Opposite to them was the speaker's stand, well lighted, covered with evergreen6 boughs7, and affording accommodation to a goodly company of preachers, but too distant to be unpleasantly prominent. Between them and it, the whole vast space was crowded with negro worshippers; some sitting, some kneeling; here, an uncouth8 figure bowed in an attitude of absorbed meditation9 (or, it might be, indulging in a peaceful sleep); there, a dusky, upturned face, intent, or agonized10, or rapturous, according as the owner was devoutly11 receptive, torn with conviction of sin, or blissfully assured of pardon. From among them the brown trunks of the forest trees rose straight and shapely as the pillars of a vast temple; and overhead, the under surfaces of the leaves showed gray and spectral13 against the sombre night sky. Here and there, lanterns were fastened to the trees, but the place was chiefly illuminated14 by great fires of pitch pine, whence clouds of smoke arose ever and anon, and hung trembling in the tree-tops; and the flames of which, as they rose and fell, cast alternate glow and gloom upon the upturned faces, and seemed to work corresponding changes of expression,—sudden transitions of joy and sorrow for which there was no apparent cause. Outside of these fires, scattered15 groups of spectators now came out into bold relief, and now lost themselves in shadow; strong profiles caught the eye, and then vanished; here and there, too, white faces offered an effective contrast to their darker neighbors.
Altogether, it was a picture to delight an artist's eye; yet Miss Thane seemed scarcely to enjoy it. On the way hither she had been silent, shut up within herself, neither seeking nor giving amusement; and she now stood a little apart, letting her eyes rove absently from point to point, but without appearing to take intelligent cognizance of any! Yet she seemed to be listening, after awhile, to the voice of the white-haired negro preacher who occupied the stand, and talked of the comfort of religious faith in a way to argue profound personal knowledge of the subject,—albeit, his phraseology was illiterate16, and occasionally absurd, calling a smile to some faces in the party. But Diva did not smile; her thoughts were evidently far below the surface of the subject, in depths where the gleaming ripple17 of the comic was unfelt and unseen.
The party was considerably18 scattered. Miss Youle and her friend, tired with their walk, had found a seat on the outermost19 of the benches, watched over by Judge Emly; the youthful Miss Nina and one of the planters had gone round to get a view from the other side; Coralie stood near a fire, listening to the low comments of Mr. Sypher; and Mr. Youle and Bergan were quite in the background, silent spectators, for the most part, of what was going on.
The white-haired speaker brought his brief address to a close; and a number of negroes quitted the benches and came up the path. Mechanically, Coralie stepped back to make way.
"Take care," exclaimed Mr. Sypher, in a warning voice, "you will catch fire."
But he was too late. She had moved within reach of the draft, and her light muslin robe was wafted20 into the blaze. Instantly, she felt the heat, saw over her shoulder a rising tongue of flame, and with the insane impulse which usually seizes upon those in like peril21, turned to flee from the danger which it was so impossible to distance. But scarcely had she taken a step, before Bergan's strong arm caught her, and flung her, face downward, on the ground; with a deft22 movement of the other hand and arm, Miss Thane's shawl was shaken out and thrown over her; and, in spite of her frantic23 struggles, she was held fast by one knee, while he applied24 both hands to the task of smothering25 the flames. Miss Thane was the first to come to his aid; then the rest of the party woke from their momentary26 stupor27 of alarm, and joined their efforts to hers. In very brief space of time, the work of extinguishment was complete, and Coralie, being lifted to her feet, still enveloped28 in the friendly shawl, was found to be comparatively uninjured. Her floating curls were singed29 at the ends, one arm was slightly reddened and smarting, and her nerves were considerably shaken—that was all;—all I where there might so easily have been death, or torture and disfigurement worse than death.
The whole thing had taken place so suddenly and swiftly, that only such persons as were in the immediate30 vicinity had been aware either of the peril or the rescue; so that it was by chance, as it were, that the whole vast multitude now burst forth31 with the solemn old Doxology;—
"Praise God from whom all blessings33 flow."
The great wave of sound flowed round and over the little breathless party, and charitably veiled or soothed34 its emotions. Mr. Youle, standing with his arm round his daughter, bowed his face on her head, and a large tear glistened35 on her soft curls; Miss Youle sank on her knees by the bench where she had been sitting, and wept silently; others of the party bent36 their heads, or lifted their hats; Diva Thane held one of Coralie's hands close clasped in hers, but her face was turned away. Suddenly, she threw her voice into the last line of the Doxology,—
"Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,"
with a richness and power that were like the swell37 of an organ. It appeared to pervade3 and sustain the whole chorus of voices, and impressed them inevitably38 with its own character; which, to Bergan's ear, seemed not so much an expression of thankfulness, as the irresistible39 outbreak of a feeling that would gladly have given itself the more effectual relief of moaning aloud, had the opportunity been afforded it.
A bystander now considerately offered Mr. Youle the loan of his horse and buggy, and Coralie and her aunt were swiftly driven homeward. The remainder of the party walked back as they had come, Miss Thane and Bergan being in the rear. As they turned into the narrow wood-path, she motioned him to precede her; and he quietly obeyed, understanding, better than she knew, her desire to feel herself free from observation. Yet he failed not to listen for the sound of her light footsteps behind him, and to adapt his pace to hers. Meanwhile, his mind busied itself, almost against his will, with a new and serious question. In the little interval40 before the starting of the buggy, Coralie had taken his hands in hers, and thanked him for the service rendered her, with a look that haunted him still. There had been nothing in that look but what was most delicate and maidenly,—an involuntary attempt to help out with her eyes the broken words which yet expressed her gratitude41 so well; nevertheless, it had been possessed42 of some indefinable quality which had touched him deeply at the time, and now set him gravely to question within himself whether he had any right to be the object of a second look of the kind; at least, while the past was still a desolate43 grave, over which no grass yet grew green, no flowers bloomed. Trained to look difficult questions in the face, stripping them of all confusing or meretricious44 appendages45, it did not take him long to arrive at an emphatic46 "No," as the only possible answer to this one. Fortunately, he had not committed himself to any particular length of stay at Farview, and the sudden recollection of an important paper that he had locked up in his desk, instead of committing it to the safer guardianship47 of the fire-proof safe, suggested itself as an excellent excuse for a speedy departure. He decided48 that he would take his leave early in the morning, and see Coralie no more until he had determined49 that the past had become so far a dream as to admit of a new dream of the future.
This honorable decision being reached, his mind was sufficiently50 at ease to allow him to notice that his pace had gradually become a very slow one, in half unconscious conformity51 to the lagging footsteps behind him,—footsteps which spoke52 so unmistakably of a troubled mind or an exhausted53 frame. It even appeared that Miss Thane stopped altogether, now and then, by reason of absorbing thought, or from the necessity of taking breath. Bergan hesitated for a moment, divided between the fear of being intrusive54, and the kindly55 impulse to afford timely help; but the latter prevailed, and, the path having widened somewhat, he turned and offered her his arm. She shook her head absently, at first; then seemed to become suddenly aware that support was needful, and accepted it.
"We are privileged to be silent, I believe," said Bergan, as they moved on together, "only in the presence of strangers or friends. Count me in either category, as you please, and do not trouble yourself to talk. I see you are tired."
"Thank you," returned Miss Thane, in a cool tone of acquiescence56.
Across the next two fields, their own linked shadows, sliding slowly over the ground in advance of them, were not more silent than they. The voices of their companions, who had far outstripped57 them, reached their ears only in subdued58 and harmonious59 murmurs60. The moonlight lay over the earth like a visible blessing32 of peace; and even threw a kind of reflected brightness into Miss Thane's heart, by the aid of which she was better able to try to find some pathway out of its shadows. In that one terrible moment, when she had seemed to see Coralie wrapped in flames, a swift vision of herself, left standing alone in the world—without relative, without friend, without human affection, hope, or solace—a lonely, empty, unsatisfied heart—had risen before her, and left her appalled61, even in the midst of her thankfulness that it was only a vision as yet, and not a reality. For, how easily, through the agency of a boat or an engine, a fever or a chill, a thousand every-day accidents, it might still become a reality! With what was she then to supply Coralie's place in her heart and life?
Awhile ago, she would have answered confidently, "With Art." Now, she knew better. For two years she had been testing Art's capacity to fill and satisfy an empty human heart, and her soul was exceeding bitter with the unexpected result. She had painfully experienced the truth (though she could hardly be said to understand it as yet) that he who embraces Art with a thought of self and not of service, will find it turn to ice or to ashes in his arms. In itself, it has neither balm for affliction, nor skilful62 surgery for remorse63, nor sunshine to throw athwart the black gloom of despair.
Out of this bitter knowledge Miss Thane finally spoke, apparently64 recurring65 in thought to their previous talk on the piazza;—
"Mr. Arling, how is one to love God, if one does not?"
It was perhaps the most difficult of all questions to answer. How are the blind eyes to be opened, and the deaf ears unstopped? How is the frozen heart to be softened66, and the slumbering67 affection to be wakened into leaf and bloom? How is the Father to be made acceptable to the children that are insensible of His goodness, and will none of His reproof68? And how is the Saviour69 to be presented unto those to whom He has hitherto been without form or comeliness70, in such beauty as that they shall desire Him?
"I think, where it is not spontaneous," Bergan answered, after a moment's consideration, "that such love is most surely to be attained71 through prayer and service;—a frequent lifting up of the heart to Him whom it would fain love; a constant endeavor to do His will, as the best means of developing and manifesting love."
Miss Thane looked down thoughtfully. "I have known—a man,"—she began slowly, with a shade of irrepressible sadness in her tone,—"a man not less gifted with talent and intellectual power than yourself, and with a somewhat longer and more varied72 experience in the use of his gifts, who would have laughed at the idea of any virtue73 in prayer, except as affording a pleasant illusion to a weak mind."
"I, too, have known such a man," replied Bergan, the image of Doctor Remy rising irresistibly74 before his mind, and causing a dull ache in his heart; "but was he—was this man of whom you speak—or had he ever been, in the devout12, habitual75 use of prayer?"
She shook her head. "I do not know; probably not."
"Miss Thane, you would scarcely need to have me warn you that no man is to be accepted as authority, in law or medicine, who is not thoroughly76 conversant77 with the subject, both by study and practice. So those, and those only, who pray themselves, humbly78, devoutly, persistently79, have any right to pronounce upon the efficacy of prayer."
She looked up at him quickly and keenly. "Pardon me, but—have you the right to speak with authority?"
"In some small measure, yes. I can certify80 you that the medicine is good, because I have taken it; that the staff is strong, because I have leaned upon it; that the weapon is efficient, because I have fought with it. Allow me to hope that you do not need the certification."
Her eyes fell, and her cheek flushed slightly, but she answered with her usual straightforward81 candor:—"I was never taught to pray;—my mother died when I was born, and my father believed none of these things. I have no habit of prayer."
"Does no one pray for you?"
"I don't know—Coralie, perhaps."
Bergan looked down upon her, and a sudden moisture dimmed his eyes. His heart was taken complete possession of, for the moment, by a vast, sorrowful pity for this beautiful and gifted woman, who masked so empty and aching a heart with so cold a demeanor82, impelling83 him irresistibly to help her, as he could.
"When you are next asked that question," said he, and there was a deep, rich melody in his voice, "do not say that you 'don't know,' for I promise to put up a prayer for you daily, from henceforth, until you send me word that you have learned to pray habitually84 and gladly for yourself. Hereafter, when you lie down to rest, remember that another—claiming no title of friend, but simply that of neighbor—has asked forgiveness for your day, protection for your night, and every strength that you need for your morrow."
The proud heart was touched at last. That is to say, Bergan's words were the effectual "last drop" in the full cup of the evening's varied emotions,—comparatively insignificant85 perhaps in itself, but none the less inevitably productive of overflow86. Miss Thane's lips parted with a kind of gasp87, scarcely distinguishable as sound, but profoundly suggestive of pain; and a perceptible tremor88 ran over her from head to foot. Suddenly releasing Bergan's arm, she sat down on a fallen tree by the side of the path, and covered her face with her hands, while tears, dripping through her slender fingers, glistened gem-like in the moonlight.
Yet it argued much for her power of self-control, that she made no sound, nor shook with any sob89. Grief must be content to exercise over her limited, not absolute dominion90.
Bergan withdrew to a little distance, and waited silently, looking out over the shadowy valley to the fair, flowing outline of the moon-silvered hills. Those womanly tears, he was certain, would afford most safe and seasonable relief to whatever pain and excitement, whatever distressful91 memories or dismal92 forebodings, had resulted from the evening's events. For himself, comparative stranger as he was, he had no right to give Miss Thane more than the silent sympathy of a heart itself not unacquainted with sorrow.
Suddenly, the deep silence was broken by the soft whirr of wings. A bird, flying as straight over the moonlighted fields as if let loose by an unseen hand for that purpose, alighted in the boughs over the two motionless figures, and shook down upon them a shower of liquid notes,—sweet, clear, and joyous,—a very prophecy of hope.
The song being sung, the bird soon spread its wings and flew back to its nest and its mate. Then Diva rose, and held out her hand to Bergan.
"I accept your offer," said she. "Something tells me that the time will come when I can repay you in degree, if not in kind."
And Bergan, as he took the white, cool hand—empty now, except perhaps of a half-reluctant gratitude, and a moderate measure of good-will—had a singular intuition that some day it would be held out to him with an inestimable gift in it.
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1
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pervade
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| v.弥漫，遍及，充满，渗透，漫延 | |
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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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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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6
evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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8
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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10
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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11
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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14
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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15
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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18
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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41
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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42
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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43
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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44
meretricious
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| adj.华而不实的，俗艳的 | |
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45
appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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46
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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47
guardianship
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| n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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48
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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50
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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51
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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52
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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53
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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intrusive
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| adj.打搅的；侵扰的 | |
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55
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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56
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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57
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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