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Barriers Burned Away, a novel by Edward Payson Roe |
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Chapter 19. What Is The Matter With Him? |
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_ CHAPTER XIX. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH HIM? The sun was just tingeing the eastern horizon with light when Dennis sprang from his bed on the following morning. He vowed that Miss Ludolph should never have cause to complain of him again; for, great as was the luxury of being awakened by such exquisite music, it was one that he could not afford. It must be confessed that he gave a little more care than usual that morning to his toilet; but his resources were very limited. Still, as nature had done so much for him, he could not complain. By half-past six his duties in the store were accomplished, and brushed and furbished up as far as possible, he stood outside the door awaiting his fair task-mistress. Sometimes he wondered at the strange fascination she exercised over him, but generally ended by ascribing it to her beauty and love of art. A little after the time appointed she appeared with her father, and seemed pleased at Dennis's readiness for work. "I shall not have to sing you awake this morning," she said, "and I am glad, for I am in a mood for business." She was attired in a close-fitting walking-dress that set off her graceful person finely. It was evident that her energetic nature would permit no statuesque repose while Dennis worked, but that she had come prepared for active measures. She had inherited a good constitution, which, under her father's direction, had been strengthened and confirmed by due regard to hygienic rules. Therefore she had reached the stage of early womanhood abounding in vitality and capable of great endurance. Active, graceful motion was as natural to her as it is for a swallow to be on the wing. The moment she dropped her book, palette, or pencil, she was on her feet, her healthful nature seeming like a mountain brook, that, checked for a time in its flow, soon overleaps its bounds and speeds on more swiftly than ever. But the strange part of this superabundant activity was, that she never seemed to do anything in an abrupt way, as from mere impulse. Every act glided into another smoothly and gracefully. Her lithe, willowy figure, neither slight nor stout, was peculiarly adapted to her style of movement. She delighted in the game of billiards, for the quick movements and varied attitudes permitted, and the precision required, were all suited to her taste; and she had gained such marvellous skill that even her father, with his practiced hand, was scarcely her match. As she tripped lightly up the long winding stairs to the show-room over the front door where their labors were to begin, she appeared to Dennis the very embodiment of grace and beauty. And yet she seemed so cold and self-centred, so devoid of warm human interest in the great world of love, joy, and suffering, that she repelled while she fascinated. "If the blood should come into the cheeks of one of her father's statues, and the white marble eyes turn to violet blue, and the snowy hair to wavy gold, and it should spring from its pedestal into just such life, it would be more like her than any woman I ever saw," thought Dennis, as he stood for a moment or two waiting to do her bidding. Her plans had been thoroughly matured, and she acted with decision. Pointing to the side opposite the door--the side which would naturally strike the eye of the visitor first--she said, "I wish all the pictures taken down from that wall and placed around the room so that I can see them." She began as an absolute dictator, intending to give no hint of her plans and purposes except as conveyed by clear, terse orders. But these had so intelligent and appreciative an interpreter in Dennis, that gradually her attention was drawn to him as well as to his work. He had his step-ladder ready, and with a celerity decidedly pleasing, soon placed the pictures safely on the floor, so that she could still see them and judge of their character. Though his dexterous manner and careful handling of the pictures were gratifying, it must be confessed that his supple form, the graceful and varied attitudes he unconsciously assumed in his work, pleased her more, and she secretly began to study him as an artistic subject, as he had studied her. In her complacency she said: "So far, very well, Mr. Fleet. I congratulate myself that I have you to assist me, instead of that awkward fraud, Mr. Berder." "And I assure you, Miss Ludolph, that I have longed intensely for this privilege ever since I knew your purpose." "You may have cause to repent, like many another whose wishes have been gratified; for your privilege will involve a great deal of hard work." "The more the better," said Dennis, warmly. "How so? I should think you had more to do now than you would care about." "Work is no burden to one of my years and strength, provided it is suited to one's tastes. Moreover, I confess that I hope to derive great advantages from this labor." "In what way?" she asked, with a slight frown, imagining that he thought of extra pay. "Because unconsciously you will give me instruction, and I hope that you are not unwilling that I should gain such hints and suggestions as I can from the display of your taste that I must witness." "Not at all," said she, laughing. "I see that you are ambitious to learn your business and rise in the store." "I am ambitious to gain a knowledge of one of the noblest callings." "What is that?" "Art." "What!" said she, with a half-scornful smile; "are you a disciple of art?" "Yes; why not?" "Well, I do not wish to hurt your feelings, but, to tell you the honest truth, it seems but the other day that you were Pat Murphy." "But am I a Pat Murphy?" he asked, with gentle dignity. "No, Mr. Fleet; I will do you the justice to say that I think you very much above your station." "I am sufficiently a democrat, Miss Ludolph, to believe that a man can be a man in any honest work." "And I, Mr. Fleet, am not in the least degree a democrat." Which fact she proceeded to prove by ordering him about for the next hour like the most absolute little despot that ever queened it over a servile province in the dark ages. Bat it was rather difficult to keep up this style of dictatorship with Dennis. He seemed so intelligent and polite that she often had it to her tongue to ask his opinion on certain points. Toward the last she did so, and the opinion he gave, she admitted to herself, was judicious; but for a purpose of her own she disregarded it, and took a different way. Dennis at once saw through her plan of arrangement. In the centre of that side of the room which he had cleared, she caused him to hang one of the largest and finest pictures, which, under Mr. Schwartz's management, had been placed in a corner. Around the central painting all the others were to be grouped, according to color, subject, and merit. At the same time each wall was to have a character of its own. Such a task as this would require no little thought, study, and comparison; and Miss Ludolph was one to see delicate points of difference which most observers would not notice. It was her purpose to make the room bloom out naturally like a great flower. This careful selection of pictures was necessarily slow, and Dennis rejoiced that their united work would not soon be over. To her surprise she often saw his eyes instinctively turning to the same picture that she was about to select, and perceived that he had divined her plan without a word of explanation, and that his taste was constantly according with hers in producing the desired effects. Though all this filled her with astonishment, she revealed no sign of it to him. At eight she said: "That will do for to-day. We have made a good beginning--better indeed than I had hoped. But how is it, Mr. Fleet, since you are such an uncompromising democrat, that you permit a young lady to order you about in this style?" Dennis smiled and said: "It seems perfectly natural for you to speak in this way, and it does not appear offensive as it might in another. Moreover, I have voluntarily taken this position and am in honor bound to accept all it involves." "But which was the controlling motive of your mind?" "Well, a few seem born to command, and it is a pleasure to obey," said Dennis, paying a strong but honest compliment to the natural little autocrat. "Indeed, Mr. Fleet, do church members flatter?" said she, secretly much pleased. "I did not mean to flatter," said he, flushing. "They who have power should use it like the All-powerful--gently, considerately." It was her turn to flush now, and she said, "Oh, I perceive, the compliment was the sugar-coating of the little homily to follow." "I have no such diplomacy as you credit me with," said Dennis, looking straight into her eyes with honest frankness. "I merely spoke my passing thought." "But he has fine eyes," said she to herself, and then she said to him: "Very well, I certainly will give you credit for being superior to your position. Be ready again to-morrow at the same hour;" and with a smile somewhat kindly she vanished. Somehow she seemed to take the light out of the room with her. The pictures suddenly looked tame and ordinary, and everything commonplace. Here was an effect not exactly artistic, which he could not understand. He sighed, he scarcely knew why. But the day's duties came with a rush, and soon he was utterly absorbed in them. That evening Dennis was much cheered by Mr. Bruder's comments on his sketches. "Considering de advantages you haf had, an de little time you can give, dey are very goot. You haf fallen into de natural faults of dose who work alone, but we can soon cure dese. Now here is some vork dat I vant you to do under my eye, and dat study on outlining you can take home. Moreover, I can give you some lessons in outlining from my own picture;" and Mr. Bruder showed him what he had done. Dennis saw in the clear, vigorous profile the artist's thought, and congratulated himself that his teacher was a master in his profession. For two hours they worked and talked, and Dennis felt that every such lesson would be a long step forward. Poor Bruder looked more and more like himself every day, but God only knew how he had to struggle. "I don't know how him vill end," he said. "I pray nearly every minute, but sometimes I feel dat I must drink even do' I die dat moment." It was disease as well as appetite that he was fighting, for appetite indulged beyond a certain point becomes disease. His wife's face was different also--the sharp look of misery fading out of it. Dennis noticed the changes, and thought to himself, while walking home: "After all, the highest art is to bring out on the living face all we can of God's lost image. How beautiful the changes in these two poor people's faces! and the best part of it is, that they are the reflex of changes going on in the soul, the imperishable part." Then, in quick and natural transition, his mind reverted to Christine Ludolph; and the thought of her face, which God had fashioned so fair, but which was already sadly marred by sin, becoming fixed and rigid in pride and selfishness, was as painful as if, according to an old legend, her lithe, active form should gradually turn to stone. But if the reverse could ever be true--if the beautifying Christian graces could dwell within her soul and light up her face--as lamps illumining some rare and quaint transparency, the resulting loveliness would realize the artist's fondest ideal. Musing thus, what wonder that he vowed then and there, under the starlight, to pray and work for her till the new life should illumine her heart. Little dreamed Christine, as she slept that night, that the first link of a chain which might bind her to heaven had been forged. The dawn was late and lowering on the following morning. Great masses of clouds swept across the sky, and soon the rain was falling in gusty torrents. Dennis rose and hastened through his duties as before, and was ready at the hour appointed, but had little hope of seeing Miss Ludolph. Still he opened the door and looked up the street. To his surprise he saw her coming, attended by her father's valet. Only part of her glowing face was visible, for she was incased from head to foot in a light and delicate suit of rubber. Dennis opened the door, and she stepped quickly in, scattering spray on every side like a sea-nymph. The young man looked at her with open-eyed admiration and surprise, which both amused and pleased her. "True enough," she thought, "his face is like a signboard." She seemed to him, as she threw off her wet coverings, like an exquisite flower, that, lifted by the breeze after a storm, scatters the burdensome rain-drops on every side and stands up more beautiful and blooming than ever. "You were not expecting me, I imagine," she said. "Well, I must admit I scarcely did, and yet I could not help looking for you." "Isn't that a distinction without a difference?" she asked, with a pleasant smile, for she was gratified at not finding the store closed and dark. "I am very glad you have come," he replied, flushing slightly with pleasure, "for it would have been a long, dreary morning if you had not." Dennis thought he referred to the lack of occupation. He did not know, nor did she notice, that he meant the lack of herself. "Well," said she, "I am glad you like the work, for you destined to have enough of it." _ |
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