Flood Tide | Page 5

can settle myself," replied she
firmly. "I can't go marryin' an' that's all there is to it."
Other offers had been declined with the same characteristic firmness
until now the golden season of mating-time was past, and although she
was still a pretty little woman the stamp of spinsterhood was
unalterably fixed upon her.
Wilton, in the meantime, had long ago lost sight of the uncomplaining
self-sacrifice it had previously lauded and explained Celestina Morton's
unwedded state by declaring that she was too "easy goin'" to make
anybody a good wife. This criticism came, perhaps, more loudly from
the female faction of the town than from the male. However that may
be, the stigma, merited or unmerited, had become so firmly branded
upon Celestina that it could not be effaced. She may to some extent
have brought it upon herself, for certain it was that she never kicked
against the pricks or tried to shape her circumstances more in
accordance with her liking. Undoubtedly had she accepted her lot less
meekly she might have commanded a greater measure of attention and
sympathy; still, if she had not been of a more or less plastic nature and
surrendered herself patiently to her destiny it is a question whether she
would have survived at all.
It was this mutability, this power to detach herself from her
environment and view it with the stoical indifference of a spectator that
caused Wilton with its harsh New England standards, to characterize
Celestina as "easy goin'." In fact, this popularly termed "flaw" in her
make-up was what had acted as an open sesame to every door at which
she knocked and had kept a roof above her head. She had been just
sixty years of age when Willie Spence's sister had died and left him
alone in the wee cottage on the Harbor Road, and all Wilton had begun
to speculate as to what was to become of him. Willie was as dependent
as an infant; the village gossips who knew everything knew that. From

childhood he had been looked after,--first by his mother, then by his
aunt, and lastly by his sister; and when death had removed in
succession all three of these props, leaving the little old man at last face
to face with life, his startled blue eyes had grown large with terror.
What was to become of him now? Not only did Willie himself
helplessly raise the interrogation but so did all Wilton.
Of course he could go and board with the Eldridges but that would
mean renting or selling the silver-gray cottage where he had dwelt since
birth and would be a tragic severing of all ties with the past; moreover,
and a fact more potent than all the rest, it would mean dismantling the
house of the web that for years he had spun, the symbols of dreams that
had been his chief delight. Should he go to the Eldridges there could be
no more inventing, for Jan's wife was a hard, practical woman who had
scant sympathy with Willie's "idees." Nevertheless one redeeming
consideration must not be lost sight of--she was a famous cook, a very
famous cook; and poor Willie, although he cared little what he ate, was
incapable of concocting any food at all. But the strings, the strings! No,
to go to live with Jan and Mrs. Eldridge was not to be thought of.
It was just at this psychological juncture, when Willie was choosing
'twixt flesh and spirit, that he saw Celestina Morton standing like a
vision in the sunshine that spangled his doorway. She said she knew
how lonely he must be and therefore she had come to make a friendly
call and tidy up the house or mend for him anything that needed
mending. With this simple introduction she had taken off her hat and
coat, donned an ample blue-and-white pinafore, and set to work.
Fascinated Willie watched her deft movements. Now and then she
smiled at him but she did not speak and neither did he; nor, he noticed,
did she disturb his strings or comment on their inconvenience. When
twilight came and the hour for her departure drew near Willie stationed
himself before the peg from which dangled her shabby wraps and
stubbornly refused to have her hat and cloak removed from the nail.
There, figuratively speaking, they had hung ever since, the inventor
reasoning that life without this paragon of capability was a wretched
and profitless adventure.

In justifying his sudden decision to Janoah Eldridge, Willie had merely
explained that he had hired Celestina because she was so comfortable
to have around, a recommendation at which Wilton would have jeered
but which, perhaps, in the eyes of the Lord was quite as praiseworthy as
that which her more hidebound but less accommodating