THE SPIRIT OF HARRIET

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 21, 26 May 1904, Page 23

THE SPIRIT OF HARRIET

The day drowsed ni the July sun. Heat waves weie palpitating visibly upon the brick pavement, along the dusty stieet and against the low white house. Tiger lilies reared their passionate blooms upon e\eiy side, crowding their way i/o Die pdgp of the walk or thnn-i-ing themselves bia/enly above the pickets The gieen shutters of the old house were closed, as was the tiont door beneath its fan transom. The rusty crepe that had swung disconsolately from the handle of the bell, giving to the quaint shabbiness of the old house a touch of the dignity oi death, had been removed, and it had sunken back into us dreaiy dreaming.

A trail little woman cowered in the side dooiway, resting her chin in her palm. Her dark eyes gazed unseeing as her mind pondered wearily upon the past 01 crept hopelessly toward the future. On the step at her feet lay Beelzebub, the cat, big, black and sullen, blinking wickedly at doves that cooed -on the roof.

The afternoon had slipped away into the past The sun was sinking it 1 - crimson disc in a bank of orange cloiuds at "the \rry head of High street, for the city lathers had laid out Philamaclique directly with the points of the compass , there were no winding lanes, no delightlully crooked byways to lure youi willing icet, in all the old town s length and bieadth , but at the western end oi High, the street dipped down a gentle hill, and behind it each night through the long summer, as back of a screen, old Sol got himself decently to bed. Over m the South-West a bank of violet clouds tinged with dingy green at the summit was silently spreading itself across the sky, broken now and then by a quivering flash that lagged it from top to bottom as if to let the gloiy through.

Lois, her face showing wanly above the blackness of her gown, still sat in the doorway as the twilight deepened Beelzebub, v awning with ennui, had long since taken himself oil to the barn The evening silence was broken only by the mad whunng of the crickets among the lilies, and now and then by the low muttering of distant thunder

So inlent was Lois upon her own sad thoughts that she did not hcai the click of the gate nor the quick step upon the wall>, but turned with a start when a cheery voice broke in upon her.

' You poor, dear girl, all alone in the twilight , i1 's enough to give a body the rumpumples, with this storm a-brewin' '

' Oh, Marthv, how good of you to come ' ' cried Lois, as the newcomer, a little buttoi-ball of a woman, her stiff-staiched calico rattling with eveiy movement, placed upon the step 'a tray coveied with a napkin ' The house seemed so awful I didn't have the heart to go in, but I didn t think of anybody comin' '

' Just wait a minute,' went on Mis Read, entering the dark sittimr-ioom. ' I'm gom' to get a candle. I know iust wheie it is, so sit still. Then I'm gom' to light the gasoline and get you a good cup of tea. I'd have been here an hour ago, but Dan's sister and the children come up to the funeral and I had to get supper. By the time I'd got them oft and the dishes washed and the baby asleep, seemed a.s it I could scieam, for I iust knew you weie sitting heie all alone. Seems as if Mvs Keel might have run in, but she's that took up with her asthmy I expect she never thought of it. Granny Simmeis went (ncr to Oldtown to see that poor little Mattie MUlei, and won't be back till to-morrow '

1 I— l didn't expect it,' faltered Lois. ' Folks .un't come here much since Ma died Harriet wasn't no hand for company, and 1 suppose they got out of the way '

' Then they've got to get in the way again Now, I'm goin' to draw up that twisted-legged, and set the tray here. That tea'll be made in a jiffy as quick ?s the kettle boils You might just as well make up your mind, Lois, I'm gom' to take you in hand '

' I'm ?ure I'll be grateful, though you ain't much older than me, Marthy. I'll be thirty-six next month, and I ain't really lived one of those years That's what I've been tlnnkin' all the afternoon, that I'd like to live a day before I die.'

' Poor girl ! there never was a speck of reason why you shouldn't have had a real good time You was made for fun if ever a girl was. I just love that twinkle in your eyes when it gets ahead of the sadness, you're such a pretty woman, Lois.' ' Oh, no,' protested Lois, a flood of soft color mounting from chin to forehead. ' Harriet was handsome ; she was so big and strong, always up and comin'. She used to say I wasn't notbin 1 but a washedout "baby doll.'

' Humph ! Well, some folks think differ'nt. There, I hear that kettle boilin'. Come on,' continued Mrs.

Read, as she returned with the little brown teapot, a banner of steam issuing from its chipped spout. ' Come on and eat a bite. I'm goin' to try this rocker, for I feel as if my feet wouldn't carry me.' 1 H)o vv pretty it does look, Marthy ! ' said Lois, as she sat down 1 . ' Too pretty for just me. My ! I've laid awake nights plannin' fixin's for the house, and clothes, and a garden with sweet-smellin' things in it, and all the tigers left out. I've just loved pretty things all my lite 1 expect Harriet would have thought me crazy.' 'Harriet' ' began Mrs Read, vehemently. 'Well, it am t light to speak ill of... the dead, and 1 suppose Jic lived accordin' to her lights, but she wasn't comioi table Now, I want you to have clothes and things like other folks.' Lois paused, with her cup half-way to her lips, and opened her eyes wide in surprise. 1 Now ' Oh, v it's too late now ! There ain't anybody to care how I look. I ain't got a friend except you and Dan and Granny Simmers — that blessed old soul 10-\es everybody — and perhaps Lawyer Neely.' • Oh, honey, it ain't you. Everybody will be your friend now. It was Harriet ; her queer, fierce ways, Beelzebub and the tiger lilies, and— and — her hardness to you Why, I d liked to come often if sihe hadn't always made me feel my room was better than my company.' 1 Sister Harriet was a wonderful woman, said Lois,

her \oice trembling. 'Ma always said she could do more work m a day than most women, and she knew most as much about business as Lawyer Neely. My hkin' to read and dream, and my poky ways made her nervous. And once ' — Lois' eyes fell and the color Jlamed in her pale cheeks, as she went on in a low voice — ' once 1 deceived her, and she said she would never forgive or trust me again, and she didn't. She was dreadml determined when she set her head to a thing.' A vivid flash followed by a terrific crash broke in upon them, then the sudden downpour plashed upon the pavement outside. 'My sakes ! ' gasped Mrs. Read, as both women sprang to their feet. ' What an awful clap that was, and iust listen to that rain ! There comes Dan after me,' sine continued, as the gate4atch clicked sharply and the heavy footfalls of a man came around the house. ' I knew he'd be a'huntin' me up.' • ' Hello, Lois ! got anything there that belongs ' to me 7 ' called Dan Read, in his rumbling bass, as he came in sight of the open door. ' Just wait till I get this umbrella down. I've got something for you Here, Marthy, come get Snicklefrite. I brought her along to take care of Lois to-night, and I've got her nightie tucked under my arm.' 1 Mercy on us ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Read, taking the sleeping child from her husband's shoulder. ' Whatever made you think of Amy ? A baby of three won't be much company.' ' She will that,' replied her husband. ' She's just what Lois needs to-night. You get Snicklefritz out of her little duds and cuddle down with her, Lois, and you'll sleep the sweetest you ever did in your life.' ' Do you really want her, honey ? ' asked Mrs. Read anxiously, as she laid her chubby burden down on Lois' bed. ' Now, if you don't, Dan will pack her right back.' ' I'd love to, if you ain't afraid to trust her," whispered Loio, a*s she bent over the sleeping child. 'It was just like Dan to think of it.' So after a last good-night Mr. and Mrs. Read trudged off in the wet and dark, and when the echo of their loot steps died away Lois stood in the doorway looking after them wistfully through the slanting rain. Behind her in the house she could feel the awful stillness settle, that loud silence that presses against the heart and quickens its beating ; that dreadful sense of emptiness that awaits us when a soul has taken its departure. AH through the afternoon Lois had tried to adjust hei\selt to Ire alone. Harriet's fierce hold had been so stiong upon her gentleness that her jostled soul, set hee, shuddered and shrank from mere weakness ; and yet what frightened her most and wr.ung her afiection- . ate heart with remorse was a haunting sense of relief beneath her grief. She was free ' Never again would those black eyes flash contempt upon her stolen happy dreams, and burn like vitriol into her inner consciousness. Iso longer would her life's one innocent secret be made a crime No longer would there be days of pitiful weeping in her little room over cruel words. And yet ' Oh, Harriet, Harriet, though you ruined my life,' she moaned , ' through it all I loved you. If you had cared for me ever so little, it would make it all so much easier. Forgive me that lam glad of peace. Please, God, make her understand and help me to forget.'

As she turned to close the door Beelzebub bounded in. out of the rain, his back arched, his green eyes flashing like jewels set in jet. Pushing past her into the ho/use, he crept cautiously about the room, peering into the shadowy corners, opening his cavernous red mouth as if to utter bitter cries, yet closing it without a sound.

1 Poor Beelzebub, poor old fellow ! ' cried L,ois, as he crouched with his front paws upon Harriet's footstool and gazed unblinkingly into her chair, with that pitiful pantomime of grief. ' Are you so lonely for hei, poor old pussy ? ' But as she bent over him he sprang at her with a savage growl, and then vanished out of the o,pen door into the night.

Unnerved and shaken by the cat's strange behavior, yet longing to comfort him, she stood in the open door calling, ' Beelzebub, Beelzebub ! ' but only a mournful wail answered her, though she could see the glitter of his eyes as he crouched in the shelter of the woodshed.

Reluctantly she turned the big brass key in the lock and made ready for the night. With clumsy, unused fingers she unbuttoned Amy's shabby little shoes and pulled off the wee blue stockings ; and when at last the child lay upon the pillow, her yellow curls clinging to the moist warm brow and about the apple-blossom face, Lois' sore heart had found some comfort ; a woman's sixth sense, subtle and far-reaching, wrapped the baby about with an almost visible cloud of motherlove and brought healing in its wake.

The days that followed were full of interest to Lois. She found that she had come into a new world since Harriet had slipped out of the old one. The town folk, urged by Granny Simmers and Mrs. Read, called often, and the golden head of baby Amy bobbed in and out among the lilies almost every day, for she had adopted Lois as a sort of foster-mother. Beelzebub followed her about, seeming to spy upon the pretty child. He offered her no harm, but when she sweetly babbled to him in her baby tongue he arched his back, switched his gxeat tail, and yowled at her so wickedly that she would run to Lois and hide her face upon that loving breast. But only for a moment, lor butterflies and bees drifted in the sunshine, and the lilies swayed with every breeze, so baby fears were soon calmed and baby joys began afresh, and only Lois watched and was afraid So Harriet's fierce spirit seemed to linger among the tawny lilies, and Lois found herself spiritually .unable to change the house, or yard, or even her own dress She had tried again and again to open the little box ufpon the bureau, where she. knew her letters — that precious packet tied with a ribbon— were locked away. But with her fingers upon the key she could see the scorn in Harriet's dark eyes> could hear the scathing words and feel the bitter pain of the blow that had sent her reeling across the room. Once again she could see the savage joy in that handsome face as the letters were locked away, one by one. 1 There is nothing of the sneak in me,' Harriet had said. ' That's the difference between us. Here is your letter unsealed, as you see, and here I lock it away , now get it if you dare ! ' How well she remembered the first blue envelope that had come to her, the first letter she had ever leceived. A cousin of Mrs. Read's, who had heard much of pretty, gentle Lois Marsh, had written to her She was just eighteen, lonely and unfriended, for Harriet, who was ten years older, allowed her no intercourse with the young people of the town ; so, upon a garhsh impulse, she had replied. They were foolish, loving little letters, but to Lois' hungry heart they meant her only touch with the outside world. Perhaps that they were hidden made them seem sweeter. But one day Harriet, bursting angrily into the little bedroom to chide her for some forgotten task, discovered her poring over them. The torrent of abuse that had fallen upon her hapless head had utterly overwhelmed and left her stunned. The one request that she be allowed to write to say good-bye was turned into a goad to torture her. For a few weeks the letters continued coming, then they ceased, and Lois' one love affair was over. n Old Lawyer Neely shuffled down one day to tell Lois there was a snug little bank account left her, and so good an income from some stocks and bonds* of which Harriet had kept her in absolute ignorance as to allow the indulgence of any simple whim that might be hers. ' There is no reason, Lois,' he said, his old face beaming upon her benignly, * there is no reason, my child, why you shouldn't branch out a little and enjoy life. Your sister was a remarkable woman 1 . I never knew a better head for business, and I know she wanted fhe money for you ; but I hcJpe you will pardon me when I tell you I can't quite think of her as a pleasant housemate. You ought not to 'live here alone, but have some good woman live here with you.' 'Oh, please, no,' cried Lois in. distress. C I feel as if Harriet was still her©— why, I never sit in her chair, nor motve a thing of hers, and she couldn't bear strangers* Just let me wait awhile.'

1 Hiumph ! ' said the kindly old lawyer. ' I hope you _wili pardon me, but Harriet is dead and gone to another home than this, and I don't believe in the prejudices of the dead pressing upon the living. Live your own life, my child, and don't grow morbid 1 . Come, you'd better let me find some good, cheerful person to be a companion to you.' ' Not just yet,' begged Lois, with timid persistence. But Lawyer Neely confided to Dan Read, as they stood on the court house steps, that he didn't like the look of things.

' Seems as if that violent woman has power to reach out of the grave to torment that gentle creature. Sometimes I think Lois has had all the sjpirit sapped out of her and that there is nothing left but. insipid sweetness.'

1 Don't you behefve it,' protested Dan. 'Lois '11 come o.ut all right if vShe gets half a chance. I tell my wife that if I had my way I'd yank up every one of those lilies and kill that cussed cat, and then we'd see if we could lay the ghost. What was fhe matter with that woman, anyway ? '

' Temper and selfishness gone to seed,' replied the lawyer, dryly. ' She had a nature that couldn't see gentleness without trying to bully it. Well, she's dead and gone, b)ut I hope the Lord will see fit to bring some happiness to that poor girl.' Lois was sitting, sewing, one day in the side door, with Amy nursing an old doll at her feet, when Mrs. Read came bustling around the house with a tall man in her wake.

' Now, sit still, Lois,' she cried. ' This is only Gray Trask)— Cousin Giray, you know him I think ; he hasi come to Philamaclique to go into business with Dan. I want you to help me to keep him from getting homesick here in Ohio, so I brought him right over to get acquainted ! ' Gray Trask !— as Lois laid her hand in the big, brawny one she felt that he must feel her heart beat. Gray Trask !— the color came and went in her delicate faicet— -afte^ iall these years, the hero of her little romance stood before her ! Hq was very different from the tin-type in the box on the bureau ; this big man with the ugly, rugged face Hore but little resemblance to the peachy-cheeked boy oi her dreams. But tho steady blue eyes were kindly, and the strong mouth was tenderly smiling. ' I've been hearing all about you, Miss Marsh.' How strange it seamed to see him sitting on tihe stone step where Harriet had so often sat ' ' And I guess we are going to be first-rate friends. Martha tells me you like books and youngsters, and we'll agree perfectly on that. Ain't that so, Snicklefritiz ?' he asked, as he lifted that plumip and gurgling person high above his head. So he had Forgotten ! Lois shrank back in the doorway shocked and ashamed. Harriet had said he would always remember her as a frail creatiure ilost to all womanly self-respect. But she, in her simple, romantic heart, believed that he still loved, still dreamed of her. as sihe had of him through the long years of silence. They were boih wrong, he had simply forgotten. But under his genial kindness and the steady flow of his merry talk, in spite of herself, she was drawn into the whirl of it and found herself laughing with the rest. She had known so few men ; his jolly nonsense with Amy seemed to her the rarest wit, his simple kindliness the most graceful courtesy. Evening after evening found Gray Trask, accompanied by Mrs Read or baby Amy, sitting upon the old stone steps with Lois. Little by little, Lois put away the shame and restraint she had felt in his presence. He ha 4 forgotten her, amTyet she thought perhaps that was as well, since she was so long past the age for love or lovers. Now the little box upon the bureau should remain unopened, for those unsealed letters belonged to the girl Lois of the past. . But she let the sunny tendrils of soft brown hair he upon her brow, because Mr. Trask laughingly said he likad it best so, and she even wore a knot of ribbon or a bit of lace to relieve the plainness of her gpwn. How she listened for the lilt of his merry whistle, the cheery roll of his laughter, and the genial kindness of his voice, she dared not confess to her own heart. It was only at night, when Beelzebub glared at her . from Harriet's chair, that she hid her face in grief and shame. How Harriet would scorn her, how she would revile her weakness, and yet-he had forgotten-he would never know, and love was sweet. (To be concluded next week.)