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"In heaven," I said, laughing, for I was determined to prevent a scene. "Well, I hope so," Reuben muttered; "but I don't mind being in mother's dining-room." Even Mrs. Yocomb's gravity gave way at this speech. As we rose from the table, Zillah asked innocently: "Emily, is thee crying or laughing?"
Morton is at the bottom of this thing. I returned his gaze very quietly, and asked, 'What am I to infer by this expression of thy opinion to me? His sister was as quick as a flash, and she said plainly, 'Gilbert, these people were not two little children in Mrs. Yocomb's care. 'Thee is right, I said; 'I have not controlled their actions any more than I have those of thy brother.
Yocomb's powers as a spiritual provider were indicated by the table she had spread for us, the old meetinghouse should be crowded every Sunday, on the bare possibility that she might speak.
I looked around at her, but could not catch her eyes. My efforts to emulate Mr. Yocomb's spirit were superhuman, but my success was indifferent. I was too anxious, too doubtful concerning the girl who was so gentle and yet so strong. She had far more quietude and self- mastery than I, and with good reason, for she was mistress of the situation.
Yes, you did look as helpless as only a man can look when there's illness; and there's no telling what awful remedies you might have administered before the doctor came. I think I shall take the credit of saving all our lives, since you and Reuben won't." She pushed open the door of Mrs. Yocomb's room, and her face changed instantly. Little Zillah lay on the bed and was still unconscious. Mrs.
She turned on me one of her swift looks, which always gave me the impression that she saw all that was in my mind. Her color rose a little, but she continued playing for a time. Then with her right hand evoking low, sweet chords, she asked, with a conciliatory smile: "Have you been thinking over Mrs. Yocomb's words this afternoon?" "Not all the time no. Have you?" "How could I all the time?"
Yocomb's remark the cause? Who was Emily Warren anyway, and why must she be at the farmhouse at a time when I so earnestly wished "the coast clear?" The perverse world at last was asserting its true self, and there was promise of a disturbance in my shining tide.
But whether the silken cord of love or the chain of supposed duty binds her to him now, I fear that Mrs. Yocomb's sermon has made her his for all time." Her manner confirmed my surmise, for she apparently gave me little thought, and was unobtrusively attentive and devoted to him.
"Have you taken any?" "Not yet, of course." "Why of course? If you want me to drink this you must get some at once." "There may not be enough. I don't know how much the doctor may need." "Then get a cup, and I'll give you half of this." "Never," I answered promptly. "Do as the doctor bade you." She went swiftly to Mrs. Yocomb's room and filled another cup.
The burning bolt from heaven seemed a strange response to that faith; the crashing thunder a wild, harsh echo to the girl's sweet, reverent tones. "Is it all chance?" I queried, "or all inexorable law? Who or what is the author of the events of this night?" As if in answer, Mrs. Yocomb's text came into my mind: "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter."
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