Chapter Chapter 21 · ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT

Chapter 21. ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT

It was curious to see the change which came over Dan after that talk. A

weight seemed off his mind; and though the old impetuous spirit flashed

out at times, he seemed intent on trying to show his gratitude and love

and honour to these true friends by a new humility and confidence very

sweet to them, very helpful to him. After hearing the story from Mrs

Jo, the Professor and Mr Laurie made no allusion to it beyond the hearty

hand-grasp, the look of compassion, the brief word of good cheer in

which men convey sympathy, and a redoubled kindness which left no doubt

of pardon. Mr Laurie began at once to interest influential persons

in Dan's mission, and set in motion the machinery which needs so much

oiling before anything can be done where Government is concerned.

Mr Bhaer, with the skill of a true teacher, gave Dan's hungry mind

something to do, and helped him understand himself by carrying on the

good chaplain's task so paternally that the poor fellow often said he

felt as if he had found a father. The boys took him to drive, and amused

him with their pranks and plans; while the women, old and young, nursed

and petted him till he felt like a sultan with a crowd of devoted

slaves, obedient to his lightest wish. A very little of this was enough

for Dan, who had a masculine horror of 'molly-coddling', and so brief an

acquaintance with illness that he rebelled against the doctor's orders

to keep quiet; and it took all Mrs Jo's authority and the girls'

ingenuity to keep him from leaving his sofa long before strained back

and wounded head were well. Daisy cooked for him; Nan attended to his

medicines; Josie read aloud to while away the long hours of inaction

that hung so heavily on his hands; while Bess brought all her

pictures and casts to amuse him, and, at his special desire, set up a

modelling-stand in his parlour and began to mould the buffalo head he

gave her. Those afternoons seemed the pleasantest part of his day; and

Mrs Jo, busy in her study close by, could see the friendly trio and

enjoy the pretty pictures they made. The girls were much flattered

by the success of their efforts, and exerted themselves to be very

entertaining, consulting Dan's moods with the feminine tact most women

creatures learn before they are out of pinafores. When he was gay, the

room rang with laughter; when gloomy, they read or worked in respectful

silence till their sweet patience cheered him up again; and when in pain

they hovered over him like 'a couple of angels', as he said. He often

called Josie 'little mother', but Bess was always 'Princess'; and his

manner to the two cousins was quite different. Josie sometimes fretted

him with her fussy ways, the long plays she liked to read, and the

maternal scoldings she administered when he broke the rules; for having

a lord of creation in her power was so delightful to her that she would

have ruled him with a rod of iron if he had submitted. To Bess, in her

gentler ministrations, he never showed either impatience or weariness,

but obeyed her least word, exerted himself to seem well in her presence,

and took such interest in her work that he lay looking at her with

unwearied eyes; while Josie read to him in her best style unheeded.

Mrs Jo observed this, and called them 'Una and the Lion', which suited

them very well, though the lion's mane was shorn, and Una never tried to

bridle him. The elder ladies did their part in providing delicacies and

supplying all his wants; but Mrs Meg was busy at home, Mrs Amy preparing

for the trip to Europe in the spring, and Mrs Jo hovering on the brink

of a 'vortex'--for the forthcoming book had been sadly delayed by

the late domestic events. As she sat at her desk, settling papers or

meditatively nibbling her pen while waiting for the divine afflatus to

descend upon her, she often forgot her fictitious heroes and heroines

in studying the live models before her, and thus by chance looks, words,

and gestures discovered a little romance unsuspected by anyone else.

The portiere between the rooms was usually drawn aside, giving a view of

the group in the large bay-window--Bess at one side, in her grey blouse,

busy with her tools; Josie at the other side with her book; and between,

on the long couch, propped with many cushions, lay Dan in a many-hued

eastern dressing-gown presented by Mr Laurie and worn to please

the girls, though the invalid much preferred an old jacket 'with no

confounded tail to bother over'. He faced Mrs Jo's room, but never

seemed to see her, for his eyes were on the slender figure before him,

with the pale winter sunshine touching her golden head, and the delicate

hands that shaped the clay so deftly. Josie was just visible, rocking

violently in a little chair at the head of the couch, and the steady

murmur of her girlish voice was usually the only sound that broke the

quiet of the room, unless a sudden discussion arose about the book or

the buffalo.

Something in the big eyes, bigger and blacker than ever in the thin

white face, fixed, so steadily on one object, had a sort of fascination

for Mrs Jo after a time, and she watched the changes in them curiously;

for Dan's mind was evidently not on the story, and he often forgot to

laugh or exclaim at the comic or exciting crises. Sometimes they were

soft and wistful, and the watcher was very glad that neither damsel

caught that dangerous look for when they spoke it vanished; sometimes

it was full of eager fire, and the colour came and went rebelliously,

in spite of his attempt to hide it with an impatient gesture of hand or

head; but oftenest it was dark, and sad, and stern, as if those gloomy

eyes looked out of captivity at some forbidden light or joy. This

expression came so often that it worried Mrs Jo, and she longed to go

and ask him what bitter memory overshadowed those quiet hours. She knew

that his crime and its punishment must lie heavy on his mind; but youth,

and time, and new hopes would bring comfort, and help to wear away

the first sharpness of the prison brand. It lifted at other times, and

seemed almost forgotten when he joked with the boys, talked with old

friends, or enjoyed the first snows as he drove out every fair day. Why

should the shadow always fall so darkly on him in the society of these

innocent and friendly girls? They never seemed to see it, and if either

looked or spoke, a quick smile came like a sunburst through the clouds

to answer them. So Mrs Jo went on watching, wondering, and discovering,

till accident confirmed her fears.

Josie was called away one day, and Bess, tired of working, offered to

take her place if he cared for more reading.

'I do; your reading suits me better than Jo's. She goes so fast my

stupid head gets in a muddle and soon begins to ache. Don't tell her;

she's a dear little soul, and so good to sit here with a bear like me.'

The smile was ready as Bess went to the table for a new book, the last

story being finished.

'You are not a bear, but very good and patient, we think. It is always

hard for a man to be shut up, mamma says, and must be terrible for you,

who have always been so free.'

If Bess had not been reading titles she would have seen Dan shrink as

if her last words hurt him. He made no answer; but other eyes saw and

understood why he looked as if he would have liked to spring up and rush

away for one of his long races up the hill, as he used to do when the

longing for liberty grew uncontrollable. Moved by a sudden impulse, Mrs

Jo caught up her work-basket and went to join her neighbours, feeling

that a non-conductor might be needed; for Dan looked like a thundercloud

full of electricity.

'What shall we read, Aunty? Dan doesn't seem to care. You know his

taste; tell me something quiet and pleasant and short. Josie will

be back soon,' said Bess, still turning over the books piled on the

centre-table.

Before Mrs Jo could answer, Dan pulled a shabby little volume from under

his pillow, and handing it to her said: 'Please read the third one; it's

short and pretty--I'm fond of it.' The book opened at the right place,

as if the third story had been often read, and Bess smiled as she saw

the name.

'Why, Dan, I shouldn't think you'd care for this romantic German tale.

There is fighting in it; but it is very sentimental, if I remember

rightly.'

'I know it; but I've read so few stories, I like the simple ones best.

Had nothing else to read sometimes; I guess I know it all by heart, and

never seem to be tired of those fighting fellows, and the fiends and

angels and lovely ladies. You read “Aslauga's Knight”, and see if you

don't like it. Edwald was rather too soft for my fancy; but Froda was

first-rate and the spirit with the golden hair always reminded me of

you.'

As Dan spoke Mrs Jo settled herself where she could watch him in the

glass, and Bess took a large chair facing him, saying, as she put up her

hands to retie the ribbon that held the cluster of thick, soft curls at

the back of her head:

'I hope Aslauga's hair wasn't as troublesome as mine, for it's always

tumbling down. I'll be ready in a minute.'

'Don't tie it up; please let it hang. I love to see it shine that way.

It will rest your head, and be just right for the story, Goldilocks,'

pleaded Dan, using the childish name and looking more like his boyish

self than he had done for many a day.

Bess laughed, shook down her pretty hair, and began to read, glad to

hide her face a little; for compliments made her shy, no matter who paid

them. Dan listened intently on; and Mrs Jo, with eyes that went often

from her needle to the glass, could see, without turning, how he

enjoyed every word as if it had more meaning for him than for the other

listeners. His face brightened wonderfully, and soon wore the look that

came when anything brave or beautiful inspired and touched his better

self. It was Fouque's charming story of the knight Froda, and the fair

daughter of Sigurd, who was a sort of spirit, appearing to her lover in

hours of danger and trial, as well as triumph and joy, till she became

his guide and guard, inspiring him with courage, nobleness, and truth,

leading him to great deeds in the field, sacrifices for those he loved,

and victories over himself by the gleaming of her golden hair, which

shone on him in battle, dreams, and perils by day and night, till after

death he finds the lovely spirit waiting to receive and to reward him.

Of all the stories in the book this was the last one would have supposed

Dan would like best, and even Mrs Jo was surprised at his perceiving the

moral of the tale through the delicate imagery and romantic language by

which it was illustrated. But as she looked and listened she remembered

the streak of sentiment and refinement which lay concealed in Dan like

the gold vein in a rock, making him quick to feel and to enjoy fine

colour in a flower, grace in an animal, sweetness in women, heroism in

men, and all the tender ties that bind heart to heart; though he was

slow to show it, having no words to express the tastes and instincts

which he inherited from his mother. Suffering of soul and body had

tamed his stronger passions, and the atmosphere of love and pity now

surrounding him purified and warmed his heart till it began to hunger

for the food neglected or denied so long. This was plainly written in

his too expressive face, as, fancying it unseen, he let it tell the

longing after beauty, peace, and happiness embodied for him in the

innocent fair girl before him.

The conviction of this sad yet natural fact came to Mrs Jo with a pang,

for she felt how utterly hopeless such a longing was; since light and

darkness were not farther apart than snow-white Bess and sin-stained

Dan. No dream of such a thing disturbed the young girl, as her entire

unconsciousness plainly showed. But how long would it be before the

eloquent eyes betrayed the truth? And then what disappointment for

Dan, what dismay for Bess, who was as cool and high and pure as her own

marbles, and shunned all thought of love with maidenly reserve.

'How hard everything is made for my poor boy! How can I spoil his little

dream, and take away the spirit of good he is beginning to love and long

for? When my own dear lads are safely settled I'll never try another,

for these things are heart-breaking, and I can't manage any more,'

thought Mrs Jo, as she put the lining into Teddy's coat-sleeve upside

down, so perplexed and grieved was she at this new catastrophe.

The story was soon done, and as Bess shook back her hair, Dan asked as

eagerly as a boy:

'Don't you like it?'

'Yes, it's very pretty, and I see the meaning of it; but Undine was

always my favourite.'

'Of course, that's like you--lilies and pearls and souls and pure

water. Sintram used to be mine; but I took a fancy to this when I

was--ahem--rather down on my luck one time, and it did me good, it was

so cheerful and sort of spiritual in its meaning, you know.'

Bess opened her blue eyes in wonder at this fancy of Dan's for anything

'spiritual'; but she only nodded, saying: 'Some of the little songs are

sweet and might be set to music.'

Dan laughed; 'I used to sing the last one to a tune of my own sometimes

at sunset:

'“Listening to celestial lays,

Bending thy unclouded gaze

On the pure and living light,

Thou art blest, Aslauga's Knight!”

'And I was,' he added, under his breath, as he glanced towards the

sunshine dancing on the wall.

'This one suits you better now'; and glad to please him by her interest,

Bess read in her soft voice:

'“Healfast, healfast, ye hero wounds;

O knight, be quickly strong!

Beloved strife

For fame and life,

Oh, tarry not too long!”'

'I'm no hero, never can be, and “fame and life” can't do much for me.

Never mind, read me that paper, please. This knock on the head has made

a regular fool of me.'

Dan's voice was gentle; but the light was gone out of his face now, and

he moved restlessly as if the silken pillows were full of thorns. Seeing

that his mood had changed, Bess quietly put down the book, took up the

paper, and glanced along the columns for something to suit him.

'You don't care for the money market, I know, nor musical news. Here's

a murder; you used to like those; shall I read it? One man kills

another--,'

'No!'

Only a word, but it gave Mrs Jo a thrill, and for a moment she dared not

glance at the tell-tale mirror. When she did Dan lay motionless with one

hand over his eyes, and Bess was happily reading the art news to ears

that never heard a word. Feeling like a thief who has stolen something

very precious, Mrs Jo slipped away to her study, and before long Bess

followed to report that Dan was fast asleep.

Sending her home, with the firm resolve to keep her there as much as

possible, Mother Bhaer had an hour of serious thought all alone in the

red sunset; and when a sound in the next room led her there, she found

that the feigned sleep had become real repose; for Dan lay breathing

heavily, with a scarlet spot on either cheek, and one hand clinched on

his broad breast. Yearning over him with a deeper pity than ever before,

she sat in the little chair beside him, trying to see her way out of

this tangle, till his hand slipped down, and in doing so snapped a cord

he wore about his neck and let a small case drop to the floor.

Mrs Jo picked it up, and as he did not wake, sat looking at it, idly

wondering what charm it held; for the case was of Indian workmanship and

the broken cord, of closely woven grass, sweet scented and pale yellow.

'I won't pry into any more of the poor fellow's secrets. I'll mend and

put it back, and never let him know I've seen his talisman.'

As she spoke she turned the little wallet to examine the fracture, and

a card fell into her lap. It was a photograph, cut to fit its covering,

and two words were written underneath the face, 'My Aslauga'. For an

instant Mrs Jo fancied that it might be one of herself, for all the boys

had them; but as the thin paper fell away, she saw the picture Demi took

of Bess that happy summer day. There was no doubt now, and with a sigh

she put it back, and was about to slip it into Dan's bosom so that not

even a stitch should betray her knowledge, when as she leaned towards

him, she saw that he was looking straight at her with an expression that

surprised her more than any of the strange ones she had ever seen in

that changeful face before.

'Your hand slipped down; it fell; I was putting it back,' explained Mrs

Jo, feeling like a naughty child caught in mischief.

'You saw the picture?'

'Yes.'

'And know what a fool I am?'

'Yes, Dan, and am so grieved--'

'Don't worry about me. I'm all right--glad you know, though I never

meant to tell you. Of course it is only a crazy fancy of mine, and

nothing can ever come of it. Never thought there would. Good Lord! what

could that little angel ever be to me but what she is--a sort of dream

of all that's sweet and good?'

More afflicted by the quiet resignation of his look and tone than by

the most passionate ardour, Mrs Jo could only say, with a face full of

sympathy:

'It is very hard, dear, but there is no other way to look at it. You are

wise and brave enough to see that, and to let the secret be ours alone.'

'I swear I will! not a word nor a look if I can help it. No one guesses,

and if it troubles no one, is there any harm in my keeping this, and

taking comfort in the pretty fancy that kept me sane in that cursed

place?'

Dan's face was eager now, and he hid away the little worn case as if

defying any hand to take it from him. Anxious to know everything before

giving counsel or comfort, Mrs Jo said quietly:

'Keep it, and tell me all about the “fancy”. Since I have stumbled on

your secret, let me know how it came, and how I can help to make it

lighter to bear.'

'You'll laugh; but I don't mind. You always did find out our secrets and

give us a lift. Well, I never cared much for books, you know; but down

yonder when the devil tormented me I had to do something or go stark

mad, so I read both the books you gave me. One was beyond me, till that

good old man showed me how to read it; but the other, this one, was a

comfort, I tell you. It amused me, and was as pretty as poetry. I liked

'em all, and most wore out Sintram. See how used up he is! Then I came

to this, and it sort of fitted that other happy part of my life, last

summer--here.'

Dan stopped a moment as the words lingered on his lips; then, with a

long breath, went on, as if it was hard to lay bare the foolish little

romance he had woven about a girl, a picture, and a child's story there

in the darkness of the place which was as terrible to him as Dante's

Inferno, till he found his Beatrice.

'I couldn't sleep, and had to think about something, so I used to fancy

I was Folko, and see the shining of Aslauga's hair in the sunset on

the wall, the gum of the watchman's lamp, and the light that came in at

dawn. My cell was high. I could see a bit of sky; sometimes there was

a star in it, and that was most as good as a face. I set great store by

that patch of blue, and when a white cloud went by, I thought it was the

prettiest thing in all this world. I guess I was pretty near a fool; but

those thoughts and things helped me through, so they are all solemn true

to me, and I can't let them go. The dear shiny head, the white gown, the

eyes like stars, and sweet, calm ways that set her as high above me as

the moon in heaven. Don't take it away! it's only a fancy, but a man

must love something, and I'd better love a spirit like her than any of

the poor common girls who would care for me.'

The quiet despair in Dan's voice pierced Mrs Jo to the heart; but there

was no hope and she gave none. Yet she felt that he was right, and that

his hapless affection might do more to uplift and purify him than any

other he might know. Few women would care to marry Dan now, except such

as would hinder, not help, him in the struggle which life would always

be to him; and it was better to go solitary to his grave than become

what she suspected his father had been--a handsome, unprincipled, and

dangerous man, with more than one broken heart to answer for.

'Yes, Dan, it is wise to keep this innocent fancy, if it helps and

comforts you, till something more real and possible comes to make you

happier. I wish I could give you any hope; but we both know that the

dear child is the apple of her father's eye, the pride of her mother's

heart, and that the most perfect lover they can find will hardly seem to

them worthy of their precious daughter. Let her remain for you the high,

bright star that leads you up and makes you believe in heaven.' Mrs Jo

broke down there; it seemed so cruel to destroy the faint hope Dan's

eyes betrayed, that she could not moralize when she thought of his hard

life and lonely future. Perhaps it was the wisest thing she could have

done, for in her hearty sympathy he found comfort for his own loss, and

very soon was able to speak again in the manly tone of resignation

to the inevitable that showed how honest was his effort to give up

everything but the pale shadow of what, for another, might have been a

happy possibility.

They talked long and earnestly in the twilight; and this second secret

bound them closer than the first; for in it there was neither sin nor

shame--only the tender pain and patience which has made saints and

heroes of far worse men than our poor Dan. When at length they rose at

the summons of a bell, all the sunset glory had departed, and in the

wintry sky there hung one star, large, soft, and clear, above a snowy

world. Pausing at the window before she dropped the curtains, Mrs Jo

said cheerfully:

'Come and see how beautiful the evening star is, since you love it so.'

And as he stood behind her, tall and pale, like the ghost of his former

self, she added softly: 'And remember, dear, if the sweet girl is denied

you, the old friend is always here--to love and trust and pray for you.'

This time she was not disappointed; and had she asked any reward for

many anxieties and cares, she received it when Dan's strong arm came

round her, as he said, in a voice which showed her that she had not

laboured in vain to pluck her firebrand from the burning:

'I never can forget that; for she's helped to save my soul, and make me

dare to look up there and say:

“God bless her!”'