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Updated: June 26, 2025
The Elder felt Draxy's simplicity and child-like truthfulness more and more with each word she spoke; but her quiet dignity of manner was something to which he was unused; to his inexperience she seemed almost a fine lady, in spite of her sweet and guileless speech. Draxy, on the other hand, was a little repelled by the Elder's whole appearance.
He had not supposed that anything in the world could so overthrow Draxy's composure. He did not know how much less strong her nerves were now than they had been two months before. After church, Draxy walked home alone very rapidly. She did not wish to see any one. She was glad that her father and mother had not been there. She could not understand the tumult of her feelings.
The streets seemed deserted; the silence and the sombre color, and the strange low plashing of the water against the wharves, oppressed even Draxy's enthusiastic heart. Her face fell, and she exclaimed involuntarily, "Oh, what a lonesome place!" Checking herself, she added, "but it's only the twilight makes it look so, I expect." They had some difficulty in finding the house.
If there had only been twice as many days in a year, she would have been glad. Her own earnings in addition to her father's, and to their little income from the money in the bank, made them comfortable; but with Draxy's expanded intellectual life had come new desires: she longed to be taught.
It was marvelous what an ineffable charm there was in the subtle mixture of courtesy and simplicity in Draxy's manner. "I am going directly by his house myself, and will show you," replied the old gentleman. "Pray let me take your bag, Miss." "Was it for you," he added, suddenly recollecting the strange stopping of the express train, "was it for you the express train stopped just now?"
Draxy's life with her child was something too beautiful to be told in words; her wifehood was lovely, was intense; but her motherhood was greater. Day and night her love for her boy protected and guided him, like pillar of cloud, like pillar of fire.
I'll look out a sermon to-night, and you can come up to the house in the morning and get it." "O Mis' Kinney, do forgive me for speakin'. You have allers seem so borne up, I never mistrusted that't'd do any harm to ask yer," stammered the poor Deacon, utterly disconcerted by Draxy's tears, for she was crying hard now. "It hasn't done any harm, I assure you. I am very glad to do it," said Draxy.
In Draxy's soul the past never confused the present; her life went on from moment to moment, from step to step as naturally, as clearly, as irrevocably as plants grow and flower, without hinderance, without delay. This it was which had kept her serene, strong: this is true health of nature. After a time Reuben grew calmer; Draxy's presence always helped him.
Some of Draxy's best friends were annoyed and disquieted by her frankness and unreserve of delight. But as the weeks went on, the true instinct of complete motherhood thrilled for the first time in many a mother's heart, under Draxy's glowing words, and women talked tearfully one with another, in secret, with lowered voices, about the new revelation which had come to them through her.
The people listened to his sermons with wondering interest, and were not slow to ascribe some of the credit of the new unction to Draxy. "Th' Elder's getting more'n more like Mis' Kinney every day o' his life," they said: "there's some o' her sayin's in every sermon he writes. "And no wonder," would be added by some more enthusiastic worshipper of Draxy's.
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