While the money was being counted, Lottie led Mrs. Dlimm into the hall, and introduced her to Hemstead, saying, "This is the magician whose wand has transformed us all."
"You are the wand then," he said, laughing.
"What is the wand without the magician?" she asked, shyly watching the effect of her speech.
His quick flush bespoke the sensitive nature that it was becoming her delight to play upon, but he said: "According to legends, magic power was exerted in two ways,—by a magician, as you suggested, and by ordinary mortals who happened to find a wand or spell or some potent secret by which they and any one could perform marvels. Now I assure you that I am the most ordinary of mortals, and without my wand I could not conjure at all."
Lottie gave him a look at this point which heightened his color, but he continued: "Miss Marsden, in her generosity, shall not give to me the credit for events which I trust will add a little sunlight to your life this winter, Mrs. Dlimm. It is to be shared chiefly by herself and that manly young fellow there, who is a member of your church, I suppose. It was Miss Marsden who brought us the tidings of the evil out of which this good has come. She not only took up the collection with such a grace that no one could resist, but she suggested the collection in the first place."
"What do you know about my irresistible grace? You haven't given me anything."
"You will place me in an awkward dilemma if you ask anything, for
I have given you all the money I have with me," he said, laughing.
"Perhaps he would give himself," said simple, innocent Mrs. Dlimm, who, from Lottie's coquetry and the expression of Hemstead's eyes, imagined that an understanding or an engagement existed between them.
Lottie laughed, till the tears came, at Hemstead's blushing confusion, but said after a moment, "That would be a graceless request from me."
"I don't think you would have to ask twice," whispered Mrs. Dlimm.
"Did you ever hear of the man who was given a white elephant?" asked Lottie, in her ear.
"No, what about him?" said Mrs. Dlimm, simply.
Lottie laughed again, and putting her arm around the little lady said, aloud:
"Mrs. Dlimm, you and your baby could go right back to the Garden of Eden, and I rather think Mr. Hemstead could be your escort."
"I trust we are all going to a far better place," she replied, quickly.
"I fear I'm going the other way," said Lottie, shaking her head. But she was surprised at the expression of honest trouble and sympathy that came out upon the face of the pastor's wife.
"Miss Marsden does herself injustice," said Hemstead, quickly. "You have seen her action. All that I have seen of her accords with that."
"But you have not known me two days yet altogether," said Lottie.
"No matter. The last time I was in a picture gallery, I spent most o the time before one painting. I did not require weeks to learn its character."
"I shall judge you by your action, Miss Marsden," said Mrs. Dlimm, gratefully. "My creed forbids me to think ill of any one, and my heart forbids me to think ill of you. Those tears I saw in your eyes a short time since became you better than any diamonds you will ever wear. They were nature's ornaments, and proved that you were still nature's child,—that you had not in your city life grown proud, and cold, and false. It is a rare and precious thing to see outward beauty but the reflex of a more lovely spirit. Keep that spirit, my dear, and you will never lose your beauty even though you grow old and faded as I am. I wish I could see you again, for your full, sunny life has done me more good than I can tell you."
Again, Lottie's warm heart and impulsive nature betrayed her, and, before she thought, she exclaimed in sincerity: "I wish I deserved what you say, and I might be better if I saw more of such people as you and Mr. Hemstead. If he will drive me over to-morrow, I will come and see you. I think he will, for I haven't told you that he is a minister, and would, no doubt, like to talk to your husband."
"I might have known it," said the little woman, stepping forward and shaking Hemstead's hand most cordially. "I congratulate you, sir. You have chosen a princely calling,—a royal one, rather,—and can tread directly in the steps of the Son of God. I predict for you success,—the success a true minister craves. You have the promise within you of winning many from evil."
"Believe me," said he, earnestly, "I would rather have that power than be a king."
"You may well say that, sir," she replied, with a dignity of which Lottie did not think her capable. "Any common man may have kingly power, and the meanest have cursed the world with it. But the power to win men from evil is godlike, and only the godlike have it."
Lottie looked curiously at the object of her practical jest. The words of the pastor's wife seemed to have drawn his thoughts away from the speaker and herself, and fixed them on his future work and its results. It is in such moments of abstraction—of self-forgetfulness, when one's mind is dwelling on life's purposes and aims—that the spirit shines through the face, as through a transparency, and the true character is seen. Lottie saw Hemstead's face grow so noble and manly, so free from every trace of the meanness of egotism and selfishness, that in the depths of her soul she respected him as she had never any man before. Instinctively she placed Julian De Forrest, the rich and elegant idler, beside this earnest man, self-consecrated to the highest effort, and for the first time her soul revolted from her cousin with something like disgust.
What she had imagined became real at that moment, and De Forrest appeared, looking bored and uneasy.
"I have found you at last," he said. "We became so wedged in the parlor that there was no getting out, but now they have completed the laborious task of counting a sum that a bank clerk would run over in two minutes, and it is to be announced with a final flourish of trumpets. Then the stingy clodhoppers that you have inveigled into doing something that they will repent of with groanings that cannot be uttered to-morrow will go home resolving to pinch and save till they make good what they have given." He then added carelessly to Mrs. Dlimm, not waiting for an introduction, "I am surprised that you and your husband are willing to stay among such a people."
Before she could answer, he said to Lottie, "Are you ready to go home? Harcourt and Addie say we ought to start at once."
Lottie was provoked at his rudeness, and furtively watched Mrs. Dlimm's face, to see what impression he made upon her. Indeed her face was a study for a moment as she measured De Forrest's proportions with a slow, sweeping glance, which he thought one of admiration. But, instead of turning contemptuously or resentfully away, her face was pitiful.
They were now summoned to hear the result, but Lottie found opportunity to whisper to Mrs. Dlimm, "What do you think of him?"
"I don't know what to think. It is painfully evident that he is not a man."
Mrs. Dlimm's verdict had a weight with Lottie that she would hardly have believed possible a few hours before. There was a quaint simplicity and sincerity about her, an unworldliness, that gave her words something of the authority of the other world.
The abstraction that had been on Hemstead's face passed to Lottie's, and she heard with inattentive ear the young farmer say with hearty emphasis, "We present you, as an expression of our good-will, with two hundred and fifty dollars."
She heard, but still did not heed the pastor's grateful reply. De Forrest whispered to her often, but her brow only contracted at his interruption to her busy thought. Suddenly she noted Hemstead's eye resting on her with a questioning expression. Then with a seeming effort she came out of her revery, and tried to be her old self again.
When Mr. Dlimm ceased, the farmer called out heartily: "Good for you, dominie. Now I call for a vote of thanks to the stranger who showed us a way out of our scrape. I understand that his name is the Rev. Mr. Hemstead. Also a vote of thanks to such a young lady as the city doesn't often send us, who, if she will permit a country compliment, is like the rose, good enough for a king, yet sweet to all. I call on both for a speech."
Lottie, blushing and laughing, declared that she was one who believed "that a woman should keep silence in meeting," and requested Hemstead to answer for both.
"Miss Marsden does not need words," said Hemstead. "She has a better kind of eloquence, and speaks to us through good and kindly deeds. My part in the happy results of this evening is slight. It is com............