing. He loved music becauseit made him happy, and he felt also that he and Azalia and Daphne andall the choir were a power for good in the community to make menbetter. Farmer Harrow, who used to work at haying on Sunday, said it wasworth a bushel of turnips any time to hear such sweet singing. So hishired man and horses had rest one day in seven, and he became a betterman.

  In the calm moonlight nights Paul often lay wide awake, hour after hour,listening with rapture to the sweet music which came to him from thedistant woods, from the waterfall, from the old maple in front of thehouse, when the leaves, tinged with gorgeous hues, were breaking one byone from the twigs, and floating to the ground, from the cricketschirping the last lone songs of the dying year, and from the robins andsparrows still hovering around their summer haunts. It was sweet tothink of the pleasant hours he had passed with Azalia and Daphne, andwith all the choir; and then it was very pleasant to look into thefuture, and imagine what bliss there might be in store for him;--abetter home for his mother in her declining years,--a better life forhimself. He would be a good citizen, respected and beloved. He would bekind to all. He wished that all the world might be good and happy. Whenhe became a man, he would try and make people good. If everybody was asgood as Azalia, what a glorious world it would be! She was always good,always cheerful. She had a smile for everybody. Her life was as warm andsunny and golden as the October days, and as calm and peaceful as themoonlight streaming across his chamber. Sweet it was to think ofher,--sweeter to see her; sweetest of all to stand by her side and unitehis voice to hers, and feel in his soul the charm of her presence. Inhis dreams he sometimes heard her and sat by her side.

  Sometimes, while thus lying awake, watching the stars as they wentsailing down the western sky, his thoughts went beyond the present intothe unseen future, whither his father and grandfather had gone. Theysang when on earth, and he thought of them as singing in heaven.Sometimes he gazed so long and steadily toward the heavenly land, thathis eyes became dim with tears, so sweet and yet so sad the sounds heseemed to hear,--so near and yet so far away that land.

  So the days went by, and the calm and peaceful nights, bringing him toOctober,--the glorious harvest month.

  And now suddenly people looked shyly at him. There were mysteriouswhisperings and averted faces. He met Squire Capias one morning on thestreet. "Good morning," said Paul; but the lawyer walked on withoutreply. He passed Miss Dobb's house. She sat by the front window, andglared at him savagely; and yet she seemed to smile, but her countenancewas so thin, wrinkled, and sharp, and her eyes so fierce, her smile sofiendish, that it put him in mind of a picture he once saw in a horriblestory-book, which told of a witch that carried off little children andate them for breakfast. Paul thought that Miss Dobb would like to pickhis bones. But he went on to his work, rejoicing that there were notmany Miss Dobbs in the world.

  While hard at it with his paint-brush, Mr. Ketchum entered. He was atall, stout man, with black, bushy whiskers, and so strong that he couldtake a barrel of cider on his knees and drink out of the bunghole. Hewas a sheriff. The rowdies who fell into his hands said it was no use totry to resist Mr. Ketchum, for he once seized a stubborn fellow by theheels, and swung him round as he would a cat by the tail, till thefellow lost his breath and was frightened half out of his wits.

  "I have called in to ask you to walk up to Judge Adams's office on amatter of business," said Mr. Ketchum.

  "With pleasure, sir," said Paul, who, now that he had become a surveyorof land, had been called upon repeatedly to give his testimony in court.

  They entered Judge Adams's office, which was crowded with people. Mr.Noggin, Miss Dobb, Philip, and Bob Swift were there. A buzz ran roundthe room. They all looked upon Paul.

  "You have been arrested, Paul, and are charged with stealing honey fromMr. Noggin's bee-hives. Are you guilty or not guilty?" said Judge Adams.

  "Arrested!--arrested for stealing!"--Paul exclaimed, stupefied andastounded at the words of the judge. It was like a lightning-stroke. Hisknees became weak. He felt sick at heart. Great drops of cold and clammysweat stood upon his forehead. Arrested! What would his mother say? Herson accused of stealing! What would everybody say? What would Azaliathink? What would Rev. Mr. Surplice say? What would his class of boys inthe Sunday-school say, not about him, but about truth and honor andreligion, when they heard that their teacher was arrested for stealing?

  His throat became dry, his tongue was parched. His voice suddenly grewhusky. His brain reeled. His heart one moment stood still, then leapedin angry throbs, as if ready to burst. He trembled as if attacked bysudden ague, then a hot flash went over him, burning up his brain,scorching his heart, and withering his life.

  "What say you, are you guilty or not guilty?"

  "I am innocent," said Paul, gasping for breath, and sinking into hisseat, taking no notice of what was going on around him. He was busy withthe future. He saw all his hopes of life dead in an instant,--killed byone flash. He knew that he was innocent, but he was accused of crime,arrested, and a prisoner. The world would have it that he was guilty.His good name was gone forever. His hopes were blighted, his aspirationsdestroyed, his dreams of future joy,--all had passed away. His motherwould die of a broken heart. Henceforth those with whom he hadassociated would shun him. For him there was no more peace, joy, orcomfort,--nothing but impenetrable darkness and agony in the future. Sooverwhelmed was he, that he took no notice of Mr. Noggin's testimony, orof what was done, till he heard Judge Adams say: "There are somecircumstances against the accused, but the testimony is not sufficientto warrant my binding him over for trial. He is discharged."

  Paul went out into the fresh air, like one just waking from sleep,numbed and stupefied. The words of the judge rang in hisears,--"Circumstances against the accused." The accused! The prisoner!He had been a prisoner. All the world would know of it, but would notknow that he was innocent. How could he bear it? It was a crushingagony. Then there came to him the words of the psalm sung on Sunday,--

  "My times are in thy hand, Why should I doubt or fear? My Father's hand will never cause His child a needless tear."

  So he was comforted in the thought that it was for his good; but hecouldn't see how. He resolved to bear it manfully, conscious of hisinnocence, and trusting in God that he would vindicate his honor.

  He went home and told his mother all that had happened. He was surprisedto find that it did not shock her, as he supposed it would.

  "I know you are innocent, Paul," she said, kissing him. "I am notsurprised at what has happened. You are the victim of a conspiracy. Ihave been expecting that something would befall you, for you have beenhighly prospered, and prosperity brings enemies. It will all come outright in the end." Thus his mother soothed him, and tried to lift thegreat weight from his heart.

  He was innocent, but half of the community thought him guilty. "He didit,--he did it,"--said Miss Dobb to all her neighbors. What should hedo? How could he establish his innocence? How remove all suspicion?Ought he to resign his position as leader of the choir? or should heretain it? But the committee of the society settled that. "After whathas happened, you will see the propriety of giving up your position asleader of t
he choir," said they. "Also your class in the Sunday-school,"said the Superintendent.

  O, how crushing it was! He was an outcast,--a vile, miserable wretch,--ahypocrite,--a mean, good-for-nothing fellow,--a scoundrel,--a thief,--arobber,--in the estimation of those who had respected him. They did notspeak to him on the street. Colonel Dare, who usually had a pleasantword, did not notice him. He met Daphne Dare, but she crossed the streetto avoid him. How terrible the days! How horrible the nights! He tossedand tumbled, and turned upon his bed. There was a fire in his bones. Hisflesh was hot. His brain was like a smouldering furnace. If he droppedoff to sleep, it was but for a moment, and he awoke with a start, tofeel the heat burning up his soul with its slow, consuming flame.

  At evening twilight he wandered by the river-side to cool his fever,dipping his hand into the stream and bathing his brow. He stood upon thebridge and looked over the railing into the surging waters. A horriblethought came over him. Why not jump in and let the swollen current bearhim away? What use was it to live, with his good name gone, and all thefuture a blank? He banished the thought. He would live on and trust inGod.

  He heard a step upon the bridge, and, looking up, beheld Azalia. She hadbeen out gathering the faded leaves of autumn, and late-blossomingflowers, in the woods beyond the river. "Will she speak to me?" was thequestion which rose in his mind. His heart stood still in that moment ofsuspense. She came towards him, held out her hand, and said, "Goodevening, Paul."

  "Then you do not turn away from me?"

  "No, Paul, I don't believe that you are a thief."

  Tears came to his eyes as he took her proffered hand,--tears whichwelled up from his heart and which saved it from bursting. "O Azalia, ifyou had turned from me, I should have died! I have suffered terribleagony, but I can live now. I am innocent."

  "I believe you, Paul, and I shall still be as I have been, your friend.There is my pledge," she said, setting down her basket, and putting afrost-flower into a button-hole of his threadbare coat. Then, to makehim forget that the world was looking coldly upon him, she showed himthe flowers she had gathered, and the gorgeous maple leaves,--scarlet,orange, purple, and crimson, and talked of their marvellous beauty. Andwhen, with a smile, she said "Good night," and went tripping homeward,his heart was so full of gratitude that he could not utter his thanks.He could only say in his heart, "God bless her." It was as if he had metan angel in the way, and had been blessed. He stood there while thetwilight deepened, and felt his heart grow strong again. He went home.His mother saw by the deep-settled determination on his face, by hiscalmness, and by his sad smile, that he was not utterly broken down andoverwhelmed by the trouble which, like a wave of the sea, had rolledupon him.

  "There is one who does not pass me by; Azalia is still a friend," hesaid.

  "There are several whom you may count upon as being still your friends,"she replied.

  "Who are they, mother?"

  "God and the angels, my son."

  So she comforted him, telling him that the best way to put down a liewas to live it down, and that the time would surely come when his honorand integrity would be vindicated.

  When they kneeled together to offer their evening prayer, and when hismother asked that the affliction might work out for him an eternalweight of glory, he resolved that he would, with God's help, live downthe lie, and wait patiently, bearing the ignominy and shame and thecold looks of those who had been his friends, till his character fortruth and honesty was re-established. He was calm and peaceful now. Oncemore he heard sweet music as he lay upon his bed. Through the night thewinds, the waterfall, the crickets, seemed to be saying with Azalia, "Weare still your friends,--still your friends--your friends--yourfriends!"