Contending Forces

Sunday was and is the high holiday in all tropical climes. On that day the slave forgot his bonds. It was noon; the early service of the Church of England was ended. The clergyman of the parish had accompanied Charles Montfort home. Mrs. Montfort was visiting friends, so the two gentlemen dined alone. The clergyman was rather glad that he had the opportunity of seeing Mr. Montfort alone, and had used all his powers of persuasion to turn him from his proposed exodus. It was of no avail, as the good man soon found; and with a sigh, he finally took his hat and prepared to leave. Both stood outside the house upon the broad walk beneath the shade of the fragrant cedars and the fruitful tamarind trees. The silence of deep feeling was between these two men. The clergyman could only remember the reverence he had always received, and the loving service given him by this family. Montfort thought with pain of the holy ministrations of this silver-haired man, who had pronounced the solemn words that bound him to his gentle wife, had baptized his children, and (tenderest act of all) had buried the little daughter whose grave was yonder, beneath the flowering trees in the churchyard. Yes, it was sad to part and leave all these tender ties of friendship behind.

“The bishop will come himself, Charles, to persuade you that this is a dangerous step you are about to take,” finally the good man said, breaking the silence.

When the study door had closed behind the two men, Mr. Montfort dropped his pleasant, careless manner and faced Mr. Pollock with an anxious face.

“Pollock,” he began abruptly, “I’m worried.”

“What about?” asked Pollock, turning from the window, where he seemed to be viewing the landscape.

“Have you heard the rumors about my wife being of African descent?” Montfort asked, coming very close to Pollock, as though afraid the very air would hear him. “There are threats, too, against my life because of my desire to free my slaves.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Pollock. “I have heard the rumors about Mrs. Montfort, but that is nothing⁠—nothing but the malice of some malicious, jealous woman. As for the threats against your life, how can you think of such things a second time. You are among the most chivalrous people on the face of the earth, who will protect you in your home.”

Montfort stood a moment before his friend, gazing at him earnestly; then he said: “Pollock, if anything happens to me, I want you to promise me to help my wife and babies to get back to Bermuda.”

“Why, what can happen, man; you are nervous without a cause.”

“In that safe,” continued Montfort, not heeding the interruption, “you will find money and deeds; promise me that you will save them for my family.”

“I promise; but it is all nonsense.”

“I shall hold you to your promise,” replied Montfort solemnly.

The committee on public safety generally met once a month. They had a chairman, but no one knew his identity save a chosen few of the committee.

“Then you are not one of those who think that a woman should be condemned to eternal banishment for the sake of one misstep?”

“Not I, indeed; I have always felt a great curiosity to know the reason why each individual woman loses character and standing in the eyes of the world. I believe that we would hang our heads in shame at having the temerity to judge a fallen sister, could we but know the circumstances attending many such cases. And, after all we may do or say,” continued the girl softly, “the best of us, who have lived the purest lives on earth that mortal can conceive, find at last that our only hope lies in the words of that text⁠—‘This man receiveth sinners.’ ”

“You are a dear little preacher,” said Sappho gently, as she looked at Dora from two wet eyes; “and if our race ever amounts to anything in this world, it will be because such women as you are raised up to save us.”

Meanwhile on the floor above them Sappho turned restlessly on her pillow, thinking of a noble head and bright dark eyes. She knew that Will Smith loved her. What woman does not feel the subtle intertwining of a kindred spirit linked to her own by the decree of Destiny, long years, perhaps, before either restless soul has entered upon its earthly pilgrimage. She was not happy in her knowledge. Under cover of the friendly darkness she gave up the long struggle for self-control, and indulged in the grief that she knew was hers for all eternity. Oh, for death, the solitude of the grave and self-forgetfulness.

“What have I done, what have I done to suffer thus? To give up all joy, and have only misery for all my life. I love this man; I know it now! I want his love, his care, his protection. I want him through life and beyond the grave, we two as one⁠—my husband. Oh, my God, help me, help me!” Heavy sobs shook her frame. Broken exclamations fell from her lips. “I cannot! It must not be! So good, so noble! Oh, the happiness of home and love! must I be shut from them forever?”

She then arose from her seat and proceeded to change her street attire for a pale blue cashmere house dress with delicate ecru lace at the throat and wrists. She hummed strains of the Gloria heard that morning in church as she stood before the glass and took the pins from her hair. The shining coil of burnished gold fell almost to her feet. So she stood with the brushes poised in air as the door opened softly and John Langley came quickly into her room. Thus they stood for a brief second of time: she colorless with amazement and fear; he overwhelmed with the exquisiteness of the picture before him. The brushes falling from her hands broke the silence. Anger flamed in her eyes.

“I did not hear you knock, Mr. Langley; what can I do for you?”

His face was pale, his eyes wavering and bloodshot; his whole expression indicated a terrible determination. The almost insulting coldness of her tone exasperated him.

“I did not knock,” he replied, as he stepped into the room. “You do not offer me a seat,” he sneered, as he sat down on the couch.

“This is hardly the time or place for parlor civilities,” she replied significantly. “Do you not know that the house is empty?”

“I do; and as I wish to speak with you privately, and as this is my only chance, I will not let it slip me,” said John.