A Day of Fate | Page 9

kindness; "it would be poor faith that
did not teach us our duty toward the stranger; and, if I mistake not,
thee'll change our duty into a pleasure."
"Do not hope to entertain an angel," I said.
"That's well," the old gentleman put in; "our dinner will be rather too
plain and substantial for angels' fare. I think thee'll be the better for it
though."
"I am the better already for your most unexpected kindness, which I
now gratefully accept as a stranger. I hope, however, that I may be able
to win a more definite and personal regard;" and I handed the old
gentleman my card.
"Richard Morton is thy name, then. I'll place thee beside Ruth Yocomb,
my wife. Come, mother, we're keeping Friend Jones's team from the
block. My name is Thomas Yocomb. No, no, take the back seat by my
wife. She may preach to thee a little going home. Drive on, Reuben,"
he added, as he and his two daughters stepped quickly in, "and give
Friend Jones a chance. This is Adah Yocomb, my daughter, and this is

little Zillah. Mother thought that since the two names went together in
Scripture they ought to go together out of it, and I am the last man in
the world to go against the Scripture. That's Reuben Yocomb driving.
Now thee knows all the family, and I hope thee don't feel as much of a
stranger as thee did;" and the hearty old man turned and beamed on me
with a goodwill that I felt to be as warm and genuine as the June
sunshine.
"To be frank," I exclaimed, "I am at a loss to understand your kindness.
In the city we are suspicious of strangers and stand aloof from them;
but you treat me as if I had brought a cordial letter of introduction from
one you esteemed highly."
"So thee has, so thee has; only the letter came before thee did. 'Be not
forgetful to entertain strangers'--that's the way it reads, doesn't it,
mother?"
"Moreover, Richard Morton," his wife added, "thee has voluntarily
come among us, and sat down with us for a quiet hour. Little claim to
the faith of Abraham could we have should we let thee wander off to
get thy dinner with the birds in the woods, for the village is miles
away."
"Mother'll make amends to thee for the silent meeting," said Mr.
Yocomb, looking around with an impressive nod.
"I trust she will," I replied. "I wanted to hear her preach. It was her
kindly face that led to my blunder, for it so attracted me from my perch
of observation on the wall that I acted on my impulse and followed her
into the meeting-house, feeling in advance that I had found a friend."
"Well, I guess thee has, one of the old school," laughed her husband.
The daughter, Adah, turned and looked at me, while she smiled
approvingly. Oh, blessed day of destiny! When did dream and reality
so keep pace before? Was I not dreaming still, and imagining
everything to suit my own fancy? When would the perverse world
begin to assert itself?

Sitting just before me, on the next seat, so that I could often see the
same perfect profile, was the maiden that I had already wooed and won
in fancy. Though she was so near and in the full sunlight, I could detect
no cloudiness in her exquisite complexion, nor discover a fault in her
rounded form. The slope of her shoulders was grace itself. She did not
lean back weakly or languidly, but sat erect, with a quiet, easy poise of
vigor and health. Her smile was frank and friendly, and yet not as
enchanting as I expected. It was an affair of facial muscles rather than
the lighting up of the entire visage. Nor did her full face--now that my
confusion had passed away and I was capable of close
observation--give the same vivid impression of beauty made by her
profile. It was pretty, very pretty, but for some reasons disappointing.
Then I smiled at my half-conscious criticism, and thought, "You have
imagined a creature of unearthly perfection, and expect your impossible
ideal to be realized. Were she all that you have dreamed, she would be
much too fine for an ordinary mortal like yourself. In her rich,
unperverted womanly nature you will find the beauty that will outlast
that of form and feature."
"I fear thee found our silent meeting long and tedious," said Mrs.
Yocomb, deprecatingly.
"I assure you I did not," I replied, "though I hoped you would have a
message for us."
"It was not given to me," she said meekly. Then she added, "Those not
used to our ways are troubled, perhaps, with wandering thoughts during
these