A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, Edward Payson Roe [top young adult novels TXT] 📗
- Author: Edward Payson Roe
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Himself To His Stupor, From Which He Had Been Aroused to Receive His
Sentence.
It Was Late In the Afternoon When He Awoke, And His Cell Was Already
Growing Dusky With The Coming Night. It Was A Place Congenial To
Shadows, And They Came Early And Lingered till The Sun Was High.
But As Haldane Slowly Regained full Consciousness, And Recalled all That
Had Transpired, He Felt Himself To Be Under A Deeper Shadow Than The
Night Could Cast. The World Condemned him, And He Deserved condemnation;
But He Was Also Deserving Of Pity. Scarcely More Than Twenty, He Had
Seemingly Spoiled his Life Utterly. It Was Torment To Remember The Past,
And The Future Was Still Darker; For His Outraged physical Nature So
Bitterly Resented its Wrongs By Racking Pains That It Now Seemed to Him
That Even A Brief Career Of Sensual Gratification Was Impossible, Or So
Counterbalanced with Suffering as To Be Revolting. Though Scarcely More
Than Across The Threshold Of Life, Existence Had Become An Unmitigated
Evil. Had He Been Brought Up In an Atmosphere Of Flippant Scepticism He
Would Have Flung It Away As He Would A Handful Of Nettles; But His
Childish Memory Had Been Made Familiar With That Ancient Book Whose
Truths, Like Anchors, Enable Many A Soul On The Verge Of Wreck To
Outride The Storm. He Was Too Well Acquainted with Its Teachings To
Entertain For A Moment The Shallow Theory That A Man Can Escape The
Consequences Of Folly, Villany, And Unutterable Baseness By Merely
Ceasing To Breathe.
He Could Not Eat The Coarse Food Brought To Him For Supper, And His Only
Craving Was For Something To Quench His Feverish Thirst. His Long
Lethargy Was Followed by Corresponding Sleeplessness And Preternatural
Activity Of Brain. That Night Became To Him Like The Day Of Judgment;
For It Seemed as If His Memory Would Recall Everything He Had Ever Done
Or Said, And Place All Before Him In the Most Dreary And Discouraging
Aspect.
He Saw His Beautiful And Aristocratic Home, Which He Had Forfeited so
Completely That The Prison Would Be More Endurable Than The Forced and
Painful Toleration Of His Presence, Which Was The Best He Could Hope For
From His Mother And Sisters; And He Felt That He Would Much Rather Stay
Where He Was For Life Than Again Meet Old Neighbors And Companions. But
He Now Saw How, With That Home And His Father'S Honored name As His
Vantage Ground, He Might Have Made Himself Rich And Honored.
The Misspent Days And Years Of The Past Became Like So Many Reproachful
Ghosts, And He Realized that He Had Idled away The Precious Seed-Time Of
His Life, Or, Rather, Had Been Busy Sowing Thorns And Nettles, That Had
Grown All Too Quickly And Rankly. Thousands Had Been Spent On His
Education; And Yet He Was Oppressed with A Sense Of His Ignorance And
Helplessness. Rude Contact With The World Had Thoroughly Banished
Self-Conceit, And He Saw That His Mind Was Undisciplined and His
Knowledge So Superficial And Fragmentary As To Be Almost Useless. The
Editor Of The Paper Whose Columns He Had Hoped to Illumine Told Him That
He Could Not Even Write Correctly.
While In bitterness Of Soul He Cursed himself For His Wasted life, He
Knew That He Was Not Wholly To Blame. Indeed, In accordance With A Trait
As Old As Fallen Man, He Sought To Lay The Blame On Another. He Saw That
His Own Folly Had Ever Found An Ally In his Mother'S Indulgence, And
That, Instead Of Holding Him With A Firm Yet Gentle Hand To His Tasks
And Duties, She Had Been The First To Excuse Him From Them And To
Palliate His Faults. Instead Of Recalling Her Fond And Blind Idolatry
With Tenderness, He Felt Like One Who Had Been Treacherously Poisoned
With A Wine That Was Sweet While It Rested on The Palate, But Whose
After-Taste Is Vile, And Whose Final Effect Is Death.
There Is No Memory That We Cherish So Sacredly And Tenderly As That Of
Our Parents' Kind And Patient Love. It Often Softens The Heart Of The
Hardened man And Abandoned woman When All Other Influences Are
Powerless. But When Love Degenerates Into Idolatry And Indulgence, And
Those To Whom The Child Is Given As A Sacred trust Permit It To Grow
Awry, And Develop Into Moral Deformity, Men And Women, As Did Haldane,
May Breathe Curses On The Blindness And Weakness That Was The Primal
Cause Of Their Life-Failure. Throughout That Long And Horrible Night He
Felt Only Resentment Toward His Mother, And Cherished no Better Purpose
Toward Her Than Was Embodied in his Plan To Wring From Her, Even By
Methods That Savored of Blackmail, The Means Of Living a Dissipated life
In Some City Where He Was Unknown, And Could Lose Himself In the
Multitude.
But The Ten Days Of Enforced seclusion And Solitude That Must Intervene
Seemed like An Eternity. With A Shudder He Thought Of The Real Eternity,
Beyond, When The Power To Excite Or Stupefy His Lower Nature Would Be
Gone Forever. That Shadow Was So Dark And Cold That It Seemed to Chill
His Very Soul, And By A Resolute Effort Of Will He Compelled his Mind To
Dwell Only On The Immediate Future And The Past.
Day At Last Dawned slowly And Dimly In his Cell, And Found Him Either
Pacing Up And Down Like Some Wild Creature In its Cage, Turning So Often
By Reason Of The Limited space As To Be Almost Dizzy, Or Else Sitting On
His Couch With His Haggard Face Buried in his Hands.
After Fighting all Night Against The Impulse To Think About Mrs. Arnot
And Her Niece, He At Last Gave Up The Struggle, And Permitted his Mind
To Revert To Them. Such Thoughts Were Only Pain Now, And Yet For Some
Reason It Seemed as If His Mind Were Drawn Irresistibly Toward Them. He
Felt That His Deep Regret Was As Useless And Unavailing as The November
Wind That Sweeps Back And Forth The Withered and Fallen Leaves. His
Whole Frame Would At Times Tremble With Gusts Of Remorseful Passion, And
Again He Would Sigh Long And Drearily.
He Now Realized what A Priceless Opportunity He Had Lost. It Was Once
His Privilege To Enter Mrs. Arnot'S Beautiful Home Assured of Welcome.
She Had Been Deeply Interested in him For His Mother'S Sake, And Might
Have Become So For His Own. He Had Been Privileged to Meet Laura Romeyn
As Her Equal, At Least In social Estimation, And He Might Have Made
Himself Worthy Of Her Esteem, And Possibly Of Her Affection. He Saw That
He Had Foolishly Clamored, Like A Spoiled child, For That Which He Could
Only Hope To Possess By Patient Waiting and Manly Devotion; And Now,
With A Regret That Was Like A Serpent'S Tooth, He Felt That Such
Devotion Might Have Been Rewarded.
But A Few Months Ago, Whose Life Had Been More Rich With Promise Than
His, Or To Whom Had Been Given A Better Vantage-Ground? And Yet He Had
Already Found The Lowest Earthly Perdition Possible, And Had Lost Hope
Of Anything Better.
In His Impotent Rage And Despair He Fairly Gnashed his Teeth And Cursed
Himself, His Fate, And Those Who Had Led to His Evil Fortunes. Then, By
A Natural Revulsion Of Feeling, He Sobbed like A Child That Has Lost Its
Way And Can Discover No Returning Path, And Whose Heart The Darkness Of
The Fast-Approaching Night Fills With Unutterable Dread.
He Was A Criminal--In His Despair He Never Hoped to Be Anything
Else--But He Was Not A Hardened criminal And Was Still Capable Of
Wishing To Be Different. In the Memory Of His Bitter Experience A Pure
And Honorable Life Now Appeared as Beautiful As It Was Impossible. He
Had No Expectation, However, Of Ever Living Such A Life, For Pride, The
Cornerstone Of His Character, Had Given Way, And He Was Too Greatly
Discouraged at The Time To Purpose Reform Even In the Future. Without
The Spur And Incentive Of Hope We Become Perfectly Helpless In evil;
Therefore All Doctrines And Philosophies Which Tend To Quench Or Limit
Hope, Or Which Are Bounded by The Narrow Horizon Of Time And Earth, Are,
In Certain Emergencies, But Dead Weights, Dragging Down The Soul.
At Last, From Sheer Exhaustion, He Threw Himself On His Couch, And Fell
Into A Troubled sleep, Filled with Broken And Distorted visions Of The
Scenes That Had Occupied his Waking Hours. But He Gradually Became
Quieter, And It Appeared in his Dream As If He Saw A Faint Dawning In
The East Which Grew Brighter Until A Distinct Ray Of Light Streamed from
An Infinite Distance To Himself. Along This Shining Pathway An Angel
Seemed approaching Him. The Vision Grew So Distinct And Real That He
Started up And Saw Mrs. Arnot Sitting In the Doorway, Quietly Watching
Him. Confused and Oblivious Of The Past, He Stepped forward To Speak To
Her With The Natural Instinct Of A Gentleman. Then The Memory Of All
That Had Occurred rolled before Him Like A Black Torrent, And He Shrank
Back To His Couch And Buried his Face In his Hands. But When Mrs. Arnot
Came And Placed her Hand On His Shoulder, Saying Gently, But Very
Gravely, "Egbert, Since You Would Not Come To Me I Have Come To You," He
Felt That His Vision Was Still True, And That God Had Sent His Angel.
V
Chapter XXVIII (Facing The Consequences)A Young Man Of Haldane'S Age Is Capable Of Despairing Thoughts, And Even
Of Desperate Moods, Of Quite Extended continuance; But It Usually
Requires A Long Lifetime Of Disaster And Sin To Bury Hope So Deep That
The Stone Of Its Sepulchre Is Not Rolled away As The Morning Dawns.
Haldane Had Thought That His Hope Was Dead; But Mrs. Arnot'S Presence,
Combined with Her Manner, Soon Made It Clear, Even To Himself, That It
Was Not; And Yet It Was But A Weak And Trembling Hope, Scarcely Assured
Of Its Right To Exist, That Revived at Her Touch And Voice. His Heart
Both Clung To And Shrank From The Pure, Good Woman Who Stood Beside Him.
He Trembled, And His Breast Heaved convulsively For A Few Moments, And
She Quietly Waited until He Should Grow More Calm, Only Stroking His
Bowed head Once Or Twice With A Slight And Reassuring Caress. At Last He
Asked in a Low, Hoarse Voice:
"Do You Know Why I Am Here?"
"Yes, Egbert."
"And Yet You Have Come In kindness--In Mercy, Rather."
"I Have Come Because I Am Deeply Interested in you."
"I Am Not Worthy--I Am Not Fit For You To Touch."
"I Am Glad You Feel So."
"Then Why Do You Come?"
"Because I Wish To Help You To Become Worthy."
"That'S Impossible. It'S Too Late."
"Perhaps It Is. That Is A Question For You Alone To Decide; But I Wish
You To Think Well Before You Do Decide It."
"Pardon Me, Mrs. Arnot," He Said Emphatically, Raising His Head, And
Dashing away Bitter Tears; "The World Has Decided that Question For Me,
And All Have Said In one Harsh, United voice, 'You Shall Not Rise.' It
Has Ground Me Under Its Heel As Vindictively As If I Were A Viper. You
Are So Unlike The World That You Don'T Know It. It Has Given Me No
Chance Whatever."
"Egbert, What Have You To Do With The World?"
"God Knows I Wanted to Recover What I Had Lost," He Continued in the
Same Rapid Tone. "God Knows I Left This Cell Weeks Since With The Honest
Purpose Of Working My Way Up To A Position That Would Entitle Me To Your
Respect, And Change My Mother'S Shame Into Pride. But I Found A Mad-Dog
Cry Raised against Me. And This Professedly Christian Town Has Fairly
Hunted me Back To This Prison."
Mrs. Arnot Sighed deeply, But After A Moment Said, "I Do Not Excuse The
Christian Town, Neither Can I Excuse You."
"You Too, Then, Blame Me, And Side Against Me."
"No, Egbert, I Side With You, And Yet I Blame You Deeply; But I Pity You
More."
He Rose, And Paced the
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