The house of Landell; or, Follow and find

CHAPTER I. Life is a constant readjustment

THE sound of two sharp whistles pursued Agnes Landell down the quiet country road ; then came quick footsteps, and Tom Landell swung naturally into the rhythm of his sister's pace.

" Here is a lark," he exclaimed, " with a song of far-reaching mystery warbling between its wings," and he fluttered the covers of a book he held. CM " You enthusiastic goose ! " Curiously, Agnes eyed § the little volume, while, with the ease of an accom plished pedestrian, she walked beside him.

" Goose me not ! Enthusiasm is a law of nature,

g kin to that of self-preservation. Besides, — ' thereby

x hangs a tale.' This flew to my hand to-day, by mis-

3 take, on the wings of an order to a New York anti-

quary."

Agnes scanned the title.

" Lark ! Call it, rather, a little brown sparrow, to < be found by the score. There are at least three in the garret."

" Its feathers, — rather, its board backs, do not be tray its secret, neither does its name, Genung's Rhet oric. Oh, let me fly down from my perch of hyperbole and descend to facts."

With exaggerated care he turned the pages, dis closing a spray of pressed flowers.

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IO The House of Landell

" Not that it's so wonderful," touching it delicately, " but don't you suppose this is the name of the girl who did it?"

He read aloud, " Mattee Sue Romaine, Colonial Street, Gustaga, Georgia. Jupiter, Agnes, I'll write her!"

" It's the yellow jessamine," exclaimed Agnes. " Of course, I should write ! "

" Think she'll answer the letter? "

" Possibly, — or laugh, -and put it on the altar of her dreams, — mayhap the fire ! "

" You believe no such thing ! Anyway, I shall ven ture!"

" It is an old book. By this time, Mattee Sue Ro maine may be a crochetty—

" I refuse to believe it. Its owner never could lose her fascination, but would attain to more as years drop treasures into her dainty palm. We do not receive our names haphazard. We accrete them, so to speak. I know she is a lovely girl with bronze hair and sea-green eyes, — clever, too, these margins testify. I love people who dog-ear and pencil their books. They dare to be Daniels ! " and he read aloud aphorisms, skip ping from page to page.

" They sound as if begun by one person and con tinued by another. Is the writing the same? "

" I can't quite tell. There is a peculiar dash once in a while, as if some one else had caught up the thought, or it may be a composite of individual progression, not fully mulsified — to speak as if life were mayon naise."

" Beware of adoring a composite mentality as you did a composite photograph a while ago, when you de clared no one woman could be so beautiful as the me chanical adjustment, by the photographer, of the se lected charms of many women."

The House of Landell n

" I've grown since then ! Jupiter, won't you give me credit for a legitimate change of mind? "

" Indeed yes. She is practical as well as piquant. Read this parody." The brother and sister, heads to gether, scanned the pages.

" After I have written I shall read every one. Now, having planned, prepare to execute! " and Tom strode off.

" Tom is always having such interesting, worth while experiences," Agnes mused, as she strolled on. " Oh, if I live a thousand years and see a thousand climes, I shall never cease to love this wonderful spot with its ever varying panorama and woodland in cense ! "

With sudden swerve to the trend of her thought, she paused to watch the scene, her radiant face reflecting the life and beauty about her. She seemed a forest spirit, as, with head uplifted, listening to histories of the past, the present and the future, with rapt intentness seeing visions separating her from human kind, her soul seemed to reach out to and become a part of every tree and cloud and cap of wave throbbing with life about her. Between the foliage, along the road side, flashing like a mass of silver, the water lay, alternately lifted and let fall in showers of many pointed stars. These twinkled and scintillated on the crescent waves, and golden sunbeams sparkled down to touch the diamond tips, only to be caught and held. The aerial pathway from the water to the horizon in the west seemed one radiant loom. Threads of sun light rayed and sprayed from their spinning-wheel of gold, to meet in warp and woof of the garment they were weaving for the watcher, as nature draped it softly over her. Tossing its shuttle to and fro, the luminous atmosphere wove delicate veils of mist, trail ing these lightly over the sombre, rugged hills beyond.

" Heigh-o, Heigh-o ! " came in excited screams from the hill behind her, on the top of which stood the Beneby House. " Get out of the way! Get out of the way!"

Agnes turned hastily, to see a big touring car speed ing zigzag down the hill, its wavering course laying claim to the whole roadway. With a leap she landed in the water, and stood, somewhat startled, at the danger she had escaped, of being knocked down by the reckless driver, who unconcernedly brought the car to a standstill.

" Grace Herrick! What are you doing! " Merrily she clambered up the bank, shaking the water from her skirts.

" It won't hurt you a bit. You are all in tub clothes and need variety. Blame Ross Mevin ! I asked him to steer this new car of mine down hill, but he was too busy hurrying to catch up with you. Here he comes now with Mrs. Lavelle. Heigh-o, Mr. Mevin, I'll go into the town, next, to show the natives what summer tourists are good for. They are far better educators than universities. A crazy tourist at the wheel of a motor car can make a countryman run faster than a college football coach and a horse dance far better than a fancy trainer. Good-bye. I'm glad I wet you all up, Agnes, it'll give you a change of clothes and of, — oh, everything in general."

Grace moved off down the street, laughing, while Agnes waited for Mrs. Lavelle and Mr. Mevin.

" We are on the way to your house," said Mrs. Lavelle, as the three greeted and walked on down the pleasant lake road, leaving behind them Pine Hill, where, embowered in evergreens, stood the hotel from which Grace Herrick had motored and Mrs. Lavelle and Mr. Mevin started on their walk to the Landells'.

The house was not far from the lake and, from an eminence, overlooked it in all its scenic charm.

" Grace always leaves a whirlwind behind her, men tally and physically," laughed Mrs. Lavelle. " This escapade started in her determination to prove the civilizing effects of the summer tourist upon the country native."

" I declared they had none, Miss Landell," said Ross Mevin. " Tell me, what possible civilizing effects can there be in flocks of entities and nonentities so hybrid as tourists? Do they contribute anything more valu able than strange fashions of coiffmg to the tree tops ! "

" Yes, crazy demonstrations of recklessness such as she exhibits. After all," wringing her heavy skirts again, " summer and winter tourists are a Mahomet coming to the mountain. I think, all in all, it is usually to the advantage of the stationary mountain. The giant, sleeping in the brain and brawn of isolated sections, does not realize his strength until his first dull, perhaps supercilious, inspection of the intruder's methods, together with a growing pique at differences to the advantage of the newcomer, rouse him to the knowledge that the simple addition of a coat brush, a clean collar and a clear-cut expression, may assist a man of lesser calibre to outrun him in the race."

" In short, he learns that clean windows better dis play his wares ! " Mevin paused under a white-heart cherry tree at the entrance of the Landells' orchard, to regale his companions and himself with fruit.

" That is true," said Agnes. " Then comes the nobler unfoldment, — the uncoiling of the thinking faculties through the interchange of ideas; the soften ing of sectional prejudices and a stronger grasp on life's larger issues."

" You put us on exalted pedestals, — us Romanys who wander from India to Baffin Bay, thermometer and weather statistics in hand that we may be kept at proper temperature for forcing. It is a pity the aver age country — and city — clergyman does not imbibe this liquid brain food, as he seems to mold public opin ion."

Mevin spoke lazily, less from interest than from de sire to watch the quickening thought announce itself through Agnes' sparkling eyes, her flushing cheeks, her alertness of movement, flashing through her and rous ing her to tense activity.

" An appropriate comment, — her brother's, — that she accompanies her thinking with a pyrotechnic dis play," and Mevin watched her analytically. " What a beauty it makes of her. How would it feel to be keyed to that pitch all the time ! Could a fellow stand it or would he snap with the strain ! Is anything on earth worth so much enthusiasm, I wonder! "

With effort he focussed his attention on her reply, so distracted was it by the inherent charm of the woman.

"Does it begin with them?" she was saying, in tensely. " On the contrary, my observation leads me to believe that, with notable exceptions, the clergy are crystallized expressions of the public calibre."

"Heaven help the public!" Mevin groaned, iron ically.

" It needs help. Until the public rises superior to statements of ignorant pulpit incumbents, such will present error. We laymen must burst the bonds of ignorance and struggle toward the liberty of God."

As she spoke, she seemed another being from the merry sister so interested in her brother's incipient ro mance. She was enfolded in an atmosphere of finer forces.

Mevin watched the change, perplexed and disturbed. He saw that her gaze did not include him, and realized, suddenly, that neither time nor space so effectually could part them, as this impenetrable vestment which enveloped her.

" What did it mean," he thought wrathfully, " that she should receive him on the pleasant cherry-bibbing plane and shut him completely from this other phase ! "

To compel her attention, he spoke irrelevantly. She did not reply. Determined to unravel the mystery he was still. Barred from realms of reality he felt she was entering, an unutterable longing to see with her, possessed him. As he waited for response, the stillness deepened within him, reaching depths he never before had sounded. Calm stole through him from a centre he never had apprehended. He realized the shallowness of his mental sophistry and felt himself grop ing toward some stable platform for his statements, — he could no longer say his philosophy of life.

" I wish there were a few simple beliefs worth while for a man to cling to with the tenacity of life and death, instead of swimming about, catching at the flot sam and jetsam of many theologies," he said, at length, moodily.

" There are," Agnes replied. " When we recognize this truth, the flotsam and jetsam will find their place and value. No matter how many terms we use, imply ing divisions as physical, material, mental, it is worth while to realize that these are all phases of one con sciousness, and to hold in our consciousness, the Prin ciple, Unity. It is worth while to believe that Spirit manifests in law from centre to periphery and back to centre of the great creation. It is worth while to real ize that we are divine essence and possess constructive power to shape environment, and that, though happi ness and achievement are rightful possessions of life, growth is its purpose. It is heart-breaking to listen to exhortation when our souls seek vital truths."

" The usual theological pratings are so much cant to me. The whole nomenclature seems confined to terms that imply asking and taking help. What is prayer, anyhow, but a grand howl of terror at something we are too cowardly to face ! To pray for oneself is to act the beggar and induces a beggarly attitude. To pray for others is impertinence. How do we know whether they need peppermints or shoestrings ! Only one's own determination avails. If no one can kill us, as Epictetus affirms, because no one can take from us the life principle, then no one can affect us either for good or evil, excepting our own very tiresome selves. I do not want any one praying for me. It is an intrusion on my individuality. ' I hope to meet my pilot face to face.' As far as I see, church training and example cover sin, evade honest obligations and attempt to get something for nothing."

Momentous silence. With spiritual reinforcement, Agnes quoted tenderly, " ' Prayer is the contemplation of the facts from the highest aspects of the case.' " Another pause. " My ideals of prayer are very dif ferent from yours, as your words indicate," she com pleted.

"Ideals! I wonder if I have any! I used to, — beautiful ones. I have almost forgotten what they were. Tell me yours ! " earnestly, almost beseechingly, seeming to forget they were not alone.

" I wish I could. They are so wonderful my soul is filled with them; but I live far below them and am ashamed."

" Ashamed ! You ? No, never. Won't you tell me ? " he repeated.

' They are almost unspeakable, except in the living of the life, and there, too, I fail. Sometime I will try to tell you." The hush in her voice made her listeners feel they were at the portal of her holy of holies.

The soft light of the afternoon sun fell upon the three as they approached the beautiful home. Again, silence enfolded them. Then a slight breeze shook the leaves as six feet of enthusiastic humanity strode down the path.

" How do you do, Mrs. Lavelle. So-long, Mevin,'' said Tom, cordially. " What has happened to you, Agnes? You look like a dinky mermaid! Let down your hair and in all respects you will be able to sport with the gold fish! Mrs. Lavelle, you are the one to confide in ! Didn't you spend last winter in Gustaga? "

Waving the rhetoric he still held, he continued, with a boyishness that sat refreshingly upon his maturity:

" Listen ! I will read to you from the spirit of this book ! I assure you, ' thereby hangs a tale ! '

Chapter II

" The tone of seeking is one. The tone of hav ing is another."

Emerson.

" AGNES, I have written my letter."

Mischief and a sweet intensity of purpose permeated the words. Agnes, her heart bounding with an affec tion almost more maternal than sisterly, looked across to the window-seat where Tom was wound in a tangle of legs and arms. As she approached he adjusted his anatomy, handing her the letter.

" Read it aloud. I want to feel it titillate the tympanum."

Smiling at Tom's big words, and with considerable curiosity, Agnes began:

To the Honorable Miss Mattee Sue Romaine, Gustaga, Georgia.

My dear Madame, — I know you will pardon my addressing you, — one whom I have never seen ; but listen while I plead my cause.

Before me lies a " Work on Composition and Rhetoric " by the renowned godfather of thousands of girls and boys, Dr. Genung, — who labored with me as with you, to crystalize our thought, in English, characterized by purity, precision and pro priety, I hope I do not overstep the bounds of this last named quality of rhetoric and of custom, by saluting you, a fellow student, and congratulating myself upon the possession of this book once belonging to you. To the point, Madame. I have received this volume from a New York dealer, and find within, the name and address of a former owner, — as I surmise, — with annotations betraying astuteness of perception, quickness of ap preciation and wit, keen and vigorous. Are you learned,

Madame, that quotations leap so freely from your pen to the Margins of this volume, or have you, alack, abstracted them from tie dictionary? Do you change, mercurially, from grave to gay, as your quatrains and aphorisms would suggest? In such event, foitune help the luckless wight, who, fancying himself basking in the luminosity of your smile, discovers, instead, that he is deluged with the April downpour of your changing humor.

I should like to corispond with you, for having thus, fortuitous'y chanced (?) upon your name, sentient with charm, I have called upon my imaging faculties for further details of an en trancing picture. It will gratify me if you will verify or correct my mental portrait, and, by complying with my request, amplify the exalted position my imagination accords you.

Pray respond to my letter. Young or old, married or single, I know you are most interesting. Tell me about yourself and some of the events in the life of this book, now in my pos session, culminating in its journey forth like a carrier dove, direct :o my waiting hand.

As for me,

I am, Inquisitively yours,

TOM LANDELL,

of Beneby, Massachusetts.

Agnes laughed until the tears brimmed over, Tom's well-simulated indignation increasing her. mirth.

" What are you scoffing at? " with pretended dignity.

" Boy, boy ! Such a letter ! You would like to corupond! At least, spell the word correctly. I wonder why men are generally so much worse spellers than women."

" I hadn't heard of it," Torn flushed slightly, but refused to be humiliated as he made the correction. " What a wide acquaintance you must have, to be able to make so sweeping an assertion. I suppose," iron ically, " you can prove it by statistics? "

" I wonder if she will ahswer this extraordinary document."

" Why extraordinary? " his eyes twinkled.

" I never read such a string of words in all my life. What a boy you are ! "

" Why a boy? " There was question in the bante'.

" That you may grow into the fulness of the con ing years. To be a real boy at your age is an element of greatness you will possess, likewise, at sixty. Thm, as now, you will be alternately a match for Socrates and George Ade."

" Don't liken me to Socrates ! A man, who, is a husband, develops a woman into a scolding Xantippe, must be radically out of gear. Do you suppose my rhetoric-queen put this jessamine here?" He turned the pages and with a lingering tenderness touched the significant little spray. " I don't believe girls do much of that sort of thing nowadays. It touches my heart strings and sets her apart from the new woman, I'll add to my letter and ask her. Answer to that one question will do more to place her than anything else."

" Success to your adventure and your corispondence," teased Agnes, as she left the room and seated herself at the large organ in the hall.

She meditated while its breath came sounding through the pipes, caressing the instrument as if it were a mighty and human creature. When it had given its long awakening sigh, it answered her call. Notes in rapid succession flung forth tone pictures, re sponding to her imagination, and as these pulsed into surging harmonies, the air was flooded with fragrance as potent and as evident as the moonlight outside. The hall seemed redolent of yellow jessamine, so strong was the projection, by her thought, of the picture in her mind, — fields full of yellow wild-flowers, a girl with bronze hair and sea-green eyes, a southern sky, — and Tom.

At length she ceased playing, lovingly pressed the mute keys, drew down the cover, and bowed her head.

" Home is a dear place," she said, a few minutes later, standing at the library door, viewing, with a happy content, touched with an indefinable wistfulness, the many-alcoved room, then resting her eyes upon the centre, where soft lights fell upon Mr. and Mrs. Landell. " A dear place, dear in every corner, but aglow with inspiration where the father and mother are enshrined." A perceptible halo enhanced the mys terious charm of her lovely face.

Daniel Landell's seeing gaze met his daughter's, with its little thorn of wistfulness standing, militant, close to the rose of content blooming in the garden of her eyes.

" Yes, it is an available spot for nearly every one at some time in life, and remember, dear, the only avail able spot for any of us is the spot on which we stand. What we make of it determines the futures of its occupants and, therefore, of citizens and of nations. The only question to answer, is, How have we utilized that spot, be it home or Waterloo? "

" Do you mean, father, that each one is in his or her right niche? "

" For the time being, yes. Not until he has proved himself on that spot, is he ready for another test. For this reason, many never forge beyond a fixed place."

" Is that why some meet with constant repetition in life?"

" I think so, and to me it betokens moral ineptitude. The province of experience is to point to its governing principle, which, grasped, leads to new revealments, God never repeats unnecessarily. By the way, Mr. Kerrick asked my advice this morning, about seeking a new pastorate."

" How do you learn everything, father ? You never ask questions, — the sort that can be heard. Every one, of every cult and creed, comes to you for solace and advice," she mused tenderly. " I suppose it is because you present an unbiased mind and are ' a friend of truth.' What is his reason for changing? "

" It was that which put me in mind of him, in con nection with what we were saying. His complaint is, that his audiences are unappreciative. I can see that the miasma rising from his discontent is sufficient to drive from him the very appreciation he craves. Con stantly, he is sending his soul out of his body by run ning ahead with his mind, not in contemplation, but in emotional excitement about what he's done or is going to do next. Were I to tell him that such pro cesses are part of the horrors of black magic, he would not understand. He carries his discontent and his soul-bereft endeavors through all his situations, pre senting, instead of the results of definite purpose, in congruous effects of inability and doubt. To find his vision, he, — every one, — must determine the value of the spot on which he stands. This leads to discrimina tion of new values and of new relations and the gradual falling away of what is undesirable."

Agnes waited a full minute before she spoke. The atmosphere of prophecy, which, to the mystification of Ross Mevin, had enwrapped her that afternoon in the garden, rested upon her now. Like one who speaks, not of her own volition, " Some one will come, father, who more clearly interprets the liberty of God," she said, and left the room.

Daniel LandelFs eyes followed her comprehendingly.

" Helen," he said slowly to his wife, " Agnes pos sesses wonderful enfolded spiritual powers," and he watched his daughter as she passed out of sight. " Un consciously, she is attaining a life ideal, that refuses to be bound by visible limitations."

" I do not consider such unconsciousness any virtue." With a concerned expression, Mrs. Landell laid aside her book. " I used to, in those days when you and I were asleep and thought it well to be so. I suppose I am partially responsible for the fact that she goes about like a semi-somnambulist, doing some divinely beautiful deeds and some very unwise ones, and, in frantic questionings of wisdom, or, in recovering from blunders, rushing into worse errors. Sometimes, she is wonderful, as you say, then again, she uses neither reason nor intuition, only ungoverned impulse. When she finds this is at fault, she does not train it with sweet reasonableness, but represses it. When, in con sequence, it bursts its bonds in hysteria, the result is disastrous. Her attempts at self-effacement are pitiful. Do you suppose that may be traced to childhood train ing, when, at my side, the book upon my knee, she imbibed the principles of The Great Stone Face pick ing out the small words, while I read the others to her, and supplied interpretations. I wish I had kept still, as I did with Tom, who, thus, had opportunity to grow, naturally, into his own conceptions. I made Agnes study the calculus of life when she was ready only for the truths that two and two make four and that one cannot have one's cake and eat it too."

" You can't prove even that, as we now understand processes," laughed Mr. Landell, " for we have the cake even more incorporately than ever after we have eaten it."

Mrs. Landell laughed, too, and her tension was re laxed. She resumed.

" I think her naturally enlightened mind was puzzled, over what, a few years later, would have been crystal clear. As I see life now, I do not know of a more dis astrous training than the repression of the discrim inative faculty, by inhibiting self, especially in one as sensitive as Agnes. She has no idea where she serves in the great plan. None of us have for that matter;

but, though it is dangerous to be an egotist, it is pathetic to be possessed, as she is, with a vital and powerful individuality, and an intense belief that she has a definite place in the world's work, and yet be as blind as a bat in a wild hunt for it. I wish she would realize that our mission comes to us, not we to our mission."

" This very training you deplore has taught her devoutly to cultivate soul instead of mind. Because she is in doubt, as you suggest, that very doubt leads her to seek. She has entered this present phase of em bodiment with some memory of the law governing in tuition,—

" But far from a complete revealment. She discrim inates about everything except herself. In that regard, she is never sure, however right she may be. Do you suppose, Daniel, that might have resulted from read ing Watts on the Mind at the same ripe age of six? You know she was always taught to say hesitatingly, ' I think ! '

" I recall," smiled Mr. Landell, reminiscently, " that dear little blue book. Timon went into a church and killed a dog," he dreamed, aloud. " That was wrong! Why judge without proof! Timon was not wrong. The dog was mad ! Isn't that Agnes all over ? Surely it is a splendid attitude for investigation."

" I fear I crushed her spontaneity. I never told her a fairy tale or showed her a stone or a sunset without suggesting that she search for their symbolism. She never sang a song without approaching every tone and word as if they were sacraments to be revealed."

" Which they are, Helen."

" Then came that season of spiritual upheaval for you and tragedy for us both — the death of three babies at the same time."

" Your long illness — "

" When I could give the child no attention and she fell into the hands of dear Luella with her horrible be liefs. Do you know, I found, years afterwards, that their favorite twilight conversations consisted of graphic descriptions of the horrors of the damned, the reading of Dante to confirm their imaginings, and the assurance that Agnes' beloved baby darlings had a ' special little room in hell ! '

Mr. Landell's eyes were fixed, unseeing, upon the mellowed lights in the sconces near-by.

" The first evening home, after that long stay with Luella, when you and I were grappling with death in order to find life for you, she crept timidly near, mak ing no movement to caress me. Attributing this to a sense of strangeness, I took her in my arms. She re sisted. ' It isn't right/ she said, struggling, ' I must love only God ' — I was appalled."

" I remember how I seized upon her as soon as I learned the state of her mind, — as much as I have ever learned it, — and having had it emphasized by her going into convulsions when I took up the Bible in her pres ence, and having been several times roused by her screaming in the night in terror lest she hear the ' mid night cry.' I disciplined her forcefully in views into which I had grown naturally and gradually. I had no patience with Luella's teachings, and as for her preacher husband's — "

" I have patience with them for they are a process of growth; but the inner divine meaning of those be liefs had come to me and for the time I was forgetful of their horrors. These had faded from -my mind or been merged in wider understanding. The glories of the real intent were too bright for me to see past them to terrors such as were presented to Agnes' imaginative mind. My spiritual unfoldment was then too imma ture to see the import, yet too advanced to accept the symbol for the real. I was in the maze of light that comes often from release of tension; in the stunning, rather than the ministering effects of illumination. Like Martha, and seemingly, of necessity, we were too cumbered with serving to recognize and welcome the unfolding Christ within her as we did in Tom. Still, the isolation she has endured has brought her, as noth ing else could, to spiritual illumination."