Although Father Damon had been absent from his charge only ten days, it was time for him to return. If he had not a large personal following, he had a wide influence. If comparatively few found their way to his chapel1, he found his way to many homes; his figure was a familiar one in the streets, and his absence was felt by hundreds who had no personal relations with him, but who had become accustomed to seeing him go about on his errands of encouragement, and probably had never realized how much the daily sight of him had touched them. The priestly dress, which may once have provoked a sneer2 at his effeminacy, had now a suggestion of refinement3, of unselfish devotion, of consecration4 to the service of the unfortunate, his spiritual face appealed to their better natures, and the visible heroism5 that carried his frail6 figure through labors7 that would have worn out the stoutest9 physique stirred in the hearts of the rudest some comprehension of the reality of the spirit.
It may not have occurred to them that he was of finer clay than they--perhaps he was not--but his presence was in their minds a subtle connection and not a condescending10 one, rather a confession11 of brotherhood12, with another world and another view of life. They may not have known that their hearts were stirred because he had the gift of sympathy.
And was it an unmanly trait that he evoked13 in men that sentiment of chivalry14 which is never wanting in the roughest community for a pure woman? Wherever Father Damon went there was respect for his purity and his unselfishness, even among those who would have been shamefaced if surprised in any exhibition of softness.
And many loved him, and many depended on him. Perhaps those who most depended on him were the least worthy15, and those who loved him most were least inclined to sacrifice their own reasonable view of life to his own sublimated16 spiritual conception. It was the spirit of the man they loved, and not the creed17 of the priest. The little chapel in its subdued18 lights and shadows, with confessionals and crosses and candles and incense19, was as restful a refuge as ever to the tired and the dependent; but wanting his inspiring face and voice, it was not the same thing, and the attendance always fell away when he was absent. There was needed there more than elsewhere the living presence.
He was missed, and the little world that missed him was astray. The first day of his return his heart was smitten20 by the thinness of the congregation. Had he, then, accomplished21 nothing; had he made no impression, established in his shifting flock no habit of continuance in well-doing that could survive even his temporary withdrawal22? The fault must be his. He had not sufficiently23 humiliated24 and consecrated25 himself, and put under all strength of the flesh and trust in worldly instrumentalities. There must be more prayer, more vigils, more fasting, before the power would come back to him to draw these wandering minds to the light. And so in the heat of this exhausting August, at the time when his body most needed re-enforcement for the toil26 he required of it, he was more rigid27 in his spiritual tyranny and contempt of it.
Ruth Leigh was not dependent upon Father Damon, but she also learned how long ten days could be without a sight of him. When she looked into his chapel occasionally she realized, as never before, how much in the air his ceremonies and his creed were. There was nothing there for her except his memory. And she knew when she stepped in there, for her cool, reasoning mind was honest, that it was the thought of him that drew her to the place, and that going there was a sentimental28 indulgence. What she would have said was that she admired, loved Father Damon on account of his love for humanity. It was a common saying of all the professional women in her set, and of the working-girls, that they loved Father Damon. It is a comfort to women to be able to give their affection freely where conventionalities and circumstances make the return of it in degree unlikely.
At the close of a debilitating29 day Dr. Leigh found herself in the neighborhood of the mission chapel. She was tired and needed to rest somewhere. She knew that Father Damon had returned, but she had not seen him, and a double motive30 drew her steps. The attendance was larger than it had been recently, and she found a stool in a dark corner, and listened, with a weary sort of consciousness of the prayers and the singing, but not without a deeper feeling of peace in the tones of a voice every inflection of which she knew so well. It seemed to her that the reading cost him an effort, and there was a note of pathos31 in the voice that thrilled her. Presently he advanced towards the altar rail--he was accustomed to do this with his little flock--and placing one hand on the lectern, began to speak.
At first, and this was not usual, he spoke32 about himself in a strain of sincere humility33, taking blame upon himself for his inability to do effectively the great service his Master had set him to do. He meant to have given himself more entirely34 to the dear people among whom he labored35; he hoped to show himself more worthy of the trust they had given him; he was grateful for the success of his mission, but no one knew so well as he how far short it came of being what he ought to have made it. He knew indeed how weak he was, and he asked the aid of their sympathy and encouragement. It seemed to be with difficulty that he said this, and to Ruth's sympathetic ear there was an evidence of physical exhaustion36 in his tone. There was in it, also, for her, a confession of failure, the cry of the preacher, in sorrow and entreaty37, that says, "I have called so long, and ye would not listen."
As he went on, still with an effort and feebly, there came over the little group a feeling of awe38 and wonderment, and the silence was profound. Still steadying himself by the reading-desk, he went on to speak of other things, of those of his followers39 who listened, of the great mass swirling40 about them in the streets who did not listen and did not care; of the little life that now is so full of pain and hardship and disappointment, of good intentions frustrated41, of hopes that deceive, and of fair prospects42 that turn to ashes, of good lives that go wrong, of sweet natures turned to bitterness in the unaided struggle. His voice grew stronger and clearer, as his body responded to the kindling43 theme in his soul. He stepped away from the desk nearer the rail, the bowed head was raised. "What does it matter?" he said. "It is only for a little while, my children." Those who heard him that day say that his face shone like that of an angel, and that his voice was like a victorious44 clarion45, so clear, so sweet, so inspiring, as he spoke of the life that is to come, and the fair certainty of that City where he with them all wished to be.
As he closed, some were kneeling, many were crying; all, profoundly moved, watched him as, with the benediction46 and the sign of the cross, he turned and walked swiftly to the door of the sacristy. It opened, and then Ruth Leigh heard a cry, "Father Damon! Father Damon!" and there was a rush into the chancel. Hastening through the throng47, which promptly48 made way for the doctor, she found Father Damon lying across the threshold, as he had fallen, colorless and unconscious. She at once took command of the situation. The body was lifted to the plain couch in the room, a hasty examination was made of pulse and heart, a vial of brandy was produced from her satchel49, and messengers were despatched for things needed, and especially for beef-tea.
"Is he dead, Dr. Leigh? Is he any better, doctor? What is the matter, doctor?"
"Want of nourishment50," replied Dr. Leigh, savagely51.
The room was cleared of all except a couple of stout8 lads and a friendly German woman whom the doctor knew. The news of the father's sudden illness had spread rapidly, with the report that he had fallen dead while standing52 at the altar; and the church was thronged53, and the street rapidly blocked up with a hushed crowd, eager for news and eager to give aid. So great was the press that the police had to interfere54, and push back the throng from the door. It was useless to attempt to disperse55 it with the assurance that Father Damon was better; it patiently waited to see for itself. The sympathy of the neighborhood was most impressive, and perhaps the thing that the public best remembers about this incident is the pathetic solicitude56 of the people among whom Father Damon labored at the rumor57 of his illness, a matter which was greatly elaborated by the reporters from the city journals and the purveyors of telegraphic news for the country.
With the application of restoratives the patient revived. When he opened his eyes he saw figures in the room as in a dream, and his mind struggled to remember where he was and what had happened; but one thing was not a dream: Dr. Leigh stood by his bedside, with her left hand on his brow and the right grasping his own right hand, as if to pull him back to life. He saw her face, and then he lost it again in sheer weariness at the effort. After a few moments, in a recurring58 wave of strength, he looked up again, still bewildered, and said, faintly:
"Where am I?"
"With friends," said the doctor. "You were a little faint, that is all; you will be all right presently."
She quickly prepared some nourishment, which was what he most needed, and fed him from time to time, as he was able to receive it. Gradually he could feel a little vigor59 coming into his frame; and regaining60 control of himself, he was able to hear what had happened. Very gently the doctor told him, making light of his temporary weakness.
"The fact is, Father Damon," she said, "you've got a disease common in this neighborhood--hunger."
The father smiled, but did not reply. It might be so. For the time he felt his dependence61, and he did not argue the point. This dependence upon a woman--a sort of Sister of Charity, was she not?--was not altogether unpleasant. When he attempted to rise, but found that he was too weak, and she said "Not yet," he submitted, with the feeling that to be commanded with such gentleness was a sort of luxury.
But in an hour's time he declared that he was almost himself again, and it was decided62 that he was well enough to be removed to his own apartments in the neighborhood. A carriage was sent for, and the transfer was made, and made through a crowd in the streets, which stood silent and uncovered as his carriage passed through it. Dr. Leigh remained with him for an hour longer, and then left him in charge of a young gentleman from the Neighborhood Guild63, who gladly volunteered to watch for the night.
Ruth walked slowly home, weary now that the excitement was over, and revolving64 many things in her mind, as is the custom of women. She heard again that voice, she saw again that inspired face; but the impression most indelible with her was the prostrate65 form, the pallid66 countenance67, the helplessness of this man whose will had before been strong enough to compel the obedience68 of his despised body. She had admired his strength; but it was his weakness that drew upon her woman's heart, and evolved a tenderness dangerous to her peace of mind. Yet it was the doctor and not the woman that replied to the inquiries69 at the dispensary.
"Yes, it was fasting and overwork. Men are so stupid; they think they can defy all the laws of nature, especially priests." And she determined70 to be quite plain with him next day.
And Father Damon, lying weary in his bed, before he fell asleep, saw the faces in the dim chapel turned to him in strained eagerness the moment before he lost consciousness; but the most vivid image was that of a woman bending over him, with eyes of tenderness and pity, and the smile with which she greeted his awakening71. He could feel yet her hand upon his brow.
When Dr. Leigh called next day, on her morning rounds, she found a brother of the celibate72 order, Father Monies, in charge. He was sitting by the window reading, and when the doctor came up the steps he told her in a low voice to enter without knocking. Father Damon was better, much better; but he had advised him not to leave his bed, and the patient had been dozing73 all the morning. The doctor asked if he had eaten anything, and how much. The apartment was small and scantily74 furnished--a sort of anchorite cell. Through the drawn75 doors of the next room the bed was in sight. As they were talking in low voices there came from this room a cheerful:
"Good-morning, doctor."
"I hope you ate a good breakfast," she said, as she arose and went to his bedside.
"I suppose you mean better than usual," he replied, with a faint attempt at a smile. "No doubt you and Father Monies are satisfied, now you've got me laid up."
"That depends upon your intentions."
"Oh, I intend to get up tomorrow."
"If you do, without other change in your intentions, I am going to report you to the Organized Charity as a person who has no visible means of support."
She had brought a bunch of violets, and as they talked she had filled a glass with water and put them on a stand by the head of the bed. Then--oh, quite professionally--she smoothed out his pillows and straightened the bedclothes, and, talking all the time, and as if quite unconscious of what she was doing, moved about the room, putting things to rights, and saying, in answer to his protest, that perhaps she should lose her reputation as a physician in his eyes by appearing to be a professional nurse.
There was a timid knock at the door, and a forlorn little figure, clad in a rumpled76 calico, with an old shawl over her head, half concealing77 an eager and pretty face, stood in the doorway78, and hesitatingly came in.
"Meine Mutter sent me to see how Father Damon is," she explained; "she could not come, because she washes."
She had a bunch of flowers in her hand, and encouraged by the greeting of the invalid79, she came to the bedside and placed them in his outstretched hand--a faded blossom of scarlet80 geranium, a bachelor's button, and a sprig of parsley, probably begged of a street dealer81 as she came along. "Some blooms," she said.
"Bless you, my dear," said Father Damon; "they are very pretty."
"Dey smells nice," the child exclaimed, her eyes dancing with pleasure at the reception of her gift. She stood staring at him, and then, her eye catching82 the violets, she added, "Dose is pooty, too."
"If you can stay half an hour or so, I should like to step round to the chapel," Father Monies said to the doctor in the front room, taking up his hat.
The doctor could stay. The little girl had moved a chair up to the bedside, and sat quite silent, her grimy little hand grasped in the father's. Ruth, saying that she hoped the father wouldn't mind, began to put in order the front room, which the incidents of the night had somewhat disturbed. Father Damon, holding fast by that little hand to the world of poverty to which he had devoted83 his life, could not refrain from watching her, as she moved about with the quick, noiseless way that a woman has when she is putting things to rights. This was indeed a novel invasion of his life. He was still too weak to reason about it much. How good she was, how womanly! And what a sense of peace and repose84 she brought into his apartment! The presence of Brother Monies was peaceful also, but hers was somehow different. His eyes had not cared to follow the brother about the room. He knew that she was unselfish, but he had not noticed before that her ways were so graceful85. As she turned her face towards him from time to time he thought its expression beautiful. Ruth Leigh would have smiled grimly if any one had called her beautiful, but then she did not know how she looked sometimes when her feelings were touched. It is said that the lamp of love can illumine into beauty any features of clay through which it shines. As he gazed, letting himself drift as in a dream, suddenly a thought shot through his mind that made him close his eyes, and such a severe priestly look came upon his face that the little girl, who had never taken her eyes off him, exclaimed:
"It is worse?"
"No, my dear," he replied, with a reassuring86 smile; "at least, I hope not."
But when the doctor, finishing her work, drew a chair into the doorway, and sat by the foot of his bed, the stern look still remained on his pale face. And the doctor, she also was the doctor again, as matter of fact as in any professional visit.
"You are very kind," he said.
There was a shade of impatience87 on her face as she replied, "But you must be a little kind to yourself."
"It doesn't matter."
"But it does matter. You defeat the very work you want to do. I'm going to report you to your order." And then she added, more lightly, "Don't you know it is wrong to commit suicide?"
"You don't understand," he replied. "There is more than one kind of suicide; you don't believe in the suicide of the soul. Ah, me!" And a shade of pain passed over his face.
She was quick to see this. "I beg your pardon, Father Damon. It is none of my business, but we are all so anxious to have you speedily well again."
Just then Father Monies returned, and the doctor rose to go. She took the little girl by the hand and said, "Come, I was just going round to see your father. Good-by. I shall look in again tomorrow."
"Thank you--thank you a thousand times. But you have so much to do that you must not bother about me."
Whether he said this to quiet his own conscience, secretly hoping that he might see her again on the morrow, perhaps he himself could not have decided.
Late the next afternoon, after an unusually weary round of visits, made in the extreme heat and in a sort of hopeless faithfulness, Dr. Leigh reached the tenement88 in which Father Damon lodged89: In all the miserable90 scenes of the day it had been in her mind, giving to her work a pleasure that she did not openly acknowledge even to herself, that she should see him.
The curtains were down, and there was no response to her knock, except from a door in the passage opposite. A woman opened the door wide enough to show her head and to make it evident that she was not sufficiently dressed to come out, and said that Father Damon had gone. He was very much better, and his friend had taken him up-town. Dr. Leigh thanked her, and said she was very glad.
She was so glad that, as she walked away, scarcely heeding91 her steps or conscious of the chaffing, chattering92 crowd, all interest in her work and in that quarter of the city seemed dead.
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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sublimated
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| v.（使某物质）升华( sublimate的过去式和过去分词 )；使净化；纯化 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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debilitating
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| a.使衰弱的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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guild
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| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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65
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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67
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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71
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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celibate
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| adj.独身的，独身主义的；n.独身者 | |
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73
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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75
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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79
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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80
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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81
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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82
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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83
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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86
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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tenement
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| n.公寓；房屋 | |
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89
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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90
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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