Chapter XI

At Newberg it had been snowing incessantly; and lately a biting frost set in, and an icy wind from the lakes was heaping up great drifts like breastworks of crystal along the fences and across the roads. The chimney corner was now the only comfortable place even for those in vigorous health, and the gentle nurses who had Mr. Smiles in charge would have looked upon it as sheer madness to think of moving their patient to Chestnut Grove.

A month had elapsed since the incident which made him so fortunate a captive, and Mr. Smiles was quite himself in general health, though his broken ankle was slow to knit. During his gradual convalescence he had made it a point to hobble into the sitting room from time to time, and never failed to delight his companions by his charming musical selections, and his varied and attractive conversation. He had taught Hagar the game of chess while still confined to his bed, and she had sat for hours reading to him in his chamber—the sequel being that the ardent young lady loved this accomplished man almost to adoration.

He was so patient and amiable, even merry, through all his sufferings—so considerate and uncomplaining, and so gentle and loving to herself, that she was constrained to look upon him as a superior being, who was conferring an honor in giving her his love. She had often heard the old saw about “living with people to find them out,” and had she not lived in close intimacy with her lover for a month, attending him through a painful illness, observing him (she could not realize how uncritically) at one time delirious from the effects of the blow on his head, and at another threatened with the loss of a broken limb, only to discover in his character new excellencies every day?

At length the weather moderated, and by the dawning of the New Year the snow had almost entirely disappeared. A prevailing southerly wind had brought to the wintry region the balmy breath of Spring, and Hagar and her prospective husband agreed that now was the time to move to Chestnut Grove, which was done without delay.

A few days after her return home Hagar wrote an affectionate note to Dr. Taine who had remained at Cleveland since James’s expedition, for the purpose of breaking to him the news of her intended marriage, and begging him to come to see them all while the weather was so fine.

A day or two later Dr. Taine came to Chestnut Grove unexpectedly just in time for tea. Hagar ran out to greet him with all her wonted tenderness; but to Mrs. Taine and the minister his arrival was an unwelcome surprise. The Doctor had determined to question Mr. Smiles on the subject of his intended marriage, and after supper invited him into the study for that purpose.

They had chatted a few minutes when the Doctor said:

“I understand, Mr. Smiles, though you have not yourself mentioned the subject to me, that you intend to take my daughter Hagar to wife?”

“Rather, your adopted daughter, I believe, Doctor? Yes sir, that is quite true.”

This impertinent qualification did not sound well to the Doctor’s ear, so he spoke up rather severely:

“I call her my daughter, for she seems like my own having grown up here from infancy. I love her as my own; seek her happiness as if she were my own; protect her as my own.”

“Or better, perhaps;” said Smiles to himself, as the doctor dwelt on these expressions. “Egad! perhaps she is your own!”

The Doctor went on:

“You will pardon me, therefore, if I ask you a question or two, which, I apprehend, are wholly unnecessary, but are not intended to be impertinent or offensive.”

“You will admit, Doctor, that we should not suspect our own cloth! But, I shall gladly answer any question you are pleased to put if it is in my power.”

“There are, no doubt, many societies in a great city like Boston which do not figure in the directories?”

“I should say so, certainly,” Smiles replied, coolly, catching the Doctor’s drift at once.

“I was looking for the address of your society of the ‘Christian Disciples’ in a Boston directory for 1861, but could not find it.”

“I was not aware that we did not figure in that respectable volume, but am delighted to hear that such is the case. The circumstance, however, is easily accounted for: our object is to act, not to pose. I see how it is, Doctor Taine, you doubt me, though for what reason—well, perhaps you could hardly say yourself?” A steady look convinced him that the old gentleman was not instigated by anything more serious than a passing caprice, so he altered his tone and continued with humility: “But, believe me, sir, I shall not go one step further in this affair until your doubts are cleared up. A letter simply addressed to the secretary of our society, Boston, will meet with a prompt reply. If it is not satisfactory concerning me I will withdraw at your command. Do you ask more than this?”

Here was exactly what the Doctor had already done, and his misgivings now seemed to fade out of his mind. He could scarcely catch an outline of them, or frame a doubt on which to string them together again. It was clearly, he reflected, a case of youth and love: the happy smile of Hagar, her dream of the joys promised by her new estate, were present in the old man’s reflections; for a moment he could not find words to reply. Finally, he said:

“I think your motto, “To act, and not to pose,” is one of the best I ever heard for any society. Your organization must be a noble one.” He spoke like one who was trying to repair a wound he had inflicted without provocation, and little thought the ‘motto’ was composed at the moment it was pronounced. “But” he continued, still regarding himself as an offender, “you must not imagine that I meant to infer anything unjust to you, Mr. Smiles, far from it; and I should like you to tell me something about the work in which your society is engaged.”

In nothing was Mr. Smiles more at home than in the description of philanthropic enterprise. On this occasion he made such a deep impression upon his auditor that the Doctor consumed four pages of his next letter to James in recounting the virtues of the Christian Disciples, of whom Mr. Smiles was represented as a leader.

When Mr. Smiles withdrew and left him alone to his meditations, the Doctor’s mind was entirely at rest where the young minister was concerned; and when the latter reentered the sitting room where Mrs. Taine and Hagar were awaiting him, he said in reply to their enquiring looks:

“He has consented.”