He could feel for the man there. "My dears," he said, with his dilettante air, "the goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet are tender. She treads not upon the ground, but makes her path upon the hearts of men." In this non-committal way he gave his comment, for he usually found a bit of classical wisdom to fit modern emergencies, and the habit had imparted an antique bon-ton to his conversation. Ethel could only wonder at the lack of real sympathy.
In the morning she went to see her grandmother.
The old lady had "heard" all she wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope.
If men would marry a fool because she was young and pretty, they must take the consequences. "And why should Stanhope have married at all?" she asked indignantly.
"No man can serve God and a woman at the same time. He had to be a bad priest and a good husband, or a bad husband and a good priest. Basil Stanhope was honored, was doing good, and he must needs be happy also.
He wanted too much, and lost everything.
Serve him right."
"All can now find some fault in poor Basil Stanhope," said Ethel. "Bryce was bitter against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at the word `divorce.'""What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?"
"He is going to marry her, he says."
"Like enough; she's a merry miss of two- score, and rich. Bryce's marriage with anyone will be a well-considered affair--a marriage with all the advantages of a good bargain. I'm tired of the whole subject. If women will marry they should be as patient as Griselda, in case there ever was such a woman; if not, there's an end of the matter.""There are no Griseldas in this century, grandmother.""Then there ought to be no marriages.
Basil Stanhope was a grand man in public.
What kind of a man was he in his home?
Measure a man by his home conduct, and you'll not go wrong. It's the right place to draw your picture of him, I can tell you that.""He has no home now, poor fellow."
"Whose fault was it? God only knows.
Where is his wife?"
"She has gone to Paris."
"She has gone to the right place if she wants to play the fool. But there, now, God forbid I should judge her in the dark.
Women should stand by women--considering."
"Considering?"
"What they may have to put up with. It is easy to see faults in others. I have sometimes met with people who should see faults in themselves. They are rather uncommon, though.""I am sure Basil Stanhope will be miserable all his life. He will break his heart, Ido believe."
"Not so. A good heart is hard to break, it grows strong in trouble. Basil Stanhope's body will fail long before his heart does; and even so an end must come to life, and after that peace or what God wills."This scant sympathy Ethel found to be the usual tone among her acquaintances. St.
Jude's got a new rector and a new idol, and the Stanhope affair was relegated to the limbo of things "it was proper to forget."So the weeks of the long winter went by, and Ethel in the joy and hope of her own love-life naturally put out of her mind the sorrow of lives she could no longer help or influence. Indeed, as to Dora, there were frequent reports of her marvelous social success in Paris; and Ethel did not doubt Stanhope had found some everlasting gospel of holy work to comfort his desolation. And then also "Each day brings its petty dust, Our soon-choked souls to fill;And we forget because we must, And not because we will."One evening when May with heavy clouds and slant rains was making the city as miserable as possible, Ethel had a caller. His card bore a name quite unknown, and his appearance gave no clew to his identity.
"Mr. Edmonds?" she said interrogatively.
"Are you Miss Ethel Rawdon?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Mr. Basil Stanhope told me to put this parcel in your hands.""Oh, Mr. Stanhope! I am glad to hear from him. Where is he now?""We buried him yesterday. He died last Sunday as the bells were ringing for church --pneumonia, miss. While reading the ser-vice over a poor young man he had nursed many weeks he took cold. The poor will miss him sorely.""DEAD!" She looked aghast at the speaker, and again ejaculated the pitiful, astounding word.
"Good evening, miss. I promised him to return at once to the work he left me to do."And he quietly departed, leaving Ethel standing with the parcel in her hands. She ran upstairs and locked it away. Just then she could not bear to open it.
"And it is hardly twelve months since he was married," she sobbed. "Oh, Ruth, Ruth, it is too cruel!""Dear," answered Ruth, "there is no death to such a man as Basil Stanhope.""He was so young, Ruth."
"I know. `His high-born brothers called him hence' at the age of twenty-nine, but "`It is not growing like a tree, In bulk, doth make men better be;Or standing like an oak three hundred year, To fall at last, dry, bald and sear:
A lily of a day Is fairer far in May;
Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light.'"At these words the Judge put down his Review to listen to Ethel's story, and when she ceased speaking he had gone far further back than any antique classic for compensation and satisfaction:
"He being made perfect in a short time fulfilled a long time. For his soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him away from among the wicked."[2] And that evening there was little conversation. Every heart was busy with its own thoughts.
[2] Wisdom of Solomon, IV., 13, 14.
