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Frontiers in Interpolation
and Approximation

Dedicated to the memory of Ambikeshwar Sharma

PURE AND APPLIED MATHEMATICS

A Program of Monographs, Textbooks, and Lecture Notes

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Frontiers in Interpolation and Approximation (2006)
Frontiers in Interpolation
and Approximation

Dedicated to the memory of Ambikeshwar Sharma

N. K. Govil
Auburn Univesity
Alabama, U.S.A.

H. N. Mhaskar
California State University
Los Angeles, U.S.A.

Ram N. Mohapatra
University of Central Florida
Orlando, U.S.A.

Zuhair Nashed
University of Central Florida
Orlando, U.S.A.

J. Szabados
Alfréd Rényi Institute of Mathematics
Budapest, Hungary

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Frontiers in interpolation and approximation / [edited by] N.K. Govil … [et al.].
p. cm. -- (Monographs and textbooks in pure and applied mathematics ; 282)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-1-58488-636-5 (acid-free paper)
ISBN-10: 1-58488-636-6 (acid-free paper)
1. Interpolation. 2. Approximation theory. I. Govil, N. K. (Narendra Kumar) II.
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Contents
Foreword ix
R. S. Varga
Preface xi
Editors xv
Contributors xvii
Ambikeshwar Sharma xxiii
A. Jakimovski and J. Szabados

1. Markov-Type Inequalities for Homogeneous Polynomials on 1

Nonsymmetric Star-Like Domains
Yuliya Babenko and András Kroó
2. Local Inequalities for Multivariate Polynomials and 17
Plurisubharmonic Functions
A. Brudnyi and Yu. Brudnyi
3. The Norm of an Interpolation Operator on H ∞ (D) 33
A. S. Cavaretta and N. Fontes-Merz
4. Sharma and Interpolation, 1993–2003: The Dutch Connection 45
M. G. de Bruin
5. Freeness of Spline Modules from a Divided to a Subdivided 59
Domain
Satya Deo and J. K. Maitra
6. Measures of Smoothness on the Sphere 75
Z. Ditzian
7. Quadrature Formulae of Maximal Trigonometric Degree of 93
Precision
Dimiter Dryanov
8. Inequalities for Exponential Sums via Interpolation and 119
Turán-Type Reverse Markov Inequalities
T. Erdélyi
9. Asymptotic Optimality in Time-Frequency Localization of 145
Scaling Functions and Wavelets
T. N. T. Goodman and S. L. Lee
10. Interpolation by Polynomials and Transcendental Entire 173
Functions
N. K. Govil, M. A. Qazi, and Q. I. Rahman

vii
11. Hyperinterpolation on the Sphere 213
Kerstin Hesse and Ian H. Sloan
12. Lagrange Interpolation at Lacunary Roots of Unity 249
A. Jakimovski
13. A Fast Algorithm for Spherical Basis Approximation 259
J. Keiner and J. Prestin
14. Direct and Converse Polynomial Approximation Theorems on 287
the Real Line with Weights Having Zeros
G. Mastroianni and J. Szabados
15. Fourier Sums and Lagrange Interpolation on (0, +∞) and 307
(−∞, +∞)
G. Mastroianni and P. Vértesi
16. On Bounded Interpolatory and Quasi–Interpolatory 345
Polynomial Operators
H. N. Mhaskar
17. Hausdorff Strong Uniqueness in Simultaneous Approximation. 365
Part II
Devidas Pai and Indira K
18. Zeros of Polynomials Given as an Orthogonal Expansion 381
Gerhard Schmeisser
19. Uniqueness of Tchebycheff Spaces and Their Ideal Relatives 407
Boris Shekhtman
Index 427

viii
Foreword
I am indeed honored to write this foreword for this present volume
which is dedicated to Ambikeshwar Sharma, who was well known in
the world as a beloved teacher and research mathematician. He was
my dear and trusted friend and colleague for many, many years; we
first met, some fifty years ago, in the office of Professor Joseph L.
Walsh, my adviser at Harvard University. Little did I know how
much our lives would intertwine over the years.
Ambikeshwar had two well-recognized strengths which were
absolutely infectious to those near him. He loved mathematics and
he loved mathematical research with others, both with great vigor. I
can vividly recall working with him on some math paper (we wrote
13 papers together) when, at night, I would be exhausted, and he al-
ways was ready to continue onward! (I often wondered how much of
this came from his excellent and strict vegetarian diet.) His research
work was basically in complex function theory and approximation
theory, and he is probably best known for his work on splines, in-
terpolation theory, and Walsh over-convergence. On this last topic,
Walsh over-convergence, it was his dream to write the first and defini-
tive book on this topic, which would examine in detail all aspects of
this theory. Unfortunately, his health gave out before this book was
finished, and it was left to his circle of friends in mathematics to
complete this task.
This book, which follows, is dedicated to Ambikeshwar Sharma,
who will long be remembered for his mathematics, for his enthusiasm
for mathematical research, and for the overwhelming kindness and
understanding he showered on all who came in contact with him.

Richard S. Varga
Kent State University

ix
Preface
This monograph is a collection of papers in memory of
Professor Ambikeshwar Sharma who passed away on December 22,
2003 at his home in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Professor Sharma
was a leading mathematician whose research has spanned several
areas of approximation theory and classical analysis, including inter-
polation theory and approximation by spline functions. Interpolation
was a topic in which Professor Sharma was viewed as a world expert
by his collaborators and many other colleagues.
We invited outstanding mathematicians, friends and collabora-
tors of Professor Sharma to submit papers to be included in this
volume. This collection contains original research articles and com-
prehensive survey papers by 30 mathematicians from 11 countries.
All the papers were refereed. We hope that the papers will be of
interest both to graduate students as well as researchers in analysis
and approximation theory.
The paper of Babenko and Kroó deals with Markov inequalities
for multivariate polynomials. These inequalities estimate the supre-
mum norm of the derivatives of a polynomial in terms of the norm of
the polynomial itself. Babenko and Kroó establish such inequalities
for homogeneous polynomials on a nonsymmetric convex body in a
Euclidean space, possibly with cusps.
The paper by Brudnyi and Brudnyi studies the analogues of
Chebyshev and Bernstein inequalities for multivariate polynomials.
These inequalities estimate the norm of a polynomial on a set in a
Euclidean space in terms of its norm on a subset of this set.
The paper of Cavaretta and Fontes–Merz gives explicit formulas
in some cases for the norm of the operator Ln−1 ( · ; ζ) : H ∞ (D) → C,
where Ln−1 ( · ; ζ) represents the Lagrange interpolation polynomial
of degree n − 1, evaluated at a complex number ζ, and defined by
interpolating functions in H ∞ (D) at the zeros of z n − rn . Here,
0 < r < 1 and |ζ| > 1.
The paper of de Bruin is a survey of his joint work with Sharma
on interpolation, covering the period 1993–2003.
The paper of Deo and Maitra studies the conditions under which
a module of smooth splines on a subdivision of a simplex embedded
in a Euclidean space is free.

xi
The paper of Ditzian gives a survey of various measures of smooth-
ness of functions which are defined on the unit sphere S d−1 ⊂ Rd .
The paper of Dryanov presents results on existence, uniqueness,
and explicit construction of quadrature formulae with maximal trigono-
metric degree of precision.
The paper of Erdélyi surveys recent results for exponential sums
and linear combinations of shifted Gaussians which were obtained
via interpolation. In particular, a Chebyshev type inequality and a
reverse Markov inequality is obtained in this setting.
The paper of Goodman and Lee investigates the optimality of the
uncertainty products for certain approximations to the Gaussian, and
the corresponding wavelets, when the refinement masks are polyno-
mials satisfying certain conditions on the locations of their zeros.
The paper of Govil, Qazi, and Rahman deals with some basic
facts about interpolation by classes of entire functions like algebraic
polynomials, trigonometric polynomials, and non-periodic transcen-
dental entire functions. The authors also explain what Hermite “re-
ally did” in his frequently quoted paper.
The paper of Hesse and Sloan describes several known results as
well as proves some new ones regarding the degree of approximation
by hyperinterpolation operators on the Euclidean sphere. The hy-
perinterpolation operator is a discretization of the Fourier projection
operator onto the space of spherical polynomials, obtained by using
a positive quadrature formula, exact for spherical polynomials of an
appropriate degree.
The paper of Jakimovski studies the connection between La-
grange and Hermite interpolatory polynomials, interpolating at a set
of roots of unity, and the corresponding polynomials interpolating at
different subsets of this set.
The paper of Keiner and Prestin presents a fast algorithm for
scattered data interpolation and approximation on the Euclidean
sphere with spherical radial basis functions of different spatial den-
sity.
The paper of Mastroianni and Szabados establishes the analogues
of certain classical polynomial inequalities, as well as direct and con-
verse approximation theorems in the context of weighted approxima-
tion on the whole line with respect to a generalized Freud weight.

xii
The paper of Mastroianni and Vértesi investigates the truncated
Fourier sums and Lagrange interpolation operators in weighted Lp
spaces on unbounded intervals (0, ∞) and the whole line.
The paper of Mhaskar proposes alternatives to interpolation for
approximation of functions using values of the function at scattered
sites on the circle, the real line, the unit interval, and the unit sphere.
In particular, it proves the existence of bounded operators, yielding
entire functions of finite exponential type, that interpolate a Birkhoff
data for a function on a Euclidean space, where a finite number of
derivatives, of order not exceeding a fixed number, are prescribed at
each point.
The paper of Pai and Indira establishes the equivalence of Haus-
dorff continuity and pointwise Hausdorff Lipschitz continuity of a
restricted center multifunction.
The paper of Schmeisser describes methods to obtain estimates
on the zeros of polynomials, in terms of their coefficients in an or-
thogonal polynomial expansion. In particular, certain L2 inequalities
and lower bounds for Vandermonde type determinants of orthogonal
polynomials are proved.
The paper of Shekhtman defines a generalization of Chebyshev
spaces, ”ideal complements,” and demonstrates their uniqueness.
Various analogues of Chebyshev spaces (minimal interpolating sys-
tems) in several variables are also discussed.
It is a pleasure to express our gratitude to all the authors and ref-
erees without whose contributions this volume would not have been
possible. We would like to thank Richard Varga for accepting our in-
vitation to write the Foreword, Charles Chui for his encouragement,
Darrel Hankerson for his help with TEX issues, Gerhard Schmeisser
for modifying our style file, Larry Schumaker for allowing us to use
his micros, and Huajun Huang for his help in compiling and format-
ting some of the papers in this volume. Finally, our thanks are due
to the publisher for support and careful handling of the monograph.

N. K. Govil
H. N. Mhaskar
R. N. Mohapatra
Z. Nashed
J. Szabados

xiii
EDITORS

N. K. Govil is a professor of mathematics at Auburn University,

Auburn, Alabama. He received his Ph.D. degree in mathematics
from the University of Montreal, Canada in 1968. Prior to join-
ing Auburn University, he was professor at the Indian Institute of
Technology, New Delhi, India.

H. N. Mhaskar is a professor of mathematics at California State

University, Los Angeles. He obtained his Ph.D. from Ohio State
University, Columbus in 1980.

R. N. Mohapatra is a professor of mathematics at the Univer-

sity of Central Florida, Orlando. He received his Ph.D. degree from
University of Jabalpur, India in 1968.

Zuhair Nashed received his S.B. and S.M. degrees in electrical

engineering from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge,
and his Ph.D. in mathematics from the University of
Michigan. Prior to joining the University of Central Florida, he
was a professor at Georgia Institute of Technology, Atlanta and the
University of Delaware, Newark.

J. Szabados is a senior research fellow at the Department of

Analysis of the Alfréd Rényi Institute of Mathematics and a
professor at the Department of Mathematics and Its Applications
of the Central European University, both in Budapest. He received
the D.Sc. degree in mathematics from the Hungarian Academy of
Sciences, Budapest in 1976.

xv
Contributors

Yuliya Babenko
Department of Mathematics
Vanderbilt University
Nashville, TN 37203
Email address: [email protected]

A. Brudnyi
Department of Mathematics and Statistics
University of Calgary
Calgary, Alberta
Canada T2N 1N4
Email address: [email protected]

Yu. Brudnyi
Department of Mathematics
Technion, Haifa, 32000, Israel
Email address: [email protected]

Alfred S. Cavaretta
Department of Mathematics
Kent State University
Kent, Ohio 44242
Email address: [email protected]

M. G. de Bruin
Delft Institute of Applied Mathematics
Delft University of Technology
Delft, The Netherlands
Email address: [email protected]

Satya Deo
Harish Chandra Research Institute
Allahabad 211 019, India
Email address: [email protected], [email protected]

xvii
Z. Ditzian
Department of Mathematical and Statistical Sciences
University of Alberta
Edmonton, Alberta
Canada, T6G 2G1
Email address: [email protected]

Dimiter Dryanov
Department of Mathematics and Statistics
Concordia University
Montréal, Quebec
Canada H3G 1M8
Email address: [email protected]

T. Erdélyi
Department of Mathematics
Texas A&M University
College Station, Texas 77843
Email address: [email protected]

Natacha Fontes-Merz
Department of Mathematics and Computer Science
Westminster College
New Wilmington, Pennsylvania 16172
Email address: [email protected]

T. N. T. Goodman
Department of Mathematics
University of Dundee
Dundee DD1 4HN
Scotland, U.K.
Email address: [email protected]

N. K. Govil
Department of Mathematics
Auburn University
Auburn, AL 36849-5310
Email address: [email protected]

xviii
Kerstin Hesse
School of Mathematics
The University of New South Wales
Sydney NSW 2052, Australia
Email addresses: [email protected]

A. Jakimovski
School of Mathematical Sciences
Tel-Aviv University
Tel-Aviv 69978, Israel
Email address: [email protected]

Indira K
Department of Mathematics
Indian Institute of Technology
Mumbai 400076, India
Email address: [email protected]

J. Keiner
Institute of Mathematics
University of Lübeck
Lübeck, Germany
Email address: [email protected]

András Kroó
Alfréd Rényi Institute of Mathematics
Budapest, Hungary
Email address: [email protected]

S. L. Lee
Department of Mathematics
National University of Singapore
Singapore 117543
Email address: [email protected]

xix
J. K. Maitra
Department of Mathematics and Computer Science
R. D. University
Jabalpur 482 001, India
Email address: [email protected]

G. Mastroianni
Dipartimento di Matematica
Università della Basilicata
Potenza, Italy
Email address: [email protected]

H. N. Mhaskar
Department of Mathematics
California State University
Los Angeles, California 90032
Email address: [email protected]

Devidas Pai
Department of Mathematics
Indian Institute of Technology
Mumbai 400076, India
Email address: [email protected]

J. Prestin
Institute of Mathematics
University of Lübeck
Lübeck, Germany
Email address: [email protected]

M. A. Qazi
Department of Mathematics
Tuskegee University
Tuskegee, AL 36088
Email address: [email protected]

xx
Q. I. Rahman
Département de Mathématiques et de Statistique
Université de Montréal
Montréal, Canada H3G 3J7
Email address: [email protected]

Gerhard Schmeisser
Mathematical Institute
University of Erlangen-Nuremberg
Erlangen, Germany
Email address: [email protected]

Boris Shekhtman
Department of Mathematics
University of South Florida
Tampa, FL 33620
Email address: [email protected]

Ian H. Sloan
School of Mathematics
The University of New South Wales
Sydney NSW 2052, Australia
Email address: [email protected]

J. Szabados
Alfréd Rényi Institute of Mathematics
Budapest, Hungary
Email address: [email protected]

P. Vértesi
Alfred Renyi Institute of Mathematics
Budapest, Hungary
Email address: [email protected]

xxi
Ambikeshwar Sharma (1920-2003)
Ambikeshwar Sharma
(1920-2003)

A. Jakimovski and J. Szabados

Ambikeshwar Sharma passed away on December 22, 2003, after

a long period of illness at his home in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
Sharma is survived by a daughter, Jyotsna Sharma-Srinivasan, and
two sons, Someshwar (Raja) Sharma and Yogi Sharma.
Ambikeshwar Sharma was born at Jobner, a small city in the state
of Rajasthan, India on July 2, 1920. He received his B.A. (1938) and
M.Sc. (1940) from the Maharaja’s College, Jaipur, and his Ph.D.
(1951) under A. N. Singh from Lucknow University, Lucknow, India.
Sharma held positions at Cornell, Rajasthan, Harvard, and UCLA
before joining the University of Alberta in 1962, where he remained
until his retirement, in 1985.
He had eight Ph.D. students: A. M. Chak (1956), R. B. Saxena
(1964), A. K. Varma (1964), J. Prasad (1968), D. J. Leeming (1969),
S. L. Lee (1974), Mario Botto (1975), and M. A. Bokhari (1986). In
addition, he co-advised H. M. Srivastava and K. K. Mathur before
leaving India.
Sharma worked in classical analysis, concentrating eventually on
lacunary polynomial and trigonometric interpolation, and on spline
functions, first cubic splines, then cardinal splines, trigonometric
splines, and even multivariate splines. In his final years, Sharma
focused on various aspects of the Walsh over-convergence theorem.
Sharma’s wide-ranging knowledge and intuition, his infectious en-
thusiasm and engaging personality are reflected in his many publica-
tions (more than 200 papers) and in the fact that 56 mathematicians
have written papers with him and have become his friends in the pro-
cess. Among his coauthors are G. Alexits, R. Askey, E. W. Cheney,
P. Erdös, G. Freud, C. A. Micchelli, T. S. Motzkin, I. J. Schoenberg,
R. S. Varga, J. L. Walsh, and H. Zassenhaus.
Although he was unable to visit the Mathematics Department
of the University of Alberta in his final years, his immobility did
not prevent him from doing mathematics. He was up-to-date in the

xxiii
literature of his chosen subject, approximation theory. Fortunately,
email enabled him to remain in contact with friends and colleagues.
He was very eager to stay mobile as long as possible.
The last conference he attended, and even gave a plenary talk,
was in the summer of 1999 in Budapest. He made the long trip
against the advice of family, doctors and friends, using a wheelchair
at airports, and delivered a successful talk. He even attended the
conference excursion, a further indication of his unflagging willpower.
He was an expert in the theory of interpolation. His dream for
many years was to write a monograph on his favorite subject, the
theory of over-convergence of complex polynomials. This theory is
based on the classic result of J. Walsh stating that the difference
of the partial sums of the Taylor series of an analytic function and
the Lagrange interpolation polynomials of the function based on the
roots of unity converges to zero in a circle larger than the domain of
analyticity, although both diverge there. The project started about
ten years ago, but his death prevented him from completing the
work. It is our duty now to finish the monograph and thus realize
his dream.
He was a person devoted to his profession and did not care much
for other worldly pleasures. At the same time, he was very sensitive
to his friends’ problems and did everything he could to help people.
In particular, he tried to help Ph.D. students and fresh Ph.D.s.
He was the most friendly person we have ever met. He was a credit
to mathematics and, especially, approximation theory.

Acknowledgment. Reprinted from Journal of Approximation

Theory, Vol. 131, No 1, 2004, pp. 1 - 2, with permission from Elsevier.

Scientific Papers of Ambikeshwar Sharma

1. On the minimal interval of ζ in the second mean-value theorem,

Proc. Benares Math. Soc. (N.S.) 7(2) (1945) 33–40.

2. On the zeros of a class of functions, Proc. Benares Math. Soc.

(N.S.) 8(2) (1946) 1–21.

xxiv
3. (with S. C. Mitra), On a generalization of Weber’s parabolic
cylinder functions, Proc. Benares Math. Soc. (N.S.) 9 (1947)
25–31.

4. On a generalization of Legendre polynomials, Bull. Calcutta

Math. Soc. 40 (1948) 195- -206.

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16. (with H. M. Srivastava), On certain functional relations and
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17. On Golab’s contribution to Simpson’s formula, Ann. Polon.

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18. q-Bernoulli and Euler numbers of higher order, Duke Math. J.

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23. Remark on a paper of Cinquini, Acta Math. Acad. Sci. Hungar.

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27. Remarks on quasi-Hermite-Fejér interpolation, Canad. Math.

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28. Interpolation by polynomials in z and z −1 in the roots of unity,
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30. (with T. S. Motzkin), Next-to-interpolatory approximation on

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31. (with E. W. Cheney), Bernstein Power-Series, Canad. J. Math.

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32. (with E. W. Cheney), On a generalization of Bernstein poly-

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38. (with A. Meir), Degree of approximation of spline interpolation,

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39. Lacunary interpolation in the roots of unity (German and Rus-

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41. (with A. Meir), Simultaneous approximation of a function and

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42. (with A. Meir), Span of linear combinations of derivatives of
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43. (with A. Meir), A variation of the Tchebyschev. quadrature

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44. (with A. Meir), Approximation methods by polynomials and

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45. (with A. K. Varma), Trigonometric interpolation (0, 2, 3) case,

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46. (with J. Prasad), On Abel-Hermite-Birkhoff interpolation, SIAM

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47. (with A. Meir), Symmetric differences and derivatives, Indag.

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48. (with A. Meir), A generalization of the Sα-summation method,

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49. (with A. Meir), Convergence of a class of interpolatory splines,

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50. (with A. Meir), One-sided spline approximation, Studia Sci.

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51. (with K. Atkinson), A partial characterization of poised Hermite-

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52. (with A. Meir), An extension of Obreshkov’s formula, SIAM J.

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53. (with A. Meir), On zeros of derivatives of polynomials, Canad.

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54. (with D. Leeming), Lacunary interpolation (0, n-1, n) case,

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55. (with A. Meir), On Ilyeff’s conjecture, Pacific J. Math. 31

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56. (with A. Meir), Multipoint expansions of finite differences, in:
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57. (with D. Leeming), A generalization of the class of completely
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58. (with A. Meir), On uniform approximation by cubic splines, J.
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59. (with G. Alexits), On the convergence of multiplicatively or-
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60. (with S. P. Pethe), Modified Abel expansion and a sub-class
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61. Some poised and non-poised problems of interpolation. (Survey
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62. (with T. S. Motzkin), A sequence of linear polynomial opera-
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63. (with I. J. Schoenberg), The interpolatory background of the
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64. (with S. P. Pethe), Functions analogous to completely convex
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66. (with G. Alexits), The influence of Lebesgue functions on the
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67. (with I. J. Schoenberg), Cardinal interpolation and spline func-
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68. (with T. S. Motzkin and E. G. Straus), Averaging interpola-

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69. (with E. G. Straus), On the irreducibility of a class of Euler-

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70. (with G. Freud), Some good sequences of interpolatory poly-

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71. Some poised problems of interpolation, in: G. Alexits and S.

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72. (with R. DeVore and A. Meir), Strongly and weakly non-poised

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73. (with R. B. Saxena), Convergence of averaging interpolation

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74. (with T. N. E. Greville and I. J. Schoenberg), The spline inter-

polation of sequences satisfying a linear recurrence relation, J.
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75. (with A. Meir and J. Tzimbalario), Hermite-Fejér type inter-

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76. (with M. A. Botto), Averaging interpolation on sets with mul-

tiplicities, Aequationes Math. 15(1) (1977) 63–72.

77. (with S. L. Lee), Cardinal lacunary interpolation by g-splines.

I. The characteristic polynomials, J. Approx. Theory 16(1)
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79. (with S. L. Lee and J. Tzimbalario), A class of cardinal splines

with Hermite type interpolation, J. Approx. Theory 18(1) (1976)
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80. (with J. Tzimbalario), Cardinal interpolation and generalized

exponential Euler splines, Canad. J. Math. 28(2) (1976)
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81. (with J. Tzimbalario), Cardinal t-perfect L-splines, SIAM J.

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82. (with J. Tzimbalario), A class of cardinal trigonometric splines,

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83. (with J. Tzimbalario), Landau-type inequalities for some linear

differential operators, Illinois J. Math. 20(3) (1976) 443–455.

84. (with J. Tzimbalario), Quadratic splines, J. Approx. Theory

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85. (with J. Tzimbalario), Classes of functions defined by differen-

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86. (with J. Tzimbalario), Some inequalities for a certain class of

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87. (with J. Tzimbalario), Landau-type inequalities for bounded

intervals, Period. Math. Hungar. 9(3) (1978) 175–186.

88. (with J. Tzimbalario), Some inequalities between derivatives

on bounded intervals, Delta (Waukesha) 6(2) (1976) 78–91.

89. (with J. Tzimbalario), Some linear differential operators, and

generalized differences. (Russian), Mat. Zametki 21(2) (1977)
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90. (with J. Tzimbalario), Some strongly non-poised H-B prob-

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91. (with J. Tzimbalario), A generalization of monosplines and per-
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92. (with J. Tzimbalario), A generalization of a result of Subbotin,

in: G. G. Lorentz, C. K. Chui, and L. L. Schumaker (Eds.),
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93. (with R. N. Mohapatra), Discrete exponential Abel-Euler splines,

J. Indian Math. Soc. (N.S.) 42(1-4) (1978) 367–379.

94. (with R. N. Mohapatra), Convergence of discrete spline in-

terpolants without mesh ratio restrictions, Indian J. of Math.
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95. (with K. K. Mathur), Discrete polynomials splines on the circle,

Acta Math. Acad. Sci. Hungar. 33(1-2) (1979) 143–153.

96. (with Geza Freud), Addendum: “Some good sequences of inter-

polatory polynomials,” Canad. J. Math. 29(6) (1977)
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97. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and R. S. Varga), Interpolation in

the roots of unity: An extension of a theorem of J. L. Walsh,
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98. (with C. A. Micchelli), Spline functions on the circle: Cardinal

L-splines revisited, Canad. J. Math. 32(6) (1980) 1459–1473.

99. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and R. S. Varga), Hermite-Birkhoff

interpolation in the nth roots of unity, Trans. Amer. Math.
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100. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and R. S. Varga), Lacunary trigono-

metric interpolation on equidistant nodes, in: R. DeVore and
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101. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. and C. A. Micchelli), Multivariate
interpolation and the Radon transform, Math. Z. 174(3) (1980)
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102. (with P. W. Smith and J. Tzimbalario), Polynomial interpo-

lation in the roots of unity with applications, in: C. Ciesiel-
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103. (with S. Riemenschneider), Birkhoff interpolation at the nth

roots of unity: convergence, Canad. J. Math. 33(2) (1981)
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104. (with P. W. Smith and S. Riemenschneider), Convergence of la-

cunary trigonometric interpolation on equidistant nodes, Acta
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105. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and C. A. Micchelli), Multivari-

ate interpolation and the Radon transform. II. Some further
examples, in: R. DeVore and K. Scherer (Eds.), Quantitative
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106. (with E. B. Saff and R. S. Varga), An extension to rational

functions of a theorem of J. L. Walsh on differences of in-
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107. (with R. Askey and I. J. Schoenberg), Hausdorff’s moment

problem and expansions in Legendre polynomials, J. Math.
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108. (with P. Vértesi), Mean convergence and interpolation in roots

of unity, SIAM J. Math. Anal. 14(4) (1983) 800–806.

109. (with A. K. Varma), Lacunary trigonometric interpolation on

equidistant nodes (convergence), J. Approx. Theory 35(1) (1982)
45–63.

110. (with A. M. Chak and J. Szabados), On a problem of P. Turán,

Studia Scient. Math. Hungar. 15(4) (1980) 441–455.

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111. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. T. N. T. Goodman and C. A. Mic-
chelli), Multivariate interpolation and the Radon transform.
III. Lagrange representation, Canad. Math. Soc. Conf. Proc. 3
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112. (with T. N. E. Greville and I. J. Schoenberg), The behavior

of the exponential Euler spline Sn (x; t) as n → ∞ for negative
values of the base t, Canad. Math. Soc. Conf. Proc. 3 (1983)
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113. (with R. B. Saxena and Z. Ziegler), Hermite-Birkhoff inter-

polation on roots of unity and Walsh equiconvergence, Linear
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114. (with S. L. Lee, C. A. Micchelli and P. W. Smith), Some prop-

erties of periodic B-spline collocation matrices, Proc. Roy. Soc.
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115. (with C. A. Micchelli), On a problem of Turán: multiple node

Gaussian quadrature, Rend. Mat. (7) 3(3) (1983) 529–552.

116. (with T. N. T. Goodman), Convergence of multivariate polyno-

mials interpolating on a triangular array, Trans. Amer. Math.
Soc. 285(1) (1984) 141–157.

117. (with J. Fabrykowski and H. Zassenhaus), Some Birkhoff inter-

polation problems on the roots of unity, Linear Algebra Appl.
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118. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. and R. S. Varga), A theorem of J.

L. Walsh, revisited, Pacific J. Math. 118 (2) (1985) 313–322.

119. (with E. B. Saff), On equiconvergence of certain sequences

of rational interpolants, in: Proc. Conf. on Approximation,
Tampa, Florida, 1983, Lecture Notes in Math. 1105, Springer-
Verlag, Berlin, 1984, pp. 256–271.

120. (with H. P. Dikshit and J. Tzimbalario), Asymptotic error

expansions for spline interpolation, Canad. Math. Bull. 27(3)
(1984) 337–344.

xxxiv
121. (with C. A. Micchelli), Convergence of complete spline inter-
polation for holomorphic functions, Ark. Mat. 23(1) (1985)
159–170.

122. (with S. D. Riemenschneider and P. W. Smith), Lacunary trigono-

metric interpolation: convergence, in: E. W. Cheney (Ed.),
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123. Birkhoff interpolation on the roots of unity, in: S. P. Singh, J.

H. W. Burry, and B. Watson (Eds.), Approximation Theory
and Spline Functions, Reidel, Dordrecht, 1984, pp. 199–205.

124. (with Z. Ziegler), Walsh equiconvergence for best l2-approximates,

Studia Math. 77(5) (1984) 523–528.

125. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. and H. P. Dikshit), An extension of

a theorem of Walsh, Resultate Math. 7(2) (1984) 154–163.

126. (with T. N. T. Goodman and S. L. Lee), Approximation by Λ-

splines on the circle, Canad. J. Math. 37(6) (1985)
1085–1111.

127. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. and R. S. Varga), Converse results

in the Walsh theory of overconvergence, RAIRO Modél. Math.
Anal. Numér. 19(4) (1985) 601–609.

128. (with T. N. T. Goodman), A property of Bernstein-Schoenberg

spline operators, Proc. Edinburgh Math. Soc. (2) 28(3) (1985)
333–340.

129. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr. and J. Tzimbalario), Convergence

of a class of interpolatory splines for holomorphic functions, J.
Approx. Theory 46(4) (1986) 374–384.

130. (with V. Singh), Some Bernstein type inequalities for polyno-

mials, Analysis 5(4) (1985) 321–341.

131. (with A. Jakimovski), Lacunary trigonometric interpolation on

equidistant nodes, Analysis 6(2-3) (1986) 269–284.

xxxv
132. (with K. G. Ivanov), Some new results on Walsh th eory of
equiconvergence, in: J. Szabados (Ed.), Proc. Haar Memo.
Conf. Budapest, August 1985, Vol.1, Colloq. Math. Soc. János
Bolyai, 49, North-Holland, Amsterdam, 1987, pp. 465–474.

133. (with K. G. Ivanov), More quantitative results on Walsh equicon-

vergence. I. Lagrange case, Constr. Approx. 3(3) (1987)
265–280.

134. (with K. G. Ivanov), Quantitative results on Walsh equicon-

vergence II (Hermite interpolation and l2 -approximation), Ap-
prox. Theory Appl. 2(1) (1986) 47–64.

135. (with M. A. Bokhari), Equiconvergence of certain sequences of

rational interpolants (Hermite case), in: C. A. Micchelli, D. V.
Pai and B. V. Limaye (Eds.), Methods of Functional Analysis
in Approximation Theory, ISNM 76, Birkhäuser, Basel, 1986,
pp. 281–292.

136. Some recent results on Walsh theory of equiconvergence, in:

C. Chui, L. Schumaker, and J. Ward (Eds.), Approximation
Theory V, Academic Press, New York, 1986, pp. 173–190.

137. Lacunary trigonometric interpolation on equidistant nodes (a

survey), Math. Student 55(2-4) (1987) 123–131.

138. (with H. P. Dikshit and A. Ojha), Certain mapping proper-

ties of rational complex planar splines, Math. Proc. Cambridge
Philos. Soc. 101(1) (1987) 141–149.

139. (with T. N. T. Goodman and I. J. Schoenberg), Piecewise

smooth solutions of some difference-differential equations, J.
Approx. Theory 48(3) (1986) 262–271.

140. (with T. N. T. Goodman and S. L. Lee), Asymptotic formula

for the Bernstein- Schoenberg operator, Approx. Theory Appl.
4(1) (1988) 67–86.

141. (with M. R. Akhlaghi and A. M. Chak), (0, 2, 3) interpolation

on zeros of πn (x), Approx. Theory Appl. 4(2) (1988) 55–74.

xxxvi
142. (with M. R. Akhlaghi and A. M. Chak), (0,3) interpolation on
zeros of πn (x), Rocky M. J. 19(1) (1989) 9–21.

143. (with J. Szabados and R. S. Varga), 2-periodic lacunary trigono-

metric interpolation: the (0,M) case, in: B. Sendov, P. Petru-
shev, K. Ivanov, and R. Maleev (Eds.), Constructive Theory
of Functions ’87, Bulgarian Academy of Sciences, Sofia, 1987,
pp. 420–427.

144. (with H. P. Dikshit, V. Singh and F. Stenger), Rivlin’s Theo-

rem on Walsh equiconvergence, J. Approx. Theory 52(3) (1988)
339–349.

145. (with J. Szabados), Convergence rates for some lacunary in-

terpolators on the roots of unity, Approx. Theory Appl. 4(2)
(1988) 41–48.

146. (with K. G. Ivanov), Converse results on equiconvergence of

interpolating polynomials, Anal. Math. 14(2) (1988) 185–192.

147. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and H. P. Dikshit), Convergence

of certain polynomial interpolants to a function defined on the
unit circle, Acta Math. Hungar. 53(1-2) (1989) 143–147.

148. (with T. N. T. Goodman), A modified Bernstein-Schoenberg

operator, in: B. Sendov, P. Petrushev, K. Ivanov, and R.
Maleev (Eds.), Constructive Theory of Functions ’87, Bulgar-
ian Academy of Sciences, Sofia, 1987, pp. 166–173.

149. (with T. N. T. Goodman and S. L. Lee), Approximation and

interpolation by complex splines on the torus, Proc. Edinburgh
Math. Soc.(2) 32(2) (1989) 197–212.

150. (with M. R. Akhlaghi and A. Jakimovski), Equiconvergence

of some complex interpolatory polynomials, Numer. Math. 57
(6-7) (1990) 635–649.

151. (with R. S. Varga), On a particular 2-periodic lacunary trigono-

metric interpolation problem on equidistant nodes, Resultate
Math. 16(3-4) (1989) 383–404.

xxxvii
152. (with D. P. Dryanov and R. Q. Jia), Quadrature formulae
with Birkhoff-type data on equidistant nodes for 2π-periodic
functions, in: P. Nevai and A. Pinkus (Eds.), Progress in Ap-
proximation Theory, Academic Press, New York, 1991, pp.
243–261.

153. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr., and C. A. Micchelli), A multivari-

ate extension of Walsh equiconvergence, in: C. Chui, L. Schu-
maker, and J. Ward (Eds.), Approximation Theory VI, Vol.I,
Academic Press, New York, 1989, pp. 121–124.

154. (with J. Szabados and R. S. Varga), Some 2π-periodic trigono-

metric interpolation problems on equidistant nodes, Analysis,
11(2-3) (1991) 165–190.

155. (with T. N. T. Goodman), Trigonometric interpolation, Proc.

Edinburgh Math. Soc. (2) 35(3) (1992) 457–472.

156. (with Yuan Xu), Mean convergence of trigonometric interpolants

on equidistant nodes: Birkhoff data, Bull. Polish Acad. Sci.
39(3.4) (1991) 199–206.

157. (with R. Q. Jia), Solvability of some multivariate interpolation

problems, J. Reine Angew. Math. 421 (1991) 73–81.

158. (with J. Szabados and R. S. Varga), Some 2-periodic trigono-

metric interpolation problems on equidistant nodes. II. Con-
vergence, Studia Sci. Math. Hungar. 29(3-4) (1994) 415–432.

159. (with R. B. Saxena), Almost Hermitian trigonometric inter-

polation on three equidistant nodes, Aequationes Math. 41(1)
(1991) 55–69.

160. (with A. S. Cavaretta, Jr.), Variation diminishing properties

and convexity for the tensor product Bernstein operator,
Springer-Verlag Lecture Notes in Math. 1511 (1992) 18–32.

161. (with M. A. Bokhari), Equiconvergence of some sequences of

rational functions, Internat. J. Math. Math. Sci. 15(2) (1992)
221–228.

xxxviii
162. (with T. N. T. Goodman), A Bernstein type operator on the
simplex, Math. Balkanica (N.S) 5(2) (1991) 129–145.

163. (with K. G. Ivanov), Walsh equiconvergence and (l, ρ) distin-

guished points, Constr. Approx. 7(3) (1991) 315–327.

164. (with T. N. T. Goodman), Factorization of totally positive,

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Other documents randomly have
different content
daylight, used to waylay her in the lane when she took the cows
back to the field, and stand with his arm about her in the dusk.
Temperance rubbed her eyes.
“The morning sun do dazzle,” she said, giving unsought
explanation of the moisture in her eyes.
“Better set right down and have breakfast,” said old Mr. Lansing.
“The young folks is turrible lazy, it seems to me, nowadays.”
“Oh, not all of them,” said Sidney. “Look at Temperance.”
Old Lansing chuckled delightedly.
“Nathan Peck had better look out, Temp’rins; I allus did say you
had a way with the men.”
Temperance tossed her head, well pleased.
“Will you have your eggs fried or biled?” she asked Sidney, the
blush upon her gaunt cheek giving her a sadly sweet look of
girlhood.
Old Lansing finished his breakfast and pushed back his chair.
“You’ll excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve been up since cock-crow, and
I hav’n’t done a blessed thing but water the cows. The men are in
the barn now waiting. Temp’rins ’ll give you breakfast. I’ll warrant
the girls will be surprised when they get down. Lazy critturs!
Temp’rins, why don’t you wake ’em up?”
“O sakes! Let ’em sleep,” said Temperance; “in a few more years
they’ll wake fast enough o’ their own accord. Laws! I kin mind when
I’d have slep’ all day if they’d let me be.”
In this homely sentence lay the secret of Temperance’s influence.
This gaunt old maid never forgot the workings of her own youth.
Indeed now that it was past she acknowledged its weaknesses very
frankly, and this reminiscence made her very lenient towards young
people.
Old Mr. Lansing departed for the barn, and Sidney, filled with
impatience to see Vashti, paced up and down the kitchen.
Temperance brought the eggs and sat down beside the tray,
looking at him with a sort of pitiful sympathy in her keen eyes.
Sidney essayed to begin his breakfast; a smile twitching the
corners of his sensitive mouth.
Temperance watched him.
At length he laid down his knife and looked at her.
A subtle atmosphere of sympathy made him confident and
expansive.
“I say, Temperance,” he said, “I was never so happy in all my life.
You don’t mind my talking to you about it, do you? I’m so happy that
—oh, Temperance.”
It was a boyish conclusion; he looked at the gaunt country
woman; her hands worked nervously; she looked as if she felt the
emotion which made him ineloquent.
“You have seen—you are pleased?” he continued in haphazard
fashion.
“Bless your soul, Sidney,” burst out Miss Tribbey, forgetting to be
formal, “I’m pleased if so be you’re happy. I ain’t very religious. I
expect I have a worldly heart. I’m like Martha in the Bible, allus
looking after cooking and sich, but I’ve said to my Nathan heaps o’
times, ‘He’s a blessing,’ I said, ‘to have in the house,’ and I mean it.
My soul! I only hope Vashti ’ll come up to your expectation.”
“Ah,” said Sidney, “there’s no doubt of that. She’s perfect.”
Miss Tribbey’s mouth half opened, then shut resolutely. She had
her own standard of perfection, but she had too much sense to
deprecate the lover’s fond extravagance.
“I’m perfectly content,” said Sidney, “perfectly.”
Miss Tribbey grew very white.
“Don’t say that,” she said earnestly, “don’t; no good ever came of
sich a boast. It’s terrible dangerous t’ say you are perfectly content.
I never knew good to come of it—never.”
“But I am,” said Sidney, feeling happy enough to challenge the
powers of evil en masse.
“Listen,” said Temperance gravely, “don’t say that. ’Taint meant for
mortal man to be content. ’Taint intended. What would make us
work for Heaven if we was perfectly content here? No, don’t say it.
I’ve known one or two people that thought themselves perfectly
content, and how soon they was brought down! There was Mrs.
Winder. Has anyone told you about Mrs. Winder?”
“No,” said Sidney, “but I know her by sight. She’s got a stern face.”
“Starn! You’d be starn-looking too if you’d come through what Sal
Winder has. First she married Joshua Winder; he was a bad lot if
ever there was one, and after they’d been married ten years and
had four children, what does he do but up and run away with a
bound girl at Mr. Phillipses, a red-cheeked, bold-faced critter she
was. Well, Sal never said nothin’. She was left with a mortgage and
the four children and a roof that leaked. I don’t s’pose anyone ever
knowed the shifts Sal was put to to bring up them young ones and
work that place and make both ends meet and keep the roof of the
old house from falling in. Mebbe you’ve remarked the old house? It’s
got a white rosebush by the door, and blue ragged-sailors in the
yard, and the pile of bricks beyond was once a smoke house. She
had all her hams and bacon stole one year to make things easier for
her. Well, her oldest boy was the most remarkable young one that
Dole ever see. Joshua his name was, after his father, but that’s all
the likeness there was between the two of them. That boy was jist
grit and goodness clean through! And the way he helped his mother!
There wasn’t a foot of that old place they didn’t work, and prices
were good then, and in about six years Sal got the mortgage paid.
She gave a dollar to the plate in church the next Sunday. Some held
’twas done to show off, but Sal wasn’t that stripe of woman. ’Twas a
thank-offering, that’s what it was.
“Well, next year Sal built a barn, and the year after the new house
was begun. The house went on slowly, for Sal wanted to pay as she
went along. Well, at last the house was built and painted real tasty,
and one day I was over there to visit a spell, and Sal says, ‘Joshua
has gone to pay the painter for the house painting,’ she says; ‘it’s a
sort of celebration for us and we’re having ducks for supper. I hope
you’ll stay and help us celebrate.’ Then she went on to say how good
Joshua had been, which she didn’t need to tell me, for all Dole
knowed he was perfect if ever there was a perfect son. So jest after
the lamps was lighted, in come Joshua. He was tall and slim; he
favoured Sal in his looks; he had worked so hard ever since he was
little that his hands had a turrible knotty look like an old man’s, and
he had a sort of responsible expression to his face. Well, we was all
setting at supper and Joshua had cut up the ducks and we was all
helped, and Sal says, ‘Now make your supper all of ye. We’ve had a
hard row to hoe, Joshua and me, but we’ve kep’ it clear o’ weeds,
and I guess we’re goin’ to have a harvest o’ peace and quiet after
the grubbin’.’ Joshua looked up at his mother, and I never seen two
people more happy to look at. Sal was real talkative that night, and
she says:
“‘Well, Temperance, I’m right glad you’re here to-night. I’m
perfectly content this night,’ she says. The words wasn’t out of her
mouth till I saw Joshua give a shiver—like a person with a chill in his
back.
“‘Have you got a chill, Joshua?’ I says, and he laughed quite
unconsarned, and he says, ‘Yes, I seem to have the shivers.’
“Four days after that Joshua Winder lay dead in the new house....
My! I mind how his hands looked in his coffin. His face was young,
but his hands looked as if he’d done his heft o’ work. No, never say
you are perfectly content. It’s turrible dangerous.”
Sidney’s sensitive heart was wrung by the homely story.
“Oh, Temperance,” he said, “why did you tell me that?” She looked
at him as a surgeon might regard one whom his healing lancet had
pained.
“Because,” said Temperance, “because it’s a tempting o’
Providence to say or to think you are content. I ain’t superstitious,
but I’d rather hear the bitterest complainings as to hear anyone say
that.”
“And yet,” said Sidney, “I should think the Lord would be pleased
to see people happy, each in his own way.”
“Well,” said Temperance, modestly, “I ain’t much on religion, Mr.
Martin. I can’t argue and praise and testify the way some can, but
my experience has been that when folks begin to think themselves
and their lives perfect and to mix up earth with heaven, and forget
which one they’re livin’ in, they’re apt to be brought up sudden. It
seems to me heaven’s a good deal like a bit o’ sugar held in front of
a tired horse to make him pull. I guess there’s a good many of us
would lie down in the harness if it wasn’t for that same bit of sugar;
we may look past the sugar for a while, but when we get to a bit of
stiff clay or run up against a rock we’re mighty glad to have the
sugar in front o’ us again; but, sakes! you ain’t made no breakfast,
and there’s the girls! You’ll breakfast with—her—after all.”
Temperance gave him an arch look and departed, and Mabella had
hardly crossed the threshold before the sympathetic Miss Tribbey
called her; when she arrived in the back kitchen Temperance took
her by the shoulders and whispered energetically in her ear:
“Sakes, M’bella! Don’t go where you ain’t wanted.”
Mabella’s eyes lighted with sympathy.
“You don’t say!” she said.
Temperance nodded like a mandarin.
“It must be catching!” said Mabella. “It was Nathan brought the
infection to the house.”
“Go ’long with you,” said Temperance, and with a very considerate
clatter of dishes she made her intended entry audible to the two
people in the kitchen.
Mabella looked at Vashti eagerly—sympathetically, but the calm,
beautiful face of her cousin was as a sealed book.
“Whatever was that noise in the night, Temperance?” asked
Vashti.
“Why, I don’t know,” said Temperance, “I was sure I heard a
noise, but I couldn’t see anything when I got up. Did you hear
anything, Mr. Martin?”
“Not I,” said Sidney, “but I was so busy with my own thoughts that
you might have fired a cannon at my ear and I would not have
heard it.” He looked at Vashti; her down-drooped eyes were fixed
upon her plate; suddenly he exclaimed:
“What have you done to your hand? It’s burned!”
“Yes,” she said quietly, “after I blew out my lamp last night I
knocked the chimney off. I caught it against my side with the back
of my hand, that burned it.”
“My!” said Mabella. “I would have let it break.”
Vashti smiled, and suddenly raised her eyes to Sidney.
“A little pain is good for me, I think. It makes one know things are
real.”
“But the reality is sometimes sweeter than the dream,” he said,
tenderly.
She let her eyes fall in maidenly manner. It was as if she had
spoken. This woman’s most ordinary movements proclaimed the
eloquence of gesture.
“You must have been up early,” said Mabella to Sidney.
“Yes,” he said, “I was in a hurry to leave the dream-world for the
real.”
“And how do you like it?” asked Mabella, saucily.
Vashti spoke at the moment, some trivial speech, but in her tone
there was the echo of might and right. It was as if with a wave of
her hand she brushed aside from his consideration everything, every
person, but herself.
They rose from the table together.
“Come out,” he whispered; she nodded, and soon they were
pacing together in the morning sunshine. Mabella looked after them;
turning, she saw Temperance wiping her eyes.
“What is it?” she asked with concern.
“Nothing,” said Temperance; “nothing; I’m real low in my spirits
this morning, though why, I’m sure I can’t say. But it’s fair touching
to hear him! There he was this morning talkin’ of her being perfect,
and sayin’ he was perfectly contented. It’s a tempting o’ Providence.
And, Mabella, there’s Vashti—she—well, I may misjudge,” concluded
Temperance lamely. “Sakes! look at them chickings,” with which
Temperance took herself off to regulate the ways and manners of
her poultry yard. Mabella departed to do her work light heartedly,
and Vashti out in the morning sunshine with her lover was weaving
her web more and more closely about him.

In two nights more Sidney was leaving Dole.

It was the night of the prayer meeting.
All Dole knew of his engagement to Vashti Lansing; all knew he
hoped to be the successor of old Mr. Didymus. The old white-headed
man had spoken a few words to him telling him how happy he was
to think of his place being so filled. He spoke of it calmly, but
Sidney’s lips quivered with emotion. Mr. Didymus said, “Wait till
you’re my age and you won’t think it sad to talk of crossing over.
Wife and I have been two lonely old people for long now, hearkening
for the Lord’s voice in the morning and in the evening, and
sometimes inclined to say: ‘How long, oh, Lord! How long?’ We
won’t be long separated. When folks live as long together as we
have they soon follow each other. That’s another of God’s
kindnesses.”
There was in the simple old man’s speech an actual faith and trust
which brought his belief within the vivid circle of reality.
“I will do my best,” said Sidney.
“The Lord will help you,” said the old man.
The prayer meeting was animated by thought for Sidney. There
was something in the idea of his going forth to prepare to be their
pastor which caught the Dole heart and stirred its supine
imagination.
When old Mr. Didymus prayed for him, that he might be kept, and
strengthened and guided, it was with all the fervour of his simple
piety. The intensity of his feelings communicated itself to his hearers.
Amens were breathed deeply and solemnly forth.
Vashti would have liked Sidney to speak.
“I cannot,” he said simply; nor was his silence ill thought of. He
was going forth; he was to be comforted; he was the one to listen
to-night whilst they encouraged him and plead for him, and again, in
the name of the Great Sacrifice, offered up petitions for him. The
hour had come for the closing of the meeting, when suddenly Mary
Shinar’s clear, high treble uttered the first words of one of the most
poignantly sweet hymns ever written.

“God be with you till we meet again—

May His tender care surround you,
And His Loving arm uphold you,
God be with you till we meet again.”

Every voice in the church joined in this farewell, and then the
benediction was slowly said—the old tender, loving, apostolic
benediction, and they all streamed forth into the chill purity of the
autumn night. They shook hands with him, and he stood among
them tall and slight and pale, inexpressibly touched by their
kindliness, unexpectedly thrilled by their display of emotion. It was
only their religion which moved these people to demonstration.
The last hand clasp was given. The lights in the church were out,
and the Lansing party took its way homeward.
Temperance’s face and Mabella’s were both tear-stained. Vashti’s
pale beauty shone out of the dusk with lofty quietude in every line.
Sidney looking at her felt he realized what perfection of body and
spirit meant.

A new moon was rising in the clear pale sky—the wide fields,
tufted here and there with dim blossomed wild asters, lay sweet and
calm, awaiting the approach of night as a cradled child awaits its
mother’s kiss. Far away the tinkling lights of solitary farm-houses
shone, only serving to emphasize the sense of solitude, here and
there a tree made a blacker shadow against the more intangible
shades of night. There was no sound of twilight birds; no murmur of
insect life.
Sidney was passing home through the heart of the silence after a
farewell visit to Lanty, who was kept at home nursing a sick horse.
It was the night before Sidney’s departure from the Lansing
house. The summer was over and gone. It had heaped the granaries
of his heart high with the golden grains of happiness. He walked
swiftly on, then suddenly conscious that he was walking upon
another surface than the grass, he paused and looked about him.
Around him was the tender greenness of the newly springing grain—
above him the hunters’ moon curved its silver crescent, very young
yet and shapen like a hunter’s horn. A new sweet night was
enfolding the earth, gathering the cares of the day beneath its
wings, and bringing with it as deep a sense of hopeful peace as fell
upon the earth after the transcendent glory of the first day, and here
amid these familiar symbols of nature’s tireless beginnings he was
conscious of an exalted sense of re-birth. He too was upon the verge
of a new era.
He stood silent, gazing out into the infinity of the twilight.
Afterwards when the pastoral mantle did fall upon his shoulders
there was a solemn laying on of hands, a solemn reception into the
ranks of those who fight for good; but the real consecration of
Sidney’s life took place in that lonely silent field, where the furrows
had not yet merged their identity one with the other, where the red
clods were not yet hidden by the blades. Out of the twilight a mighty
finger touched him, and ever after he bore upon his forehead almost
as a visible light the spiritual illumination which came to him then. It
was, alas, no self-comforting recognition of a personal God. It was
only the sense that all was in accord between the Purposer and the
world he had made; but this was much to Sidney. The man-made
discord could be remedied, even as the harsh keys may be attuned.
For ever after this hour he would give himself up to striving to bring
his fellows into accord with the beautiful world about them.
Suddenly he felt himself alone. A speck in the vastness of the
night, a little flame flickering unseen; but just as a sense of isolation
began to fall upon him a mellow glow gladdened his eyes—the light
from the open door of the old Lansing house. He bent his steps
towards it with a humble feeling that he had trodden upon holy
ground ere he was fitly purified.
In after days when many perplexities pressed upon him, he often
withdrew in spirit to this twilight scene. Of its grey shades, its dim
distances, its silence, its serenity, its ineffable purity he built for
himself a sanctuary.
Alas! In that sanctuary the God was always veiled.
CHAPTER IX.
It was nearly two years after Sidney went forth to prepare for the
pastorate of Dole, when he stood one morning reading and re-
reading the brief words of a telegram:
Come at once. Mr. Didymus is dying.
Vashti Lansing.
The old man had been failing fast since the springtime.
The first April showers were quickening the earth when one day
Sally found Mrs. Didymus dead in her chair, her Bible upon her knee,
her spectacles pushed up on her brow, her dead face turned to
where upon the wall hung a faded and discoloured portrait of
Martha.
“It won’t be long now,” Mr. Didymus had said to Sidney upon that
occasion, and Sidney felt it would be cruel to contradict his hope.
All summer long as Sidney read Vashti’s accounts of the old man’s
fluctuating health he had thought of the solemn gladness of the
moment when the summons should come. His loins had been girded
for months past and now he was to set forth.
He had said to Vashti in a wistful letter, “When the hour comes be
sure you send for me yourself. Let it be your personal summons
which brings me to your side.” And now such a summons lay before
him.
He had no preparations to make. All that required to be done
could be arranged afterwards. But, ere he set out for the new life,
he had one visit to pay. He had always promised himself that when
the hour came he would not taste of its joy till he had gone to the
man of whom he had thought during the first gladness of his
engagement.
Surely it was a curious thing that a minister of the Gospel should
seek counsel of an unlearned agnostic. Nevertheless Sidney went
confidently. At each step he took towards his destination he grew
more and more ashamed for that he had so long withdrawn himself
from this man.
Sidney found him in his old place amid the whirring wheels of the
great factory in which he worked. His grizzled hair was a trifle
greyer, his strong figure a little more bent; but his clear cut mouth
was as firm as ever, his eyes as wistful and eager. They had that
expression of receptiveness which so often marks the true sage,
who, very wise, is yet always eager to learn.
Between the sliding belts Sidney encountered his delighted gaze
fixed straight upon him. The visitor threading his way with difficulty
through the maze of machinery to where he stood with such a
welcome in his eyes that Sidney’s impulse had been to brave the
wheels and go straight.
“How I wanted to come and meet you,” said the man, holding out
a begrimed hand eagerly. “But you know my hand must be on the
lever always.”
“Ah,” said Sidney, “I felt your welcome even before I saw you, and
when I saw you formalities were discounted.”
The man looked at him, a shade of awe solemnizing the gladness
of his face.
“There are some things which almost frighten one,” he said. “Do
you know that all day long I have been thinking of you,
remembering the lectures you used to give us at the Shelley Club
and wondering if I should ever, ever hear from you again?”
“And now I am here!” said Sidney.
“Yes,” said the man, looking at him lovingly. “And it is so good to
see you.”
In the midst of his happiness Sidney remembered to say “And how
does the Shelley Club progress? Are you president yet?” The man
shifted his feet awkwardly.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
“Ah, the right man in the right place,” said Sidney cordially. “So the
club goes on?”
“Yes, we have nineteen members now and there are often fifty at
the meetings.”
“There’s a stride!” said Sidney. “We used to be proud of ourselves
if we could say ‘we are seven,’ didn’t we? Well, I would like to hear
your addresses.”
“You have some news to give me, I am sure,” said the man, who,
during the conversation manipulated his lever with the mechanical
precision of a man whom practice has made almost automatic.
Sidney flushed.
“Could you come out for a few minutes’ quiet talk?” he asked.
“I shall see,” said the man, turning a knob which arrested the
wheels. He went to a man almost as grimy as himself, but who wore
a coat. Sidney looked about him with shuddering disgust at the
surroundings.
The machinery beside him shivered with the suppressed energy
kept in check by the knob the man had turned. It seemed to Sidney
a symbol of the eager soul of the man whom he had come to see,
prisoned by circumstances within the circumference of petty cares,
yet quivering and throbbing with divine energy.
The man was returning pleased with the little boon of time he had
gained. The circumstances gripped Sidney’s heart. He felt his own
freedom and ease a reproach.
The man led the way, turning down the sleeves of his grey flannel
shirt. He passed broad-shouldered between the whizzing belts, one
touch of which meant mutilation. Sidney edged his way gingerly
after him. The spaces between the whirling wheels seemed very
narrow.
The workman led the way out into a desolate but sunny little
courtyard. A high wall enclosed it; great heaps of packing cases filled
one corner; a freight car, run in upon a little row of rails, stood just
within the gate.
“Sit down,” said the man, waving Sidney to a place upon a pile of
boards. It struck Sidney that there was a sense of luxury in the way
in which he let his frame relax; it was an unaccustomed treat,
evidently, these few moments stolen in the midst of the sunshiny
forenoon.
“Now for your news,” said the man. “Is it about yourself?”
“Yes,” said Sidney, “and it will surprise you greatly. I am about to
become, in fact already am, a Minister.”
“Of what—to whom—where?” asked the man.
“A preacher of the Christian gospel,” said Sidney. “To a pious little
community in the New England hills.”
There was silence for a moment. The whirr of the wheels came to
them, they heard a postman’s whistle in the street outside and the
chirping of some sparrows which fluttered about the empty car.
“You are disappointed,” said Sidney; “you disapprove, but——”
The man raised his hand.
“It’s for a woman, I suppose,” he said. “Would nothing satisfy her
but your soul?”
“Oh,” cried Sidney, “I will do my duty by them. I will preach the
truth to them. They shall know how noble and lovely life may be.
They shall be shown what real beauty is, and told that righteousness
for righteousness’ sake is the highest good.”
His friend sat silent still; Sidney looked at him almost pleadingly,
and saw that his eyes were blurred by tears.
“Listen,” he said to Sidney. “Give it up. You don’t know what you
are doing. It will kill you. I know you so well. You are salving your
conscience now by good resolutions. When you see the fruitlessness
of it all you will torture yourself with thoughts of your responsibility
and what not, and the end will be chaos.”
“Do you think I have not nearly gone mad already?” said Sidney,
growing very white. “Surely you must guess how I have questioned
my ability to do them good. But I think the worst of that is past now.
I shall have a stay, a support, an inspiration which will never flag.
The most beautiful and best woman in the world has promised to
marry me the day I become minister of Dole.”
“I’ve heard of the devil baiting his line with a woman,” said the
workman contemptuously, but yet in such a manner that Sidney
could not take offence. Then he went on:—
“You say you’ll do your duty by these people, but it’s not that I’m
thinking about. It’s you. Remember this, you are to work in the
vineyard of human nature, its soil is the shifting quicksand of human
weakness. When you feel that sucking you down, to what will you
turn? Upon what secret source of strength can you draw? Do you
think the men who preach the Christ word in the slums could live
and eat and continue their work unless they drew strength from
some unseen reservoir? No, a thousand times no. Of course, I think
their belief a delusion, but it is real to them, as real as the Divinity of
Truth, and Truth alone, is to me. To preach a personal God without
belief in one is to court destruction; at any moment, by
disappointment or self-reproach, you may be thrown back upon your
own beliefs. Shall the mother whom you have denied open her arms
to you? Or shall the personal God in whom you do not believe
sustain you? No, you will fall into the void. Sidney, give it up.”
There was a pause.
“I will never give it up,” he said. “I have promised that I shall
devote myself to the work, and I will. You speak as if I had denied
Nature and spat upon Truth. I have done neither. These two things
will bear me through. There was one night in the fields—there was a
new moon, and the young grain was springing. I saw things very
clearly just then. I felt I could do good, and that it was my bounden
duty to try. Bid me good-speed.”
The workman rose. He took Sidney’s hand and pressed it in both
of his.
“I think,” he said, “no human being ever began a hopeless course
with more sincere and honest good wishes.” As he held Sidney’s
hands and looked into the grey eyes of the younger man his own
keen eyes dimmed and grew seerlike. The look of the visionary
illumined his face.
“You will toil and strive and suffer,” he said. “You will spend and be
spent for others. You will have griefs, but you will never realise
them, for you will be too absorbed in the sorrows of others to feel
your own. You have bound yourself to a wheel, and until you are
broken upon it, and your spirit spilt into the bosom of the Eternal,
you will never know you have been tortured.”
A half sob arrested his speech.
“Good-bye,” he said, “good-bye!”
“Good-bye,” said Sidney, who was much moved. So the two men
parted. The one went into the sunshine; the other back into the hot
atmosphere, where the deleterious dust was eddied into maelstroms
by the whirling wheels.
The one murmured, “Vashti, Vashti”; the other, as he oiled the
wheels and bent strenuously over his work, thought long and
sorrowfully of many things. It chanced to be the meeting-night of
the Free Thinking Vegetarian Club, of which he was president, and in
his little speech he said much of a man who bartered his soul for a
mess of pottage. But he told the story in such fashion that this man
seemed to shine as an unselfish hero before their eyes, instead of as
a weakling, spendthrift of a precious heritage of independence.
Thus an author has sometimes such wholesome charity for his
villains that we love them more than their betters.
As Sidney was borne towards Dole that day, he relived as in a
vision all the events which followed that first haphazard visit of his.
And yet, could such a vital event be born of chance?
How well he recalled the peculiar fancy he had had when Dr.
Clement, after his visit to the country, gave him old Mr. Lansing’s
invitation.
It was as if a little bell set swinging in his father’s boyhood had
suddenly tinkled in his ear, bidding him turn in his youth to those
scenes where his father had been a boy.
He remembered the day when dear old Temperance first opened
the door to him. He knew now the enormity of his going direct to
the front door. In Dole only ministers and funerals went there.
Sidney never really acquired the etiquette of the Dole doors. One
has to be born in a court to properly appreciate its etiquette.
With epicurean delay the gentle stream of his recollections took
him down the road, past Mullein meadow (O! place of promise!), to
the “unction sale,” at Abiron Ranger’s, and then his memory leaped
the bounds, swept aside intervening incidents, and dwelt upon the
glorified vision of beautiful Vashti. Ah! “Who ever loved that loved
not at first sight?”
Then followed his long visit with its rhythmic lapse of happy days.
Then, the Holy Grail of her heart had been won.
And afterwards came the long waiting. The short visits to Dole.
And now!
The marriage of Mabella and Lanty had taken place a month or so
after Sidney left Dole the first time. Their little daughter Dorothy was
more than a year old now.
Temperance and Nathan were not yet married, but three months
before Temperance had bought a new black cashmere dress in
Brixton, and Nathan was known to have priced a china tea set, with
gilt rosebuds in the bottoms of the cups. Dole felt, therefore, that
matters were approaching a crisis with Temperance and Nathan.
Old Mr. Lansing had grown very frail. He had had a stroke of
paralysis, and had never been the same man again. His eyes always
had an apprehensive look which was very painful to witness; and
strangely enough this quiet, self-contained old man, who all his life
had seemed so content with the little village where he was born, so
scornfully unconscious of the world which fretted and throbbed
beyond its quiet boundaries, now showed a great eagerness for
word from the outside. He subscribed to several newspapers. And
when Sidney came the old man would question him with persistent
and pathetic eagerness about the details of different events which
he had seen chronicled with big typed headings, and Sidney found
himself often sore at heart because he knew nothing whatever about
the matter. American journalism has some grave flaws in its
excellence, and surely the hysterical lack of all sense of proportion
and perspective in presenting the picture of the times is a deplorable
thing. It does grave and positive harm in the rural districts where it
is impossible for the people to gauge the statements by comparison
with events.
Sidney was greatly touched by the misconception of old Mr.
Lansing in regard to these things.
“Ah,” said the old man once, laying down the paper in which he
had read a grotesquely exaggerated account of some political caucus
which was made to appear like a meeting of the national powers,
“Ah, there’s no wonder dear old Sid went to Bosting.” He shook his
head and sat with his elbows upon his chair, looking before him into
vacancy. What fanciful vista of possibilities did he look upon? What
vague regrets beset his mind? To Sidney this was unspeakably
pitiful. This old man with his young dreams—and it was the more
sad, inasmuch as the dreamer himself knew their futility.
Old Lansing had always been a “forehanded” man with his work.
He had never left over one season’s duties till another, but he had
forgotten to dream in his youth, and now he was striving in his age
to overtake the neglected harvests of his garden of fancy.
When the train stopped at Brixton the first person whom Sidney
saw was Lanty. Lanty tall and strong, and debonair as ever. He
greeted Sidney very heartily.
“You’ve come for keeps this time,” he said, as he led the way to
where the roan, a trifle more sedate than formerly, stood waiting
between the shafts of a very spick-and-span buggy.
“We will go straight to the preacher’s,” said Lanty. “I hope we’ll be
in time.”
“Is he so low?”
“Dying,” said Lanty simply. He touched the roan with the reins and
it sprang forward. Sidney’s heart fled before. The landscape upon
either side stretched dimly before his eyes. He was conscious that
Lanty was speaking to him, and he made suitable replies. But all his
mind was glamoured by one thought, for Vashti had promised that
Mr. Didymus should marry them.
Was this then THE DAY?
They passed Lanty’s house, a square building with heavily
timbered porch, and Lanty drew rein to call “Mabella, Mabella!” But
there was no reply.
“She must have gone into Dole,” said he, and once more they
went on. Ere long they were driving up the streets of Dole. The
women stood at the doorways with elaborate pretence of being
occupied. The men endeavoured to infuse surprise into their
recognition of Sidney, although most of them had purposely elected
to stay in the village “choring” around the house instead of going to
the fields or the woods.
The wise wives of Dole, knowing the amiable weakness of their
husbands, had preferred special requests that day to have work
done about the house. In Dole a man always thought he was
conferring a personal favour upon his wife if he straightened up a
leaning garden fence, mended a doorstep, or banked up a cellar for
winter. There were six cellars banked up in Dole on the day when
Sidney entered it. Upon the spring air the odour of fresh-turned
earth speaks of new ploughed fields and fresh harvests, but in
autumn the earthy smell is chill and drear, and brings with it a sense
of mortality, a hint of the end. And this atmosphere hung heavy over
the little village as Sidney entered it.
As the buggy drawn by the roan horse passed, the ranks of Dole
closed up. That is, each woman crossed to her neighbour, and the
men rested from their labours to discuss the arrival.
There was one thing that never was forgotten about Sidney’s
entry—a circumstance viewed severely by the many, leniently by the
few—he wore a grey suit of clothes. Dole murmured in its heart at
this infringement of the ministerial proprieties, but Dole was
destined to experience a succession of such shocks, for its young
and eager pastor trod often upon the outspread skirts of its
prejudices.
Sidney himself was profoundly moved as he drove up the street,
for he was entering the precincts of his holy city. In the geography
of the heart there are many cities. There is the place where we were
born; the place of our dreams; the Rome which under one guise or
another fills the foreground of our ambitions; and above all there is
the place where first we tasted of love, ah, that is where the Temple
Beautiful stands. And Sidney’s first and only love had been born in
Dole.
Eager eyes were watching for them from the parsonage windows;
Mabella, the habitual happiness of her face masked and subdued by
tender-hearted concern; Mrs. Ranger, a bustling important woman of
many airs and graces, filled with a sense of her own importance, and
knowing that her every action would be reported to Temperance
Tribbey (her sworn enemy) by Mabella; Mr. Simpson who had nursed
Mr. Didymus from the beginning; and, waiting alone and silently in
the tiny hall upstairs, Vashti Lansing.
She saw the two men coming up the street, side by side in the
buggy, and her heart leaped up and cried for the one who was
denied her. Again an angry gust of passion shook her as she looked.
For the one moment her decision wavered. That pale slight man
whose grey eyes were so eager, so alight with hope and love, was
nothing to her compared to the blue-eyed, fair-haired young
countryman. Why should she condemn herself to the torture of the
continual contrast? But this way her revenge lay, unplanned yet, but
so eagerly desired. She would surely, surely find some means to
make them feel her power when as the preacher’s wife she was First
Lady in Dole. So Vashti Lansing, filled with Samson-like courage to
wreck her enemies at any price, slowly descended the stairs as
Sidney entered the front door. Then she went towards him.
Mabella saw them and with adroit sympathy endeavoured to
detain Mrs. Ranger in the kitchen. But that worthy woman saw
through Mabella’s artifice, and leaving her question unanswered
made for the door which led from the kitchen into the little front
hall; whereupon Mabella deliberately placed herself in Mrs. Ranger’s
way, and animated by the courage which springs from consciousness
of a good cause, dodged every attempt of that irate person to pass
her. Mrs. Ranger endured this as long as she could, then, without
more ado, she put out a strong arm and brushed Mabella aside.
“Take care,” she said and passed into the hall. But Sidney had had
his greeting, and Vashti’s calm face baffled her inquiring looks.
“I could see there had been something,” she said in reporting the
matter, “but what had happened I don’t know.”
“My sakes,” said Mrs. Simpson, when Mrs. Ranger told her this,
“I’m sure you must have been busy in the kitchen if you couldn’t
spare time to watch ’em meet. My soul! If Len was worth his salt for
observation he’d have kep’ his eyes open. But sakes! Men’s that
stoopid——. But with you there I thought we’d know how things was
goin’——”
“Well,” said Mrs. Ranger tartly, “you can thank Mabella Lansing for
that. First as I was going out she ups and asks me a question. I paid
no attention to that for I knew ’twas done to hinder (them Lansings
is all in the same boat), and then when she seen I wasn’t to be took
in with that she deliberately put herself in the way, and dodged me
back and forward till I had all I could do to keep from giving her a
good shove.”
“Well, M’bella Lansing had better look out. It’s a bad thing to be
set up. Pride goes before a fall. And M’bella’s certainly most
wonderful sure of self. But Lanty wouldn’t be the first young chap to
——. Of course I ain’t sayin’ anything, but they do say——”
Mrs. Ranger waited eagerly to see if her friend would commit
herself to a definite statement. But Mrs. Simpson was much too
wary for that; so Mrs. Ranger nodded her head, and pursed up her
lips, and managed to convey the impression that “she could an’ she
would” unfold a tale.
But this was some days after Sidney met Vashti in the narrow hall
of the Dole parsonage.
“I am here, Vashti,” he whispered, kissing her.
“Yes, how glad I am!” she answered simply.
“Can I speak to you just a moment, dear, before I go to see him?”
“What is it?”
“Do you remember,” he whispered hurriedly, “that you promised
old Mr. Didymus that he should marry us? Vashti, I have waited so
long. I tremble before the responsibility of the life I have chosen.
Strengthen me with the fulfilment of your promise to better keep
mine.”
Just then Mr. Simpson came in.
“He’s askin’ if you be come yet,” he said to Sidney. “I—wouldn’t
wait long before seein’ him if I was you; he’s sinkin’.”
“I will come in at once,” said Sidney. Mr. Simpson turned and re-
entered the sick room.
Sidney turned to Vashti. At that moment Mrs. Ranger, flushed and
a little ruffled by her combat with Mabella, entered the hall.
“How d’ye do, Mr. Martin?” she said, holding out her hand. “We’d
be right glad t’ see you if the time wasn’t so sad.”
“I am pleased to see you,” said Sidney, in his gentle genial way,
shaking hands with her. She looked from his face to Vashti’s with an
almost ridiculously eager scrutiny, but found herself baffled.
“You’d better go right in and see Mr. Didymus,” she said. “He’s bin
askin’ for you.” At this juncture Mabella appeared, an adorably
matronly Mabella.
“How are you, Sidney?” she asked. “Mrs. Ranger, I’m afraid your
pies are burning or running over or something, I smelt them.”
“Laws,” said that good woman, disappearing like a shot. “Didn’t
you have sense enuff to go to the oving instead o’ coming t’ me?”
“If you want to talk,” said Mabella coolly to Sidney and Vashti, “go
into the sitting-room, and when she comes back I’ll tell her you’ve
gone in to see Mr. Didymus.”
“You’re an angel,” said Sidney, and drew Vashti through the
doorway just as Mrs. Ranger came back angrily.
“Them pies ain’t half cooked,” she said, “let alone burning!”
“Well, I’m sure I thought I smelt them,” said Mabella, “and I know
you didn’t want to leave the pie-making for Temperance to do when
she came this evening.”
“If the pies had burned I’d have made others, depend on that,”
said Mrs. Ranger. “I guess Temp’rins Tribbey never had to do
anything over after me! I s’pose he’s gone in to see Mr. Didymus
now?”
“We may as well go,” said Mabella. “He won’t be back for awhile
likely.”
So the two went back to the kitchen, where Lanty, after watering
the roan, stood eating biscuits from the heap upon the bake board.
“Vashti,” said Sidney, taking her in his arms, “say yes. You know I
adore you—and—Vashti, you will——”
She looked into his eyes. For one moment a womanly hesitation
prevailed in her heart. The next she questioned herself angrily: “Why
wait, why delay, why not begin to lay the threads of your revenge?”
“But”—she paused and looked down. He drew her closer.
“Darling, it is the knowledge that you are really mine that I want.
You surely do not think I would be exacting to you? You shall come
to me when you will; say yes, dear——”
“It is so hurried—so—you are good,” she said, with charming
affectation of hesitancy.
“Send Lanty over for your father,” said Sidney, “and Temperance
and I will go in and ask Mr. Didymus.”
“I—yes, Sidney, I will do as you wish,” she said, then for one
instant, abashed by the great glad light in his eyes, she let fall her
face upon his breast.
“And Vashti—after—you won’t keep me waiting too long.”
She looked at him, arch rebuke in her eyes.
He reddened.
“There,” he said, “I’m spoiling it all I know. Go, dear, and send
Lanty.” She moved away a step. He followed her swiftly and caught
her to his breast with passion.
“Tell me, Vashti,” he said, “that you love me as I love you; tell me
that life together seems the only thing possible to you.” She put her
arms about his neck.
“I love you dearly,” she said, “I could not look forward to life
except with you.”
With those words and with the embrace of her soft warm arms,
every doubt or shadow died in Sidney’s heart. He returned her
embrace, too moved to speak, and left her to enter the room of the
dying man.
Vashti went to the kitchen door and called her cousin.
“Lanty,” she said, “will you come a moment?”
He left Mabella and came to her.
“Come outside,” she said, “I want you to do something for me.”
Then as they got beyond Mrs. Ranger’s hearing she continued: “I
want you to go over and fetch father and Temperance. Sidney is
bent upon being married by Mr. Didymus and—I have consented.”
There was a kind of agony in the regard she gave Lanty. “Will you
go?” she said; her voice sounded far away to herself, and all at once
it seemed to her as if she could hear the blood rushing through her
veins, with a roaring as of mill-streams. And Lanty, all unconscious
of this, stood smiling before her. Truly, if Vashti Lansing sinned, she
also suffered.
“It’s a capital idea,” said Lanty heartily. “You are a lucky girl,
Vashti. I’ll go at once; have you told Mabella yet?”
The pent-up forces of Vashti’s heart leaped almost beyond the
bounds.
“Go,” she said, with a strange sweet shrillness in her voice. “Go, at
once.”
“I will, of course, I will,” said Lanty, and he suited the action to the
word. He paused an instant to tell Mabella, and added: “You go and
talk to Vashti, she’s as nervous as you were.”
Then he departed and Vashti watched him, wondering a little why
she had been born to such a perverse fate. As she turned from the
empty distance where he had disappeared it was to be met by
Mabella’s arms, and kisses, and congratulations, and exclamations.
Poor Mabella! All was so well meant, and surely we would not blame
her; and yet, though a creature be worthy of death, we do not like
to see it tormented and baited. Vashti Lansing, with her lawless will,
her arrogant self-confidence, her evil determination, was yet to be
pitied that day.
The short autumnal day had drawn down to night. Lamps twinkled
from every room in the parsonage. A great stillness brooded over
the house.
The kitchen was filled with whispering women, groups of men
lingered near the house and horses were tied here and there to the
palings. The word had gone abroad that the old man who prayed for
them so long was leaving them that night. There would be little
sleep in Dole during its hours.
“The license has come,” whispered Mabella to Temperance, and
Temperance slipped out from among the women and found Nathan
where he loitered by the door.
Soon they were all gathered in the sick room. Old Lansing, and
Mabella, and Lanty with their baby Dorothy in his arms, and
Temperance and Nathan, and another guest, unseen and silent, to
whom they all did reverence, who was nearer to the old clergyman
than any of them.
And in a moment the door opened, and Sidney and Vashti came
softly in, both pale, both calm.
The old clergyman looked up at them lovingly. His face was the
colour of ivory, and the spirit seemed to shine through its
imprisoning tabernacle like a light.
In few and feeble words he married them. Then he essayed to
speak a little to them, but he stumbled and faltered, and instead of
saying, “You, Vashti,” he said “You, Martha,” and when he sought to
find Sidney’s name he could only say “Len.”
The composure of the women gave way. Mabella buried her face
in Lanty’s arm and cried unrestrainedly. Tears streamed over Lanty’s
face also. Those words, Martha and Len, showed how lovingly,
despite his stern denial of their suit, the old man had thought of his
daughter and her sweetheart.
His voice wandered and failed. Sidney and Vashti knelt beside the
bed.
Temperance stole forward and touching them, motioned for them
to go.
As they rose the old man looked at them. A little bewilderment
flickered into his eyes.
“It’s not Martha and Len”—then his eyes cleared. “I am going to
them and the mother.” Then he looked at Sidney, “Be thou faithful
unto death,” he said, the solemnity of the words gaining an
incalculable force from the weakness of the voice. Then he began to
murmur to himself, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished my
course.”
Dr. Harrow and Mr. Simpson entered the room, and the others
quitted it, and hardly were they gone ere the unseen guest stole out
from the shadows and looked into the old man’s eyes. There was
neither fear nor reluctance in them, nothing but welcome, and a
trust which was transcendent; and in a few moments the unseen
guest folded the longing spirit of the old man in a strong embrace
and bore it to where “beyond these voices there is peace.”
Thus Sidney was married. Thus the mantle of the pastorate of
Dole fell upon his shoulders.
CHAPTER X.
For six months Sidney had been minister of Dole, and already his
people adored him. Never had they heard such sweet and winning
sermons; never had they realized the beauty and tenderness of the
gospel, never had they gone to their church with such assurance of
comfort as they did now.
As Sidney learned to know them better and better, he was enabled
to comprehend more and more fully the narrow lives they led, the
petty poverties which afflicted them, the sore struggle it was for
most of them to make ends meet. Swayed by his great sympathy he
sought in Holy Writ for all the words of comfort, peace, and promise.
He read these passages to them in a voice which yearned towards
them from his very heart, and then he would close the Bible and
preach to them lessons of the sweetest and purest morality,
illuminated by illustrations drawn from the fields they tilled, from the
woods, and from the varied phenomena of natural life as it was
manifested about them; his discourses came to them with a sweet
and homelike sense of comfort. Dumbly and instinctively they loved
their barren hills and meagre meadows with a great love, and it
seemed to them that now they were being given reasons for the
love which was in them.
If Sidney did not preach Christ he at least preached His word—and
in His spirit, and the people to whom he preached never doubted of
the chaos which was in the soul of their teacher. Their teacher who
night and day kept their joys and sorrows in his heart.
Sidney was walking home through the powdery snow to the
parsonage when he met Temperance; her face was set, and she was
evidently in some distress of mind. One of Sidney’s first pastoral
duties had been to marry Temperance and Nathan. They were
established in the old Lansing house, for Nathan had rented the
farm. Old Mr. Lansing lived with them.
“Well, Temperance!” said Sidney. “It’s an age since I’ve seen you;
how’s everyone with you?”
“Oh, well,” said Temperance, “but”—looking at him shrewdly—“it
don’t seem to me that you are over and above well yourself.”
Sidney laughed carelessly.
“Oh—I’m always well—except for the headaches, and Vashti cures
them.”
“Yes, I’ll be bound she does,” said Temperance irascibly. “You ain’t
got a mite of sense neither one of you; them passes and
performances ain’t good for you. I don’t believe in ’em, and for a
minister! Sakes! they say you are an angel in the village; take care
you don’t get to be one.”
“Then you have your doubts about my being angelic?” said Sidney
laughing.
Temperance coloured, but did not give way.
“Men’s men,” she said; “only some of them are better nor others,”
then she paused and grew grave and troubled again.
“You’ve something worrying you,” said Sidney kindly; “what is it?”
“Well,” said Temperance, “I don’t know if I’m over anxious or not,
but—have you heard anything about Lanty lately?”
“Yes, I did,” admitted Sidney, “and I was terribly sorry to hear it.
Do you suppose it can be true?”
“I don’t want to believe it,” said Temperance, two bright spots
burning on her cheeks; “but—but—well—Nathan was over at Brixton
to-day, and Lanty was there, and he was—not himself.”
“Oh, poor Mabella!” said Sidney; “I’m so sorry. I never dreamt it
could be true. What can be done?”
“Nothing—that I know of,” said Temperance. “M’bella’s close as
wax and quite right too, but she’s got a worried look; I can see
through M’bella, and as for Lanty, well—it would be a pretty brave
one that would speak to Lanty—he has a look!”
Sidney was in truth more distressed than he could say. That Lanty,
bold, bright, honest-hearted Lanty should give way to intemperance
was grievous. Sidney had always entertained a great admiration for
the young countryman, who was indeed almost the antithesis of
Sidney. The simplicity of his nature was very charming to this supra-
sensitive man who scourged his own soul with introspective
inquisition. Lanty’s calm and careless acceptance of the facts of life,
without question as to why and wherefore, his happy life of work
with his wife and child, seemed to Sidney something to be admired
as very wholesome, if not envied as being very desirable. That he
should imperil this happiness seemed most tragic to Sidney.
After he parted from Temperance he walked slowly on.
It was true; Lanty had “a look.” His bold eyes which had once
looked so fearlessly into all the eyes they met had now changed a
little. There was a kind of piteous challenge in them as of one who
should say to his fellows “accuse me if you dare.” Alas, over-eager
denial is often an admission of guilt. The tongues had been hissing
his name from house to house for long in Dole, and gradually the
conviction spread that Lanty Lansing was drinking much and often—
and it was true.
It was the direct result of his popularity. He had been going very
often to Brixton during the past year, and there he had fallen in with
a set of men who drank a great deal; the country lawyers, an old
toper of a doctor, a banker and two or three idle men who spent
their time in the back rooms of their friends’ offices. Mixed up with
this set Lanty did his drinking unseen; but, alas! the effects were
very visible. But strange to say up to this time not one of the Dole
worthies had seen him drunk.
It would seem that even chance was constrained to aid Mabella
Lansing in the really heroic efforts she made to hide her degradation
from the censorious little world about her. That she and her husband
were in any sense divisible she never dreamed. Her comprehension
of the unity of marriage forbade that. That Lanty could sin apart
from her, or be judged apart from her, or condemned apart from her
never occurred to her simple loyal mind. As for turning upon his
delinquencies the search-light of her righteousness; or posing as a
martyr and bespeaking the pity of her friends as so many modern
wives do—well, she had none of that treachery in her. She suffered
all his repentances in her own proper person and without the
anæsthetic poison which sometimes numbed him to the pain of his
regrets.
At this time Mabella’s little child was a source of ineffable strength
and solace to its mother. Its yellow head, so like Lanty’s own,
brightened the days he was making so dark. Mabella, grown afraid
to look at the future, spent many hours in contemplating her baby.
Its eyes—like bits of the blue heaven; the tiny feet whose soles were
yet all uncalloused by the stones of life; the clinging hands which
had as yet let fall no joy, nor grasped any thorns—these were joys
unspeakable to this mother as they have been to so many. Truly
“heaven lies about us in our infancy,” and now and then from the
celestial atmosphere about this child a warm sense of peace, a
saving thrill of hope, reached out to the mother’s heart. O wonderful
woman heart, which, like the wholesome maple, gives forth the
more sweetness the more it is pierced!
Her neighbours took up the habit of visiting her frequently. Going
early and staying late, with the laudable intention of forcing
themselves into a confidence denied them.
To see Lanty pass to Brixton was a signal to start to his house,
there to talk to Mabella until such time as Lanty returned; and poor
Mabella, all her old-fashioned wifely fidelity up in arms, talked to
them bravely. They had sharp ears these mothers in Israel, but not
so sharp as to outstrip Mabella’s love-quickened senses.
When Lanty came back she heard his horse afar—before he came
to the fork in the road even—and making some simple excuse to her
visitor, she would speed out at the back door, see him, know if all
was well. If his gait was unsteady and his blue eyes dazed, she
would persuade him to go quietly up the back way. Happily at such
times he was like wax in her hands. Then she would return to her
visitor with some little lie about straying turkeys or depredating
cows.
Oh, Eternal Spirit of Truth! Are not these lies writ in letters of gold
for our instruction amid the most sacred precepts?
Once indeed Lanty did come into the room where Mrs. Simpson
sat. His eyes were blurred; he swayed a little and asked loudly for
the baby.
“I will find her,” said Mabella quietly, though her heart sickened
within her, and rising she led him from the room.
“Lanty, dear, you’ll go upstairs and lie down?”
He looked at her white face; the truth gradually struggling in upon
him; without a word he turned and crept up the back stairs like a
beaten dog going to hide.
Mabella returned to the sitting-room taking her baby with her; she
felt that she needed some fount of strength whilst encountering Mrs.
Simpson’s talk. When she entered, Mrs. Simpson greeted her with an
indescribable pantomime of pursed-up lips, doleful eyes, uplifted
hands and lugubrious shakes of the head. Even Mrs. Simpson dared
not seek in words to break down Mabella’s reticence, so baffling and
forbidding was its wifely dignity.
Mabella regarded Mrs. Simpson’s pantomime quietly.
“Are you not feeling well, Mrs. Simpson?” she asked. “Are you in
pain?”
Mrs. Simpson arrested her pantomime with a jerk, and sitting very
erect, quivering with righteous wrath and excitement over the
exclusive information she possessed, she said:
“I’m real well—I am. I only thought—but I guess I’m keeping you;
p’raps you’ve got other things to do. Isn’t Lanty needin’ you?”
“No,” said Mabella, “Lanty is not needing me. What made you
think that? And I hope you’ll stay to tea. I’ve just put the kettle
forward.”
“No—I can’t stay,” said Mrs. Simpson. “I only came to visit for a
while and I’ve stayed and stayed.” Mrs. Simpson had at the moment
but one desire on earth, which was to spread the news of Lanty’s
fall.
“I sort o’ promised to visit Mrs. Ranger this week. I’ve visited a
long spell with you now. I guess I’ll be going on. My! How like her
father that young one do grow!”
“Yes, doesn’t she?” said Mabella, and the gladness in her voice
was unfeigned.
Mrs. Simpson took the goose quill out of her apron band, in which
her knitting needle rested, and measured the stocking she was
knitting with her second finger.
“Well!” she said, “I declare I’ve done a full half finger sence I been
settin’ here! This is my visitin’ knittin’. I hain’t done a loop in this
stockin’ but what’s been done in the neighbours’. I cast it on up to
Vashti’s. My soul! I never can come to callin’ her nothing but Vashti,
if she be the minister’s wife! I cast it on up there, and the preacher
he was real took up with the three colours of yarn being used at
once. He sez, sez he: ‘Why, Mrs. Simpson, you’re all three fates in
one: you have the three threads in your own hands.’ Then he said to
Vashti, ‘That would be fittin’ work for you, Vashti.’ Well, I knowed
Vashti could never manoover them three threads at once, but I
didn’t say nothin’, bein’ as I thought he was took up with the stockin’
and wanted Vashti to make him some. Then he told about some
woman named Penellepper that was great on knittin’. The only girl I
ever knowed by that name was Penellepper Shinar, and she certingly
was a great knitter; she used to knit herself open-work white-thread
stockings. Well, she came to a fine end with her vanities! I wonder if
’twas her Mr. Martin meant? Folks did say she was living gay in
Boston, though ’twas said too that she went fur west somewheres
and school-teached. Suz! It would be queer if ’twas her Mr. Martin
meant!”
“Mr. Martin gets all those stories out of old books, in learned
tongues,” said Mabella simply. “When he stayed at the farm he used
to tell us all sorts of stories.”
“Women in books is mostly bad ’uns,” said Mrs. Simpson, by this
time arrayed in the old crêpe bonnet which had been bought as
mourning for Len, and which she now wore as second best. “That
holds good even to the Bible and the newspapers. And as for a
preacher mixing himself up with them, I don’t hold with it. But being
that they’re mostly dead it don’t matter so much, and judging from
all accounts they was good riddance when they died.”
What a requiem over the “dear dead women” to whom so many
songs have been sung!
“How that scented geranium grows! It beats all,” said Mrs.
Simpson, as Mabella escorted her to the garden gate. For anyone to
have let a visitor depart alone from the doorstep would have been a
scandal in Dole.
“Won’t you have a slip?” said Mabella, setting down Dorothy and
bending over the plant. “It’s apple scented; Lanty bought it off a
pedler’s waggon over in Brixton in the spring; it has grown
wonderfully.”
She broke off a branch, ran for a bit of paper, put a little ball of
earth round the stem, wrapped it up and gave it to Mrs. Simpson.
“Well, it’s real generous of you to break it, Mabella; but you know
the proverb, ‘A shared loaf lasts long.’”
“Yes, it’s true I’m sure,” said Mabella.
She accompanied Mrs. Simpson to the gate and held up the baby
to wave good-bye.
And Mrs. Simpson sped down the road with the fleetness of foot
which betokens the news bringer.
She turned at the fork in the road and looked back at the square
house against its background of trees. Mabella was still at the gate
with the yellow-headed baby.
“Well,” said Mrs. Simpson to herself, “them Lansings is certainly
most tormented proud! Sich pretences! And would I stay to tea! My!
I wonder Mabella Lansing can look a body in the face. Gracious! She
must think we’re a set of dumbheads, if she thinks every soul in Dole
can’t see how things is goin’ with Lanty. It’s the drinkin’ uncle
coming out clear in him that’s sure.”
Mrs. Simpson arrived at her friend’s house in ample time for tea,
and under the stimulus of excitement made an excellent repast.
Without criticism upon the Dole people it must be admitted that a
scandal in their midst, such as this, had much the same exhilaration
about it for them that a camp meeting had.
Mrs. Simpson and Mrs. Ranger talked over all the ins and outs of
the Lansing family history. It was all equally well known to each, but
after all, it is an absorbing and amusing thing to rake over well-hoed
ground.
Public opinion had long since been pronounced upon the events
which these two worthy women cited, not only that, but the grist of
diverse opinions had been winnowed by the winds of time till only
the grain of public decision was left.
So that when Mrs. Simpson expressed her opinion emphatically in
regard to any point, she knew Mrs. Ranger would agree with her,
and knowing every link in the chain of events, knew exactly what
would be suggested to the other’s memory by her own remark.
But it is a great mistake to think these conversations devoid of
mental stimulus. It required great adroitness to prevent the other
person from seizing upon the most dramatic situations and making
them hers.
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