The May Flower, and Miscellaneous WritingsStowe, Harriet Beecher
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The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
But now, the ancient legend goes on to say, that in the midst of that
gay and brilliant evening, a stranger of remarkable appearance and
manners was noticed among the throng. None knew him, or whence he came.
He mingled not in the mirth, and seemed to recognize no one present,
though he regarded all that was passing with a peculiar air of still and
earnest attention; and wherever he moved, his calm, penetrating gaze
seemed to diffuse a singular uneasiness about him. Now his eye was fixed
with a quiet scrutiny on the idolatrous statues, with their votive
adornments--now it followed earnestly the young forms that were
wreathing in the graceful waves of the dance; and then he turned towards
the tables, loaded with every luxury and sparkling with wines, where the
devotion to Bacchus became more than poetic fiction; and as he gazed, a
high, indignant sorrow seemed to overshadow the calmness of his majestic
face. When, in thoughtless merriment, some of the gay company sought to
address him, they found themselves shrinking involuntarily from the
soft, piercing eye, and trembling at the low, sweet tones in which he
replied. What he spoke was brief; but there was a gravity and tender
wisdom in it that strangely contrasted with the frivolous scene, and
awakened unwonted ideas of heavenly purity even in thoughtless and
dissipated minds.
The only one of the company who seemed to seek his society was the
youngest, the fair little child Isa. She seemed as strangely attracted
towards him as others were repelled; and when, unsolicited, in the frank
confidence of childhood she pressed to his side, and placed her little
hand in his, the look of radiant compassion and tenderness which beamed
down from those eyes was indeed glorious to behold. Yet here and there,
as he glided among the crowd, he spoke in the ear of some Christian
words which, though soft and low, seemed to have a mysterious and
startling power; for one after another, pensive, abashed, and
confounded, they drew aside from the gay scene, and seemed lost in
thought. That stranger--who was he? Who? The inquiry passed from mouth
to mouth, and one and another, who had listened to his low, earnest
tones, looked on each other with a troubled air. Ere long he had glided
hither and thither in the crowd; he had spoken in the ear of every
Christian--and suddenly again he was gone, and they saw him no more.
Each had felt the heart thrill within--each spirit had vibrated as if
the finger of its Creator had touched it, and shrunk conscious as if an
omniscient eye were upon it. Each heart was stirred from its depths.
Vain sophistries, worldly maxims, making the false look true, all
appeared to rise and clear away like a mist; and at once each one seemed
to see, as God sees, the true state of the inner world, the true motive
and reason of action, and in the instinctive pause that passed through
the company, the banquet was broken up and deserted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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