University of Virginia Library

14. XIV.
THE SITUATION.

THE hive of village gossip began about this time
to buzz with unusual excitement. There was a
great deal of noise, and much stinging; while a
little honey was dispensed, — to those persons, of course, who
least deserved it.

One of these was young Biddikin. He had gone to work
at Colonel Bannington's; had put off recklessness with his
rags, and adopted good moral habits with those which Guy
gave him out of his wardrobe; while just enough of the old
aroma of wickedness remained to give a pleasant pungency to
his character. Society delights in change, in contrast and
surprise. It gets tired of hearing Aristides called the Just;
and is always eager to pick up and patronize the scamp with
a thousand crimes, and one virtue to make them interesting.

Another who got honey was Lawyer Pelt. As soon as it
was ascertained that he had purchased village lots on which
he purposed erecting a mansion of superior elegance, the
mothers of unwedded daughters began to pronounce his

euphonious name with respectful interest; and the daughters
themselves looked at him as the Thessalian maidens might
have looked at King Admetus's shepherd, when, from his
mean disguise, they saw Apollo emerging. The fathers
nodded and smiled, and said Apollo — we mean Pelt — was
a good deal more of a chap than had been supposed: and
everybody wondered at his hitherto unsuspected prosperity;
while only one head was dubiously shaken, and that was a
red one.

Another who got honey was Lucy; but it was the honey
of cyphonism, — a little thin sweetening of praise spread
over her to attract swarming insects with their bites and
stings.

Fearful to a young girl, however innocent, however brave,
she may be, is the first vile darkening and devastating swarm
that alights upon her character. And think you Lucy, though
buried in her solitude, did not hear and feel?

Not blindly, not without knowing well what to expect, had
she done a thing to be greatly wondered at: she had treasured
patience and faith against this inevitable hour; but,
when one after another officious friendly-seeming foe hastened
to report to her confidentially the world's sarcasms and harsh
judgments, it seemed more than heart could bear.

Still Guy believed her happy; nor was he altogether deceived.
Delicious was the consolation of his coming. It
was warm and perfumed spring after the winter of discontent.
The rosy glowing hours drifted by like dreams. They lived

imparadised in one another's arms, like the first mortal pair
that loved and sinned. Nepenthe brimmed their cup, —

And yet scarce the true nepenthe was it; whereof “such
as drink, eternal happiness do find.” It blessed their lips
and hearts, but did not infuse its divine quality forever into
their souls.

What, then, was amiss with them?

Alas! what men are always trying to do, yet none ever
succeeded in doing, they had also attempted.

O lovers! wherefore is this crimson morning of passion
granted you, but that you may awake from the delirium of
the sleep-walking world, and look upon realities?

The ladder of worldliness was never the way to heaven.
But despise the earthly rounds, and, lo! what wings are
given you! The pure ether upbears you on its crystal
bosom; the world with its nothingness recedes; the blissful
doors fly open.

Guy and Lucy aspired to heaven, but clung to the ladder.

Had they been as ready to brave the colonel's wrath and
all its consequences as they were to risk the world's opinion;
had they, for love's sake, given themselves openly and truly
to each other, fearing nothing, concealing nothing, accepting
cheerfully all penalties, — what blessedness might have been

theirs! But Guy feared for Lucy; Lucy trembled for Guy:
and so, not altogether selfish, but each for the other's sake,
they sinned.

To say that they were waiting for the colonel to die, and
were fast accumulating causes to hope he would die soon,
gives a rather ugly face to the matter, which the blushing
Muse would gladly veil in tropes.

Indirectness, deception, — these are the fatal byways in
which many a secret serpent crawls; and therein walked
the lovers towards the tragedy of their lives.

Breathe warm upon them, perfumed spring of love! Drift,
rosy and glowing hours, — drift over them like dreams!
Flow, sweet nepenthe, yet a little while!

In the mean time had arisen a topic which was speedily
absorbing all others.

The table of spiritualism — like the old broom with which
the magician's apprentice, in Goethe's poem, tries his hand at
his master's trade — had let loose a flood which swelled
beyond all bounds. Over the threshold of conventionality,
over the stairs of class, over the walls of creed, rushed the
uncontrollable waters, threatening to overwhelm the entire
structure, and frightening those who did not believe that the
Master was at hand, and that the house would be improved
by the washing.

A great perturbation ensued in the little village. Four
classes at once arose, — believers, who received the revelations

of spirits as a new gospel of glad tidings; opponents, who as
promptly denounced them as imposture, and the work of the
Devil; and earnest investigators, who meant to be impartial,
avoid the fanaticism of both sides, and come to just conclusions.
The fourth class were those who didn't care whether
the thing was true or not: they had other matters to attend
to, — buying, selling, eating, drinking, begetting, — and
desired to postpone acquaintance with the higher spheres as
long as possible.

In a short time, it was estimated that every other member
of every other household was a convert to the new doctrines.
Again children were divided against parents, and parents
against each other, as only the sword of belief can divide
them. To superstition was opposed persecution: and it was
fortunate for some that the world has grown wiser than when
it hanged witches and burnt heretics; that no inquisition
exists but Mrs. Grundy's, and no stake but public opinion,
which are yet sufficiently cruel.

Such simple-hearted people as the Brandles accepted the
new faith with scarce a question. To the believing widow
there was nothing in life so real and sweet as the visits of her
once lamented husband, now sensibly present with her again,
communing with her through the mouth of their son, bringing
daily joy and nightly consolation.

Lucy represented a rarer class of minds, whose conception
of spiritual existence is so exalted, that they revolt from the
least admixture of the earthy or the absurd in what claims

for its origin the pure realms in which their sainted ones
dwell.

Guy was not one of these. No dove-like opinions had
built their nests in his mind, to fill him with fluttering and
alarm at the least disturbance. In that open belfry were
large spaces, inviting all the birds of heaven.

Long his soul had been famishing; and in his unrest he had
resorted to dissipation and wild sport, seeking he knew not
what. But love had changed him, and prepared him for a
still greater change.

Those who have been rocked in the cradle of some creed can
with difficulty conceive of the whirlwind-like stress with which
the first realizations of God and immortality seize a nature like
his, deep with depths which have never yet been sounded,
restless with powers which wait for development and direction,
and endowed with impetuous energy potent for good or ill.

With a stern logic capable of receiving truth in spite of
its ridiculous or coarse disguises, he became an investigator
of the most grasping and indefatigable sort. He regarded
with amazement and contempt those who were indifferent to a
subject of such momentous importance; and was often impatient
with Lucy, whose first impressions and unreasoning
prejudices would not yield to any arguments. His investigations
kept him much from her; and thus between them
also the point of the dividing sword showed itself, to the terror
of one at least, who saw the inexorable edge advancing.

Doctor Biddikin's treasure had risen in repute. Good

spiritualists, receiving as infallible truths the utterances of
mediums, began to credit the existence of what had hitherto
been regarded as a chimera of the Biddikin brain. In connection
therewith had been predicted in divers places, by
many seers and seeresses, a new social organization, involving
reforms of Church and State, and influencing the destinies
of the world; in several of which prophecies, even by persons
to whom Guy was unknown, he was distinctly named
or unmistakably described as the leader of the new order of
things. To Lucy it was all fanaticism: and, seeing the
effect which accumulating marvels and predictions were having
upon her lover, she exacted from him a promise that he
would avoid the mediums of the money-digging spirits, as
she termed them; and especially the seeress whose image
she remembered, and whose fascinations she dreaded, with
an almost superstitious fear.

When, out of the tenderness of his love for her, Guy gave
that promise, little did he guess how it was destined to be
broken.