Mercy [pp. 259-274]

Mercy.
den melting of the snows swelled the little
river that flowed by the Bonney farm, till it
broke its bounds and swept over the low-lying
meadows, carrying devastation to many an
adjacent property. Several of Levi's sheep
with even a larger number of young lambs
were drowned in this small flood. Then a
contagious disease broke out among the cows,
rendering several unfit for present use. Such
losses, to small farmers like the Morses,
were by no means inconsiderable. Besides,
the prices of farm-products had been lower
than the year preceding; while the reverse
was true of the commodities for which these
products had to pay. So, altogether, the
financial outlook for this ambitious young
couple was not of the most hopeful.
And Levi began to go about with a
depressed air, which even Mercy's little attentions often failed to dispel; though she tried
to persuade herself that it was caused by his
old headaches, which of late had occurred at
more frequent intervals and lasted much
longer than ever before.
V.
APRIL, May, and June passed, and now
another July was come, and the whole country lay blazing in the midsummer sunshine.
Mercy was sitting, one still, sultry afternoon, on the broad stone step that led up to
the low kitchen L, tr ifling with some delicate,
filmy knitting that looked small even in her
little hands. The sunshine filtered over her
in patches of golden glory, through the spaces
in the old "poppies " that formed a leafy
avenue from the house to the gate.
And Mr. Morrow, as he slowly passed up
that avenue, thought with a strange sinking
of the heart, what a shame to have to intrude
thus on the peaceful summer scene as the
bearer of such an ugly message. "Oh! the
pity of it, the pity of it!" he sighed.
Her quick ears caught the measured footfall on the hard gravel path, and she looked
up smilingly from her dainty work. Then
rising quickly and thrusting the worsted into
some concealed pocket, she advanced with
a light step to meet her beloved pastor.
"How little she looks like one who could
descend to a mean and dishonest action!"
He sighed again, as he walked slowly on.
Never in all his pastorate had a harder task
been imposed upon him. To come here to
threaten this peaceful house with disgrace,
its inmates with the contempt of their church
and community!
And I greatly fear that had not Brother
Meacham been sitting in the old gig yonder,
in which he had brought the all-too-unwilling
pastor to perform his disagreeable duty, that
duty had gone unperformed, at least for this
one day. Ah, how, how should he harden
his heart for the wretched task? He looked
up and the sunshine seemed losing its brightness; the air seemed stifling and heavy, that
but now had been clear and delicious, full
as it was of sweet country sounds and odors.
Mercy was beside him before he could decide
how to open the matter, and shyly shaking
his hand, and saying she was so glad to see
him, and of course he had come to stay to
tea?
He shook his head slowly and gazed gravely
into the open face that certainly must be a
clear mask did it hide any shameful secret.
She led him on, thinking to open the closed
"front door" and admit him to the faded
glories of the little used parlor: but hmotioned to her that he would prefer to
share her lately quitted lowly seat, so she sat
down again beside him, only thinking his
behavior a little unusual, but of course he
was tired, and then he was growing old.
She had never seen him look so weary, and
old, and gray as today, - and she wondered
suddenly in her heart if he were not beginning to "break up," as elderly people do.
"But he is not old enough for that yet,"
she added in her thought, as she again
addressed him. "That seems such a hard
seat, after you've been so long in the sun.
Won't you come in, sir?"
"This seat is quite comfortable enough,
child, and I cannot remain long today."
" What! You've not come to tea?"
He shook his head again, and pointed to
the gig at the gate, which Mercy had not
before noticed.
/
[Mar.
268