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JUDGMENT AGAINST LOVE
T
HE four years Civil War was over. Soldiers, ragged, battle-scarred
and maimed, were straggling to their ruined homes all over the
sunny Southland. One spring evening of ’64, two weary, half-starved
soldiers knocked at the door of a once beautiful Mississippi planta-
tion home, and asked for supper and lodging. They were Dr. Hollis Deering,
who had served four years as a surgeon, and his friend, Evon Blanton. Both
were young, graduates of a time-honored university, and Dr. Deering, noted
as the handsomest man in his regiment. Blanton was suffering from a pain
ful flesh wound in his right arm.
Mrs. Haywood, at whose home the soldiers stopped, gave them a cordial
welcome, although her pantry was almost as empty as the family purse. Liv
ing, as she did, in the highway traversed by the two contending armies, the
once magnificently stocked plantation had been stripped of all save a few de
crepit horses, two superannuated cows, a few pigs, and the poultry. Never
theless, Mrs. Haywood never turned a hungry soldier from her door, no mat
ter whether he wore the blue or the gray. Her husband and two sons had
been killed in the struggle, but she bravely took up her burdens, and strove to
live for her two daughters, just blooming into beautiful young womanhood.
After supper, Mrs. Haywood and Mittie, her eldest daughter, assisted Dr.
Deering in dressing young Blanton’s wound.
“I don’t think you should try to continue your journey tomorrow, Mr. Blan
ton,” said the elder woman, after the wound was dressed. “There is danger
of fever.”
“If it will not inconvenience you, I think it will be best to remain over a
few days,” replied the physician.
“The next morning the wounded man was delirious with fever, and for
several days there was little chance. The fourth day, Dr. Deering pro
nounced the case typhoid malarial fever, and proposed to have his friend
taken to a hospital in Memphis, fifty miles distant. Mrs. Haywood, how
ever, refused to permit the sick man’s removal, and generously placed her
house and services as nurse, at the physician’s disposal.
There were weeks when the young man’s life seemed to hang upon a
thread. The faithful friend watched at the bedside with untiring patience.
At last the patient was convalescent, and Mrs. Haywood and her daughters
could, in a measure relieve the doctor. Dr. Deering had written his father,
and money had been sent, so that their prolonged stay was not an imposition
upon Mrs. Haywood’s hospitality.
On pleasant afternoons and evenings, Mrs. Haywood would sit with the
invalid, and Dr. Deering, Mittie and Ruth would sit on the broad veranda.
Mittie was reviewing Latin and French, preparatory to teaching in Oakdale
Female College, at the opening of the school in September. Dr. Deering
frequently gave her his assistance, or together they read some favorite book
of poems. Bending over the books, with the perfume of the old-time flower
garden wafted upon each breeze, and the song of the mocking bird as an
impromptu interlude, is it strange that an old, old story became new? With
out knowing it, there was an exchange of hearts, though neither realized it
at the time.
One evening a letter was handed Dr. Deering, which caused an awakening.
“I must go home, Monday, Miss Mittie,” he said, as he came out on the
verandah, after supper.
The girl started.
“I’m —sorry,” she faltered.
There was a silence. Mittie was wondering what the quick throbbing
of her heart meant, and why should she care for the departure of this strang
er? Then her cheeks flamed, as the consciousness dawned that he was the
one man in the world she cared for, and he had not —But what was he say
ing?
“Will you care, Miss Mittie? May I come back? Do you think you
could ever learn to love”
She never could recall the rest. It was like a vague sweet dream.
When Mittie went to her mother’s room a few hours later, there was a
whispered secret, and a sympathetic embrace.
“We will not marry until Hollis can become established in his profession,
mother, dear,” Mittie had confided. “So, 1 will teach for a year or two, as I
intended, and help you pay off the mortgage on our home.”
The Deerings were a prominent family of M , well known from
reputation to Mrs. Haywood, and the young man was talented, winning and ap
peared in every way a desirable match, so the mother withheld not her
blessing.
The next day Deering drove over to the railway station, a few miles dis
tant,. and returned with a package which he carried to Blanton’s room. He
called Mrs. Haywood and said:
“Our patient is beginning to get about, and will regain his strength
sooner if you will give him a little of this wine twice or three times a day.
I wish you to administer it, as too much might cause a relapse, and you cannot
trust a fellow who has been starved out for weeks.”
He laughed airily, but Blanton said gravely.
“Unless it is absolutely necessary I would rather not take wine at all,
Hollis.”
“The Doctor knows best,” said Mrs. Haywood. “I will give it as a medi
cine, and you must take it as such.”
The wine was placed on a shelf in the closet in the sick man’s room.
Next morning Dr. Deering was unable to rise, complaining of a severe
headache. Mrs. Haywood felt his pulse, and suggested remedies that were
laughingly declined, the doctor asserting that quiet and sleep were all that
he needed to cure him. Late in the afternoon Dr. Deering joined the family
on the porch, and made Mittie happy by paying her the most devoted at
tention. In after years that evening stood out as one of the happiest in all
her life.
The departure of her lover next morning left an aching void in Mittie’s
heart, but she busied herself caring for Evon Blanton, and watched for Deer
ing’s letter, with an eagerness that brought a look of pain into her mother’s
face.
Young Blanton was soon able to continue his journey to his old home
in Tennessee, or, rather, to what had been his home, since a heap of ashes
and broom-sage covered acres were all that was left him. His gratitude to
Mrs. Haywood and her daughters was too deep for expression. His life,
he declared, would be spent in trying to prove his appreciation of their kind
ness.
Early in July, Mrs. Haywood was taken violently ill, and in a few days
it was known that she could not recover. The old family physician gently
told her of her dangerous condition, and suggested that she make her last
wishes known to her daughters.
“I must talk with Mittie,” was the dying woman’s request,
The Golden Age for December 12, 1912.
A Woman’s Fight With Herself.
By JENNIE N. STANDIFER, Clinton, Mississippi
After the first wild burst of grief, at being informed of her mother’s condi
tion,, Mittie composed herself, and listened calmly to the feeble voice.
“When all is over, dear child, rent the plantation, and take your sister
Ruth with you to the boarding school. Dr. and Mrs. Willis will be your
true friends. Educate Ruth if you can, and stay in the school, child,—stay
there —stay there!”
“I will mother, until I marry. You have forgotten that Dr. Deering and I
are to marry in a year or two.”
“That is what I would warn you against, my darling. Although it cuts
me to the heart, I must tell you, my child. Hollis Deering drinks!
“Impossible, mother!”
“I know it, my child! He was drunk the day before he left for his home,
and you thought it was only a headache. Don’t marry him until he has
taken a pledge of total abstinence, and has proven that he can keep it.”
“I will promise, mother!”
“Be sure, my little girl, that he is thoroughly reformed before you give
your happiness to his keeping. Don’t wreck your life by becoming a drunk
ard’s wife.”
“I will not, mother.”
“A paroxysm of pain put an end to the conversation, and in a short time
the mother sank into a stupor which precedes death.
The old plantation home was rented, and in September Mittie and her
younger sister, Ruth, entered the Oakdale Female College, one as a teacher
and the other as a student. Both were agreeably surprised to find that Evon
Blanton had accepted the chair of mathematics in the institution, and would
be associated with them daily during the following session. His health
was rather frail to take up other work, and he would teach until stronger.
Mittie had kept up a regular correspondence with Dr. Deering, but had
not written him of her promise to her dying mother. He must know some
time, but she must hold on to her bit of happiness as long as she could.
It was October, rioting in color, sunshine and brisk breezes, before Dr.
Deering found time to visit his betrothed. He noticed her reserve and the
sadness of her pale, sweet face, but attributed both to her recent bereave
ment. They were sitting in the college parlor, the last day of his stay, when
Dr. Deering said:
“I am meeting with greater success than I expected in my profession,
Mittie. If I continue to prosper, I will be ready for my bride by spring. Will
you be ready to come, Mittie?”
The time had come when he must be told, even though she drove him
from her and lost his love. With a faltering voice and tear-dimmed eyes,
Mittie repeated her mother’s death-bed charge.
“Can you make that promise, Hollis?” she asked, pleadingly.
I could, Mittie, but what is the use. lam not a drunkard, and a profes
sional man, to succeed in the broadest'sense cannot afford to be narrow and
puritanical in his dealings with his fellows.”
“You don’t realize the danger you are in, Hollis. No drunkard ever be
came one from deliberate choice. All downfalls are gradual. You will find
that the habit grows, until you are no longer the master of either your will
or actions. Do you love me enough to pledge yourself never to touch in
toxicating drinks, Hollis?”
“You know that I adore you, Mittie. But you are asking me to relin
quish my self-respect. The promise you would exact is unwise, not to say
foolish. Put the matter from your mind, Mittie, and let us be happy. I
know your mother advised you to do what she thought was best, but she
would prefer your happiness to all else. Set the day for our marriage, dear
est.”
“When you have vowed never to touch intoxicating drink in any form,
and have proven your strength to resist temptation by one year’s total ab
stinence, I am ready to go with you to the uttermost parts of the earth, Hollis.”
And, despite his vows, his reproaches, and eloquent words of persuasion,
Mittie remained firm in her determination to keep her promise to her mother.
Dr. Deering returned to his work in the city and Mittie gave her strength
of body and mind to teaching. She had failed to convince her lover of his
danger, so made faithful, conscientious work a remedy for heartache. Her
engagement to Dr. Deering had not been broken, but between them there
was a cloud which shut out the sunlight of happiness.
Through the long winter Evon Blanton proved himself a true, sympathet
ic friend.
One evening in April, just one year from the time Mittie had met her lover,
Mrs. Willis went to the young teacher’s room and announced a visitor.
“I may as well tell you, Mittie, that it is Dr. Deering. He has come, I am
confident, to plead with you to change your decision. But you are in the
right, dear. Evon Blanton has told me more of Dr. Deering’s weakness than
you suspect. He could not tell you, as it would not seem loyal to his friend.
A drunkard’s wife, woe and want and tears all go hand in hand. Be firm, my
child!”
“I will, dear friend!”
With a white, set face, Mittie entered the parlor. It was a penitent,
contrite lover who met her.
“I have at last realized my peril, my own love, and have come to make
the vow you asked. Forgive me for withholding it thus long, and causing
you unhappiness. Listen: For one year I vow before you and heaven never
to touch or taste one drop of anything that can intoxicate!”
“Why not for life, Hollis?”
“If I have the strength to keep such a vow for one year, can I not keep
it always, Mittie? And at the end of that year I am to come to you and
you are to name the day for our marriage?”
“I will, Hollis. I will!” cried Mittie, joyfully.
Surely, there could be no happier girl in the world than Mittie Haywood.
Dr. and Mrs. Willis rejoiced heartily in her great happiness. In heartfelt
sympathy they watched her happy face, as she would read them, from day
today, Dr. Deering’s letters, assuring her that he was keeping his vow.
Her lover came down to the college commencement in June, and together
the happy pair sat and enjoyed song and music. Mittie wondered if the
angels in heaven could be any happier than she.
Through the summer the two sisters remained at the college with Dr.
and Mrs. Willis. Mittie working upon her dainty trouseau. That would save
many dollars, she had confided to Mrs. Willis, and she and Hollis would need
all she could save from her salary to furnish their little home nest.
When school opened in September. Mittie again entered upon her work
with zeal and earnestness. Dr. Deering came down to spend the Christmas
holidays, and in the exuberance of their joy, they drew a plan for their future
home, a pretty cottage, which was to be vine-wreathed and hallowed.
(Continued on Page 17.)
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