Chapter 1

THE MISTRESS OF THE MANSE

BY

J. G. HOLLAND

NEW YORK

SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO

1874

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by

SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO.,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

JOHN V. TROW & SON,

PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS,

205-213 East 12th St.,

NEW YORK.

CONTENTS.

PRELUDE LOVE'S EXPERIMENTS LOVE'S PHILOSOPHIES LOVE'S CONSUMMATIONS

LOVE'S EXPERIMENTS.

I.

A fluttering bevy left the gate With hurried steps, and sped away; And then a coach with drooping freight, Wrapped in its film of dusty gray, Stopped; and the pastor and his mate

Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door, And closed it on the gazing street. "Oh Philip!" She could say no more. "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my sweet,-- The old life closed: the new before!"

"Dinah, the mistress!" And the maid, Grown motherly with household care And loving service, and arrayed In homely neatness, took the pair Of small gloved hands held out, and paid

Her low obeisance; then--"this way!" And when she brought her forth at last, To him who grudged the long delay, He found the soil of travel cast, And Mildred fresh and fair as May.

II

"This is our little Manse," he said. "Now look with both your curious eyes Around, above and overhead, And seeing all things, realize That they are ours, and we are wed!

"Walk through these freshly garnished rooms-- These halls of oak and tinted pearl-- And mark the cups of clover-blooms, Cut fresh, to greet the stranger-girl, By those whose kindliness illumes

The house beyond the grace of flowers! They greet you, mantled by my name, And rain their tenderness in showers,-- Responding to the double claim Of love no longer mine, but ours.

"This is our parlor, plain and sweet: Your hands shall make it half divine. That wide, old-fashioned window-seat Beneath your touch shall grow a shrine; And every nooklet and retreat,

And every barren ledge and shelf, Shall wear a charm beyond the boon Of treasure-bearing drift, or delf, Or dreams that flutter from the moon; For it shall blossom with yourself.

"This is my study: here, alone, Prayerful to Him whom I adore, And gathering speech to make him known, Your far, quick footsteps on the floor, Your breezy robe, your cheerful tone,

As through our pretty home you speed The busy ministries of life, Will stir me swifter than my creed, And be more musical, dear wife, Than sweep of harp, or pipe of reed.

"Here is our fairy banquet hall! See how it opens to the East, And looks through elms! The board is small, But what it bears shall be a feast At morn, and noon, and evenfall.

"There will you sit in girlish grace, And catch, the sunrise in your hair; And looking at you, from my place, I shall behold more sweet and fair The morning in your smiling face.

"And guests shall come, and guests shall go, And break with us our daily bread; And sometime--sometime--do you know? I hope that--dearest, lift your head; And let me speak it, soft and low!

"The grass is sweeter than the ground: Can love be better than its flowers? Oh sometime--sometime--in the round Of coming years, this board of ours I hope may blossom and abound

With shining curls, and laughing eyes, And pleasant jests and merry words, And questions full of life's surprise, And light and music, when the birds Have left us to our gloomy skies.

"Now mount with me the old oak stair! This is your chamber--pink and blue! They asked the color of your hair, And draped and fitted all for you, My fine brunette, with tasteful care.

"The linen is as white as snow; The flowers are set on every sconce; And e'en the cushioned pin-heads show Your formal "welcome," for the nonce, To the sweet home their hands bestow.

"Declining to the river's marge, See, from this window, how the turf Runs with a thousand flowers in charge To meet the silver feet of surf That fly from every passing barge!

"Along that reach of liquid light Flies Commerce with her countless keels; There the chained Titan in his might Turns slowly round the groaning wheels That drag her burdens, day and night.

"And now the red sun flings his kiss Across its waves from finger-tips That pause, and grudgingly dismiss The one he loves to closer lips, And Moonlight's quiet hour of bliss.

"And here comes Dinah with the steam Of evening cups and evening food, And coal-red berries quenched with cream, And ministry of homely good That proves, my dear, we do not dream."

III.

He heard the long-drawn organ-peal Within his chapel call to prayer; And, answering with ready zeal, He breathed o'er Mildred's weary chair These words, and sealed them with a seal:

"Only an hour: but comfort take;-- This home and I are wholly yours; And many bosoms fondly ache To tell you, that while life endures, You shall be cherished for my sake.

"So throw your heart's door open wide, And take in mine as well as me; Let no poor creature be denied The grace of tender courtesy And kindness from the pastor's bride."

IV.

The moon came up the summer sky: "Oh happy moon!" the lady said; "Men love thee for thyself, but I Am loved because my life is wed To one whose message, pure and high,

Has spread the world's evangel far, And thrown such radiance through the dark That men behold him as a star, And in his gracious coming mark How beautiful his footsteps are.

"Oh Moon! dost thou take all thy light From the great sun so lately gone? Are there not shapes upon thy white, That mould and make his sheen thy own, And charms that soften to the sight

The ardor of his blinding blaze? Who loves thee that thou art the sun's? Who does not give thee sweetest praise Among the troop of shining ones That sweep along the heavenly ways?

"Yet still within the holy place The altar sanctifies the gift! Poor, precious gift, that begs for grace! Oh towering altar! that doth lift The gift so high, that, in its face,

It bears no beauty to the thought Of those who round the altar stand! Poor, precious gift, that goes for naught From willing heart and ready hand, And wins no favor unbesought!

"The stars are whiter for the blue; The sky is deeper for the stars; They give and take in commerce true, And lend their beauty to the cars Of downy dusk, that all night through,

Roll o'er the void on silver wheels; Yet neither starry sky nor cloud Is loved the less that it reveals A beauty all its own, endowed By all the wealth its beauty steals.

"Am I a dew-drop in a rose, With no significance apart? Must I but sparkle in repose Close to its folded, fragrant, heart, Its peerless beauty to disclose?

"Would I not toil to win his bread, And give him all I have to give? Would I not die in his sweet stead, And die in joy? But I must live; And, living, I must still be fed

On love that comes in love's own right. They must not pet, or pamper me-- Those who rejoice beneath his light-- Or pity him, that I can be So precious in his princely sight."

With swifter wings, through heart and brain, The little hour unheeded flew; And when, behind the blazoned stain Of saintly vestures, red and blue, The lights on rose and window-pane

Within the chapel slowly died, And figures muffled by the moon Went shuffling home on either side-- One seeking her--she said: How soon! And then the pastor kissed his bride.

V.

The bright night brightened into dawn; The shadows down the mountain passed; And tree and shrub and sloping lawn, With bending, beaded beauty glassed In myriad suns the sun that shone!

The robin fed her nested young; The swallows bickered 'neath the eaves; The hang-bird in her hammock swung, And, tilting high among the leaves, Her red mate sang alone, or flung

The dew-drops on her lifted head; While on the grasses, white and far, The tents of fairy hosts were spread That, scared before the morning star, Had left their reeking camp, and fled.

The pigeon preened his opal breast; And o'er the meads the bobolink, With vexed perplexity confessed His tinkling gutturals in a kink, Or giggled round his secret nest.

With dizzy wings and dainty craft, In green and gold, the humming-bird Dashed here and there, and touched and quaffed The honey-dew, then flashed and whirred, And vanished like the feathered shaft

That glitters from a random bow. The flies were buzzing in the sun, The bees were busy in the snow Of lilies, and the spider spun, And waited for his prey below.

With sail aloft and sail adown, And motion neither slow nor swift, With dark-brown hull and shadow brown, Half-way between two skies adrift, The barque went dreaming toward the town.

'Twas Sunday in the silent street, And Sunday in the silent sky. The peace of God came down to meet The throng that laid their labor by, And rested, weary hands and feet.

Ah, sweet the scene which caught the glance Of eyes that with the morning woke, And, from their window in the manse, Looked up through sprays of elm and oak Into the sky's serene expanse,

And off upon the distant wood, And down into the garden's close, And over, where his chapel stood In ivy, reaching to its rose, Waiting the Sunday multitude!

VI.

A red rose in her raven hair Whose curls forbade the plait and braid, The bride slid down the oaken stair, And mantled like a bashful maid, As, seated in the waiting chair,

Behind the fragrant urn, she poured The nectar of the morn's repast; But fairer lady, fonder lord, In happier hall ne'er broke their fast With sweeter bread, at prouder board.

And then they rose with common will, And sought the parlor, cool and dim. "Sing, love!" he said. "The birds grow still, And wait with me to hear your hymn." She swept a low, preluding trill--

A spray of sound--across the keys That felt her fingers for the first; And then, from simplest cadences, A reverent melody she nursed, And gave it voice in words like these:

"From full forgetfulness of pain, From joy to opening joy again, With bird and flower, and hill and tree, We lift our eyes and hands, to thee, To greet thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth

"That thou dost bathe our souls anew With balm and boon of heavenly dew, And smilest in our upward eyes From the far blue of smiling skies, We bless thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!

"For human love and love divine, For love of ours and love of thine, For heaven on earth and heaven above-- To thee and us twin homes of love-- We thank thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!

"Oh dove-like wings, so wide unfurled In brooding calm above the world! Waft us your holy peace, and raise The incense of our morning praise Up to our Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!"

VII.

Full fleetly sped the morning hours; Then, wide upon the country round A tumult of melodious powers In tumult of melodious sound Burst forth from all the village towers.

With blow on blow, and tone on tone, And echoes answering everywhere-- Like bugles from the mountains blown-- Each sought to whelm the burdened air, And make the silence all its own.

In broad, sonorous, silver swells The air was billowed like the sea; And listening ears were listening shells That caught the Sabbath minstrelsy, And sang it with the singing bells.

The billows heaved, the billows broke, The first wild burst went down amain; The music fell to slower stroke, And in a rhythmic, bold refrain The great bells to each other spoke.

Oh bravely bronze gave forth his word, And sharply silver made reply, And every tower and turret stirred With sounding breath and converse high, Or paused with waiting ear, and heard.

And long they talked, as friend to friend; Then faltered to their closing toll, Whose long, monotonous repetend, From every music-burdened bowl Poured the last drop, and brought the end!

VIII.

The chapel's chime fell slow and soft, And throngs slow-marching to its knoll From village home and distant croft, With careful feet and reverent soul Pressed toward the open door, but oft

Turned curious and expectant eyes Upon the Manse that stood apart. There in her quiet, bridal guise Fair Mildred sat with shrinking heart; While Philip, bold and over wise,

And knowing naught of woman's ways, Smiled at her fears, and could not guess How one so armored in his praise, And strong in native loveliness, Could dread to meet his people's gaze.

He could not know her fine alarm When at his manly side she stood, And, leaning faintly on his arm-- A dainty slip of womanhood-- Walked forth where every girlish charm

Was scanned with prying gaze and glance, Among the slowly moving crowd That, greedy of the precious chance, Read furtively, but half aloud, The pages of their new romance.

"A child!" And Mildred caught the word. "A plaything!" And, another voice: "Fine feathers, and a Southern bird!" And still one more; "A parson's choice!" And trembling Mildred overheard.

These from the careless or the dull-- Gossips at best; at wisest, dolts; And though her quickened ear might cull From out their whispered thunderbolts A "lovely!" and a "beautiful!"

And though sweet mother-faces smiled, And bows were given with friendly grace, And many a pleasant little child Sought sympathy within her face, Her aching heart was not beguiled.

She did not see--she only felt-- As up the staring aisle she walked-- The critic glances, coldly dealt, By those who looked, and bent, and talked; And, even, when at last she knelt

Alone within the pastor's pew, And prayed for self-forgetfulness With deep humility, she knew She gave her figure and her dress To careful eyes with closer view.

IX.

At length she raised her head, and tossed A burden from her heart, and brain. She would have love at any cost Of weary toil and patient pain, And rightful ease and pleasure lost!

They could not love her for his sake; They would not, and her heart forgave. Why should a woman stoop to take The poor endowment of a slave, And like a menial choose to make

Her master's mantle half her own? They loved her least who loved him most: They envied her her little throne! He who was cherished by a host Was hers by gift, and hers alone,

And she would prove her woman's right To hold the throne to which the king Had called her, clothing her with white; And never would she show her ring To win a loving proselyte!

These were the thoughts and this the strife That through her kindling spirit swept, And wrought her purposes of life; And powers that waked and powers that slept Within the sweet and girlish wife.

Sprang into energy intense, At touch of an inspiring chrism That fell on her, she knew not whence, And lifted her to heroism Which wrapped her wholly, soul and sense.

X.

Meanwhile, through all the vaulted space The organ sent its angels out; And up and down the holy place They fanned the cheeks of care and doubt, And touched each worn and weary face

With beauty as their wings went by: Then sailed afar with peaceful sweep, And, calling heavenward every eye, Evanished into silence deep-- The earth forgotten in the sky!

Then by the sunlight warmly kissed, Far up, in rainbow glory set, Rayed round with gold and amethyst, She saw upon the great rosette The Saviour's visage, pale and trist.

"Oh Crown of Thorns!" she softly breathed; "Oh precious crown of love divine! Oh brow with trickling life enwreathed! Oh piercing thorns and crimson sign! I hold you mine in love bequeathed.

"But not for sake of these or thee! I must win love as thou hast won. The thorns are mine, and all must see, In sacrifice, and service done, The loving Lord they love in me."

XI.

Then, through a large and golden hour She listened to the golden speech Of one who held the priceless dower Of love and eloquence, that reach And move the hearts of men with power.

Ah poor the music of the choir That voiced the Psalter after him! And strong the prayer that, touched with fire, Flamed upward, past the seraphim, And wrapped the throne of his desire!

She watched and heard as in a dream, When, in the old, familiar ground Of sacred truth, he found his theme, And led it forth, until it wound Through meadows broad--a swollen stream

That flashed and eddied in the light, And fed the grasses at its edge, Or thundered in its onward might O'er interposing weir and ledge, And left them hidden in the white;

While on it pressed, and, to the eye, Grew broader, till its breadth became A solemn river, sweeping by, That, quick with ships and red with flame, Reached far away and kissed the sky!

Strong men were moved as trees are bowed Before a swift and sounding wind; And sighs were long and sobs were loud, Of those who loved and those who sinned, Among the deeply listening crowd.

XII.

And Mildred, in the whelming tide Of thought and feeling, quite forgot That he who thus had magnified His office, held a common lot With her, and owned her as his bride.

But when, at length, the thought returned That she was his in plighted truth, And she with humbled soul discerned That, though her youth was given to youth, And love by love was fairly earned,

She could not match him wing-and-wing Through all his broad and lofty range, And feared what passing years might bring No change for good, but only change That would degrade her to a thing

Of homely use and household care, And love by duty basely kept-- She bowed her head upon the bare Cold rail that hid her face, and wept, And poured her passion in a prayer.

XIII.

"Oh Father, Father!" thus she prayed: "Thou know'st the priceless boon I seek! Before my life, abashed, dismayed, I stand, with hopeless hands and weak, Of him and of myself afraid!

"Teach me and lead me where to find, Beyond the touch of hand and lip, That vital charm of heart, and mind Which, in a true companionship, My feebler life to his shall bind!

"His ladder leans upon the sun: I cannot climb it: give me wings! Grant that my deeds, divinely done, May be appraised divinest things, Though they be little every one.

"His stride is strong; his steps are high May not my deeds be little stairs That, counted swift, shall keep me nigh, Till at the summit, unawares, We stand with equal foot and eye?

"If further down toward Nature's heart His root is struck, commanding springs In whose deep life I have no part, Send me, on recompensing wings, The rain that gathers where thou art!

"Oh give me vision to divine What he with delving hand explores! Feed me with flame that shall refine To finest gold the rugged ores His strong hands gather from the mine!

"O dearest Father! May no sloth, Or weakness of my weaker soul, Delay him in his kingly growth, Or hold him meanly from the goal That shines with guerdon for us both!"

XIV.

Then all arose as if a spell Had been dissolved for their release, The while the benediction fell Which breathed the gentle Master's peace On all the souls that loved him well.

And Philip, coming from his place, Like Moses from the mountain pyre, Bore on his brow the shining grace Of one who, in the cloud and fire, Had met his Maker, face to face.

And men and women, young and old, Pressed up to meet him as he came, And children, by their love made bold, Grasped both his hands and spoke his name, And in their simple language told

Their joy to see his face once more; While half in pleasure, half in pain, His bride stood waiting at her door The passage of the friendly train That slowly swept the crowded floor.

Half-bows were tendered and returned; And welcomes fell from lips and eyes; But in her heart she meekly spurned The love that came in love's disguise Of sympathy--the love unearned.

XV.

Then out beneath the noon-day sun Of the old Temple, cool and dim, She walked beside her chosen one, And lost her loneliness in him; But hardly was her walk begun

When, straight before her in the street, With tender shock her eye descried A little child, with naked feet And scanty dress, that, hollow-eyed, Looked up and begged for bread to eat.

Nor pride of place nor dainty spleen Felt with her heart the sickening shock. She took the hand so soiled and lean; And silken robe and ragged frock Moved side by side across the green.

She looked for love, and, low and wild, She found it--looking, too, for love! So in each other's eyes they smiled, As, dark brown hand in snowy glove, The bride led home the hungry child.

And men and women in amaze Paused in their homeward steps to see The bride retreating from their gaze, Clasped hand in hand with misery; Then brushed their eyes, and went their ways.

When the long parley found a close, And, clean and kempt, the little oaf-- Disburdened of her wants and woes, And burdened with her wheaten loaf-- Went forth to minister to those

Who sent her on her bitter quest, The bride stood smiling at her door, And in her happiness confessed That she had found a friend; nay, more-- Had entertained a heavenly guest.

And as she watched her down the street, With brow grown bright with sunny thought, And heart o'erfilled with something sweet, She knew the vagrant child had brought The blessing of the Paraclete.

She turned from out the blazing noon, And sought her chamber's quiet shade, Like one who had received a boon She might not show, but which essayed Expression in a happy croon.

And then, outleaping from the mesh Of Memory's net, like bird or bee, There thrilled her spirit and her flesh This old half-song, half-rhapsody, That sang, or said itself, afresh:

"Poor little wafer of silver! More precious to me than its cost! It was worn of both image and legend, But priceless because it was lost. My chamber I carefully swept; I hunted, and wondered, and wept; And I found it at last with a cry: "Oh dear little jewel!" said I; And I washed it with tears all the day; Then I kissed it, and put it away.

"Poor little lamb of the sheepfold! Unlovely and feeble it grew; But it wandered away to the mountains, And was fairer the further it flew. I followed with hurrying feet At the call of its pitiful bleat, And precious, with wonderful charms, I caught it at last in my arms, And bore it far back to its keep, And kissed it and put it to sleep.

"Poor little vagrant from Heaven! It wandered away from the fold, And its weakness and danger endowed it With value more precious than gold. Oh happy the day when it came, And my heart learned its beautiful name! Oh happy the hour when I fed This waif of the angels with bread! And the lamb that the Shepherd had missed Was sheltered and nourished and kissed!"

XVII.

To Philip, Mildred was a child, Or a fair angel, to be kept From all things earthly undenied, One who upon his bosom slept, And only waked to be beguiled

From loneliness and homely care By love's unfailing ministry; No toil of his was she to share, No burden hers, that should not be Left for his stronger hands to bear.

His love enwrapped her as a robe, Which seemed, by its supernal charm, To shield from every poisoned probe Of earthly pain and earthly harm This one choice creature of the globe.

The love he bore her lifted him Into a bright, sweet atmosphere That filled with beauty to the brim The world beneath him, far and near, And stained the clouds that draped its rim.