a far country-第8章

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had；　indeed；　put　into　me　an　awful　fear。　　The　greatest　horror　of　my　boyish
imagination　was　a　wicked　man。　　Was　I；　as　he　had　declared；　utterly
depraved　and　doomed　in　spite　of　myself　to　be　one？

There　came　a　knock　at　my　doorElla　with　my　supper。　　I　refused　to　open；
and　sent　her　away；　to　fall　on　my　knees　in　the　darkness　and　pray　wildly　to
a　God　whose　attributes　and　character　were　sufficiently　confused　in　my
mind。　　On　the　one　hand　was　the　stern；　despotic　Monarch　of　the　Westminster
Catechism；　whom　I　addressed　out　of　habit；　the　Father　who　condemned　a
portion　of　his　children　from　the　cradle。　　Was　I　one　of　those　who　he　had
decreed　before　I　was　born　must　suffer　the　tortures　of　the　flames　of　hell？
Putting　two　and　two　together；　what　I　had　learned　in　Sunday　school　and
gathered　from　parts　of　Dr。　Pound's　sermons；　and　the　intimation　of　my
father　that　wickedness　was　within　me；　like　an　incurable　disease；was　not
mine　the　logical　conclusion？　　What；　then；　was　the　use　of　praying？。。。　　My
supplications　ceased　abruptly。　　And　my　ever　ready　imagination；　stirred　to
its　depths；　beheld　that　awful　scene　of　the　last　day：　the　darkness；　such
as　sometimes　creeps　over　the　city　in　winter；　when　the　jaundiced　smoke
falls　down　and　we　read　at　noonday　by　gas…light。　　I　beheld　the　tortured
faces　of　the　wicked　gathered　on　the　one　side；　and　my　mother　on　the　other
amongst　the　blessed；　gazing　across　the　gulf　at　me　with　yearning　and
compassion。　　Strange　that　it　did　not　strike　me　that　the　sight　of　the
condemned　whom　they　had　loved　in　life　would　have　marred　if　not　destroyed
the　happiness　of　the　chosen；　about　to　receive　their　crowns　and　harps！
What　a　theologythat　made　the　Creator　and　Preserver　of　all　mankind　thus
illogical！




III。

Although　I　was　imaginative；　I　was　not　morbidly　introspective；　and　by　the
end　of　the　first　day　of　my　incarceration　my　interest　in　that　solution　had
waned。　　At　times；　however；　I　actually　yearned　for　someone　in　whom　I　could
confide；　who　could　suggest　a　solution。　　I　repeat；　I　would　not　for　worlds
have　asked　my　father　or　my　mother　or　Dr。　Pound；　of　whom　I　had　a　wholesome
fear；　or　perhaps　an　unwholesome　one。　　Except　at　morning　Bible　reading　and
at　church　my　parents　never　mentioned　the　name　of　the　Deity；　save　to
instruct　me　formally。　　Intended　or　no；　the　effect　of　my　religious
training　was　to　make　me　ashamed　of　discussing　spiritual　matters；　and
naturally　I　failed　to　perceive　that　this　was　because　it　laid　its　emphasis
on　personal　salvation。。。。　　I　did　not；　however；　become　an　unbeliever；　for
I　was　not　of　a　nature　to　contemplate　with　equanimity　a　godless
universe。。。。

My　sufferings　during　these　series　of　afternoon　confinements　did　not　come
from　remorse；　but　were　the　result　of　a　vague　sense　of　injury；　and　their
effect　was　to　generate　within　me　a　strange　motive　power；　a　desire　to　do
something　that　would　astound　my　father　and　eventually　wring　from　him　the
confession　that　he　had　misjudged　me。　　To　be　sure；　I　should　have　to　wait
until　early　manhood；　at　least；　for　the　accomplishment　of　such　a　coup。
Might　it　not　be　that　I　was　an　embryonic　literary　genius？　　Many　were　the
books　I　began　in　this　ecstasy　of　self…vindication；　only　to　abandon　them
when　my　confinement　came　to　an　end。

It　was　about　this　time；　I　think；　that　I　experienced　one　of　those　shocks
which　have　a　permanent　effect　upon　character。　　It　was　then　the　custom　for
ladies　to　spend　the　day　with　one　another；　bringing　their　sewing；　and
sometimes；　when　I　unexpectedly　entered　the　sitting…room；　the　voices　of　my
mother's　visitors　would　drop　to　a　whisper。　　One　afternoon　I　returned　from
school　to　pause　at　the　head　of　the　stairs。　　Cousin　Bertha　Ewan　and　Mrs。
McAlery　were　discussing　with　my　mother　an　affair　that　I　judged　from　the
awed　tone　in　which　they　spoke　might　prove　interesting。

〃Poor　Grace；〃　Mrs。　McAlery　was　saying；　〃I　imagine　she's　paid　a　heavy
penalty。　　No　man　alive　will　be　faithful　under　those　circumstances。〃

I　stopped　at　the　head　of　the　stairs；　with　a　delicious；　guilty　feeling。

〃Have　they　ever　heard　of　her？〃　Cousin　Bertha　asked。

〃It　is　thought　they　went　to　Spain；〃　replied　Mrs。　McAlery；　solemnly；　yet
not　without　a　certain　zest。　　〃Mr。　Jules　Hollister　will　not　have　her　name
mentioned　in　his　presence；　you　know。　　And　Whitcomb　chased　them　as　far　as
New　York　with　a　horse…pistol　in　his　pocket。　　The　report　is　that　he　got　to
the　dock　just　as　the　ship　sailed。　　And　then；　you　know；　he　went　to　live
somewhere　out　West；in　Iowa；　I　believe。〃

〃Did　he　ever　get　a　divorce？〃　Cousin　Bertha　inquired。

〃He　was　too　good　a　church　member；　my　dear；〃　my　mother　reminded　her。

〃Well；　I'd　have　got　one　quick　enough；　church　member　or　no　church　member；〃
declared　Cousin　Bertha；　who　had　in　her　elements　of　daring。

〃Not　that　I　mean　for　a　moment　to　excuse　her；〃　Mrs。　McAlery　put　in；　〃but
Edward　Whitcomb　did　have　a　frightful　temper；　and　he　was　awfully　strict
with　her；　and　he　was　old　enough；　anyhow；　to　be　her　father。　　Grace
Hollister　was　the　last　woman　in　the　world　I　should　have　suspected　of
doing　so　hideous　a　thing。　　She　was　so　sweet　and　simple。〃

〃Jennings　was　very　attractive；〃　said　my　Cousin　Bertha。　　〃I　don't　think　I
ever　saw　a　handsomer　man。　　Now；　if　he　had　looked　at　me〃

The　sentence　was　never　finished；　for　at　this　crucial　moment　I　dropped　a
grammar。。。。

I　had　heard　enough；　however；　to　excite　my　curiosity　to　the　highest　pitch。
And　that　evening；　when　I　came　in　at　five　o'clock　to　study；　I　asked　my
mother　what　had　become　of　Gene　Hollister's　aunt。

〃She　went　away；　Hugh；〃　replied　my　mother；　looking　greatly　troubled。

〃Why？〃　I　persisted。

〃It　is　something　you　are　too　young　to　understand。〃

Of　course　I　started　an　investigation；　and　the　next　day　at　school　I　asked
the　question　of　Gene　Hollister　himself；　only　to　discover　that　he　believed
his　aunt　to　be　dead！　　And　that　night　he　asked　his　mother　if　his　Aunt
Grace　were　really　alive；　after　all？　　Whereupon　complications　and
explanations　ensued　between　our　parents；　of　which　we　saw　only　the　surface
signs。。。。　　My　father　accused　me　of　eavesdropping　（which　I　denied）；　and
sentenced　me　to　an　afternoon　of　solitary　confinement　for　repeating
something　which　I　had　heard　in　private。　　I　have　reason　to　believe　that　my
mother　was　also　reprimanded。

It　must　not　be　supposed　that　I　permitted　the　matter　to　rest。　　In　addition
to　Grits　Jarvis；　there　was　another　contraband　among　my　acquaintances；
namely；　Alec　Pound；　the　scrape…grace　son　of　the　Reverend　Doctor　Pound。
Alec　had　an　encyclopaedic　mind；　especially　well　stocked　with　the　kind　of
knowledge　I　now　desired；　first　and　last　he　taught　me　much；　which　I　would
better　have　got　in　another　way。　　To　him　I　appealed　and　got　the　story；　my
worst　suspicions　being　confirmed。　　Mrs。　Whitcomb's　house　had　been　across
the　alley　from　that　of　Mr。　Jennings；　but　no　one　knew　that　anything　was
〃going　on；〃　though　there　had　been　signals　from　the　windowsthe
neighbours　afterwards　remembered。。。。

I　listened　shudderingly。

〃But；〃　I　cried；　〃they　were　both　married！〃

〃What　difference　does　that　make　when　you　love　a　woman？〃　Alec　replied
grandly。　　〃I　could　tell　you　much　worse　things　than　that。〃

This　he　proceeded　to　do。　　Fascinated；　I　listened　with　a　sickening
sensation。　　It　was　a　mild　afternoon　in　spring；　and　we　stood　in　the　deep
limestone　gutter　in　front　of　the　parsonage；　a　little　Gothic　wooden　house
set　in　a　gloomy　yard。

〃I　thought；〃　said　I；　〃that　people　couldn't　love　any　more　after　they　were
married；　except　each　other。〃

Alec　looked　at　me　pityingly。

〃You'll　get　over　that　notion；〃　he　assured　me。

Thus　another　ingredient　entered　my　character。　　Denied　its　food　at　home；
good　food；　my　soul　eagerly　consumed　and　made　part　of　itself　the
fermenting　stuff　that　Alec　Pound　so　willing　distributed。　　And　it　was
fermenting　stuff。　　Let　us　see　what　it　did　to　me。　　Working　slowly　but
surely；　it　changed　for　me　the　dawning　mystery　of　sex　into　an　evil　instead
of　a　holy　one。　　The　knowledge　of　the　tragedy　of　Grace　Hollister　started
me　to　seeking　restlessly；　on　bookshelves　and　elsewhere；　for　a　secret　that
forever　eluded　me；　and　forever　led　me　on。　　The　word　fermenting　aptly
describes　the　process　begun；　suggesting　as　it　does　something　closed　up；
away　from　air　and　sunlight；　continually　working