22. Koxt's Decision
Whittaker's letter did not reach Roxy. Letters without direction cannot find their destination. In his profound agitation Whittaker had forgotten to direct it and it went wandering away to the stupid old dead-letter office of that day, where, in a pile of miscarried love-letters, business notes, idle epistles and family bulletins, it was solemnly burned. Roxy never knew why Whittaker did not come to hear her yes or no, but she was glad that he did not.
She had to make her decision in her own way. Which was to fancy that the decision was made for her. When she prayed the image of Mark Bonamy stood before her. Was not Miss Bosanquet of blessed memory guided in the same way to the choice of the saintly Fletcher of Madeley ? At other times texts of scripture were strongly " suggested " to her mind. The answer of Ruth to Naomi, the passage about giving up houses and lands and father and mother, and the vocation of Paul " Behold I will send thee far hence unto the Gentiles" all came to her mind at times when she could not track the association which brought them. Clearly they were suggestions. Why should she be disobedient to the heavenly voice ?
Mark came to see her on the next evening but one after the day of the menagerie. He found her teaching Bobo.
She had read somewhere or heard of the experiments then beginning to be made on the continent of Europe in the education of the feeble-minded. She had persuaded her father to make her a board with a triangular hole, a round hole and a square one. She had also three blocks made to fit the three holes. When Mark came in she was teaching the boy to set the blocks in their places and to know them by her descriptions. He was so pleased with his success in getting; the three-cornered block into its place, that he was clapping his hands with delight when Mark entered. Bonamy had that sort of aversion to an invalid or an imbecile which inheres in some healthy constitutions. He therefore exaggerated the self-denial of Roxy in teaching her cousin.
She blushed a little when Mark came, she could not have told why, and begged that he would let her finish her lesson.
" Certainly, certainly," he answered.
" Certainly, certainly," cried Bobo as he lifted up and replaced the triangular block in the aperture.
" Now the square one," said Roxy.
" Now the square one," responded the boy, at the same time laying hold of the circular block.
" No," said Roxy.
" No," answered the pupil putting down the block and taking the other.
" That's the square one."
" That's the square one," he cried, trying to force it into the round hole.
" No, no ! the square hole ! "
" No, no ! the square hole ! " And then he looked at Roxy vacantly. At last, catching her meaning, he clapped the square block on the square hole. But Roxy had to take hold of hie hand and turn it round unti I the block fitted to its place.
"Hurra! that's it!" cried the teacher, clapping her hands in great glee a demonstration that was quickly imitated by the triumphant pupil.
" How slowly he must learn," said Mark. " It will take you a week to teach him to place those blocks."
" I've been at it a week already. It will take at least a month. You see the first steps are the hardest. When he has learned this lesson I shall have a lot of blocks, all one shape but of different colors. The rims of the holes will be colored to match. When he has learned those, I shall have both shapes and colors various. I was afraid I could not teach him at all, but he has already learned to know the round block. See!"
With this Roxy took all the blocks out and put them together.
" Now, Bobo, the round one."
" Now, Bobo, the round one," echoed the lad, squeezing the fingers of his right hand with his left, and rocking to and fro in indecision, and knitting his brows with mental effort. At last he reached out, timidly lifted the square block, then timidly took up the round one, looked up to make sure that Roxy approved, then, after hovering a while over the three holes, he clapped it into the right one, receiving a burst of applause and a kiss from his teacher as reward.
" How tedious it must be ! " said Mark, amazed ai Roxy's patience.
" Tedious ? No. I shall make a man out of Bobo yet. '
" Make a man out of Bobo yet," chuckled the littie fellow, lifting the blocks and striving to fit them in their holes.
" I wish you were not quite so good," said Mark, in a sudden fit of humility.
Roxy did not answer. She had a desire to protest against the compliment, but the shadow of what Mark was about to say fell upon her, and she was silent. Bobo looked up in wonder and curiosity at her blushing face, then he went up and caressed her, saying, " Poor Roxy mus'n't cry."
Roxy pushed him away gently, and Bobo wandered into the yard leaving Roxy and her lover alone.
" If you were not so good I might hope to come back some day when Texas gets to be a little better, maybe, and take you out to help me. God knows I need help. I don't feel very sure of myself without you to strengthen me."
It was the same old cry for help. And all the more eloquent that it was utterly sincere. Was it that in this moment some doubt of Mark's stability crossed the soul of Roxy that she rose and walked to the little book-shelf and affected to arrange the few books that she might gain time? But the cry for help opened all the fountains of her love. Whether Mark was as good as she believed him to be or as unsteady as Twonnet thought him, she loved him with all her woman's soul. Be he good or bad, she felt now for the first time that she was his ; that some force beside her will or judgment had decided for her. It was but a feeble effort she could make in favor of calmness or thought. She returned to her chair trembling and helpless.
" What do you say, Roxy ? " Mark was standing waiting. For a minute not a word passed. Roxy knew that she was floating on a stream against which all rowing waa futile. A new and hitherto unsuspected force In her own nature was bearing her away. Neither praying nor struggling availed. He already possessed her, but she could not tell him so. She did not debate any longer, she only floated in a dreamy, blissful state, waiting for him to understand what she dared not confess. At last he reached his hand and lifted hers which lay upon the arm of her chair. She had no sense of volition, but, as though his touch had given her a galvanic shock, she closed her hand on his and Mark understood.
Much depends on the stand-point from which a subject is viewed. Go and ask Colonel Bonamy, as he sits meditatively at his desk, his long gray locks gently fluttering n the summer wind. He will tell you that Mark is rather throwing himself away on a shoe-maker's daughter, and that the time may come when he will be sorry for it. Even the Christian virtues do not weigh in all scales alike.