Gentle Hand

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

　　I did not hear the maiden's name; but in my thought I have eversince called her "Gentle Hand." What a magic lay in her touch! Itwas wonderful.When and where, it matters not now to relate--but once upon a timeas I was passing through a thinly peopled district of country, nightcame down upon me, almost unawares. Being on foot, I could not hopeto gain the village toward which my steps were directed, until alate hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night'slodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself.Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I foundmyself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtainedwindows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of goodcheer and comfort. The house stood within an enclosure, and a shortdistance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet.Turning aside, and passing through an ill-hung gate, I approachedthe dwelling. Slowly the gate swung on its wooden hinges, and therattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I hadnearly reached the little porch in front of the house, in which aslender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting myarrival.A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the sound of theshutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an immensedog loomed in the doorway. I was now near enough to see the savageaspect of the animal, and the gathering motion of his body, as heprepared to bound forward upon me. His wolfish growl was reallyfearful. At the instant when he was about to spring, a light handwas laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken."Don't be afraid. He won't hurt you," said a voice, that to mesounded very sweet and musical.I now came forward, but in some doubt as to the young girl's powerover the beast, on whose rough neck her almost childish hand stilllay. The dog did not seem by any means reconciled to my approach,and growled wickedly his dissatisfaction."Go in, Tiger," said the girl, not in a voice of authority yet inher gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed;and, as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand,and he turned away, and disappeared within the dwelling."Who's that?" A rough voice asked the question; and now aheavy-looking man took the dog's place in the door."Who are you? What's wanted?" There was something very harsh andforbidding in the way the man spoke. The girl now laid her hand uponhis arm, and leaned, with a gentle pressure, against him."How far is it to G----?" I asked, not deeming it best to say, inthe beginning, that I sought a resting-place for the night."To G----!" growled the man, but not so harshly as at first. "It'sgood six miles from here.""A long distance; and I'm a stranger, and on foot," said I. "If youcan make room for me until morning, I will be very thankful."I saw the girl's hand move quickly up his arm, until it rested onhis shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer."Come in. We'll try what can be done for you."There was a change in the man's voice that made me wonder.I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk fire. Before thefire sat two stout lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes, withno very welcome greeting. A middle-aged woman was standing at atable, and two children were amusing themselves with a kitten on thefloor."A stranger, mother," said the man who had given me so rude agreeting at the door; "and he wants us to let him stay all night."The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments, and thenreplied coldly--"We don't keep a public-house.""I'm aware of that, ma'am," said I; "but night has overtaken me, andit's a long way yet to G----.""Too far for a tired man to go on foot," said the master of thehouse, kindly, "so it's no use talking about it, mother; we mustgive him a bed."So unobtrusively, that I scarcely noticed the movement, the girl haddrawn to the woman's side. What she said to her, I did not hear, forthe brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed, as shespoke, one small, fair hand rested on the woman's hand. Was theremagic in that gentle touch? The woman's repulsive aspect changedinto one of kindly welcome, and she said:"Yes, it's a long way to G----. I guess we can find a place for him.Have you had any supper?"I answered in the negative.The woman, without further remark, drew a pine table from the wall,placed upon it some cold meat, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcherof new milk. While these preparations were going on, I had moreleisure for minute observation. There was a singular contrastbetween the young girl I have mentioned and the other inmates of theroom; and yet, I could trace a strong likeness between the maidenand the woman, whom I supposed to be her mother--browned and hard aswere the features of the latter.Soon after I had commenced eating my supper, the two children whowere playing on the floor, began quarrelling with each other."John! go off to bed!" said the father, in a loud, peremptory voice,speaking to one of the children.But John, though he could not help hearing, did not choose to obey."Do you hear me, sir? Off with you!" repeated the angry father."I don't want to go," whined the child."Go, I tell you, this minute!"Still, there was not the slightest movement to obey; and the littlefellow looked the very image of rebellion. At this crisis in theaffair, when a storm seemed inevitable, the sister, as I supposedher to be, glided across the room, and stooping down, took thechild's hands in hers. Not a word was said; but the young rebel wasinstantly subdued. Rising, he passed out by her side, and I saw nomore of him during the evening.Soon after I had finished my supper, a neighbour came in, and it wasnot long before he and the man of the house were involved in a warmpolitical discussion, in which were many more assertions thanreasons. My host was not a very clear-headed man; while hisantagonist was wordy and specious. The former, as might be supposed,very naturally became excited, and, now and then, indulged himselfin rather strong expressions toward his neighbour, who, in turn,dealt back wordy blows that were quite as heavy as he had received,and a good deal more irritating.And now I marked again the power of that maiden's gentle hand. I didnot notice her movement to her father's side. She was there when Ifirst observed her, with one hand laid upon his temple, and lightlysmoothing the hair with a caressing motion. Gradually the high toneof then disputant subsided, and his words had in them less ofpersonal rancour. Still, the discussion went on; and I noticed thatthe maiden's hand, which rested on the temple when unimpassionedwords were spoken, resumed its caressing motion the instant therewas the smallest perceptible tone of anger in the father's voice. Itwas a beautiful sight; and I could but look on and wonder at thepower of that touch, so light and unobtrusive, yet possessing aspell over the hearts of all around her. As she stood there, shelooked like an angel of peace, sent to still the turbulent waters ofhuman passion. Sadly out of place, I could not but think her, amidthe rough and rude; and yet, who more than they need the softeningand humanizing influences of one like the Gentle Hand.Many times more, during that evening, did I observe the magic powerof her hand and voice--the one gentle yet potent as the other.On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was preparing to takemy departure, when my host informed me that if I would wait for halfan hour he would give me a ride in his wagon to G----, as businessrequired him to go there. I was very well pleased to accept of theinvitation. In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the roadbefore the house, and I was invited to get in. I noticed the horseas a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubbornendurance. As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family cameto the door to see us off."Dick!" said the farmer, in a peremptory voice, giving the rein aquick jerk as he spoke.But Dick moved not a step."Dick! you vagabond! get up." And the farmer's whip cracked sharplyby the pony's ear.It availed not, however, this second appeal. Dick stood firmlydisobedient. Next the whip was brought down upon him, with animpatient hand; but the pony only reared up a little. Fast and sharpthe strokes were next dealt to the number of a half-dozen. The manmight as well have beaten his wagon, for all his end was gained.A stout lad now came out into the road, and catching Dick by thebridle, jerked him forward, using, at the same time, the customarylanguage on such occasions, but Dick met this new ally withincreased stubbornness, planting his forefeet more firmly, and at asharper angle with the ground. The impatient boy now struck the ponyon the side of his head with his clenched hand, and jerked cruellyat his bridle. It availed nothing, however; Dick was not to bewrought upon by any such arguments."Don't do so, John!" I turned my head as the maiden's sweet voicereached my ear. She was passing through the gate into the road, and,in the next moment, had taken hold of the lad and drawn him awayfrom the animal. No strength was exerted in this; she took hold ofhis arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he had no thoughtbeyond her gratification.And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's neck, and asingle low word spoken. How instantly were the tense musclesrelaxed--how quickly the stubborn air vanished."Poor Dick!" said the maiden, as she stroked his neck lightly, orsoftly patted it with a child-like hand."Now, go along, you provoking fellow!" she added, in a half-chiding,yet affectionate voice, as she drew upon the bridle. The pony turnedtoward her, and rubbed his head against her arm for an instant ortwo; then, pricking up his ears, he started off at a light, cheerfultrot, and went on his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had everentered his stubborn brain."What a wonderful power that hand possesses!" said I, speaking to mycompanion, as we rode away.He looked at me for a moment as if my remark had occasionedsurprise. Then a light came into his countenance, and he said,briefly--"She's good! Everybody and every thing loves her."Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was the quality of hersoul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute beasts!The father's explanation was, doubtless, the true one. Yet have Iever since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency which layin that maiden's magic touch. I have seen something of the samepower, showing itself in the loving and the good, but never to theextent as instanced in her, whom, for a better name, I must stillcall "Gentle Hand."A gentle touch, a soft word. Ah! how few of us, when the will isstrong with its purpose, can believe in the power of agencies soapparently insignificant! And yet all great influences effect theirends silently, unobtrusively, and with a force that seems at firstglance to be altogether inadequate. Is there not a lesson for us allin this?