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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33058-8.txt b/33058-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b5ecc9 --- /dev/null +++ b/33058-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12666 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gabriel Tolliver, by Joel Chandler Harris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gabriel Tolliver + A Story of Reconstruction + +Author: Joel Chandler Harris + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33058] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + + + + + GABRIEL TOLLIVER + + _A Story of Reconstruction_ + + By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS + + _Author of "Uncle Remus," "The Making of a Statesman," etc._ + + +McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. +NEW YORK +1902 + +COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY +JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS + +_Published, October, 1902 R_ + + * * * * * + + To James Whitcomb Riley + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +_Prelude_ + +CHAPTER ONE _Kettledrum and Fife_ + +CHAPTER TWO _A Town with a History_ + +CHAPTER THREE _The Return of Two Warriors_ + +CHAPTER FOUR _Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_ + +CHAPTER FIVE _The Story of Margaret Gaither_ + +CHAPTER SIX _The Passing of Margaret_ + +CHAPTER SEVEN _Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling_ + +CHAPTER EIGHT _The Political Machine Begins Its Work_ + +CHAPTER NINE _Nan and Gabriel_ + +CHAPTER TEN _The Troubles of Nan_ + +CHAPTER ELEVEN _Mr. Sanders in His Cups_ + +CHAPTER TWELVE _Caught in a Corner_ + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN _The Union League Organises_ + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN _Nan and Her Young Lady Friends_ + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN _Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble_ + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN _Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble_ + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN _Rhody Has Something to Say_ + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN _The Knights of the White Camellia_ + +CHAPTER NINETEEN _Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY _Gabriel at the Big Poplar_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE _Bridalbin Follows Gabriel_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO _The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE _Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR _Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE _Mr. Sanders's Riddle_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX _Cephas Has His Troubles_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN _Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT _Nan and Margaret_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE _Bridalbin Finds His Daughter_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY _Miss Polly Has Some News_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE _Mr. Sanders Receives a Message_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO _Malvern Has a Holiday_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE _Gabriel as an Orator_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR _Nan Surrenders_ + + + + +GABRIEL TOLLIVER + + + + +_Prelude_ + + +"Cephas! here is a letter for you, and it is from Shady Dale! I know you +will be happy now." + +For several years Sophia had listened calmly to my glowing descriptions +of Shady Dale and the people there. She was patient, but I could see by +the way she sometimes raised her eyebrows that she was a trifle +suspicious of my judgment, and that she thought my opinions were unduly +coloured by my feelings. Once she went so far as to suggest that I was +all the time looking at the home people through the eyes of +boyhood--eyes that do not always see accurately. She had said, moreover, +that if I were to return to Shady Dale, I would find that the friends of +my boyhood were in no way different from the people I meet every day. +This was absurd, of course--or, rather, it would have been absurd for +any one else to make the suggestion; for at that particular time, Sophia +was a trifle jealous of Shady Dale and its people. Nevertheless, she was +really patient. You know how exasperating a man can be when he has a +hobby. Well, my hobby was Shady Dale, and I was not ashamed of it. The +man or woman who cannot display as much of the homing instinct as a cat +or a pigeon is a creature to be pitied or despised. Sophia herself was a +tramp, as she often said. She was born in a little suburban town in New +York State, but never lived there long enough to know what home was. She +went to Albany, then to Canada, and finally to Georgia; so that the only +real home she ever knew is the one she made herself--out of the raw +material, as one might say. + +Well, she came running with the letter, for she is still active, though +a little past the prime of her youth. I returned the missive to her with +a faint show of dignity. "The letter is for you," I said. She looked at +the address more carefully, and agreed with me. "What in the world have +I done," she remarked, "to receive a letter from Shady Dale?" + +"Why, it is the simplest thing in the world," I replied. "You have been +fortunate enough to marry me." + +"Oh, I see!" she cried, dropping me a little curtsey; "and I thank you +kindly!" + +The letter was from an old friend of mine--a school-mate--and it was an +invitation to Sophia, begging her to take a day off, as the saying is, +and spend it in Shady Dale. + +"Your children," the letter said, "will be glad to visit their father's +old home, and I doubt not we can make it interesting for the wife." The +letter closed with some prettily turned compliments which rather caught +Sophia. But her suspicions were still in full play. + +"I know the invitation is sent on your account, and not on mine," she +said, holding the letter at arm's length. + +"Well, why not? If my old friend loves me well enough to be anxious to +give my wife and children pleasure, what is there wrong about that?" + +"Oh, nothing," replied Sophia. "I've a great mind to go." + +"If you do, my dear, you will make a number of people happy--yourself +and the children, and many of my old friends." + +"He declares," said Sophia, "that he writes at the request of his wife. +You know how much of that to believe." + +"I certainly do. Imagine me, for instance, inviting to visit us a lady +whom you had never met." + +Whereupon Sophia laughed. "I believe you'd endorse any proposition that +came from Shady Dale," she declared. + +She accepted the invitation more out of curiosity than with any +expectation of enjoying herself; but she stayed longer than she had +intended; and when she came back her views and feelings had undergone a +complete change. "Cephas, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not +going to see those people," she declared. "Why, they are the salt of the +earth. I never expected to be treated as they treated me. If it wasn't +for your business, I would beg you to go back there and live. They are +just like the people you read about in the books--I mean the good +people, the ideal characters--the men and women you would like to meet." +Here she paused and sighed. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed that visit for +anything. But what amazes me, Cephas, is that you've never put in your +books characters such as you find in Shady Dale." + +The suggestion was a fertile one; it had in it the active principle of a +germ; and it was not long before the ferment began to make itself felt. +The past began to renew itself; the sun shone on the old days and gave +them an illumination which they lacked when they were new. Time's +perspective gave them a mellower tone, and they possessed, at least for +me, that element of mystery which seems to attach to whatever is +venerable. It was as if the place, the people, and the scenes had taken +the shape of a huge picture, with just such a lack of harmony and unity +as we find in real life. + +Let those who can do so continue to import harmony and unity into their +fabrications and call it art. Whether it be art or artificiality, the +trick is beyond my powers. I can only deal with things as they were; on +many occasions they were far from what I would have had them to be; but +as I was powerless to change them, so am I powerless to twist +individuals and events to suit the demands or necessities of what is +called art. + +Such a feat might be possible if I were to tell the simple story of Nan +and Gabriel and Tasma Tid during the days when they roamed over the old +Bermuda hills, and gazed, as it were, into the worlds that existed only +in their dreams: for then the story would be both fine and beautiful. It +would be a wonderful romance indeed, with just a touch of tragic +mystery, gathered from the fragmentary history of Tasma Tid, a +child-woman from the heart of Africa, who had formed a part of the cargo +of the yacht _Wanderer_, which landed three hundred slaves on the coast +of Georgia in the last months of 1858. You may find the particulars of +the case of the _Wanderer_ in the files of the Savannah newspapers, and +in the records of the United States Court for that district; but the +tragic history of Tasma Tid can be found neither in the newspapers nor +in the court records. + +But for this one touch of mystery and tragedy, this chronicle, supposing +it to deal only with the childhood and early youth of Nan and Gabriel, +would resolve itself into a marvellous fairy tale, made up of the +innocent dreams and hopes and beliefs, and all the extraordinary +inventions and imaginings of childhood. And even mystery and tragedy +have their own particular forms of simplicity, so that, with Tasma Tid +in the background the tale would be artless enough to satisfy the most +artful. For, even if the reader, seated on the magic cloak of some +competent story-teller, were transported to the heart of Africa, where +the mountains, with their feet in the jungle, reach up and touch the +moon, or to China, or the Islands of the Sea, the hero of the tale would +be the same. His name is Dilly Bal, and he carries on his operations +wherever there are stars in the sky. He is a restless and a roving +creature, flitting to and fro between all points of the compass. + +When King Sun crawls into his trundle bed and begins to snore, Dilly +Bal creeps forth from Somewhere, or maybe from Nowhere, which is just on +the other side, fetching with him a long broom, which he swishes about +to such purpose that the katydids hear it and are frightened. They hide +under the leaves and are heard no more that night. That is why you never +hear them crying and disputing when you chance to be awake after +midnight. + +But Dilly Bal knows nothing of the katydids; he has his own duties to +perform, and his own affairs to attend to; and these, as you will +presently see, are very pressing. It is his business, as well as his +pleasure, to be the Housekeeper of the Sky, which he dusts and tidies +and puts in order. It is a part of his duty to see that the stars are +safely bestowed against the moment when old King Sun shall emerge from +his tent, and begin his march over the world. And then, in the dusk of +the evening, Dilly Bal must take each star from the bag in which he +carries it, polish it bright, and put it in its proper place. + +Sometimes, as you may have observed, a star will fall while Dilly Bal is +handling it. This happens when he is nervous for fear that King Sun, +instead of going to bed in his tent, has crept back and is watching from +behind the cloud mountains. Sometimes a star falls quite by accident, as +when Lucindy or Patience drops a plate in the kitchen. You will be sure +to know Dilly Bal when you see him, for, in handling the stars and +dusting the sky, his clothes get full of yellow cobwebs, which he never +bothers himself to brush off. + +But Dilly Bal's most difficult job is with the Moon. Regularly the Moon +blackens her face in a vain effort to hide from King Sun. If she used +smut or soot, Dilly Bal's task would not be so difficult; but she has +found a lake of pitch somewhere in Africa, and in this lake she smears +her face till it is so black her best friends wouldn't know her. The +pitch is such sticky stuff that it is days and days before it can be +rubbed off. The truth is, Dilly Bal never does succeed in getting all +the pitch off. At her brightest, the Moon shows signs of it. So said +Tasma Tid, and so we all firmly believed. + +Yes, indeed! If this chronicle could be confined to the childhood and +youth of those children, Dilly Bal would be the hero first and last. He +was so real to all of us that we used to wander out to the old Bermuda +fields almost every fine afternoon, and sit there until the light had +faded from the sky, watching Dilly Bal hanging the stars on their pegs. +The Evening Star was such a large and heavy one that Dilly Bal always +replaced it before dark, so as to be sure not to drop it. + +Once when we stayed out in the Bermuda fields later than usual, a big +star fell from its place, and went flying across the sky, leaving a long +and brilliant streamer behind it. At first, Nan thought that Dilly Bal +had tried to hang the Evening Star on the wrong peg, but when she looked +in the west, there was the big star winking at her and at all of us as +hard as it could. + +The pity of it was that Nan and Gabriel, and all their young friends, +had finally to come in contact with the hard practical affairs of the +world. As for Tasma Tid, contact had no special influence on her. She +was to all appearance as unchangeable as the pyramids, and as mysterious +as the Sphinx. But it was different with Nan and Gabriel, and, indeed, +with all the rest. Their story soon ceased to be a simple one. In some +directions, it appeared to be a hopeless tangle, catching a great many +other persons in its loops and meshes; so that, instead of a simple, +entrancing story, all aglow with the glamour of romance, they had +troubles that were grievous, and their full share of dulness and +tediousness, which are the essential ingredients of everyday life. + +After all, it is perhaps fortunate that the marvellous dreams of Nan and +Gabriel, and the quaint imaginings of Tasma Tid are not to be +chronicled. The spinning of this glistening gossamer once begun would +have no end, for Nan was an expert dreamer both night and day, and in +the practice of this art, Gabriel was not far behind her; while Tasma +Tid, who was Nan's maid and bodyguard, could frame her face in her +hands, and tell you stories from sunrise to sundown and far into the +night. + +Tasma Tid, though she was only a child in stature and nature, was +growner in years, as she said, than some of the grownest grown folks +that they knew. She was a dwarf by race, and always denied bitterly, +sometimes venomously, that she was a negro, declaring that in her +country the people were always at war with the blacks. Her color was +dark brown, light enough for the blood tints to show in her face, and +her hair was straight and glossy black. From the _Wanderer_, she soon +found herself in the slave market at Malvern, and there she fell under +the eye of Dr. Randolph Dorrington, Nan's father, who bought her +forthwith. He thought that a live doll would please his daughter. The +dwarf said that her name was Tasma Tid in her country, and she would +answer to no other. + +It was a very fortunate bargain all around, especially for Nan, for in +the African woman she found both a playmate and a protector. Tasma Tid +was far above the average negro in intelligence, in courage and in +cunning. She was as obstinate as a mule, and no matter what obstacles +were thrown in her way, her own desires always prevailed in the end, a +fact that will explain her early appearance in the slave market. Those +of her owners who failed to understand her were not willing to see her +spoil on their hands, like a barrel of potatoes or a basket of shrimps. +The African was uncanny when she chose to be, outspoken, vicious, and +tender-hearted, her nature being compounded of the same qualities and +contradictions as those which belong to the great ladies of the earth, +who, with opportunity always at their elbows, have contrived to create a +great stir in the world. + +When Dr. Dorrington fetched Tasma Tid home, he called out to Nan from +his gig: "I have brought you a live doll, daughter; come and see how you +like it." + +Nan went running--she never learned how to walk until she was several +years older--and regarded Tasma Tid with both surprise and sympathy. +The African, seeing only the sympathy, leaped from the gig, seized Nan +around the waist, lifted her from the ground, ran this way and that, and +then released her with a loud and joyous laugh. + +"What do you mean by that?" cried Nan, somewhat taken aback. + +"She stan' fer we howdy," the African answered. + +"Well, let's see you tell popsy howdy," suggested Nan, indicating her +father. + +"Uh-uh! he we buckra." + +From that hour Tasma Tid attached herself to Nan, following her +everywhere with the unquestioning fidelity of a dog. She sat on the +floor of the dining-room while Nan ate her meals, and slept on a pallet +by the child's bed at night. If the African was sweeping the yard, a +task she sometimes consented to perform, she would fling the brushbroom +away and go with Nan if the child started out at the gate. At first this +constant attendance was somewhat annoying to Nan, for she was an +independent lass; but presently, when she found that Tasma Tid was a +most accomplished and versatile playfellow, as well as the depositary of +hundreds of curious fables and quaint tales of the wildwood, Nan's +irritation disappeared. + +As for Gabriel--Gabriel Tolliver--he was almost as indispensable as the +African woman. Children learn a good many things, as they grow older, +and I have heard that Nan and Gabriel were thought to be queer, and that +all who were much in their company were also thought to be queer. No +one knows why. It was a simple statement, and simple statements are +readily believed, because no one takes the trouble to inquire into them. +A man who has views different from those of the majority is called +eccentric; if he insists on promulgating them, he is known as a crank. +In the case of Nan and Gabriel, it may be said by one who knows, that, +while they were different from the majority of children, they were +neither queer nor eccentric. + +They, and those whom they chose as companions, were children at a time +when the demoralisation of war was about to begin--when it was already +casting its long shadow before it--and when their elders were discussing +as hard as ever they could the questions of State rights, the true +interpretation of the Constitution, squatter sovereignty, the right of +secession--every question, in short, except the one at issue. In this +way, and for this reason, the two children and their companions were +thrown back upon themselves. + +Of those who formed this merry little company, not one went to the +academies that had been established in the town early enough to be its +most ancient institutions. Nan was taught by her father, Randolph +Dorrington, and Gabriel and I said our lessons to his grandmother, Mrs. +Lucy Lumsden. Thus it happened that we were through with our school +tasks before the children in the two academies had begun their morning +recess. + +"We would never have been such good friends," said Nan on one occasion, +"if I hadn't wanted to go to your house, Gabriel, to see how your +grandmother wavies her hair. I saw Cephas, and asked him to go along +with me." Child as she was, Nan had her little vanities. She desired +above all things that her hair should fall away from her brow in little +rippling waves, like those that shone in the silver-grey hair of +Gabriel's grandmother. + +"Why, my grandmother doesn't wavie her hair at all," protested Gabriel. + +"Of course not," replied Nan, with a toss of the hand; "I found that out +for myself. And I was very sorry; I want my hair to wavie like hers and +yours." + +"Well, if your hair was to wavie like mine," said Gabriel, "you'd have a +mighty hard time combing it in the morning." + +"Don't you remember," Nan went on in a reminiscent way, "that she made +you shake hands with me that day? It was funny the way you came up and +held out your arm. If I had jumped at you and said _Boo!_ I don't know +what would have happened." Gabriel grew very red at this, but Nan +ignored his embarrassment. "You had syrup on your fingers, you know, and +then we all had some in a saucer. Yes, and we all sopped our bread in +the same saucer, and Cephas here got the syrup on his face and in his +hair." + +It never occurred to me in those days that Nan was beautiful, or that +Gabriel was handsome, but looking back in the light of experience, it is +easy to remember that they had in their features all the promises that +the long and slow-moving years were to fulfil. I was struck, however, by +one peculiarity of Nan's face. When her countenance was at rest, it +gave out a hint of melancholy, and there was an appealing look in her +brown eyes; but when she smiled or laughed, the sombre face broke up +into numberless dimples. Apart from her countenance, there was a charm +about her which I have never been able to trace to its source, and which +of course is beyond description; and this charm remained, and made +itself felt whether the appearance of melancholy had its dwelling-place +in her eyes, which were large, and lustrous, and full of tenderness, or +whether her face was brilliant with smiles. She had a deserved +reputation as a tomboy, but she carried off her tricksy whims with a +daintiness that preserved them from all hint of coarseness; and if +sometimes she was rude, she had a way of righting herself that none +could resist. + +As for Gabriel, he was always large for his age. He was strong and +healthy, possessing every physical excuse for roughness and +boisterousness; but association with his grandmother, who was one of the +gentlest of gentlewomen, had toned him down and smoothed the rough +edges. His hair was dark and curly, and his face gave promise of great +strength of character--a promise which, it may be said here, was +fulfilled to the letter. He was as whimsical as Nan, and, in addition, +had moods to which she was a stranger. + +These things did not occur to Cephas the Child, but are the fruits of +his memory and experience. He only knew at that time that Nan and +Gabriel were both very good to him. He was considerably younger than +either of them, and he often wondered then, and has wondered since, why +they were such good friends of his, and why they were constantly hunting +him up if he failed to make his appearance. Perhaps because he was so +full of unadulterated mischief. Gabriel, with all his gravity, was full +of a quaint humour, and Nan hunted for cause for laughter in everything; +and she was never more beautiful than when this same laughter had shaken +her tawny hair about her face. + +We had travelled widely. Nan had been to Malvern with her father, and +had seen sights--railway trains, omilybuses, as she called them, a great +big hotel, and "oodles" of crippled persons; yes, and besides the +crippled persons, there was a blind man standing on the corner with a +big card hanging from his neck; and that very day, she had eaten +"reesins" until she never wanted 'em any more, as she said. Gabriel and +Cephas had not gone so far; but once upon a time, they went to +Halcyondale, and, among other things, had seen Major Tomlin Perdue kill +sparrows with a pistol. Nan had been anxious to go with them at the +time, but when she heard about the slaughter of the sparrows, she was +very glad she had stayed at home, for what did a grown man as old as +Major Perdue want to kill the poor little brown sparrows for? Nan's +question was never answered. Gabriel and Cephas had only seen in the +transaction the enviable skill of the Major; whereas Nan thought of +nothing but the poor little birds that had been slain for a holiday +show. "They may have been singing sparrows, or snow-birds," mourned Nan. +True enough; but Gabriel and Cephas had thought of nothing but the +skill of the marksman with his duelling pistols. Tasma Tid also had her +point of view. "Wey you no fetcha dem lil bud home fer we supper?" She +was hardly satisfied when she was told that the little birds, all put +together, would have made hardly more than a mouthful. + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +_Kettledrum and Fife_ + + +The serene repose of Shady Dale no doubt stood for dulness and lack of +progress in that day and time. In all ages of the world, and in all +places, there are men of restless but superficial minds, who mistake +repose and serenity for stagnation. No doubt then, as now, the most +awful sentence to be passed on a community was to say that it was not +progressive. But when you examine into the matter, what is called +progress is nothing more nor less than the multiplication of the +resources of those who, by means of dicker and barter, are trying all +the time to overreach the public and their fellows, in one way and +another. This sort of thing now has a double name; it is called +civilisation, as well as progress, and those who take things as they +find them in their morning newspaper, without going to the trouble to +reflect for themselves, are no doubt duly impressed by terms that are +large enough to fill both the ear and mouth at one and the same time. + +Well, whatever serene repose stands for, Shady Dale possessed it in an +eminent degree, and the people there had their full share of the sorrows +and troubles of this world, as Madame Awtry, or Miss Puella Gillum, or +Neighbour Tomlin, or even that cheerful philosopher, Mr. Billy Sanders, +could have told you; but of these Nan and Gabriel and Cephas knew +nothing except in a vague, indefinite way. They heard hints of rumours, +and sometimes they saw their elders shaking their heads as they gossiped +together, but the youngsters lived in a world of their own, a world +apart, and the vague rumours were no more interesting to them than the +reports of canals on Mars are to the average person to-day. He reads in +his newspaper that the markings in Mars are supposed to be canals; +whereat he smiles and reflects that these canals can do him no harm. Nan +and Gabriel and Cephas were as far from contemporary troubles as we are +from Mars. The most serious trouble they had was not greater than that +which they discovered one day on the Bermuda hill. As they were sitting +on the warm grass, wondering how long before peaches would be ripe, they +saw a field mouse cutting up some queer capers. Nan was not very +friendly with mice, and she instinctively gathered up her skirts; but +she did not run; her curiosity was ever greater than her fear. Presently +we found that the troubles of Mother Mouse were very real. A tremendous +black beetle had invaded her nest, and had seized one of her children, a +little bit of a thing, naked and red and about the size of a half-ripe +mulberry. We tried hard to rescue the mouse from the beetle, but soon +found that it was quite dead. Cephas crushed the beetle, which was as +venomous-looking a bug as they had ever seen. Was the beetle preparing +to eat the mouse? Tasma Tid said yes, but Gabriel thought not. His idea +was that the Mother Mouse had attacked the beetle, which was blindly +crawling about, and had fallen in the nest accidentally. The beetle, +striving to defend itself, had seized the mouse between its pinchers, +and held it there until it was quite dead. + +But the Bermuda fields were not the only resource of the children. There +were seasons when Uncle Plato, who was Meriwether Clopton's +carriage-driver, came to town with the big waggon to haul home the +supplies necessary for the plantation; loads of bagging and rope; cases +of brogan shoes, and hats for the negroes; and bales on bales of +osnaburgs and blankets. The appearance of the Clopton waggon on the +public square was hailed by these youngsters with delight. They always +made a rush for it, and, in riding back and forth with Uncle Plato, they +spent some of the most delightful moments of their lives. + +And then in the fall season, there was the big gin running at the +Clopton place, with old Beck, the blind mule, going round and round, +turning the cogged and pivoted post that set the machinery in motion. +But the youngsters rarely grew tired of riding back and forth with Uncle +Plato. He was the one person in the world who catered most completely to +their whims, who was most responsive to their budding and eager fancies, +and who entered most enthusiastically into the regions created and +peopled by Nan's skittish and fantastic imagination. + +These children had their critics, as may well be supposed, especially +Nan, who did not always conform to the rules and theories which have +been set up for the guidance of girls; but Uncle Plato, along with +Gabriel and Cephas, accepted her as she was, with all her faults, and +took as much delight in her tricksy and capricious behaviour, as if he +were responsible for it all. She and her companions furnished Uncle +Plato with what all story-tellers have most desired since hairy man +began to shave himself with pumice-stone, and squat around a common +hearth--a faithful and believing audience. Uncle Ęsop, it may be, cared +less for his audience than for the opportunity of lugging in a dismal +and perfunctory moral. Uncle Plato, like Uncle Remus, concealed his +behind text and adventure, conveying it none the less completely on that +account. Not one of his vagaries was too wild for the acceptance of his +small audience, and the elusiveness of his methods was a perpetual +delight to Nan, as hers was to Uncle Plato, though he sometimes shook +his head, and pretended to sigh over her innocent evasions. + +Once when we were all riding back and forth from the Clopton Place to +Shady Dale, Nan asked Uncle Plato if he could spell. + +"Tooby sho I kin, honey. What you reckon I been doin' all deze +long-come-shorts ef I dunner how ter spell? How you speck I kin git +'long, haulin' an' maulin', ef I dunner how ter spell? Why, I could +spell long 'fo' I know'd my own name." + +"Long-come-shorts, what are they?" asked Nan. + +"Rainy days an' windy nights," responded Uncle Plato, throwing his head +back, and closing his eyes. + +"Let's hear you spell, then," said Nan. + +"Dee-o-egg, dog," was the prompt response. Nan looked at Uncle Plato to +see if he was joking, but he was solemnity itself. "E-double-egg, egg!" +he continued. + +"Now spell John A. Murrell," said Nan. Murrell, the land pirate, was one +of her favourite heroes at this time. + +Uncle Plato pretended to be very much shocked. "Why, honey, dat man wuz +rank pizen. En spozen he wa'nt, how you speck me ter spell sump'n er +somebody which I ain't never laid eyes on? How I gwineter spell Johnny +Murrell, an' him done dead dis many a long year ago?" + +"Well, spell goose, then," said Nan, seeing a flock of geese marching +stiffly in single file across a field near the road. + +Uncle Plato looked at them carefully enough to take their measure, and +then shook his head solemnly. "Deyer so many un um, honey, dey'd be +monstus hard fer ter spell." + +"Well, just spell one of them then," Nan suggested. + +"Which un, honey?" + +"Any one you choose." + +Uncle Plato studied over the matter a moment, and again shook his head. +"Uh-uh, honey; dat ain't nigh gwine ter do. Ef you speck me fer ter +spell goose, you got ter pick out de one you want me ter spell." + +"Well, spell the one behind all the rest." + +Again Uncle Plato shook his head. "Dat ar goose got half-grown goslin's, +an' I ain't never larnt how ter spell goose wid half-grown goslin's. You +ax too much, honey." + +"Then spell the one next to head." Nan was inexorable. + +"Dat ar ain't no goose," replied Uncle Plato, with an air of triumph; +"she's a gander." + +"I don't believe you know how to spell goose," said Nan, with something +like scorn. + +"Don't you fool yo'se'f, honey," remarked Uncle Plato in a tone of +confidence. "You git me a great big fat un, not too ol', an' not too +young, an' fill 'er full er stuffin', an' bake 'er brown in de big oven, +an' save all de drippin's, an' put 'er on de table not fur fum whar I +mought be settin' at, an' gi' me a pone er corn bread, an' don't have no +talkin' an' laughin' in de game--an' ef I don't spell dat goose, I'll +come mighty nigh it, I sholy will. Ef I don't spell 'er, dey won't be +nuff lef' fer de nex' man ter spell. You kin 'pen' on dat, honey." + +Nan suddenly called Uncle Plato's attention to the carriage horses, +which were hitched to the waggon. She said she knew their names well +enough when they were pulling the carriage, but now-- + +"Haven't you changed the horses, Uncle Plato?" she asked. + +"How I gwine change um, honey?" + +"I mean, haven't you changed their places?" + +"No, ma'am!" he answered with considerable emphasis. "No, ma'am; ef I +wuz ter put dat off hoss in de lead, you'd see some mighty high kickin'; +you sho would." + +"Oh, let's try it!" cried Nan, with real eagerness. + +"Dem may try it what choosen ter try it," responded Uncle Plato, dryly, +"but I'll ax um fer ter kindly le' me git win' er what deyer gwine ter +do, an' den I'll make my 'rangerments fer ter be somers out'n sight an' +hearin'." + +"Well, if you haven't made the horses swap places," remarked Nan, "I'll +bet you a thrip that the right-hand horse is named Waffles, and the +left-hand one Battercakes." + +At once Uncle Plato became very dignified. "Well-'um, I'm mighty glad +fer ter hear you sesso, kaze ef dey's any one thing what I want mo' dan +anudder, it's a thrip's wuff er mannyfac terbacker. Ez fer de off hoss, +dat's his name--Waffles--you sho called it right. But when it comes ter +de lead hoss, anybody on de plantation, er off'n it, I don't keer whar +dey live at, ef dey yever so much ez hear er dat lead hoss, will be glad +fer ter tell you dat he goes by de name er Muffins." He held out his +hand for the thrip. + +"Well, what is the difference?" said Nan, drawing back as if to prevent +him from taking the thrip. + +"De diffunce er what?" inquired Uncle Plato. + +"And you expect me to give you money you haven't won," declared Nan. +"What's the difference between Battercakes and Muffins? A muffin is a +battercake if you pour three big spoonfuls in a pan and spread it out, +and a battercake is a muffin if you pen it up in a tin-thing like a +napkin ring. Anybody can tell you that, Uncle Plato--yes, anybody." + +What reply the old negro would have made to this bit of home-made +casuistry will never be known. That it would have been reasonable, if +not entirely adequate, may well be supposed, but just as he had given +his head a preliminary shake, the rattle of a kettle-drum was heard, and +above the rattle a fife was shrilling. + +The shrilling fife, and the roll and rattle of the drums! These were +sounds somewhat new to Shady Dale in 1860; but presently they were to be +heard all over the land. + +"I can see dem niggers right now!" exclaimed Uncle Plato, as we hustled +out of his waggon. "Riley playin' de fife, Green beatin' on de +kittledrum, an' Ike Varner bangin' on de big drum. Ef de white folks pay +much 'tention ter dem niggers, dey won't be no livin' in de same county +wid um. But dey better not come struttin' 'roun' me!" + +The drums were beating the signal for calling together the men whose +names had been signed to the roll of a company to be called the Shady +Dale Scouts, and the meeting was for the purpose of organizing and +electing officers. All this was accomplished in due time; but meanwhile +Nan and Gabriel and Cephas, as well as Tasma Tid and all the rest of the +children in the town, went tagging after the fife and drums listening to +Riley play the beautiful marching tunes that set Nan's blood to +tingling. Riley was a master hand with the fife, and we had never known +it, had never even suspected it! Nan thought it was very mean in Riley +not to tell somebody that he could play so beautifully. + +Well, in a very short time, the company was rigged out in the finest +uniforms the children had even seen. All the men, even the privates, had +plumes in their hats and epaulettes of gold on their shoulders; and on +their coats they wore stripes of glowing red, and shiny brass buttons +without number. And at least twice a week they marched through the +streets and out into the Bermuda fields, where they had their drilling +grounds. These were glorious days for the youngsters. Nan was so +enthusiastic that she organised a company of little negroes, and +insisted on being the captain. Gabriel was the first lieutenant, and +Cephas was the second. When the company was ready to take the field, it +was discovered that Nan would also have to be orderly sergeant and +color-bearer. But she took on herself the duties and responsibilities of +these positions without a murmur. She wore a paper hat of the true +Napoleonic cut, and carried in one hand her famous sword-gun, and the +colors in the other. The oldest private in Nan's company was nine; the +youngest was four, and had as much as he could do to keep up with the +rest. The uniforms of these sun-seasoned troops was the regulation +plantation fatigue dress--a shirt coming to the knees. Two or three of +the smaller privates had evidently fallen victims to the pot-liquor and +buttermilk habits, for their bellies stuck out black and glistening from +rents in their shirts. + +Their accoutrements prefigured in an absurd way the resources of the +Confederacy at a later date. They were armed with broomsticks, and +what-not. The file-leader had an old pair of tongs, which he snapped +viciously when Nan gave the word to fire. The famous sword-gun, with +which Nan did such execution, had once seen service as an umbrella +handle. + +One afternoon, as Nan was drilling her troops, she chanced to glance +down the road, and saw a waggon coming along. Deploying her company +across the highway, she went forward in person to reconnoitre. She soon +discovered that the waggon was driven by Uncle Plato. Running back to +her veterans, she placed herself in front of them, and calmly awaited +events. Slowly the fat horses dragged the waggon along, when suddenly +Nan cried "Halt!" whereupon the drummer, obeying previous instructions, +began to belabour his tin-pan, while Nan levelled her famous sword-gun +at Uncle Plato. "Bang!" she exclaimed, and then, "Why didn't you fall +off the waggon?" she cried, as Uncle Plato remained immovable. "Why, you +don't know any more about real war than a baby," she said scornfully. + +If the truth must be told, Uncle Plato had been dozing, and when he +awoke he viewed the scene before him with astonishment. There was no +need to cry "Halt!" or exclaim "Bang!" for as soon as the drummer began +to beat his tin-pan, the horses stood still and craned their necks +forward, with a warning snort, trying to see what this strange and +unnatural proceeding meant. Uncle Plato had involuntarily tightened the +reins when he was so rudely awakened, and the horses took this for a +hint that they must avoid the danger, and, as the shortest way is the +best way, they began to back, and had the waggon nearly turned around +before Uncle Plato could tell them a different tale. + +"Ef I'd 'a' fell out'n de waggon, honey, who gwine ter pick me up?" he +asked, laughing. + +"Why, no one is picked up in war!" + +"Is dis war, honey?" + +"Of course it is," Nan declared. + +"Does bofe sides hafter take part in de rucus?" asked Uncle Plato, +making a terrible face at the little negroes. + +"Why, of course," said Nan. + +Seeing the scowl, Nan's veteran troops began to edge slowly toward the +nearest breach in the fence. Uncle Plato seized his whip and pretended +to be clambering from the waggon. At this a panic ensued, and Nan's army +dispersed in a jiffy. The seasoned troops dropped their arms and fled. +The four-year-old became lost or entangled in a thick growth of jimson +weed, seeing which, Uncle Plato cried out in terrible voice, "Ketch um +dar! Fetch um here!" + +Then and there ensued a wild scene of demoralisation and anarchy; loud +shrieks and screams filled the air; the dogs barked, the hens cackled, +and the neighbours began to put their heads out of the windows. Mrs. +Absalom, who had charge of the Dorrington household, and who had raised +Nan from a baby, came to the door--the defeat of the troops occurred +right at Nan's own home--crying, "My goodness gracious! has the yeth +caved in?" Then, seeing the waggon crosswise the road, and mistaking +Nan's shrieks of laughter for cries of pain, she bolted from the house +with a white face. + +Mrs. Absalom's reactions from her daily alarms about Nan usually +resulted in bringing her into open and direct war with everybody in +sight or hearing, except the child; but on this occasion, her fright had +been so serious that when Nan, somewhat sobered, ran to her the good +woman was shaking. + +"Why, Nonny!" cried Nan, hugging her, "you are all trembling." + +"No wonder," said Mrs. Absalom in a subdued voice; "I saw you under them +waggon wheels as plain as I ever saw anything in my life. I'm gittin' +old, I reckon." + +And yet there were some people who wondered how Nan could endure such a +foster-mother as Mrs. Absalom. + +But the complete rout of Nan's army made no change in the general +complexion of affairs. The Shady Dale Scouts continued to perfect +themselves in the tactics of war, and after awhile, when the great +controversy began to warm up--the children paid no attention to the +passage of time--the company went into camp. This was a great hour for +the youngsters. Here at last was something real and tangible. The +marching and the countermarching through the streets and in the old +field were very well in their way, but Nan and Gabriel and the rest had +grown used to these man[oe]uvres, and they longed for something new. +This was furnished by the camp, with its white tents, and the grim +sentinels pacing up and down with fixed bayonets. No one, not even an +officer, could pass the sentinels without giving the password, or +calling for the officer of the guard. + +All this, from the children's point of view, was genuine war; but to the +members of the company it was a veritable picnic. The citizens of the +town, especially the ladies, sent out waggon loads of food every +day--boiled ham, barbecued shote, chicken pies, and cake; yes, and +pickles. Nan declared she didn't know there were as many pickles in the +world, as she saw unloaded at the camp. + +Mr. Goodlett, who was Mrs. Absalom's husband, went out to the camp, +looked it over with the eye of an expert, and turned away with a groan. +This citizen had served both in the Mexican and the Florida wars, and he +knew that these gallant young men would have a rude awakening, when it +came to the real tug of war. + +"Doesn't it look like war, Mr. Ab?" Nan asked, running after the +veteran. + +Mr. Goodlett looked at the bright face lifted up to his, and frowned, +though a smile of pity showed itself around his grizzled mouth. He was a +very deliberate man, and he hesitated before he spoke. "You think that +looks like war?" he asked. + +"Why, of course. Isn't that the way they do when there's a war?" + +"What! gormandise, an' set in the shade? Why, it ain't no more like war +than sparrergrass is like jimson weed--not one ioter." With that, he +sighed and went on his way. + +But when did the precepts of age and experience ever succeed in chilling +the enthusiasm of youth? With the children, it was "O to be a soldier +boy!" and Nan and her companions continued to linger around the edges of +the spectacle, taking it all in, and enjoying every moment. And the +Scouts themselves continued to live like lords, eating and drilling, and +dozing during the day, and at night dancing to the sweet music of +Flavian Dion's violin. Nan and Gabriel thought it was fine, and, as well +as can be remembered, Cephas was of the same opinion. As for Tasma Tid, +she thought that the fife and drums, and the general glare and glitter +of the affair were simply grand, very much nicer than war in her +country, where the Arab slave-traders crept up in the night and seized +all who failed to escape in the forest, killing right and left for the +mere love of killing. Compared with the jungle war, this pageant was +something to be admired. + +And many of the older citizens held views not very different from those +of the children, for enthusiasm ran high. The Shady Dale Scouts went +away arrayed in their holiday uniforms. Many of them never returned to +their homes again, but those that did were arrayed in rags and tatters. +Their gallantry was such that the Shady Dale Scouts, disguised as +Company B, were always at the head of their regiment when trouble was on +hand. But all this is to anticipate. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +_A Town with a History_ + + +Before, during, and after the war, Shady Dale presented always the same +aspect of serene repose. It was, as you may say, a town with a history. +Then, as now, there were towns all about that had no such fortunate +appendage behind them to explain their origin. No one could tell what +they were begun for; no one could say whether they had for their nucleus +an old field or a cross-roads grocery, or whether a party of immigrants +pitched their tents there because the grass was fine and the water +abundant. There is one city in Georgia, and it is the most prosperous of +all, that was built on the idea that the cattle-paths and the old +government roads afford the most convenient and picturesque contours for +the streets; and to this day, the thoroughfares of that city afford a +most interesting study to those who are interested in either topography +or human nature; for it is possible to go to that city, and, with half +an eye, discover the places where the waggons and other vehicles turned +aside nearly a hundred years ago to avoid the mudholes, the fallen +trees, and other temporary obstructions. They have been preserved in the +conformation of the streets. + +Shady Dale is no city, and it may be that its public-spirited citizens +stretch the meaning of the term when they call it a town. Nevertheless, +the community has a well-defined history. When Raleigh Clopton, shortly +after the signing of the treaty of peace between the United States and +Great Britain, crossed the Oconee, and settled on the lands of the +hostile Creeks, his friends declared that he was tempting Providence; +and so it seemed; but the event proved that from first to last, his +adventure was under the direct guidance of Providence. He demonstrated +anew the truth of two ancient maxims: he who risks nothing, gains +nothing; heaven helps those who help themselves. Raleigh Clopton risked +everything and gained the most beautiful domain in all the land. He had, +indeed, one stormy interview with General McGillivray, the great Creek +chief and statesman, but after that all was peace and prosperity. + +General McGillivray was one of the most remarkable men of his time, and +his time was during an era of remarkable men. He possessed a genius that +enabled him to cope successfully with the ablest statesmen of his day. +He drew Washington into a secret treaty with the Creek Nation, and when +McGillivray died, the Father of his country referred to him as "my +friend," and deplored his taking off. Courageous and adventurous +himself, McGillivray was no doubt attracted by the attitude and +personality of the fearless Virginian. He became the warm friend of +Raleigh Clopton, and marked that friendship by deeding to the first +white settler two thousand acres of land lying between the Little River +hills on one side, and the meadows of Murder Creek on the other. +Moreover, he named the estate Shady Dale, and aided Raleigh Clopton to +establish a trading-post where the court-house of the town now stands; +and on a pine near by, he caused to be made the semblance of a broken +arrow, a token that between the Creeks and the Master of Shady Dale a +lasting peace had been established. + +This was the beginning. When the multifarious and long-disputed treaties +between the United States and the Creek Nation had been signed, and a +general peace was assured, Raleigh Clopton communicated with his friends +in Wilkes, Burke, Columbia and Richmond counties--the choice spirits who +had fought by his side in the bloodiest battles of the War for +Independence--informed them of his good fortune, and invited them to +share it. The response was all that he could have desired. His old +friends and comrades lost no time in joining him--the Dorringtons, the +Tomlins, the Gaithers, the Awtrys, the Terrells, the Odoms, the +Lumsdens, and, later, the friends and relatives of these. For the most +part they were men of substance and character. + +Well, perhaps not all. There are black sheep in every flock, and +wherever the nature of Adam survives, there we may behold wisdom and +folly dancing to the same tune, and sin and repentance occupying the +same couch. So it has been from the first, and so it will be to the end. +But, take them all in all, making due allowance for the tendencies of +human nature, the men and women who responded to the invitation of +Raleigh Clopton may be described as the salt of the earth. They had all, +women and men, been subjected to the trials and hardships of a war in +which no quarter was asked or given; and their experiences had given +them a strength of character, and a versatility in dealing with +unexpected events, that could hardly be matched elsewhere. To each of +those who responded to his invitation, Raleigh Clopton gave a part of +his domain, and laid out their settlement for them. + +This was the origin of Shady Dale. But to set forth its origin is not to +describe its beauty, which is of a character that refuses to submit to +description. You go down to the old town from the city, and you say to +yourself and your friends that you are enjoying the delights of the +country. You visit it from the plantations, and you feel that you are +breathing the kind of atmosphere that should be found in the social life +of a large, refined and perfectly homogeneous community. But whether you +go there from the city, or from the plantations, you are inevitably +impressed with a sense of the attractiveness of the place; you fall +under the spell of the old town--it was old even in the old times of the +sixties. And yet if you were called upon to define the nature of the +spell, what could you say? What name could you give to the tremulous +beauty that hovers about and around the place, when the fresh green +leaves of the great trees are fluttering in the cool wind, and +everything is touched and illumined by the tender colours of spring? +Under what heading in the catalogue of things would you place the vivid +richness which animates the town and the landscape all around when the +summer is at its height? And how could you describe the harmony that +time has brought about between the fine old houses and the setting in +which they are grouped? + +All these things are elusive; they make themselves keenly felt, but they +do not lend themselves to analysis. + +It is a pity that those who are interested in traditions that are truer +than history could not have all the facts in regard to Shady Dale from +the lips of Mr. Obadiah Tutwiler, who had constituted himself the oral +historian of the community. Mr. Tutwiler was alive as late as 1869, and +had at his fingers'-ends all the essential facts relating to the origin +and growth of the town, and he related the story with a fluency, an +accuracy, and a relish quite surprising in so old a man. + +As was fitting, the old court-house, the temple of justice, had been +reared in the centre of the town, and the square that surrounds it took +the shape of a park of considerable dimensions. On two sides were some +of the more pretentious dwellings; the tavern, with a few of the more +modest houses took up a third side; while the fourth side was taken up +by the shops and stores; and so careful had the early settlers been with +the trees, that it was possible to stand in a certain upper window of +the court-house, and look out upon the town with not a house in sight. + +Naturally, the most interesting feature of Shady Dale was the Clopton +Place. It had been the home of the First Settler, and in 1860, when Nan +and Gabriel were enjoying their happiest days, it was owned and occupied +by the son, Meriwether Clopton. + +From the time of the First Settler, the Clopton Place had been dedicated +and set apart to the uses of hospitality. The deed in which General +McGillivray, in the name of the Creek Nation, conveyed the domain to +Raleigh Clopton, distinctly sets forth the condition that the Clopton +Place was to be an asylum and a place of refuge for the unfortunate and +for those who needed succour. During the long and bloody contests +between the white settlers and the Creeks, it was the pleasure of the +Creek chief to pay out of his own private fortune, which was a large one +for those days, the ransoms which, under the rules of the tribal +organisations, each Indian town demanded for the prisoners captured by +its warriors. Such was the poverty of the whites in general that only +occasionally was General McGillivray reimbursed for his expenditures in +this direction. + +But no matter by whom the ransoms were paid, the prisoners were one and +all forwarded to the Clopton Place, where they were cared for until such +time as they could be transferred to the white settlements. In this way +hospitality became a habit at the Place, and in the years that followed, +no wayfarer was ever turned away from those wide doors. + +In the pleasant weather, it was a familiar spectacle to see Meriwether +Clopton sitting on the wide lawn, reading Virgil and Horace, two volumes +of which he never tired. His favourite seat was in the shade of a +silver maple, through the branches of which a grapevine had been +trained. This silver maple, with the vine running through it, and the +seat in the shade, were a realisation, he once told Gabriel and Cephas, +of one of the most beautiful poems in one of the volumes, but whether +Virgil or Horace, the aforesaid Cephas is unable to remember. + +There were days long to be remembered when the Master of Clopton Place +read aloud to the children, translating as he went along, and smacking +his lips over the choice of words as though he were tasting a fine +quality of wine. And the children felt the charm of these ancient +verses; and they soon came to understand why words written down +centuries ago, had power to take possession of the mind. They were +charged with the qualities that brought them home to the modern hour; +and for all that was foreign in them, they might have been composed at +Shady Dale. It is no wonder that the common people in the Middle Ages +clothed Virgil with the gift and power of a prophet or a magician. + +Something of the charm that dwelt all about the place had its origin and +centre in Meriwether Clopton himself. His years sat lightly upon him. He +had led an active and a temperate life, and a hale and hearty old age +was the fruit thereof. He had had his flings, and something more, +perhaps, for there were traditions of some very serious troubles in +which he had been engaged shortly after reaching his majority. But +Gabriel's grandmother, who knew--none better--declared that these +troubles were not of Meriwether Clopton's seeking. They were the results +of a legacy of feuds which Raleigh Clopton, through no desire of his +own, had left to his son. It was said of Raleigh Clopton that his sense +of justice was as strong as his temper, which was a stormy one. He +espoused the cause of young Eli Whitney, who had been despoiled of his +rights in the cotton-gin in Georgia, and this led him into a series of +difficulties without parallel in the history of the State. Raleigh +Clopton's attitude in this contest brought him in conflict with some of +the most powerful men and interests in the commonwealth. It was a +contest in which knavery, fraud and corruption, the courts, and +considerable private capital, were all combined against Whitney, who +appeared to be without a strong friend until Raleigh Clopton became his +champion. + +The collusion of the courts with this high-handed robbery was so +ill-concealed that Raleigh Clopton soon discovered the fact, and his +indignation rose to such a white heat that it drove him to excesses. He +dragged one judge from a buggy, and plied him with a rawhide, he slapped +the face of another in a public house, and posted a dozen prominent men +as thieves and corruptionists, with the result that the State fairly +swarmed with his enemies, men who were able to keep him busy in the way +of troubles and difficulties. It was the day of private feuds, and it +was not surprising that some of these enemies should attack the father +through the son. Thus it fell out that Meriwether Clopton's experience +for half a score of years after he came of age was anything but +peaceful. But he came out of all these difficulties with head erect, +clean hands and a clear conscience. He was neither hardened nor +embittered by the violence with which he had to deal. On the contrary, +his character was strengthened and his temper sweetened; so that when +the lads who listened to his mellifluous translations from the Latin +poets, were old enough to appreciate the qualities that go to make up a +good man and an influential citizen, the fact dawned upon their minds +that Meriwether Clopton was the finest gentleman they had ever seen. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +_The Return of Two Warriors_ + + +When the great contest began, Nan was close to thirteen, and Gabriel was +fourteen. Cephas was younger; he had lived hardly as many months as he +had freckles on his face, otherwise he would have been an aged citizen. +They wandered about together, always accompanied by Tasma Tid, all of +them being children in every sense of the word. Occasionally they were +joined by some of the other boys and girls; but they were always happier +when they were left to themselves. + +In the late afternoons they could always be found in the Bermuda fields, +but at other times, especially on a warm day, their favourite playground +was under the wide-spreading elms in front of the post-office. Amusing +themselves there in the fine weather, they could see the people come and +go, many of them looking for letters that never came. When the conflict +at the front became warm and serious, and when the very newspapers, as +Mrs. Absalom said, smelt of blood, there was always a large crowd of +men, old and young, gathered at the post-office when the mail-coach came +from Malvern. As few of the people subscribed for a daily newspaper, +Judge Odom (he was Judge of the Inferior Court, now called the Court of +Ordinary) took upon himself to mount a chair or a dry-goods box, and +read aloud the despatches printed in the Malvern _Recorder_. This +enterprising journal had a number of volunteer correspondents at the +front who made it a point to send with their letters the lists of the +killed and wounded in the various Georgia regiments; and these lists +grew ominously long as the days went by. + +And then, in the course of time, came the collapse of the Confederacy, +an event that blew away with a breath, as it were, the hopes and dreams +of those who had undertaken to build a new government in the South; and +this march of time brought about a gradual change in the relations +between Nan and Gabriel. It was almost as imperceptible in its growth as +the movement of the shadow on the sun-dial. Somehow, and to her great +disgust, Nan awoke one morning and was told that she was a young woman, +or dreamt that she was told. Anyhow, she realised, all of a sudden, that +she was now too tall for short dresses, and too old to be playing with +the boys as if she were one of them; and the consciousness of this +change gave her many a bad quarter of an hour, and sometimes made her a +trifle irritable; for, sweet as she was, she had a temper. + +She asked herself a thousand times why she should now begin to feel shy +of Gabriel, and why she should be so self-conscious, she who had never +thought of herself with any degree of seriousness until now. It was all +a puzzle to her. As it was with Nan, so it was with Gabriel. As Nan grew +shy and shyer, so the newly-awakened Gabriel grew more and more and +more timid, and the two soon found themselves very far apart without +knowing why. For a long time Cephas was the only connecting link between +them. He was a sly little rascal, this same Cephas, and he found in the +situation food for both curiosity and amusement. He had not the least +notion why the two friends and comrades were inclined to avoid each +other. He only knew that he was not having as pleasant a time as fell to +his portion when they were all going about together with no serious +notions of life or conduct. + +Cephas got no satisfaction from either Nan or Gabriel when he asked them +what the trouble was. Nan tried to explain matters, but her explanation +was a very lame one. "I am getting old enough to be serious, Cephas; and +I must begin to make myself useful. That's what Miss Polly Gaither says, +and she's old enough to know. Oh, I hate it all!" said Nan. + +"Is Miss Polly Gaither useful?" inquired Cephas. + +"I'm sure I don't know," replied Nan; "but that's what she told me, and +then she held up her ear-trumpet for me to talk in it; but I just +couldn't, she looked so very much in earnest. It was all I could do to +keep from laughing. Did you ever notice, Cephas, how funny people are +when they are really in earnest?" + +Alas! Cephas had often pinched himself in Sunday-school to keep from +laughing at old Mrs. Crafton, his teacher. She was so dreadfully in +earnest that she kept her face in a pucker the whole time. Outside of +the Sunday-school she was a very pleasant old lady. + +Gabriel had no explanation to make whatever. He simply told Cephas that +Nan was becoming vain. This Cephas denied with great emphasis, but +Gabriel only shook his head and looked wise, as much as to say that he +knew what he knew, and would continue to know it for some time to come. +The truth is, however, that Gabriel was as ignorant of the feminine +nature as it is possible for a young fellow to be; whereas, Nan, by +means of the instinct or intuition which heaven has conferred on her sex +for their protection, knew Gabriel a great deal better than she knew +herself. + +When the war came to a close, Gabriel was nearly eighteen, and Nan was +seventeen, though she appeared to be a year or two younger. She was +still childish in her ways and tastes, and carried with her an +atmosphere of simplicity and sweetness in which very few girls of her +age are fortunate enough to move. Simplicity was a part of her nature, +though some of her young lady friends used to whisper to one another +that it was all assumed. She was even referred to as Miss Prissy, a term +that was probably intended to be an abbreviation of Priscilla. + +Regularly, she used to hunt Cephas up and carry him home with her for +the afternoon; and on the other hand, Gabriel manifested a great +fondness for the little fellow, who enjoyed his enviable popularity with +a clear conscience. It was years and years afterwards before the secret +of his popularity dawned on him. If he had suspected it at the time, his +pride, such as he had, would have had a terrible fall. + +One day, it was the year of Appomattox, and the month was June, Cephas +heard his name called, and answered very promptly, for the voice was the +voice of Gabriel, and it was burdened with an invitation to visit the +woods and fields that surrounded the town. The weather itself was +burdened with the same invitation. The birds sang it, and it rustled in +the leaves of the trees. And Cephas leaped from the house, glad of any +excuse to escape from the domestic task at which he had been set. They +wandered forth, and became a part and parcel of the wild things. The +hermit thrush, with his silver bell, was their brother, and the +cat-bird, distressed for the safety of her young, was their sister. Yea, +and the gray squirrel was their playmate, a shy one, it is true, but +none the less a genuine one for all that. They roamed about the +green-wood, and over the hills and fields, and finally found themselves +in the public highway that leads to Malvern. + +Cephas found a cornstalk, and with hardly an effort of his mind, changed +it into a fine saddle-horse. The contagion seized Gabriel, and though he +was close upon his eighteenth birthday, he secured a cornstalk, which at +once became a saddle-horse at his bidding. The magical powers of youth +are wonderful, and for a little while the cornstalk horses were as real +as any horses could be. The steed that Cephas bestrode was comparatively +gentle, but Gabriel's horse developed a desire to take fright at +everything he saw. A creature more skittish and nervous was never seen, +and his example was soon followed by the steed that Cephas rode. The +two boys were so busily engaged in trying to control their perverse +horses, that they failed to see a big covered waggon that came creeping +up the hill behind them. So, while they were cutting up their queer +capers, the big waggon, drawn by two large mules, was plumb upon them. +As for Cephas, he didn't care, being at an age when such capers are +permissible, but Gabriel blushed when he discovered that his childish +pranks had witnesses; and he turned a shade redder when he saw that the +occupants of the waggon were, of all the persons in the world, Mr. Billy +Sanders and Francis Bethune. + +Both of the boys would have passed on but for the compelling voice of +Mr. Sanders. "Why, it's little Gabe, and he's little Gabe no longer. And +Cephas ain't growed a mite. Hello, Gabe! Hello, Cephas! Howdy, howdy?" + +Francis Bethune's salutation was somewhat constrained, or if that be too +large a word, was lacking in cordiality. "What is the matter with +Gabriel?" he asked. + +"It's a thousand pities, Frank," remarked Mr. Sanders, "that Sarah +Clopton wouldn't let you be a boy along with the other boys; but she +coddled you up jest like you was a gal. Be jigged ef I don't believe +you've got on pantalettes right now." + +Bethune blushed hotly, while Gabriel and Cephas fairly yelled with +laughter--and there was a little resentment in Gabriel's mirth. "But I +don't see what could possess Tolliver," Bethune insisted. + +"Shucks, Frank! you wouldn't know ef he was to write it down for you, +an' Nan Dorrin'ton would know wi'out any tellin'. You ain't a bit +brighter about sech matters than you was the day Nan give you a +thumpin'." + +At this Gabriel laughed again, for he had been an eye-witness to the +episode to which Mr. Sanders referred. A boy has his prejudices, as +older persons have theirs. Bethune had always had the appearance of +being too fond of himself; when other boys of his age were playing and +pranking, he would be primping, and in the afternoon, before he went off +to the war, he would strut around town in the uniform of a cadet, and +seemed to think himself better than any one else. These things count +with boys as much as they do with older persons. + +"Climb in the waggin, Gabe an' Cephas, an' tell us about ever'thing an' +ever'body. The Yanks didn't take the town off, did they?" + +The boys accepted the invitation without further pressing, for they were +both fond of Mr. Sanders, and proceeded to give their old friend all the +information he desired. Francis Bethune asked no questions, and Gabriel +was very glad of it. At bottom, Bethune was a very clever fellow, but +the boys are apt to make up their judgments from what is merely +superficial. Francis had a very handsome face, and he could have made +himself attractive to a youngster on the lookout for friends, but he had +chosen a different line of conduct, and as a result, Gabriel had several +scores against the young man. And so had Cephas; for, on one occasion, +the latter had gone to the Clopton Place for some wine for his mother, +who was something of an invalid, and, coming suddenly on Sarah Clopton, +found her in tears. Cephas never had a greater shock than the sight gave +him, for he had never connected this self-contained, gray-haired woman +with any of the tenderer emotions. In the child's mind, she was simply a +sort of superintendent of affairs on the Clopton Place, who, in the +early mornings, stood on the back porch of the big house, and, in a +voice loud enough to be heard a considerable distance, gave orders to +the domestics, and allotted to the field hands their tasks for the day. + +Sarah Clopton must have seen how shocked the child was, for she dried +her eyes and tried to laugh, saying, "You never expected to see me +crying, did you, little boy?" Cephas had no answer for this, but when +she asked if he could guess why she was crying, the child remembered +what he had heard Nan and Gabriel say, and he gave an answer that was +both prompt and blunt. "I reckon Frank Bethune has been making a fool of +himself again," said he. + +"But how did you know, child?" she asked, placing her soft white fingers +under his chin, and lifting his face toward the light. "You are a wise +lad for your years," she said, when he made no reply, "and I am sure you +are sensible enough to do me a favour. Please say nothing about what you +have seen. An old woman's tears amount to very little. And don't be too +hard on Frank. He has simply been playing some college prank, and they +are sending him home." + +The most interesting piece of news that Gabriel had in his budget +related to the hanging of Mr. Absalom Goodlett by some of Sherman's men, +when that commander came marching through Georgia. It seems that a negro +had told the men that Mr. Goodlett knew where the Clopton silver had +been concealed, and they took him in hand and tried to frighten him into +giving them information which he did not possess. Threats failing, they +secured a rope and strung him up to a tree. They strung him up three +times, and the third time, they went off and left him hanging; and but +for the promptness of the negro who was the cause of the trouble, and +who had been an interested spectator of the proceedings, Mr. Goodlett +would never have opened his eyes on the affairs of this world again. The +negro cut him down in the nick of time, and as soon as he recovered, he +sent the darkey with instructions to go after the men, and tell them +where they could find the plate, indicating an isolated spot. Whereupon +Mr. Goodlett took his gun, and went to the point indicated. The negro +carried out his instructions to the letter. He found the men, who had +not gone far, pointed out the spot from a safe distance, and then waited +to see what would happen. If he saw anything unusual, he never told of +it; but the men were never seen again. Some of their companions returned +to search for them, but the search was a futile one. The negro went +about with a frightened face for several days, and then he settled down +to work for Mr. Goodlett, in whom he seemed to have a strange interest. +He showed this in every way. + +"You keep yo' eye on 'im," he used to say to his coloured acquaintances, +in speaking of Mr. Goodlett; "keep yo' eye on 'im, an' when you see his +under-jaw stickin' out, des turn you' back, an' put yo' fingers in yo' +ears." + +"You never know," said Mr. Sanders, in commenting on the story, "what a +man will do ontell he gits rank pizen mad, or starvin' hongry, or in +love." + +"What would you do, Mr. Sanders, if you were in love?" Gabriel asked +innocently enough. + +"Maybe I'd do as Frank does," replied Mr. Sanders, smiling blandly; +"shed scaldin' tears one minnit, an' bite my finger-nails the next; +maybe I would, but I don't believe it." + +"Now, I'll swear you ought not to tell these boys such stuff as that!" +exclaimed Francis Bethune angrily. "I don't know about Cephas, but +Tolliver doesn't like me any way." + +"How do you know?" inquired Gabriel. + +"Because you used to make faces at me," replied Bethune, half laughing. + +"Why, so did Nan," Gabriel rejoined. "Mine must have been terrible ones +for you to remember them so well." + +The reference to Nan struck Bethune, and he began to gnaw at the end of +his thumb, whereupon Mr. Sanders smiled broadly. The young man reflected +a moment and then remarked, his face a trifle redder than usual; "Isn't +the young lady old enough for you to call her Miss Dorrington?" + +"She is," replied Gabriel; "but if she permits me to call her Nan, why +should any one else object?" + +There was no answer to this, but presently Bethune turned to Gabriel and +said: "Why do you dislike me, Tolliver?" + +For a little time the lad was silent; he was trying to formulate his +prejudices into something substantial and sufficient, but the effort was +a futile one. While he was silent, Bethune regarded him with a curious +stare. "Honestly," said Gabriel, "I can give no reason; and I'm not sure +I dislike you. But you always held your head so high that I kept away +from you. I had an idea that you felt yourself above me because my +grandmother is not as rich as the Cloptons." + +The statement seemed to amaze Bethune. "You couldn't have been more than +ten or twelve when I left here for the war," he remarked. + +"Yes, I was more than thirteen," Gabriel replied. + +"Well, I never thought that a boy so young could have such thoughts," +Bethune declared. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "a fourteen-year-old boy can have some +mighty deep thoughts, specially ef he' been brung up in a house full of +books, as Gabriel was. I hope, Gabriel," he went on, "that you'll stick +to your cornstalk hoss as long as you want to. You'll live longer for +it, an' your friends will love you jest the same. Frank here has never +been a boy. Out of bib an' hippin, he jumped into long britches an' a +standin' collar, an' the only fun he ever had in his life he got kicked +out of college for, an' served him right, too. I'll bet you a thrip to a +pint of pot-licker that Nan'll ride a stick hoss tomorrer ef she takes a +notion--an' she's seventeen. Don't you forgit, Gabriel, that you'll +never be a boy but once, an' you better make the most on it whilst you +can." + +The waggon came just then to the brow of the hill that overlooked Shady +Dale, and here Mr. Sanders brought his team to a standstill. It had been +many long months since his eyes or Bethune's had gazed on the familiar +scene. "I'll tell you what's the fact, boys," he said, drawing in a long +breath--"the purtiest place this side of Paradise lies right yander +before our eyes. Ef I had some un to give out the lines, I'd cut loose +and sing a hime. Yes, sirs! you'd see me break out an' howl jest like my +old coon dog, Louder, used to do when he struck a hot track. The Lord +has picked us out of the crowd, Frank, an' holp us along at every turn +an' crossin'. But before the week's out, we'll forgit to be thankful. +J'inin' the church wouldn't do us a grain of good. By next Sunday week, +Frank, you'll be struttin' around as proud as a turkey gobbler, an' +you'll git wuss an' wuss less'n Nan takes a notion for to frail you out +ag'in." + +Bethune relished the remark so little that he chirped to the mules, but +Mr. Sanders seized the reins in his own hands. "We've fit an' we've +fout, an' we've got knocked out," he went on, "an' now, here we are +ready for to take a fresh start. The Lord send that it's the right +start." He would have driven on, but at that moment, a shabby looking +vehicle drew up alongside the waggon. Gabriel and Cephas knew at once +that the outfit belonged to Mr. Goodlett. His mismatched team consisted +of a very large horse and a very small mule, both of them veterans of +the war. They had been left by the Federals in a broken-down condition, +and Mr. Goodlett found them grazing about, trying to pick up a living. +He appropriated them, fed them well, and was now utilising them not only +for farm purposes, but for conveying stray travellers to and from +Malvern, earning in this way many a dollar that would have gone +elsewhere. + +Mr. Goodlett drew rein when he saw Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune, and +gave them as cordial a greeting as he could, for he was a very +undemonstrative and reticent man. At that time both Gabriel and Cephas +thought he was both sour and surly, but, in the course of events, their +opinions in regard to that and a great many other matters underwent a +considerable change. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +_Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_ + + +The vehicle that Mr. Goodlett was driving was an old hack that had been +used for long years to ply between Shady Dale and Malvern. On this +occasion, Mr. Goodlett had for his passengers a lady and a young woman +apparently about Nan's age. There was such a contrast between the two +that Gabriel became absorbed in contemplating them; so much so that he +failed to hear the greetings that passed between Mr. Goodlett and Mr. +Sanders, who were old-time friends. The elder of the two women was +emaciated to a degree, and her face was pale to the point of +ghastliness; but in spite of her apparent weakness, there was an ease +and a refinement in her manner, a repose and a self-possession that +reminded Gabriel of his grandmother, when she was receiving the fine +ladies from a distance who sometimes called on her. The younger of the +two women, on the other hand, was the picture of health. The buoyancy of +youth possessed her. She had an eager, impatient way of handling her fan +and handkerchief, and there was a twinkle in her eye that spoke of +humour; but her glance never fell directly on the men in the waggon; all +her attention was for the invalid. + +Mr. Goodlett, his greeting over, was for pushing on, but the voice of +the invalid detained him. "Can you tell me," she said, turning to Mr. +Sanders, "whether the Gaither Place is occupied? Oh, but I forgot; you +are just returning from that horrible, horrible war." She had lifted +herself from a reclining position, but fell back hopelessly. + +"Why, Ab thar ought to be able to tell you that," responded Mr. Sanders, +his voice full of sympathy. + +"Well, I jest ain't," declared Mr. Goodlett, with some show of +impatience. "I tell you, William, I been so worried an' flurried, an' so +disqualified an' mortified, an' so het up wi' fust one thing an' then +another, that I ain't skacely had time for to scratch myself on the +eatchin' places, much less gittin' up all times er night for to see ef +the Gaither Place is got folks or ha'nts in it. When you've been through +what I have, William, you won't come a-axin' me ef the Gaither house is +whar it mought be, or whar it oughter be, or ef it's popylated or +dispopylated." + +The young lady stroked the invalid's hand and smiled. Something in the +frowning face and fractious tone of the old man evidently appealed to +her sense of humour. "Don't you think it is absurd," said the pale lady, +again appealing to Mr. Sanders, "that a person should live in so small a +town, and not know whether one of the largest houses in the place is +occupied--a house that belongs to a family that used to be one of the +most prominent of the county? Why, of course it is absurd. There is +something uncanny about it. I haven't had such a shock in many a day." + +"But, mother," protested the young lady, "why worry about it? A great +many strange things have happened to us, and this is the least important +of all." + +"Why, dearest, this is the strangest of all strange things. The driver +here says he lives at Dorringtons', and the Gaither house is not so very +far from Dorringtons'." + +"Everybody knows," said Gabriel, "that Miss Polly Gaither lives in the +Gaither house." He spoke before he was aware, and began to blush. +Whereupon the young lady gave him a very bright smile. + +"Humph!" grunted Mr. Goodlett, giving the lad a severe look. He started +to climb into his seat, but turned to Gabriel. "Is she got a wen?" he +asked, with something like a scowl. + +"Yes, she has a wen," replied the lad, blushing again, but this time for +Mr. Goodlett. + +"Well, then, ef she's got a wen, ef Polly Gaithers is got a wen, she's +livin' in that house, bekaze, no longer'n last Sat'day, she come roun' +for to borry some meal; an' whatsomever she use to have, an' whatsomever +she mought have herearter, she's got a wen now, an' I'll tell you so on +a stack of Bibles as high as the court-house." + +The young lady laughed, but immediately controlled herself with a +half-petulant "Oh dear!" Laughter became her well, for it smoothed away +a little frown of perplexity that had established itself between her +eyebrows. + +"Oh, we'll take the young man's word for it," said the invalid, "and we +are very much obliged to him. What is your name?" When Gabriel had told +her, she repeated the name over again. "I used to know your grandmother +very well," she said. "Tell her Margaret Bridalbin has returned home, +and would be delighted to see her." + +"Then, ma'am, you must be Margaret Gaither," remarked Mr. Sanders. + +"Yes, I was Margaret Gaither," replied the invalid. "I used to know you +very well, Mr. Sanders, and if I had changed as little as you have, I +could still boast of my beauty." + +"Yet nobody hears me braggin' of mine, Margaret," said Mr. Sanders with +a smile that found its reflection in the daughter's face; "but I hope +from my heart that home an' old friends will be a good physic for you, +an' git you to braggin' ag'in. Anyhow, ef you don't brag on yourself, +you can take up a good part of the time braggin' on your daughter." + +"Oh, thank you, sir, for the clever joke. My mother has told me long ago +how full of fun you are," said the young lady, blushing sufficiently to +show that she did not regard the compliment as altogether a joke. "You +may drive on now," she remarked to Mr. Goodlett. Whereupon that +surly-looking veteran slapped his mismatched team with the loose ends of +the reins, and the shabby old hack moved off toward Shady Dale. Mr. +Sanders waited for the vehicle to get some distance ahead, and then he +too urged his team forward. + +"The word is Home," he said; "I reckon Margaret has had her sheer of +trouble, an' a few slices more. She made her own bed, as the sayin' is, +an' now she's layin' on it. Well, well, well! when time an' occasions +take arter you, it ain't no use to run; you mought jest as well set +right flat on the ground an' see what they've got ag'in you." + +The remark was not original, nor very deep, but it recurred to Gabriel +when trouble plucked at his own sleeve, or when he saw disaster run +through a family like a contagion. + +In no long time the waggon reached the outskirts of the town, where the +highway became a part of the wide street that ran through the centre of +Shady Dale, flowing around the old court-house in the semblance of a +wide river embracing a small island. Gabriel and Cephas were on the +point of leaving the waggon here, but Mr. Sanders was of another mind. + +"Ride on to Dorrin'tons' wi' us," he said. "I want to swap a joke or two +wi' Mrs. Ab." + +"She's sure to get the best of it," Gabriel warned him. + +"Likely enough, but that won't spile the fun," responded Mr. Sanders. + +Mrs. Absalom, as she was called, was the wife of Mr. Goodlett, and was +marked off from the great majority of her sex by her keen appreciation +of humour. Her own contributions were spoiled for some, for the reason +that she gave them the tone of quarrelsomeness; whereas, it is to be +doubted whether she ever gave way to real anger more than once or twice +in her life. She was Dr. Randolph Dorrington's housekeeper, and was a +real mother to Nan, who was motherless before she had drawn a dozen +breaths of the poisonous air of this world. + +By the time the waggon reached Dorrington's, Gabriel, acting on the +instructions of Mr. Sanders, had crawled under the cover of the waggon, +and was holding out a pair of old shoes, so that a passer-by would +imagine that some one was lying prone in the waggon with his feet +sticking out. + +When the waggon reached the Dorrington Place, Mr. Sanders drew rein, and +hailed the house, having signed to Cephas to make himself invisible. +Evidently Mrs. Absalom was in the rear, or in the kitchen, which was a +favourite resort of hers, for the "hello" had to be repeated a number of +times before she made her appearance. She came wiping her face on her +ample apron, and brushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busy +housekeeper. + +"We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sanders +in a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thank +you might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, we +picked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' he +keeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place." + +"Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in the +world is the matter wi' old Billy?" she inquired with real solicitude. +"Was he wounded in the war, or is he jest up to some of his old-time +devilment?" + +"Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, he +must 'a' shot hisself in the neck. He complains of cold feet, an' he's +got 'em stuck out from under the kiver." + +"Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will never +strike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soap +an' water." + +"An' he talks in his sleep about a Mrs. Absalom," Mr. Sanders went on, +"an' he cries, an' says she used to be his sweetheart, but he had to +jilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit." + +"The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulated +indignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he ever +sobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jest +drive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle of +the road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come to +Cloptons' in a mighty few minutes." + +At this juncture Mr. Sanders was obliged to laugh, whereupon, Mrs. +Absalom, looking narrowly at the travellers, had no difficulty in +recognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her hands +above her head in a gesture of amazement. "Why, that's old Billy, an' +him sober; and Franky Bethune, an' him not a primpin'! Well, well! I'd +'a' never believed it ef I hadn't 'a' seed it. I vow I'm beginnin' to +believe that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' for +some folks. I'm sorry Ab didn't take his gun an' jine in--maybe he'd 'a' +shed his stinginess. But I declare to gracious, I'm glad to see you all; +the sight of you is good for the sore eyes. An' Frank tryin' to raise a +beard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub on +it." + +Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returned +warriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tears +in her eyes as she greeted them; for in that region, nearly all had +feelings of kinship for their neighbours and friends, and in that day +and time, people were not ashamed of their emotions. + +"Margaret Gaither has come back," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ab fetched her +in his hack." + +"Well, the poor creetur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom; "they say she's had +trouble piled on her house-high." + +"She won't have much more in this world ef looks is any sign," Mr. +Sanders replied. "She ain't nothin' but a livin' skeleton, but she's got +a mighty lively gal." + +The waggon moved on and left Mrs. Absalom leaning on the gate, a +position that she kept for some little time. Farther down the road, +Gabriel, whose example was followed by Cephas, bade Mr. Sanders +good-bye, nodded lightly to Francis Bethune, and jumped from the waggon. + +"Wait a moment, Tolliver," said Bethune. "I want you to come to see +me--and bring Cephas with you. I am going to make you like me if I can. +The home folks have been writing great things about you. Oh, you _must_ +come," he insisted, seeing that Gabriel was hesitating. "I want to show +you what a good fellow I can be when I try right hard." + +"Yes, you boys must come," said Mr. Sanders; "an' ef Frank is off +courtin' that new gal--I ketched him cuttin' his eye at her--you can +hunt me up, an' I'll tell you some old-time tales that'll make your hair +stan' on end." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +_The Story of Margaret Gaither_ + + +Gabriel and Cephas started toward their homes, which lay in the same +direction. Instead of going around by road or street, they cut across +the fields and woods. Before they had gone very far, they heard a +rustling, swishing sound in the pine-thicket through which they were +passing, but gave it little attention, both being used to the noises +common to the forest. In their minds it was either a rabbit or a grey +fox scuttling away; or a poree scratching in the bushes, or a +ground-squirrel running in the underbrush. + +But a moment later, Nan Dorrington, followed by Tasma Tid, burst from +the pine-thicket, crying, "Oh, you walk so fast, you two!" She was +panting and laughing, and as she stood before the lads, one little hand +at her throat, and the other vainly trying to control her flying hair, a +delicious rosiness illuminating her face, Gabriel knew that he had just +been doing her a gross injustice. As he walked along the path, followed +by his faithful Cephas, he had been mentally comparing her to a young +woman he had just seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack; and had been saying to +himself that the new-comer was, if possible, more beautiful than Nan. + +But now here was Nan herself in person, and Gabriel's comparisons +appeared to be shabby indeed. With Nan before his eyes, he could see +what a foolish thing it was to compare her with any one in this world +except herself. There was a flavour of wildness in her beauty that gave +it infinite charm and variety. It was a wildness that is wedded to grace +and vivacity, such as we see embodied in the form and gestures of the +wood-dove, or the partridge, or the flying squirrel, when it is un-awed +by the presence of man. The flash of her dark brown eyes, her tawny hair +blowing free, and her lithe figure, with the dark green pines for a +background, completed the most charming picture it is possible for the +mind to conceive. All that Gabriel was conscious of, beyond a dim +surprise that Nan should be here--the old Nan that he used to know--was +a sort of dawning thrill of ecstasy as he contemplated her. He stood +staring at her with his mouth open. + +"Why do you look at me like that, Gabriel?" she cried; "I am no ghost. +And why do you walk so fast? I have been running after you as hard as I +can. And, wasn't that Francis Bethune in the waggon with Mr. Sanders?" + +"Did you run hard just to ask me that? Mrs. Absalom could have saved you +all this trouble." The mention of Bethune's name had brought Gabriel to +earth, and to commonplace thoughts again. "Yes, that was Master Bethune, +and he has grown to be a very handsome young man." + +"Oh, he was always good-looking," said Nan lightly. "Where are you and +Cephas going?" + +"Straight home," replied Gabriel. + +"Well, I'm going there, too. I heard Nonny" (this was Mrs. Absalom) "say +that Margaret Gaither has come home again, and then I remembered that +your grandmother promised to tell me a story about her some day. I'm +going to tease her to-day until she tells it." + +"And didn't Mrs. Absalom tell you that Bethune was in the waggon with +Mr. Sanders?" Gabriel inquired, in some astonishment. + +"Oh, Gabriel! you are so--" Nan paused as if hunting for the right term +or word. Evidently she didn't find it, for she turned to Gabriel with a +winning smile, and asked what Mr. Sanders had had to say. "I'm so glad +he's come I don't know what to do. I wouldn't live in a town that didn't +have its Mr. Sanders," she declared. + +"Well, about the first thing he said was to remind Bethune of the time +when you whacked him over the head with a cudgel." + +"And what did Master Francis say to that?" inquired Nan, with a laugh. + +"Why, what could he say? He simply turned red. Now, if it had been me, +I----" + +The path was so narrow, that Nan, the two lads, and Tasma Tid were +walking in Indian file. Nan stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that +Gabriel fell against her. As he did so, she turned and seized him by the +arm, and emphasised her words by shaking him gently as each was uttered. +"Now--Gabriel--don't--say--disagreeable--things!" + +What she meant he had not the least idea, and it was not the first nor +the last time that his wit lacked the nimbleness to follow and catch her +meaning. + +"Disagreeable!" he exclaimed. "Why, I was simply going to say that if I +had been in Bethune's shoes to-day, I should have declared that you did +the proper thing." + +Nan dropped a low curtsey, saying, "Oh, thank you, sir--what was the +gentleman's name, Cephas--the gentleman who was such a cavalier?" + +"Was he a Frenchman?" asked Cephas. + +"Oh, Cephas! you should be ashamed. You have as little learning as I." +With that she turned and went along the path at such a rapid pace that +it was as much as the lads could do to keep up with her, without +breaking into an undignified trot. + +Nan went home with Gabriel; was there before him indeed, for he paused a +moment to say something to Cephas. She ran along the walk, took the +steps two at a time, and as she ran skipping along the hallway, she +cried out: "Grandmother Lumsden! where are you? Oh, what do you think? +Margaret Gaither has come home!" When Gabriel entered the room, Nan had +fetched a footstool, and was already sitting at Mrs. Lumsden's feet, +holding one of the old lady's frail, but beautiful white hands. + +Here was another picture, the beauty of which dawned on Gabriel +later--youth and innocence sitting at the feet of sweet and wholesome +old age. The lad was always proud of his grandmother, but never more so +than at that moment when her beauty and refinement were brought into +high relief by her attitude toward Nan Dorrington. Gabriel was very +happy to be near those two. Not for a weary time had Nan been so +friendly and familiar as she was now, and he felt a kind of exaltation. + +"Margaret Gaither! Margaret Gaither!" Gabriel's grandmother repeated the +name as if trying to summon up some memory of the past. "Poor girl! Did +you see her, Gabriel? And how did she look?" With a boy's bluntness, he +described her physical condition, exaggerating, perhaps, its worst +features, for these had made a deep impression on him. "Oh, I'm so sorry +for her! and she has a daughter!" said Mrs. Lumsden softly. "I will call +on them as soon as possible. And then if poor Margaret is unable to +return the visit, the daughter will come. And you must be here, Nan; +Gabriel will fetch you. And you, Gabriel--for once you must be polite +and agreeable. Candace shall brush up your best suit, and if it is to be +mended, I will mend it." + +Nan and Gabriel laughed at this. Both knew that this famous best suit +would not reach to the lad's ankles, and that the sleeves of the coat +would end a little way below the elbow. + +"I can't imagine what you are laughing at," said Mrs. Lumsden, with a +faint smile. "I am sure the suit is a very respectable one, especially +when you have none better." + +"No, Grandmother Lumsden; Gabriel will have to take his tea in the +kitchen with Aunt Candace." + +However, the affair never came off. The dear old lady, in whom the +social instinct was so strong, had no opportunity to send the invitation +until long afterward. Nan was compelled to beg very hard for the story +of Margaret Gaither. It was never the habit of Gabriel's grandmother to +indulge in idle gossip; she could always find some excuse for the faults +of those who were unfortunate; but Nan had the art of persuasion at her +tongue's end. Whether it was this fact or the fact that Mrs. Lumsden +believed that the story carried a moral that Nan would do well to +digest, it would be impossible to say. At any rate, the youngsters soon +had their desire. The story will hardly bear retelling; it can be +compressed into a dozen lines, and be made as uninteresting as a +newspaper paragraph; but, as told by Gabriel's grandmother, it had the +charm which sympathy and pity never fail to impart to a narrative. When +it came to an end, Nan was almost in tears, though she could never tell +why. + +"It happened, Nan, before you and Gabriel were born," said Mrs. Lumsden. +"Margaret Gaither was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, +and at that time Pulaski Tomlin was one of the handsomest young men in +all this region. Naturally these two were drawn together. They were in +love with each other from the first, and, finally, a day was set for the +wedding. They were to have been married in November, but one night in +October, the Tomlin Place was found to be on fire. The flames had made +considerable headway before they were discovered, and, to me, it was a +most horrible sight. Yet, horrible as it was, there was a fascination +about it. The sweeping roar of the flames attracted me and held me +spellbound, but I hope I shall never be under such a spell again. + +"Well, it was impossible to save the house, and no one attempted such a +preposterous feat. It was all that the neighbours could do to prevent +the spread of the flames to the nearby houses. Some of the furniture was +saved, but the house was left to burn. All of a sudden, Fanny +Tomlin----" + +"You mean Aunt Fanny?" interrupted Nan. + +"Yes, my dear. All of a sudden Fanny Tomlin remembered that her mother's +portrait had been left hanging on the wall. Without a word to any one +she ran into the house. How she ever passed through the door safely, I +never could understand, for every instant, it seemed to me, great +tongues and sheets of flame were darting across it and lapping and +licking inward, as if trying to force an entrance. You may be sure that +we who were looking on, helpless, held our breaths when Fanny Tomlin +disappeared through the doorway. Pulaski Tomlin was not a witness to +this performance, but he was quickly informed of it; and then he ran +this way and that, like one distraught. Twice he called her name, and +his voice must have been heard above the roar of the flames, for +presently she appeared at an upper window, and cried out, 'What is it, +brother?' 'Come down! Come out!' he shouted. 'I'm afraid I can't,' she +answered; and then she waved her hand and disappeared, after trying +vainly to close the blinds. + +"But no sooner had Pulaski Tomlin caught a glimpse of his sister, and +heard her voice, than he lowered his head like an angry bull, and rushed +through the flames that now had possession of the door. I, for one, +never expected to see him again; and I stood there frightened, +horrified, fascinated, utterly helpless. Oh, when you go through a trial +like that, my dear," said Mrs. Lumsden, stroking Nan's hair gently, "you +will realise how small and weak and contemptible human beings are when +they are engaged in a contest with the elements. There we stood, +helpless and horror-stricken, with two of our friends in the burning +house, which was now almost completely covered with the roaring flames. +What thoughts I had I could never tell you, but I wondered afterward +that I had not become suddenly grey. + +"We waited an age, it seemed to me. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, +who happened to be here at the time, was walking about wringing his +hands and crying like a child. Up to that moment, I had thought him to +be a hard and cruel man, but we can never judge others, not even our +closest acquaintances, until we see them put to the test. Suddenly, I +heard Major Perdue cry, 'Ah!' and saw him leap forward as a wild animal +leaps. + +"Through the doorway, which was now entirely covered with a roaring +flame, a blurred and smoking figure had rushed--a bulky, shapeless +figure, it seemed--and then it collapsed and fell, and lay in the midst +of the smoke, almost within reach of the flames. But Major Perdue was +there in an instant, and he dragged the shapeless mass away from the +withering heat and stifling smoke. After this, he had more assistance +than was necessary or desirable. + +"'Stand back!' he cried; and his voice had in it the note that men never +fail to obey. 'Stand back there! Where is Dorrington? Why isn't he +here?' Your father, my dear, had gone into the country to see a patient. +He was on his way home when he saw the red reflection of the flames in +the sky, and he hastened as rapidly as his horse could go. He arrived +just in the nick of time. He heard his name called as he drove up, and +was prompt to answer. 'Make way there!' commanded Major Perdue; 'make +way for Dorrington. And you ladies go home! There's nothing you can do +here.' Then I heard Fanny Tomlin call my name, and Major Perdue repeated +in a ringing voice, 'Lucy Lumsden is wanted here!' + +"I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue was +obeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of two +or three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had been +saved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of any +service. + +"Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only the +hem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that was +the first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she had +suffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simply +rolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, and +out through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. Fanny has +not so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's face +and see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy, +his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one whole +side of his face was raw and bleeding. + +"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have +been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' And +when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying, +'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here--it was Fanny's wish--and by +the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn +as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water, +and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fanny +and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his +attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his +tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a +confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were +a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.' + +"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked. + +"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied. + +"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything, +especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that +turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the +consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that +insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and +children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as +the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has +done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get +through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of +my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as +a dog.' + +"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he +laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll +find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true." + +"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that +the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles--as she +judged them to be. + +"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had +almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret +came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and +carried her request to the sick-room. + +"'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall +she come in?' + +"I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered. +'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!' + +"'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed Fanny, covering her +face with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!' + +"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't +want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you +know, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is +for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, +then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a +hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.' + +"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, +but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is +Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue--Tomlin +Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, +except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she +said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be +married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you +prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what--what is the +trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him +now--at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she replied +haughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are not +to see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble and +tender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she exclaimed almost violently. +'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across the +door, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by his +friends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there I +found her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to a +gesture from Major Perdue. + +"Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence, +I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but without +raising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, Miss +Lucy,' she said--she always called me Miss Lucy--'and why can't I, his +future wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold his +hand, and help you and Fanny minister to his wants?' I made her no +answer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edge +of the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way to +demonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, and +finally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sit +in a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until such +time as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' she +said. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I am +his.' I gave a cordial assent to this proposition, carried a comfortable +chair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself. + +"I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to see +Fanny Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to be +relieved. Fanny asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered it +aloud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there until +she can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed, +his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. Major +Perdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to the +window. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand. +'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shall +invite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued our +ministrations in perfect silence. + +"A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a strip +of linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for Margaret +Gaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? I +went from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I have +never laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvern +on a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin, +whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again. +Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her." + +"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired. + +"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as +soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember +on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to +retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; +and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one +of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your +father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the +substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering +has made him strong. + +"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the +highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is +because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no +sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person +in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any +hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case +may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get +out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary +attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the +world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune +we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The +Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was +arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski +Tomlin was its instrument." + +"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands +together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have +dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings +that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away." + +"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently. +"Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked +stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole +matter." + +"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain." + +"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the +idea that you are pretty?" + +"I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that I +see in the glass. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes we +quarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but my +own, own self." + +Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, but +Nan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," said +Gabriel's grandmother. + +"Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood well +enough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any one +who was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things. + +"Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmother +admitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make a +handsome pair." + +"When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swift +side-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put such +an idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?" + +"Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, they +used to call the proper caper." + +"Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card of +invitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the front +door." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye, +everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake." + +This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long that +Gabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked his +grandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan to +marry Bethune. + +"Why, I have an idea that the matter has already been arranged," she +answered with a knowing smile. "It would be so natural and appropriate. +You are too young to appreciate the wisdom of such arrangements, +Gabriel, but you will understand it when you are older. Nan is not +related in any way to the Cloptons, though a great many people think so. +Her grandmother was captured by the Creeks when only a year or two old. +She was the only survivor of a party of seven which had been ambushed by +the Indians. She was too young to give any information about herself. +She could say a few words, and she knew that her name was Rosalind, but +that was all. She was ransomed by General McGillivray, and sent to Shady +Dale. Under the circumstances, there was nothing for Raleigh Clopton to +do but adopt her. Thus she became Rosalind Clopton. She married Benier +Odom when, as well as could be judged, she was more than forty years +old. Randolph Dorrington married her daughter, who died when Nan was +born. Marriage, Gabriel, is not what young people think it is; and I do +hope that when you take a wife, it will be some one you have known all +your life." + +"I hope so, too," Gabriel responded with great heartiness. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +_The Passing of Margaret_ + + +The day after the return of Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune from the +war, Gabriel's grandmother had an early caller in the person of Miss +Fanny Tomlin. For a maiden lady, Miss Fanny was very plump and +good-looking. Her hair was grey, and she still wore it in short curls, +just as she had worn it when a girl. The style became her well. The +short curls gave her an air of jauntiness, which was in perfect keeping +with her disposition, and they made a very pretty frame for her rosy, +smiling face. Socially, she was the most popular person in the town, +with both young and old. A children's party was a dull affair in Shady +Dale without Miss Fanny to give it shape and form, to suggest games, and +to make it certain that the timid ones should have their fair share of +the enjoyment. Indeed, the community would have been a very dull one but +for Miss Fanny; in return for which the young people conferred the +distinction of kinship on her by calling her Aunt Fanny. She had +remained single because her youngest brother, Pulaski, was unmarried, +and needed some one to take care of him, so she said. But she had +another brother, Silas Tomlin, who was twice a widower, and who seemed +to need some one to take care of him, for he presented a very mean and +miserable appearance. + +It chanced that when Miss Fanny called, Gabriel was studying his +lessons, using the dining-room table as a desk, and he was able to hear +the conversation that ensued. Miss Fanny stood on no ceremony in +entering. The front door was open and she entered without knocking, +saying, "If there's nobody at home I'll carry the house away. Where are +you, Lucy?" + +"In my room, Fanny; come right in." + +"How are you, and how is the high and mighty Gabriel?" Having received +satisfactory answers to her friendly inquiries, Miss Fanny plunged at +once into the business that had brought her out so early. "What do you +think, Lucy? Margaret Gaither and her daughter have returned. They are +at the Gaither Place, and Miss Polly has just told me that there isn't a +mouthful to eat in the house--and there is Margaret at the point of +death! Why, it is dreadful. Something must be done at once, that's +certain. I wouldn't have bothered you, but you know what the +circumstances are. I don't know what Margaret's feelings are with +respect to me; you know we never were bosom friends. Yet I never really +disliked her, and now, after all that has happened, I couldn't bear to +think that she was suffering for anything. Likely enough she would be +embarrassed if I called and offered assistance. What is to be done?" + +"Wouldn't it be best for some one to call--some one who was her +friend?" The cool, level voice of Gabriel's grandmother seemed to clear +the atmosphere. "Whatever is to be done should be done sympathetically. +If I could see Polly, there would be no difficulty." + +"Well, I saw Miss Polly," said Miss Fanny, "and she told me the whole +situation, and I was on the point of saying that I'd run back home and +send something over, when an upper window was opened, and Margaret +Gaither's daughter stood there gazing at me--and she's a beauty, Lucy; +there's a chance for Gabriel there. Well, you know how deaf Miss Polly +is; if I had said what I wanted to say, that child would have heard +every word, and there was something in her face that held me dumb. Miss +Polly talked and I nodded my head, and that was all. The old soul must +have thought the cat had my tongue." Miss Fanny laughed uneasily as she +made the last remark. + +"If Margaret is ill, she should have attention. I will go there this +morning." This was Mrs. Lumsden's decision. + +"I'll send the carriage for you as soon as I can run home," said Miss +Fanny. With that she rose to go, and hustled out of the room, but in the +hallway she turned and remarked: "Tell Gabriel that he will have to +lengthen his suspenders, now that Nan has put on long dresses." + +"Oh, no!" protested Mrs. Lumsden. "We mustn't put any such nonsense in +Gabriel's head. Nan is for Francis Bethune. If it isn't all arranged it +ought to be. Why, the land of Dorrington joins the land that Bethune +will fall heir to some day, and it seems natural that the two estates +should become one." Gabriel's grandmother had old-fashioned ideas about +marriage. + +"Oh, I see!" replied Miss Fanny with a laugh; "you are so intent on +joining the two estates in wedlock that you take no account of the +individuals. But brother Pulaski says that for many years to come, the +more land a man has the poorer he will become." + +"Upon my word, I don't see how that can be," responded Mrs. Lumsden. +This was the first faint whiff of the new order that had come to the +nostrils of the dear old lady. + +Miss Fanny went home, and in no long time Neighbour Tomlin's carriage +came to the door. At the last moment, Mrs. Lumsden decided that Gabriel +should go with her. "It may be necessary for you to go on an errand. I +presume there are servants there, but I don't know whether they are to +be depended on." + +So Gabriel helped his grandmother into the carriage, climbed in after +her, and in a very short time they were at the Gaither Place. The young +woman whom Gabriel had seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack was standing in the +door, and the little frown on her forehead was more pronounced than +ever. She was evidently troubled. + +"Good-morning," said Mrs. Lumsden. "I have come to see Margaret. Does +she receive visitors?" + +"My name is Margaret, too," said the young woman, after returning Mrs. +Lumsden's salutation, and bowing to Gabriel. "But of course you came to +see my mother. She is upstairs--she would be carried there, though I +begged her to take one of the lower rooms. She is in the room in which +she was born." + +"I know the way very well," said Mrs. Lumsden. She was for starting up +the stairway, but the young woman detained her by a gesture and turned +to Gabriel. + +"Won't you come in?" she inquired. "We are old acquaintances, you know. +Your name is Gabriel--wait!--Gabriel Tolliver. Don't you see how well I +know you? Come, we'll help your grandmother up the stairs." This they +did--the girl with the firm and practised hand of an expert, and Gabriel +with the awkwardness common to young fellows of his age. The young woman +led Mrs. Lumsden to her mother's bedside, and presently came back to +Gabriel. + +"We will go down now, if you please," she said. "My mother is very +ill--worse than she has ever been--and you can't imagine how lonely I +am. Mother is at home here, while my home, if I have any, is in +Louisiana. I suppose you never had any trouble?" + +"My mother is dead," he said simply. Margaret reached out her hand and +touched him gently on the arm. It was a gesture of impulsive sympathy. + +"What is it?" Gabriel asked, thinking she was calling his attention to +something she saw or heard. + +"Nothing," she said softly. Gabriel understood then, and he could have +kicked himself for his stupidity. "Your grandmother is a very beautiful +old lady," she remarked after a period of silence. + +"She is very good to me," Gabriel replied, at a loss what to say, for he +always shrank from praising those near and dear to him. As he sat +there, he marvelled at the self-possession of this young woman in the +midst of strangers, and with her mother critically ill. + +In a little while he heard his grandmother calling him from the head of +the stairs. "Gabriel, jump in the carriage and fetch Dr. Dorrington at +once. He's at home at this hour." + +He did as he was bid, and Nan, who was coming uptown on business of her +own, so she said, must needs get in the carriage with her father. The +combination was more than Gabriel had bargained for. There was a twinkle +in Dr. Dorrington's eye, as he glanced good-humouredly from one to the +other, that Gabriel did not like at all. For some reason or other, which +he was unable to fathom, the young man was inclined to fight shy of +Nan's father; and there was nothing he liked less than to find himself +in Dr. Dorrington's company--more especially when Nan was present, too. +Noting the quizzical glances of the physician, Gabriel, like a great +booby, began to blush, and in another moment, Nan was blushing, too. + +"Now, father"--she only called him father when she was angry, or +dreadfully in earnest--"Now, father! if you begin your teasing, I'll +jump from the carriage. I'll not ride with a grown man who doesn't know +how to behave in his daughter's company." + +Her father laughed gaily. "Teasing? Why, I wasn't thinking of teasing. I +was just going to remark that the weather is very warm for the season, +and then I intended to suggest to Gabriel that, as I proposed to get +you a blue parasol, he would do well to get him a red one." + +"And why should Gabriel get a parasol?" Nan inquired with a show of +indignation. + +"Why, simply to be in the fashion," her father replied. "I remember the +time when you cried for a hat because Gabriel had one; I also remember +that once when you were wearing a sun-bonnet, Gabriel borrowed one and +wore it--and a pretty figure he cut in it." + +"I don't see how you can remember it," said Gabriel laughing and +blushing. + +"Well, I don't see how in the world I could forget it," Dr. Dorrington +responded in tone so solemn that Nan laughed in spite of her +uncomfortable feelings. + +"You say Margaret Gaither has a daughter, Gabriel?" said Dr. Dorrington, +suddenly growing serious, much to the relief of the others. "And about +Nan's age? Well, you will have to go in with me, daughter, and see her. +If her mother is seriously ill, it will be a great comfort to her to +have near her some one of her own age." + +Nan made a pretty little mouth at this command, to show that she didn't +relish it, but otherwise she made no objection. Indeed, as matters fell +out, it became almost her duty to go in to Margaret Bridalbin; for when +the carriage reached the house, the young girl was standing at the gate. + +"Is this Dr. Dorrington? Well, you are to go up at once. They are +constantly calling to know if you have come. I don't know how my dearest +is--I dread to know. Oh, I am sure you will do what you can." There was +an appeal in the girl's voice that went straight to the heart of the +physician. + +"You may make your mind easy on that score, my dear," said Dr. +Dorrington, laying his hand lightly on her shoulder. There was something +helpful and hopeful in the very tone of his voice. "This is my daughter +Nan," he added. + +Margaret turned to Nan, who was lagging behind somewhat shyly. "Will you +please come in?--you and Gabriel Tolliver. It is very lonely here, and +everything is so still and quiet. My name is Margaret Bridalbin," she +said. She took Nan's hand, and looked into her eyes as if searching for +sympathy. And she must have found it there, for she drew Nan toward her +and kissed her. + +That settled it for Nan. "My name is Nan Dorrington," she said, +swallowing a lump in her throat, "and I hope we shall be very good +friends." + +"We are sure to be," replied the other, with emphasis. "I always know at +once." + +They went into the dim parlour, and Nan and Margaret sat with their arms +entwined around each other. "Gabriel told me yesterday that you were a +young girl," Nan remarked. + +"I am seventeen," replied the other. + +"Only seventeen! Why, I am seventeen, and yet I seem to be a mere child +by the side of you. You talk and act just as a grown woman does." + +"That is because I have never associated with children of my own age. I +have always been thrown with older persons. And then my mother has been +ill a long, long time, and I have been compelled to do a great deal of +thinking. I know of nothing more disagreeable than to have to think. Do +you dislike poor folks?" + +"No, I don't," replied Nan, snuggling up to Margaret. "Some of my very +bestest friends are poor." + +Margaret smiled at the childish adjective, and placed her cheek against +Nan's for a moment. "I'm glad you don't dislike poverty," she said, "for +we are very poor." + +"When it comes to that," Nan responded, "everybody around here is +poor--everybody except Grandfather Clopton and Mr. Tomlin. They have +money, but I don't know where they get it. Nonny says that some folks +have only to dream of money, and when they wake in the morning they find +it under their pillows." + +Dr. Dorrington came downstairs at this moment. "Your mother is very much +better than she was awhile ago," he said to Margaret. "She never should +have made so long a journey. She has wasted in that way strength enough +to have kept her alive for six months." + +"I begged and implored her not to undertake it," the daughter explained, +"but nothing would move her. Even when she needed nourishing food, she +refused to buy it; she was saving it to bring her home." + +"Well, she is here, now, and we'll do the best we can. Gabriel, will you +run over, and ask Fanny Tomlin to come? And if Neighbour Tomlin is there +tell him I want to see him on some important business." + +It was very clear to Gabriel from all this that there was small hope +for the poor lady above. She might be better than she was when the +doctor arrived, but there was no ray of hope to be gathered from Dr. +Dorrington's countenance. + +Pulaski Tomlin and his sister responded to the summons at once; and with +Gabriel's grandmother holding her hand, the poor lady had an interview +with Pulaski Tomlin. But she never saw his face nor he hers. The large +screen was carried upstairs from the dining-room, and placed in front of +the bed; and near the door a chair was placed for Pulaski Tomlin. It was +the heart's desire of the dying lady that Neighbour Tomlin should become +the guardian of her daughter. He was deeply affected when told of her +wishes, but before consenting to accept the responsibility, asked to see +the daughter, and went to the parlour, where she was sitting with Nan +and Gabriel. When he came in Nan ran and kissed him as she never failed +to do, for, though his face on one side was so scarred and drawn that +the sight of it sometimes shocked strangers, those who knew him well, +found his wounded countenance singularly attractive. + +"This is Margaret," he said, taking the girl's hand. "Come into the +light, my dear, where you may see me as I am. Your mother has expressed +a wish that I should become your guardian. As an old and very dear +friend of mine, she has the right to make the request. I am willing and +more than willing to meet her wishes, but first I must have your +consent." + +They went into the hallway, which was flooded with light. "Are you the +Mr. Tomlin of whom I have heard my mother speak?" Margaret asked, +fixing her clear eyes on his face; and when he had answered in the +affirmative--"I wonder that she asked you, after what she has told me. +She certainly has no claims on you." + +"Ah, my dear, that is where you are wrong," he insisted. "I feel that +every one in this world has claims on me, especially those who were my +friends in old times. It is I who made a mistake, and not your mother; +and I should be glad to rectify that mistake now, as far as I can, by +carrying out her wishes. You know, of course, that she is very ill; will +you go up and speak with her?" + +"No, not now; not when there are so many strangers there," Margaret +replied, and stood looking at him with almost childish wonder. + +At this moment, Nan, who knew by heart all the little tricks of +friendship and affection, left Margaret, and took her stand by Neighbour +Tomlin's side. It was an indorsement that the other could not withstand. +She followed Nan, and said very firmly and earnestly, "It shall be as my +mother wishes." + +"I hope you will never have cause to regret it," remarked Pulaski Tomlin +solemnly. + +"She never will," Nan declared emphatically, as Pulaski Tomlin turned to +go upstairs. + +He went up very slowly, as if lost in thought. He went to the room and +stood leaning against the framework of the door. "Pulaski is here," said +Miss Fanny, who had been waiting to announce his return. + +"You remember, Pulaski," the invalid began, "that once when you were +ill, you would not permit me to see you. I was so ignorant that I was +angry; yes, and bitter; my vanity was wounded. And I was ignorant and +bitter for many years. I never knew until eighteen months ago why I was +not permitted to see you. I knew it one day, after I had been ill a long +time. I looked in the mirror and saw my wasted face and hollow eyes. I +knew then, and if I had known at first, Pulaski, everything would have +been so different. I have come all this terrible journey to ask you to +take my daughter and care for her. It is my last wish that you should be +her guardian and protector. Is she in the room? Can she hear what I am +about to say?" + +"No, Margaret," replied Pulaski Tomlin, in a voice that was tremulous +and husky. "She is downstairs; I have just seen her." + +"Well, she has no father according to my way of thinking," Margaret +Bridalbin went on. "Her father is a deserter from the Confederate army. +She doesn't know that; I tried to tell her, but my heart failed me. +Neither does she know that I have been divorced from him. These things +you can tell her when the occasion arises. If I had told her, it would +have been like accusing myself. I was responsible--I felt it and feel +it--and I simply could not tell her." + +"I shall try to carry out your wishes, Margaret," said Pulaski Tomlin; +"I have seen your daughter, as Fanny suggested, and she has no objection +to the arrangement. I shall do all that you desire. She shall be to me a +most sacred charge." + +"If you knew how happy you are making me, Pulaski--Oh, I am +grateful--grateful!" + +"There should be no talk of gratitude between you and me, Margaret." + +At a signal from Pulaski Tomlin, Judge Odom cleared his throat, and read +the document that he had drawn up, and his strong, business-like voice +went far toward relieving the strain that had been put on those who +heard the conversation between the dying woman and the man who had +formerly been her lover. Everything was arranged as she desired, every +wish she expressed had been carried out; and then, as if there was +nothing else to be done, the poor lady closed her eyes with a sigh, and +opened them no more in this world. It seemed that nothing had sustained +her but the hope of placing her daughter in charge of Pulaski Tomlin. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +_Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling_ + + +When the solemn funeral ceremonies were over, it was arranged that Nan +should spend a few days with her new friend, Margaret Gaither--she was +never called by the name of her father after her mother died--and +Gabriel took advantage of Nan's temporary absence to pay a visit to Mrs. +Absalom. He was very fond of that strong-minded woman; but since Nan had +grown to be such a young lady, he had not called as often as he had been +in the habit of doing. He was afraid, indeed, that some one would accuse +him of a sneaking desire to see Nan, and he was also afraid of the +quizzing which Nan's father was always eager to apply. But with Nan +away--her absence being notorious, as you may say--Gabriel felt that he +could afford to call on the genial housekeeper. + +Mrs. Absalom had for years been the manager of the Dorrington household, +and she retained her place even after Randolph Dorrington had taken for +his second wife Zepherine Dion, who had been known as Miss Johns, and +who was now called Mrs. Johnny Dorrington. In that household, indeed, +Mrs. Absalom was indispensable, and it was very fortunate that she and +Mrs. Johnny were very fond of each other. Her maiden name was Margaret +Rorick, and she came of a family that had long been attached to the +Dorringtons. In another clime, and under a different system, the Roricks +would have been described as retainers. They were that and much more. +They served without fee or reward. They were retainers in the highest +and best sense; for, in following the bent of their affections, they +retained their independence, their simple dignity and their +self-respect; and in that region, which was then, and is now, the most +democratic in the world, they were as well thought of as the Cloptons or +the Dorringtons. + +It came to pass, in the order of events, that Margaret Rorick married +Mr. Absalom Goodlett, who was the manager of the Dorrington plantation. +Though she was no chicken, as she said herself, Mr. Goodlett was her +senior by several years. She was also, in a sense, the victim of the +humour that used to run riot in Middle Georgia; for, in spite of her +individuality, which was vigorous and aggressive, she lost her own name +and her husband's too. At Margaret Rorick's wedding, or, rather, at the +infair, which was the feast after the wedding, Mr. Uriah Lazenby, whose +memory is kept green by his feats at tippling, and who combined fiddling +with farming, furnished the music for the occasion. Being something of a +privileged character, and having taken a thimbleful too much dram, as +fiddlers will do, the world over, Mr. Lazenby rose in his place, when +the company had been summoned to the feast, and remarked: + +"Margaret Rorick, now that the thing's been gone and done, and can't be +holp, I nominate you Mrs. Absalom, an' Mrs. Absalom it shall be +herearter. Ab Goodlett, you ought to be mighty proud when you can fling +your bridle on a filly like that, an' lead her home jest for the bar' +sesso." + +The loud laughter that followed placed the bride at a temporary +disadvantage. She joined in, however, and then exclaimed: "My goodness! +Old Uriah's drunk ag'in; you can't pull a stopper out'n a jug in the +same house wi' him but what he'll dribble at the mouth an' git shaky in +the legs." + +But drunk or sober, Uriah had "nominated" Mrs. Absalom for good and all. +One reason why this "nomination" was seized on so eagerly was the sudden +change that had taken place in Miss Rorick's views in regard to +matrimony. She was more than thirty years old when she consented to +become Mrs. Absalom. Up to that time she had declared over and over +again that there wasn't a man in the world she'd look at, much less +marry. + +Now, many a woman has said the same thing and changed her mind without +attracting attention; but Mrs. Absalom's views on matrimony, and her +pithy criticisms of the male sex in general, had flown about on the +wings of her humour, and, in that way, had come to have wide +advertisement. But her "nomination" interfered neither with her +individuality, nor with her ability to indulge in pithy comments on +matters and things in general. Of Mr. Lazenby, she said later: "What's +the use of choosin' betwixt a fool an' a fiddler, when you can git both +in the same package?" + +She made no bad bargain when she married Mr. Goodlett. His irritability +was all on the surface. At bottom, he was the best-natured and most +patient of men--a philosopher who was so thoroughly contented with the +ways of the world and the order of Providence, that he had no desire to +change either--and so comfortable in his own views and opinions that he +was not anxious to convert others to his way of thinking. If anything +went wrong, it was like a garment turned inside out; it would "come out +all right in the washin'." + +Mrs. Absalom's explanation of her change of views in the subject of +matrimony was very simple and reasonable. "Why, a single 'oman," she +said, "can't cut no caper at all; she can't hardly turn around wi'out +bein' plumb tore to pieces by folks's tongues. But now--you see Ab over +there? Well, he ain't purty enough for a centre-piece, nor light enough +for to be set on the mantel-shelf, but it's a comfort to see him in that +cheer there, knowin' all the time that you can do as you please, and +nobody dastin to say anything out of the way. Why, I could put on Ab's +old boots an' take his old buggy umbrell, an' go an' jine the muster. +The men might snicker behind the'r han's, but all they could say would +be, 'Well, ef that kind of a dido suits Ab Goodlett, it ain't nobody +else's business.'" + +It happened that Mr. Sanders was the person to whom Mrs. Absalom was +addressing her remarks, and he inquired if such an unheard of proceeding +would be likely to suit Mr. Goodlett. + +"To a t!" she exclaimed. "Why, he wouldn't bat his eye. He mought grunt +an' groan a little jest to let you know that he's alive, but that'd be +all. An' that's the trouble: ef Ab has any fault in the world that you +can put your finger on, it's in bein' too good. You know, +William--anyhow, you'd know it ef you belonged to my seck--that there's +lots of times and occasions when it'd make the wimmen folks feel lots +better ef they had somethin' or other to rip and rare about. My old cat +goes about purrin', the very spit and image of innocence; but she'd die +ef she didn't show her claws sometimes. Once in awhile I try my level +best for to pick a quarrel wi' Ab, but before I say a dozen words, I +look at him an' have to laugh. Why the way that man sets there an' says +nothin' is enough to make a saint ashamed of hisself." + +It was the general opinion that Mr. Goodlett, who was shrewd and +far-seeing beyond the average, had an eye to strengthening his relations +with Dr. Dorrington, when he "popped the question" to Margaret Rorick. +But such was not the case. His relations needed no strengthening. He +managed Dorrington's agricultural interests with uncommon ability, and +brought rare prosperity to the plantation. Unlettered, and, to all +appearances, taking no interest in public affairs, he not only foresaw +the end of the Civil War, but looked forward to the time when the +Confederate Government, pressed for supplies, would urge upon the States +the necessity of limiting the raising of cotton. + +He gave both Meriwether Clopton and Neighbour Tomlin the benefit of +these views; and then, when the rumours of Sherman's march through +Georgia grew rifer he made a shrewd guess as to the route, and succeeded +in hiding out and saving, not only all the cotton the three plantations +had grown, but also all the livestock. Having an ingrained suspicion of +the negroes, and entertaining against them the prejudices of his class, +Mr. Goodlett employed a number of white boys from the country districts +to aid him with his refugee train. And he left them in charge of the +camp he had selected, knowing full well that they would be glad to +remain in hiding as long as the Federal soldiers were about. + +The window of the dining-room at Dorringtons' commanded a view of the +street for a considerable distance toward town, and it was at this +window that Mrs. Absalom had her favourite seat. She explained her +preference for it by saying that she wanted to know what was going on in +the world. She looked out from this window one day while she was talking +to Gabriel Tolliver, whose visits to Dorringtons' had come to be +coincident with Nan's absence, and suddenly exclaimed: + +"Well, my gracious! Ef yonder ain't old Picayune Pauper! I wonder what +we have done out this way that old Picayune should be sneakin' around +here? I'll tell you what--ef Ab has borried arry thrip from old Silas +Tomlin, I'll quit him; I won't live wi' a man that'll have anything to +do wi' that old scamp. As I'm a livin' human, he's comin' here!" + +Now, Silas Tomlin was Neighbour Tomlin's elder brother, but the two men +were as different in character and disposition as a warm bright day is +different from a bitter black night. Pulaski Tomlin gave his services +freely to all who needed them, and he was happy and prosperous; whereas +Silas was a miserly money-lender and note-shaver, and always appeared to +be in the clutches of adversity. To parsimony he added the sting--yes, +and the stain--of a peevish and an irritable temper. It was as Mrs. +Absalom had said--"a picayunish man is a pauper, I don't care how much +money he's got." + +"I'll go see ef Johnny is in the house," said Mrs. Absalom. "Johnny" was +Mrs. Dorrington, who, in turn, called Mrs. Absalom "Nonny," which was +Nan's pet name for the woman who had raised her--"I'll go see, but I +lay she's gone to see Nan; I never before seed a step-mammy so wropped +up in her husband's daughter." Nan, as has been said, was spending a few +days with poor Margaret Bridalbin, whose mother had just been buried. + +Mrs. Absalom called Mrs. Dorrington, and then looked for her, but she +was not to be found at the moment. "I reckon you'll have to go to the +door, Gabe," said Mrs. Absalom, as the knocker sounded. "Sence freedom, +we ain't got as many niggers lazyin' around an' doin' nothin' as we use +to have." + +"Is Mr. Goodlett in?" asked Silas Tomlin, when Gabriel opened the door. + +"I think he's in Malvern," Gabriel answered, as politely as he could. + +"No, no, no!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, with a terrible frown; "you don't +know a thing about it, not a thing in the world. He got back right after +dinner." + +"Well, ef he did," said Mrs. Absalom, coming forward, "he didn't come +here. He ain't cast a shadow in this house sence day before yistiddy, +when he went to Malvern." + +"How are you, Mrs. Absalom?--how are you?" said Silas, with a tremendous +effort at politeness. "I hope you are well; you are certainly looking +well. You say your husband is not in? Well, I'm sorry; I wanted to see +him on business; I wanted to get some information." + +"Ab don't owe you anything, I hope," remarked Mrs. Absalom, ignoring the +salutation. + +"Not a thing--not a thing in the world. But why do you ask? Many people +have the idea that I'm rolling in money--that's what I hear--and they +think that I go about loaning it to Tom, Dick and Harry. But it is not +so--it is not so; I have no money." + +Mrs. Absalom laughed ironically, saying, "I reckon if your son Paul was +to scratch about under the house, he'd find small change about in +places." + +Silas Tomlin looked hard at Mrs. Absalom, his little black eyes +glistening under his coarse, heavy eyebrows like those of some wild +animal. He was not a prepossessing man. He was so bald that he was +compelled to wear a skull-cap, and the edge of this showed beneath the +brim of his chimney-pot hat. His face needed a razor; and the grey beard +coming through the cuticle, gave a ghastly, bluish tint to the pallor of +his countenance. His broadcloth coat--Mrs. Absalom called it a +"shadbelly"--was greasy at the collar, and worn at the seams, and his +waistcoat was stained with ambeer. His trousers, which were much too +large for him, bagged at the knees, and his boots were run down at the +heels. Though he was temperate to the last degree, he had the appearance +of a man who is the victim of some artificial stimulant. + +"What put that idea in your head, Mrs. Goodlett?" he asked, after +looking long and searchingly at Mrs. Absalom. + +"Well, I allowed that when you was countin' out your cash, a thrip or +two mought have slipped through the cracks in the floor," she replied; +"sech things have happened before now." + +He wiped his thin lips with his lean forefinger, and stood hesitating, +whereupon Mrs. Absalom remarked: "It sha'n't cost you a cent ef you'll +come in. Ab'll be here purty soon ef somebody ain't been fool enough to +give him his dinner. His health'll fail him long before his appetite +does. Show Mr. Tomlin in the parlour, Gabriel, an' I'll see about Ab's +dinner; I don't want it to burn to a cracklin' before he gits it." + +Silas Tomlin went into the parlour and sat down, while Gabriel stood +hesitating, not knowing what to do or say. He was embarrassed, and Silas +Tomlin saw it. "Oh, take a seat," he said, with a show of impatience. +"What are you doing for yourself, Tolliver? You're a big boy now, and +you ought to be making good money. We'll all have to work now: we'll +have to buckle right down to it. The way I look at it, the man who is +doing nothing is throwing money away; yes, sir, throwing it away. What +does Adam Smith say? Why, he says----" + +Gabriel never found out what particular statement of Adam Smith was to +be thrown at his head, for at that moment, Mr. Goodlett called out from +the dining-room: "Si Tomlin in there, Gabriel? Well, fetch him out here +whar I live at. I ain't got no parlours for company." By the time that +Gabriel had led Mr. Silas Tomlin into the dining-room, Mr. Goodlett had +a plate of victuals carrying it to the kitchen; and he remarked as he +went along, "I got nuther parlours nor dinin'-rooms: fetch him out here +to the kitchen whar we both b'long at." + +If Silas Tomlin objected to this arrangement, he gave no sign; he +followed without a word, Mr. Goodlett placed his plate on the table +where the dishes were washed, and dropped his hat on the floor beside +him, and began to attack his dinner most vigorously. Believing, +evidently, that ordinary politeness would be wasted here, Silas entered +at once on the business that had brought him to Dorringtons'. + +"Sorry to trouble you, Goodlett," he said by way of making a beginning. + +"I notice you ain't cryin' none to hurt," remarked Mr. Goodlett +placidly. "An' ef you was, you'd be cryin' for nothin'. You ain't +troublin' me a mite. Forty an' four like you can't trouble me." + +"You'll have to excuse Ab," said Mrs. Goodlett, who had preceded Gabriel +and Silas to the kitchen. "He's lost his cud, an' he won't be right well +till he finds it ag'in." She placed her hand over her mouth to hide her +smiles. + +Silas Tomlin paid no attention to this by-play. He stood like a man who +is waiting an opportunity to get in a word. + +"Goodlett, who were the ladies you brought from Malvern to-day?" His +face was very serious. + +"You know 'em lots better'n I do. The oldest seed you out in the field, +an' she axed me who you mought be. I told her, bekaze I ain't got no +secrets from my passengers, specially when they're good-lookin' an' +plank down the'r money before they start. Arter I told 'em who you was, +the oldest made you a mighty purty bow, but you wer'n't polite enough +for to take off your hat. I dunno as I blame you much, all things +considered. Then the youngest, she's the daughter, she says, says she, +'Is that reely him, ma?' an' t'other one, says she, 'Ef it's him, honey, +he's swunk turrible.' She said them very words." + +"I wonder who in the world they can be?" said Silas Tomlin, as if +talking to himself. + +"You'll think of the'r names arter awhile," Mr. Goodlett remarked by way +of consolation, but his tone was so suspicious that Silas turned on his +heel--he had started out--and asked Mr. Goodlett what he meant. + +"Adzackly what I said, nuther more nor less." + +Mrs. Absalom was so curious to find out something more that Silas was +hardly out of the house before she began to ply her husband with +questions. But they were all futile. Mr. Goodlett knew no more than +that he had brought the women from Malvern; that they had chanced to +spy old Silas Tomlin in a field by the side of the road, and that when +the elder of the two women found out what his name was, she made him a +bow, which Silas wasn't polite enough to return. + +"That's all I know," remarked Mr. Goodlett. "Dog take the wimmen +anyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly; "ef they'd stay at home they'd be all +right; but here they go, a-trapesin' an' a-trollopin' all over creation, +an' a-givin' trouble wherever they go. They git me so muddled an' +befuddled wi' ther whickerin' an' snickerin' that I dunner which een' +I'm a-stannin' on half the time. Nex' time they want to ride wi' me, +I'll say, 'Walk!' By jacks! I won't haul 'em." + +This episode, if it may be called such, made small impression on +Gabriel's mind, but it tickled Mrs. Goodlett's mind into activity, and +the lad heard more of Silas Tomlin during the next hour than he had ever +known before. In a manner, Silas was a very important factor in the +community, as money-lenders always are, but according to Gabriel's idea, +he was always one of the poorest creatures in the world. + +When he was a young man, Silas joined the tide of emigration that was +flowing westward. He went to Mississippi, where he married his first +wife. In a year's time, he returned to his old home. When asked about +his wife--for he returned alone--he curtly answered that she was well +enough off. Mrs. Absalom was among those who made the inquiry, and her +prompt comment was, "She's well off ef she's dead; I'll say that much." + +But there was a persistent rumour, coming from no one knew where, that +when a child was born to Silas, the wife was seized with such a horror +of the father that the bare sight of him would cause her to scream, and +she constantly implored her people to send him away. It is curious how +rumours will travel far and wide, from State to State, creeping through +swamps, flying over deserts and waste places, and coming home at last as +the carrier-pigeon does, especially if there happens to be a grain of +truth in them. + +It turned out that the lady, in regard to whom Silas Tomlin expressed +such curiosity, was a Mrs. Claiborne, of Kentucky, who, with her +daughter, had refugeed from point to point in advance of the Federal +army. Finally, when peace came, the lady concluded to make her home in +Georgia, where she had relatives, and she selected Shady Dale as her +place of abode on account of its beauty. These facts became known later. + +Evidently the new-comers had resources, for they arranged to occupy the +Gaither house, taking it as it stood, with Miss Polly Gaither, furniture +and all. This arrangement must have been satisfactory to Miss Polly in +the first place, or it would never have been made; and it certainly +relieved her of the necessity of living on the charity of her +neighbours, under pretence of borrowing from them. But so strange a +bundle of contradictions is human nature, that no sooner had Miss Polly +begun to enjoy the abundance that was now showered upon her in the shape +of victuals and drink than she took her ear-trumpet in one hand and her +work-bag in the other, and went abroad, gossiping about her tenants, +telling what she thought they said, and commenting on their +actions--not maliciously, but simply with a desire to feed the curiosity +of the neighbours. + +In order to do this more effectually, Miss Polly returned visits that +had been made to her before the war. There was nothing in her talk to +discredit the Claibornes or to injure their characters. They were +strangers to the community, and there was a natural and perfectly +legitimate curiosity on the part of the town to learn something of their +history. Miss Polly could not satisfy this curiosity, but she could whet +it by leaving at each one's door choice selections from her catalogue of +the sayings and doings of the new-comers--wearing all the time a dress +that Miss Eugenia, the daughter, had made over for her. Miss Polly was a +dumpy little woman, and, with her wen, her ear-trumpet, and her +work-bag, she cut a queer figure as she waddled along. + +There was one piece of information she gave out that puzzled the +community no little. According to Miss Polly, the Claibornes had hardly +settled themselves in their new home before Silas Tomlin called on them. +"I can't hear as well as I used to," said Miss Polly--she was deaf as a +door-post--"but I can see as well as anybody; yes indeed, as well as +anybody in the world. And I tell you, Lucy Lumsden"--she was talking to +Gabriel's grandmother--"as soon as old Silas darkened the door, I knew +he was worried. I never saw a grown person so fidgety and nervous, +unless it was Micajah Clemmons, and he's got the rickets, poor man. So I +says to myself, 'I'll watch you,' and watch I did. Well, when Mrs. +Claiborne came into the parlour, she bowed very politely to old Silas, +but I could see that she could hardly keep from laughing in his face; +and I don't blame her, for the way old Silas went on was perfectly +ridiculous. He spit and he spluttered, and sawed the air with his arms, +and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jerked at the bottom of his +wescut till I really thought he'd pull the front out. I wish you could +have seen him, Lucy Lumsden, I do indeed. And when the door was shut on +him, Mrs. Claiborne flung herself down on a sofa, and laughed until she +frightened her daughter. I don't complain about my afflictions as a +general thing, Lucy, but I would have given anything that day if my +hearing had been as good as it used to be." + +And though Gabriel's grandmother was a woman of the highest principles, +holding eavesdropping in the greatest contempt, it is possible that she +would have owned to a mild regret that Miss Polly Gaither was too deaf +to hear what Silas Tomlin's troubles were. This was natural, too, for, +on account of the persistent rumours that had followed Silas home from +Mississippi, there was always something of a mystery in regard to his +first matrimonial venture. There was none about his second. A year or +two after he returned home he married Susan Pritchard, whose father was +a prosperous farmer, living several miles from town. Susan bore Silas a +son and died. She was a pious woman, and with her last breath named the +child Paul, on account of the conjunction of the names of Paul and Silas +in the New Testament. Paul grew up to be one of the most popular young +men in the community. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +_The Political Machine Begins its Work_ + + +All that has been set down thus far, you will say, is trifling, +unimportant and wearisome. Your decision is not to be disputed; but if, +by an effort of the mind, you could throw yourself back to those dread +days, you would understand what a diversion these trifling events and +episodes created for the heart-stricken and soul-weary people of that +region. The death of Margaret Bridalbin moved them to pity, and awoke in +their minds pleasing memories of happier days, when peace and prosperity +held undisputed sway in all directions. The arrival of the Claibornes +had much the same effect. It gave the community something to talk about, +and, in a small measure, took them out of themselves. Moreover, the +Claibornes, mother and daughter, proved to be very attractive additions +to the town's society. They were both bright and good-humoured, and the +daughter was very beautiful. + +To a people overwhelmed with despair, the most trifling episode becomes +curiously magnified. The case of Mr. Goodlett is very much to the point. +He was merely an individual, it is true, but in some respects an +individual represents the mass. When Sherman's men hanged him to a +limb, under the mistaken notion that he was the custodian of the Clopton +plate, the last thing he remembered as he lost consciousness, was the +ticking of his watch. It sounded in his ears, he said, as loud as the +blows of a sledge-hammer falling on an anvil. From that day until he +died, he never could bear to hear the ticking of a watch. He gave his +time-piece to his wife, who put it away with her other relics and +treasures. + +How it was with other communities it is not for this chronicler to say, +but the collapse of the Confederacy, coming when it did, was an event +that Shady Dale least expected. The last trump will cause no greater +surprise and consternation the world over, than the news of Lee's +surrender caused in that region. The public mind had not been prepared +for such an event, especially in those districts remote from the centres +of information. Almost every piece of news printed in the journals of +the day was coloured with the prospect of ultimate victory: and when the +curtain suddenly came down and the lights went out, no language can +describe the grief, the despair, and the feeling of abject humiliation +that fell upon the white population in the small towns and village +communities. How it was in the cities has not been recorded, but it is +to be presumed that then, as now, the demands and necessities of trade +and business were powerful enough to overcome and destroy the worst +effects of a calamity that attacked the sentiments and emotions. + +It has been demonstrated recently on some very wide fields of action +that the atmosphere of commercialism is unfavourable to the growth of +sentiments of an ideal character. That is why wise men who believe in +the finer issues of life are inclined to be suspicious of what is +loosely called civilisation and progress, and doubtful of the theories +of those who clothe themselves in the mantle of science. + +Whatever the feeling in the cities may have been when news of the +surrender came, it caused the most poignant grief and despair in the +country places: and there, as elsewhere in this world, whenever +suffering is to be borne, the most of the burden falls on the shoulders +of the women. It is at once the strength and weakness of the sex that +woman suffers more than man and is more capable of enduring the pangs of +suffering. + +As for the men they soon recovered from the shock. They were startled +and stunned, but when they opened their eyes to the situation they found +themselves confronted by conditions that had no precedent or parallel in +the history of the world. It is small fault if their minds failed at +first to grasp the significance and the import of these conditions, so +new were they and so amazing. + +A few years later, Gabriel Tolliver, who, when the surrender came, was a +lad just beyond seventeen, took himself severely to task before a public +assemblage for his blindness in 1865, and the years immediately +following; and his criticisms must have gone home to others, for the +older men who sat in the audience rose to their feet and shook the house +with their applause. They, too, had been as blind as the boy. + +It was perhaps well for Shady Dale that Mr. Sanders came home when he +did. He had been in the field, if not on the forum. He had mingled with +public men, and, as he himself contended, had been "closeted" with one +of the greatest men the country ever produced--the reference being to +Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Sanders had to tell over and over again the story of +how he and Frank Bethune didn't kidnap the President; and he brought +home hundreds of rich and racy anecdotes that he had picked up in the +camp. In those awful days when there was little ready money to be had, +and business was at a standstill, and the courts demoralised, and the +whole social fabric threatening to fall to pieces, it was Mr. Billy +Sanders who went around scattering cheerfulness and good-humour as +carelessly as the children scatter the flowers they have gathered in the +fields. + +Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune had formed a part of the escort that +went with Mr. Davis as far as Washington in Wilkes County. On this +account, Mr. Sanders boasted that at the last meeting of the Confederate +Cabinet held in that town, he had elected himself a member, and was duly +installed. "It was the same," he used to say, "as j'inin' the +Free-masons. The doorkeeper gi' me the grip an' the password, the head +man of the war department knocked me on the forrerd, an' the thing was +done. When Mr. Davis was ready to go, he took me by the hand, an' says, +'William,' says he, 'keep house for the boys till I git back, an' be +shore that you cheer 'em up.'" + +This sort of nonsense served its purpose, as Mr. Sanders intended that +it should. Wherever he appeared on the streets a crowd gathered around +him--as large a crowd as the town could furnish. To a spectator standing +a little distance away and out of hearing, the attitude and movements of +these groups presented a singular appearance. The individuals would move +about and swap places, trying to get closer to Mr. Sanders. There would +be a period of silence, and then, suddenly, loud shouts of laughter +would rend the air. Such a spectator, if a stranger, might easily have +imagined that these men and boys, standing close together, and shouting +with laughter at intervals, were engaged in practising a part to be +presented in a rural comedy--or that they were a parcel of simpletons. + +One peculiarity of Mr. Sanders's humour was that it could not be +imitated with any degree of success. His raciest anecdote lost a large +part of its flavour when repeated by some one else. It was the way he +told it, a cut of the eye, a lift of the eyebrow, a movement of the +hand, a sudden air of solemnity--these were the accessories that gave +point and charm to the humour. + +Mr. Sanders had cut out a very large piece of work for himself. He kept +it up for some time, but he gradually allowed himself longer and longer +intervals of seriousness. The multitude of problems growing out of the +new and strange conditions were of a thought-compelling nature; and they +grew larger and more ominous as the days went by. Gabriel Tolliver might +take to the woods, as the saying is, and so escape from the prevailing +depression. But Mr. Sanders and the rest of the men had no such +resource; responsibility sat on their shoulders, and they were compelled +to face the conditions and study them. Gabriel could sit on the fence by +the roadside, and see neither portent nor peril in the groups and gangs +of negroes passing and repassing, and moving restlessly to and fro, some +with bundles and some with none. He watched them, as he afterward +complained, with a curiosity as idle as that which moves a little child +to watch a swarm of ants. He noticed, however, that the negroes were no +longer cheerful. Their child-like gaiety had vanished. In place of their +loud laughter, their boisterous play, and their songs welling forth and +filling the twilight places with sweet melodies, there was silence. +Gabriel had no reason to regard this silence as ominous, but it was so +regarded by his elders. + +He thought that the restless and uneasy movements of the negroes were +perfectly natural. They had suddenly come to the knowledge that they +were free, and they were testing the nature and limits of their freedom. +They desired to find out its length and its breadth. So much was clear +to Gabriel, but it was not clear to his elders. And what a pity that it +was not! How many mistakes would have been avoided! What a dreadful +tangle and turmoil would have been prevented if these grown children +could have been judged from Gabriel's point of view! For the boy's +interpretation of the restlessness and uneasiness of the blacks was the +correct one. Your historians will tell you that the situation was +extraordinary and full of peril. Well, extraordinary, if you will, but +not perilous. Gabriel could never be brought to believe that there was +anything to be dreaded in the attitude of the blacks. What he scored +himself for in the days to come was that his interest in the matter +never rose above the idle curiosity of a boy. + +And yet there were some developments calculated to pique curiosity. A +few years before the war, one of Madame Awtry's nephews from +Massachusetts came in to the neighbourhood preaching freedom to the +negroes. As a result, a large body of the Clopton negroes gathered +around the house one morning with many breathings and mutterings. Uncle +Plato, the carriage-driver, went to his master with a very grave face, +and announced that the hands, instead of going to work, had come in a +body to the house. + +"Well, go and see what they want, Plato," said the master of the Clopton +Place. + +"I done ax um dat, suh," replied Uncle Plato, "an' dey say p'intedly dat +dey want ter see you." + +"Very well; where is Mr. Sanders?" + +"He out dar, suh, makin' fun un um." + +When Meriwether Clopton went out, he was told by old man Isaiah, the +foreman of the field-hands, that the boys didn't want to be "Bledserd." +It was some time before the master could understand what the old man +meant, but Mr. Sanders finally made it clear, and Meriwether Clopton +sent the negroes about their business with a promise that none of them +should ever be "Bledserd" by his consent. + +A year or two before this "rising" occurred, General Jesse Bledsoe had +died leaving a will, by the terms of which all his negroes were given +their freedom, and provision was made for their transportation to a free +State. But the General had relatives, who put in their claims, and +succeeded in breaking the will, with the result that many of the negroes +were carried to the West and Southwest, bringing about a wholesale +separation of families, the first that had ever occurred in that +section. The impression it made on both whites and negroes was a lasting +one. In the minds of the blacks, freedom was only another name for +"Bledserin'." + +Nevertheless, when, after the collapse of the Confederacy and the advent +of Sherman's army, the Clopton negroes were told that they were free, a +large number of them joined the restless, migratory throng that passed +to and fro along the public highway, some coming, some going, but all +moved by the same irresistible impulse to test their freedom--to see if +they really could come hither and go yonder without let or hinderance. +Uncle Plato and his family, with a dozen others who were sagacious +enough to follow the old man's example, remained in their places and +fared better than the rest. + +For a time Shady Dale rested peacefully in its seclusion, watching the +course of events with apparent tranquillity. But behind this appearance +of repose there was a good deal of restlessness and uneasiness. +Sometimes its bosom (so to speak) was inflamed with anger, and sometimes +it would be sunk in despair. One of the events that brought Shady Dale +closer to the troubles that the newspapers were full of, was a circular +letter issued by Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale. Major Perdue had +returned home thoroughly reconstructed. He was full of admiration for +General Grant's attitude toward General Lee, and he endorsed with all +his heart the tone and spirit of Lee's address to his old soldiers; but +when he saw the unexpected turn that the politicians had been able to +give to events, he found it hard to hold his peace. Finally, when he +could restrain himself no longer, he incited his friends to hold a +meeting and propose his name as a candidate for Congress. This was done, +and the Major seized the opportunity to issue a circular letter +declining the nomination, and giving his reasons therefor. This letter +remains to this day the most scathing arraignment of carpet-baggery, +bayonet rule, and the Republican Party generally that has ever been put +in print. It contained some decidedly picturesque references to the +personality of the commander of the Georgia district, who happened to be +General Pope, the famous soldier who had his head-quarters in the saddle +at a very interesting period of the Civil War. + +Major Perdue did not intend it so, but his letter was a piece of pure +recklessness. The effect of this scorching document was to bring a +company of Federal troops to Halcyondale, and in the course of a few +weeks a detachment was stationed at Shady Dale. In each case they +brought their tents with them, and went into camp. This was taken as a +signal by the carpet-baggers that the region round-about was to be +cultivated for political purposes, and forthwith they began operations, +receiving occasional accessions in the person of a number of scalawags, +the most respectable and conscientious of these being Mr. Mahlon Butts, +who had been a vigorous and consistent Union man all through the war. He +could be neither convinced nor intimidated, and his consistency won for +him the respect of his neighbours. But when the carpet-baggers made +their appearance, and Mahlon Butts began to fraternise with them, he was +ostracised along with the rest. + +It soon became necessary for the whites to take counsel together, and +Shady Dale became, as it had been before the war, the Mecca of the +various leaders. Before the war, the politicians of both parties were in +the habit of meeting at Shady Dale, enjoying the barbecues for which the +town was famous, and taking advantage of the occasion to lay out the +programme of the campaign. And now, when it was necessary to organise a +white man's party, the leaders turned their eyes and their steps to +Shady Dale. + +Then it was that Gabriel had an opportunity to see Toombs, and Stephens, +and Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson--he who was on the national ticket +with Douglas in 1860--and other men who were to become prominent later. +There were some differences of opinion to be settled. A few of the +leaders had advised the white voters to take no part in the political +farce which Congress had arranged, but to leave it all to the negroes +and the aliens, especially as so many of the white voters had been +disfranchised, or were labouring under political disabilities. Others, +on the contrary, advised the white voters to qualify as rapidly as +possible. It was this difference of opinion that remained to be settled, +so far as Georgia was concerned. + +It was Gabriel's acquaintance with Mr. Stephens that first fired his +ambition. Here was a frail, weak man, hardly able to stand alone, who +had been an invalid all his life, and yet had won renown, and by his +wisdom and conservatism had gained the confidence and esteem of men of +all parties and of all shades of opinion. His willpower and his energy +lifted him above his bodily weakness and ills, and carried him through +some of the most arduous campaigns that ever occurred in Georgia, where +heated canvasses were the rule and not the exception. Watching him +closely, and noting his wonderful vivacity and cheerfulness, Gabriel +Tolliver came to the conclusion that if an invalid could win fame a +strong healthy lad should be able to make his mark. + +It fell out that Gabriel attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens, who +was always partial to young men. He made the lad sit near him, drew him +out, and gave him some sound advice in regard to his studies. At the +suggestion of Mr. Stephens, the lad was permitted to attend the +conferences, which were all informal, and the kindly statesman took +pains to introduce the awkward, blushing youngster to all the prominent +men who came. + +It was curious, Gabriel thought, how easily and naturally the invalid +led the conversation into the channel he desired. He was smoking a clay +pipe, which his faithful body-servant replenished from time to time. +"Mr. Sanders," he began, "I have heard a good deal about your attempt +to kidnap Lincoln. What did you think of Lincoln anyhow?" + +"Well, sir, I thought, an' still think that he was the best all-'round +man I ever laid eyes on." + +"He certainly was a very great man," remarked Mr. Stephens. "I knew him +well before the war. We were in Congress together. It is odd that he +showed no remarkable traits at that time." + +"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "arter the Dimmycrats elected him +President, he found hisself in a corner, an' he jest had to be a big +man." + +"You mean after the Republicans elected him," some one suggested. + +"Not a bit of it,--not a bit of it!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Why the +Republicans didn't have enough votes to elect three governors, much less +a President. But the Dimmycrats, bein' perlite by natur' an' not +troubled wi' any surplus common sense, divided up the'r votes, an' the +Republicans walked in an' took the cake. If you ever hear of me votin' +the Dimmycrat ticket--an' I reckon I'll have to do it--you may jest put +it down that it ain't bekase I want to, but bekase I'm ableege to. The +party ain't hardly got life left in it, an' yit here you big men are +wranglin' an' jowerin' as to whether you'll set down an' let a drove of +mules run over you, or whether you'll stan' up to the rack, fodder or no +fodder." + +"This brings us to the very point we are to discuss," said Mr. Stephens, +laughing. "I may say in the beginning that I am much of Mr. Sanders's +opinion. Some very able men insist that if we take no part in this +reconstruction business, we'll not be responsible for it. That is true, +but we will have to endure the consequences just the same. Radicalism +has majorities at present, but these will disappear after a time." + +"I reckon some of us can be trusted to wear away a few majorities," said +Mr. Sanders, dryly, and it was his last contribution to the discussion. +As might be supposed, no definite policy was hit upon. The conditions +were so new to those who had to deal with them, that, after an +interchange of views, the company separated, feeling that the policy +proper to be pursued would arise naturally out of the immediate +necessities of the occasion, or the special character of the situation. +This was the view of Mr. Stephens, who, as he was still suffering from +his confinement in prison, accepted the invitation of Meriwether Clopton +to remain at Shady Dale for a week or more. + +During that week, there was hardly a day that Gabriel did not go to the +Clopton Place. He went because he could see that his presence was +agreeable to Mr. Stephens, as well as to Meriwether Clopton. He was led +along to join in the conversation which the older men were carrying on, +and in that way he gained more substantial information about political +principles and policies than he could have found in the books and the +newspapers. + +Moreover, Gabriel came in closer contact with Francis Bethune. That +young gentleman seized the opportunity to invite Gabriel to his room, +where they had several familiar and pleasant talks. Bethune told Gabriel +much that was interesting about the war, and about the men he had met +in Richmond and Washington. He also related many interesting incidents +and stories of adventure, in which he had taken part. But he never once +put himself forward as the hero of an exploit. On the contrary, he was +always in the background; invariably, it was some one else to whom he +gave the credit of success, taking upon himself the responsibility of +the failures. + +Gabriel had never suspected this proud-looking young man of modesty, and +he at once began to admire and like Bethune, who was not only genial, +but congenial. He seemed to take a real interest in Gabriel, and gave +him a good deal of sober advice which he should have taken himself. + +"I'll never be anything but plain Bethune," he said to Gabriel. "I'd +like to do something or be something for the sake of those who have had +the care of me; but it isn't in me. I don't know why, but the other +fellow gets there first when there's something to be won. And when I am +first it leads to trouble. Take my college scrape; you've heard about +it, no doubt. Well, the boys there have been playing poker ever since +there was a college, and they'll play it as long as the college remains; +but the first game I was inveigled into, the Chancellor walked in upon +us while I was shuffling the cards, and stood at my back and heard me +cursing the others because they had suddenly turned to their books. +'That will do, Mr. Bethune,' said the Chancellor; 'we have had enough +profanity for to-night.' Well, that has been the way all through. I +wanted to win rank in the army--and I did; I ranked everybody as the +king-bee of insubordination. That isn't all. Take my gait--the way I +walk; everybody thinks I hold my head up and swagger because I am vain. +But look at the matter with clear eyes, Tolliver; I walk that way +because it is natural to me. As for vanity, what on earth have I to be +vain of?" + +"Well, you are young, you know," said Gabriel--"almost as young as I am; +and though you have been unlucky, that is no sign that it will always be +so." + +"No, Tolliver, I am several years older than you. All your opportunities +are still to come; and if I can do nothing myself, I should like to see +you succeed. I have heard my grandfather say some fine things about +you." + +Now, such talk as that, when it carries the evidence of sincerity along +with it, is bound to win a young fellow over; youth cannot resist it. +Bethune won Gabriel, and won him completely. It was so pleasing to +Gabriel to be able to have a cordial liking for Bethune that he had the +feelings of those who gain a moral victory over themselves in the matter +of some evil habit or passion. His grandmother smiled fondly on his +enthusiasm, remarking: + +"Yes, Gabriel; he is certainly a fine young gentleman, and I am glad of +it for Nan's sake. He will be sure to make her happy, and she deserves +happiness as much as any human being I ever knew." + +Gabriel also thought that Nan deserved to be very happy, but he could +imagine several forms of happiness that did not include marriage with +Bethune, however much he might admire his friend. And his enthusiastic +praises of Bethune ceased so suddenly that his grandmother looked at him +curiously. The truth is, her remarks about Nan and Bethune always gave +Gabriel a cold chill. His grandmother was to him the fountain-head of +wisdom, the embodiment of experience. When he was a bit of a lad, she +used to untie all the hard knots, and untangle all the tangles that +persisted in invading his large collection of string, cords and twines, +and the ease with which she did this--for the knots seemed to come +untied of their own accord, and the tangles to vanish as soon as her +fingers touched them--gave Gabriel an impression of her ability that he +never lost. Her word was law with him, though he had frequently broken +the law, and her judgment was infallible. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +_Nan and Gabriel_ + + +Gabriel renewed his enthusiasm for Bethune as soon as he had an +opportunity to see Nan. These opportunities became rarer and rarer as +the days went by. Sometimes she was friendly and familiar, as on the day +when she went home with him to hear the story of poor Margaret Gaither; +but oftener she was cool and dignified, and appeared to be inclined to +patronise her old friend and comrade. This was certainly her attitude +when Gabriel began to sing the praises of Francis Bethune when, on one +occasion, he met her on the street. + +"I'm sure it is very good of you, Gabriel, to speak so kindly of Mr. +Bethune," she said. "No doubt he deserves it all. He also says some very +nice things about you, so I've heard. Nonny says there's some sort of an +agreement between you--'you tickle me and I'll tickle you.' Oh, there's +nothing for you to blush about, Gabriel," she went on very seriously. +"Nonny may laugh at it, but I think it speaks well for both you and Mr. +Bethune." + +Gabriel made no reply, and as he stood there looking at Nan, and +realising for the first time what he had only dimly suspected before, +that they could no longer be comrades and chums, he presented a very +uncomfortable spectacle. He was the picture of awkwardness. His hands +and his feet were all in his way, and for the first time in his life he +felt cheap. Nan had suddenly loomed up as a woman grown. It is true that +she resolutely refused to follow the prevailing fashion and wear +hoop-skirts, but this fact and her long dress simply gave emphasis to +the fact that she was grown. + +"Well, Nan, I'm very sorry," said Gabriel, by way of saying something. +He spoke the truth without knowing why. + +"Sorry! Why should you be sorry?" cried Nan. "I think you have +everything to make you glad. You have your Mr. Bethune, and no longer +than yesterday I heard Eugenia Claiborne say that you are the handsomest +man she ever saw--yes, she called you a man. She declared that she never +knew before that curly hair could be so becoming to a man. And Margaret +says that you and Eugenia would just suit each other, she a blonde and +you a brunette." + +Gabriel blushed again in spite of himself, and laughed, too--laughed at +the incongruity of the situation. This Nan, with her long gingham frock, +and her serious ways, was no more like the Nan he had known than if she +had come from another world. It was laughable, of course, and pathetic, +too, for Gabriel could laugh and feel sorry at the same moment. + +"You haven't told me why you are sorry," said Nan, when the lad's +silence had become embarrassing to her. + +"Well, I am just sorry," Gabriel replied. + +"You are angry," she declared. + +"No," he insisted, "I am just sorry. I don't know why, unless it's +because you are not the same. You have been changing all the time, I +reckon, but I never noticed it so much until to-day." His tone was one +of complaint. + +As Nan stood there regarding Gabriel with an expression of perplexity in +her countenance, and tapping the ground impatiently with one foot, the +two young people got their first whiff of the troubles that had been +slowly gathering over that region. Around the corner near which they +stood, two men had paused to finish an earnest conversation. Evidently +they had been walking along, but their talk had become so interesting, +apparently, that they paused involuntarily. They were hid from Nan and +Gabriel by the high brick wall that enclosed Madame Awtry's back yard. + +"As president of this league," said a voice which neither Nan nor +Gabriel could recognise, "you will have great responsibility. I hope you +realise it." + +"I'm in hopes I does, suh," replied the other, whose voice there was no +difficulty in recognising as that of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin. + +"As you so aptly put it last night at your church, the bottom rail is +now on top, and it will stay there if the coloured people know their own +interests. Every dollar that has been made in the South during the parst +two hundred years was made by the niggeroes and belongs to them." + +"Dat is so, suh; dat is de Lord's trufe. I realise dat, suh; an' I'll +try fer ter make my people reelize it," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"What you lack in experience," continued the first speaker, "you make up +in numbers. It is important to remember that. Organise your race, get +them together, impress upon them the necessity of acting as one man. +Once organised, you will find leaders. All the arrangements have been +made for that." + +"I hears you, suh; an' b'lieves you," replied the Rev. Jeremiah with +great ceremony. + +"You have seen white men from a distance coming and going. Where did +they go?" + +"Dey went ter Clopton's, suh; right dar an' nowhars else. I seed um, +suh, wid my own eyes." + +"You don't know what they came for. Well, I will tell you: they came +here to devise some plan by which they can deprive the niggeroes of the +right to vote. Now, what do you suppose would be the simplest way to do +this?" The Rev. Jeremiah made no reply. He was evidently waiting in awe +to hear what the plan was. "You don't know," the first speaker went on +to say; "well, I will tell you. They propose to re-enslave the coloured +people. They propose to take the ballots out of their hands and put in +their place, the hoe and the plough-handles. They propose to deprive you +of the freedom bestowed upon you by the martyr President." + +"You don't tell me, suh! Well, well!" + +"Yes, that is their object, and they will undoubtedly succeed if your +people do not organise, and stand together, and give their support to +the Republican Party." + +"I has b'longed ter de Erpublican Party, suh, sense fust I heard de +name." + +"We meet to-night in the school-house. Bring only a few--men whom you +can trust, and the older they are the better." + +"I ain't so right down suttin and sho' 'bout dat, suh. Some er de ol' +ones is mighty sot in der ways; dey ain't got de l'arnin', suh, an' dey +dunner what's good fer 'm. But I'll pick out some, suh; I'll try fer ter +fetch de ones what'll do us de mos' good." + +"Very well, Mr. Tommerlin; the old school-house is the place, and +there'll be no lights that can be seen from the outside. Rap three times +slowly, and twice quickly--so. The password is----" + +He must have whispered it, for no sound came to the ears of Nan and +Gabriel. The latter motioned his head to Nan, and the two walked around +the corner. As they turned Nan was saying, "You must go with me some +day, and call on Eugenia Claiborne; she'll be delighted to see you--and +she's just lovely." + +What answer Gabriel made he never knew, so intently was he engaged in +trying to digest what he had heard. The Rev. Jeremiah took off his hat +and smiled broadly, as he gave Nan and Gabriel a ceremonious bow. They +responded to his salute and passed on. The white man who had been +talking to the negro was a stranger to both of them, though both came to +know him very well--too well, in fact--a few months later. He had about +him the air of a preacher, his coat being of the cut and colour of the +garments worn by clergymen. His countenance was pale, but all his +features, except his eyes, stood for energy and determination. The eyes +were restless and shifty, giving him an appearance of uneasiness. + +"What does he mean?" inquired Nan, when they were out of hearing. + +"He means a good deal," replied Gabriel, who as an interested listener +at the conferences of the white leaders, had heard several prominent men +express fears that just such statements would be made to the negroes by +the carpet-bag element; and now here was a man pouring the most alarming +and exciting tidings into the ears of a negro on the public streets. +True, he had no idea that any one but the Rev. Jeremiah was in hearing, +but the tone of his voice was not moderated. What he said, he said right +out. + +"But what do you mean by a good deal?" Nan asked. + +"You heard what he said," Gabriel answered, "and you must see what he is +trying to do. Suppose he should convince the negroes that the whites are +trying to put them back in slavery, and they should rise and kill the +whites and burn all the houses?" + +"Now, Gabriel, you know that is all nonsense," replied Nan, trying to +laugh. In spite of her effort to smile at Gabriel's explanation, her +face was very serious indeed. + +"Yonder comes Miss Claiborne," said Gabriel. "Good-bye, Nan; I'm still +sorry you are not as you used to be. I must go and see Mr. Sanders." +With that, he turned out of the main street, and went running across the +square. + +"That child worries me," said Nan, uttering her thought aloud, and +unconsciously using an expression she had often heard on Mrs. Absalom's +tongue. "Did you see that great gawk of a boy?" she went on, as Eugenia +Claiborne came up. "He hasn't the least dignity." + +"Well, you should be glad of that, Nan," Eugenia suggested. + +"I? Well, please excuse me. If there is anything I admire in other +people, it is dignity." She straightened herself up and assumed such a +serious attitude that Eugenia became convulsed with laughter. + +"What did you do to Gabriel, Nan, that he should be running away from +you at such a rate? Or did he run because he saw me coming?" Before Nan +could make any reply, Eugenia seized her by both elbows--"And, oh, Nan! +you know the Yankee captain who is in command of the Yankee soldiers +here? Well, his name is Falconer, and mother says he is our cousin. And +would you believe it, she wanted to ask him to tea. I cried when she +told me; I never was so angry in my life. Why, I wouldn't stay in the +same house nor eat at the same table with one who is an enemy of my +country." + +"Nor I either," said Nan with emphasis. "But he's very handsome." + +"I don't care if he is," cried the other impulsively. "He has been +killing our gallant young men, and depriving us of our liberties, and +he's here now to help the negroes lord it over us." + +"Oh, now I know what Gabriel intends to do!" exclaimed Nan, but she +refused to satisfy Eugenia's curiosity, much to that young lady's +discomfort. "I must go," said Nan, kissing her friend good-bye. Eugenia +stood watching her until she was out of sight, and wondered why she was +in such a hurry. + +Nan had changed greatly in the course of two years, and, in some +directions, not for the better, as some of the older ones thought and +said. They remembered how charming she was in the days when she threw +all conventions to the winds, and was simply a wild, sweet little +rascal, engaged in performing the most unheard-of pranks, and cutting up +the most impossible capers. Until Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne +came to Shady Dale, Nan had no girl-friends. All the others were either +ages too old or ages too young, or disagreeable, and Nan had to find her +amusements the best way she could. + +Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne had a very subduing effect upon +Nan. They had been brought up with the greatest respect for all the +small formalities and conventions, and the attention they paid to these +really awed Nan. The young ladies were free and unconventional enough +when there was no other eye to mark their movements, but at table, or in +company, they held their heads in a certain way, and they had rules by +which to seat themselves in a chair, or to rise therefrom; they had been +taught how to enter a room, how to bow, and how to walk gracefully, as +was supposed, from one side of a room to the other. Nan tried hard to +learn a few of these conventions, but she never succeeded; she never +could conform to the rules; she always failed to remember them at the +proper time; and it was very fortunate that this was so. The native +grace with which she moved about could never have been imparted by rule; +but there were long moments when her failure to conform weighed upon her +mind, and subdued her. + +This was a part of the change that Gabriel found in her. She could no +longer, in justice to the rules of etiquette, seize Gabriel by the +lapels of his coat and give him a good shaking when he happened to +displease her, and she could no longer switch him across the face with +her braided hair--that wonderful tawny hair, so fine, so abundant, so +soft, and so warm-looking. No, indeed! the day for that was over, and +very sorry she was for herself and for Gabriel, too. + +And while she was going home, following in the footsteps of that young +man (for Dorringtons' was on the way to Cloptons'), a thought struck +her, and it seemed to be so important that she stopped still and clapped +the palms of her hands together with an energy unusual to young ladies. +Then she gathered her skirt firmly, drew it up a little, and went +running along the road as rapidly as Gabriel had run. Fortunately, a +knowledge of the rules of etiquette had not had the effect of paralysing +Nan's legs. She ran so fast that she was wellnigh breathless when she +reached home. She rushed into the house, and fell in a chair, crying: + +"Oh, Nonny!" + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +_The Troubles of Nan_ + + +"Why, what on earth ails the child?" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom. Nan was +leaning back in the chair, her face very red, making an effort to fan +herself with one little hand, and panting wildly. "Malindy!" Mrs. +Absalom yelled to the cook, "run here an' fetch the camphire as you +come! Ain't you comin'? The laws a massy on us! the child'll be cold and +stiff before you start! Honey, what on earth ails you? Tell your Nonny. +Has anybody pestered you? Ef they have, jest tell me the'r name, an' +I'll foller 'em to the jumpin'-off place but what I'll frail 'em out. +You Malindy! whyn't you come on? You'll go faster'n that to your own +funeral." + +But when Malindy came with the camphor, and a dose of salts in a +tumbler, Nan waved her away. "I don't want any physic, Nonny," she said, +still panting, for her run had been a long one; "I'm just tired from +running. And, oh, Nonny! I have something to tell you." + +"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom indignantly, withdrawing her +arms from around Nan, and rising to her feet. "A little more, an' you'd +'a' had me ready for my coolin'-board. I ain't had such a turn--not +sence the day a nigger boy run in the gate an' tol' me the Yankees was +a-hangin' Ab. An' all bekaze you've hatched out some rigamarole that +nobody on the green earth would 'a' thought of but you." + +She fussed around a little, and was for going about the various +unnecessary duties she imposed on herself; but Nan protested. "Please, +Nonny, wait until I tell you." Thereupon Nan told as well as she could +of the conversation she and Gabriel had overheard in town, and the +recital gave Mrs. Absalom a more serious feeling than she had had in +many a day. Her muscular arms, bare to the elbow, were folded across her +ample bosom, and she seemed to be glaring at Nan with a frown on her +face, but she was thinking. + +"Well," she said with a sigh, "I knowed there was gwine to be trouble of +some kind--old Billy Sanders went by here this mornin' as drunk as a +lord." + +"Drunk!" cried Nan with blanched face. + +"Well, sorter tollerbul how-come-you-so. The last time old Billy was +drunk, was when sesaytion was fetched on. Ev'ry time he runs a straw in +a jimmy-john, he fishes up trouble. An' my dream's out. I dremp last +night that a wooden-leg man come to the door, an' ast me for a pair of +shoes. I ast him what on earth he wanted wi' a pair, bein's he had but +one foot. He said that the foot he didn't have was constant a-feelin' +like it was cold, an' he allowed maybe it'd feel better ef it know'd +that he had a shoe ready for it ag'in colder weather." + +"Oh, I hate him! I just naturally despise him!" cried Nan. When she was +angry her face was pale, and it was very pale now. + +"Why do you hate the wooden-leg man, honey? It was all in a dream," said +Mrs. Absalom, soothingly. + +"Oh, I don't know what you are talking about, Nonny!" exclaimed Nan, +ready to cry. "I mean old Billy Sanders. And if I don't give him a piece +of my mind when I see him. Now Gabriel will go to that place to-night, +and he's nothing but a boy." + +"A boy! well, I dunner where you'll find your men ef Gabriel ain't +nothin' but a boy. Where's anybody in these diggin's that's any bigger +or stouter? I wish you'd show 'em to me," remarked Mrs. Absalom. + +"I don't care," Nan persisted; "I know just what Gabriel will do. He'll +go to that place to-night, and--and--I'd rather go there myself." + +"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with lifted eyebrows. + +The pallor of Nan's face was gradually replaced by a warmer glow. "Now, +Nonny! don't say a word--don't tease--don't tease me about Gabriel. If +you do, I'll never tell you anything more for ever and ever." + +"All this is bran new to me," Mrs. Absalom declared. "You make me feel, +Nan, like I was in some strange place, talkin' wi' some un I never seed +before. You ain't no more like yourself--you ain't no more like you used +to be--than day is like night, an' I'm jest as sorry as I can be." + +"That's what Gabriel says," sighed Nan. "He said he was sorry, and now +you say you are sorry. Oh, Nonny, I don't want any one to be sorry for +me." + +"Well, then, behave yourself, an' be like you use to be, an' stop +trollopin' aroun' wi' them highfalutin' gals downtown. They look like +they know too much. All they talk about is boys, boys, boys, from +mornin' till night; an' I noticed when they was spendin' a part of the'r +time here that you was just as bad. It was six of one an' twice three of +the rest. Now you know that ain't a sign of good health for gals to be +eternally talkin' about boys, 'specially sech ganglin', lop-sided +creeturs as we've got aroun' here." + +"Where's Johnny?" asked Nan, who evidently had no notion of getting in a +controversy with Mrs. Absalom on the subject of boys. "Johnny" was her +name for her step-mother, whose surname of Dion had been changed to +"Johns" the day after she arrived at Shady Dale. The story of little +Miss Johns has been told in another place and all that is necessary to +add to the record is the fact that she had managed to endear herself to +the critical, officious, and somewhat jealous Mrs. Absalom. Mrs. +Dorrington had the tact and the charm of the best of her race. She was +Nan's dearest friend and only confidante, and though she was not many +years the girl's senior, she had an influence over her that saved Nan +from many a bad quarter of an hour. + +Mrs. Dorrington was in her own room when Nan found her, sewing and +singing softly to herself, the picture of happiness and content. Nan +dropped on her knees beside her chair, and threw her arms impulsively +around the little woman's neck. + +"Tell me ever what it is, Nan, before you smother-cate me," said Mrs. +Dorrington, smoothing the girl's hair. The two had a language of their +own, which the elder had learned from the younger. + +"It is the most miserable misery, Johnny. Do you remember what I told +you about those people?" + +"How could I forget, Nan?" + +"Well, those people are going head foremost into trouble, and whatever +happens, I want to be there." + +"Oh, is that so? Well, it is too bad," said the little woman +sympathetically. "Perhaps if you would say something about it--not too +much, but just enough for me to get it through my thick numskull----" + +Whereupon Nan told of all the fears by which she was beset, and of all +the troubles that racked her mind, and the two had quite a consultation. + +"You are not afraid for yourself; why should you be afraid for those +people?" inquired Mrs. Dorrington, laying great stress on "those +people," the name that Gabriel went by when Nan and Johnny were +referring to him. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Nan, helplessly. "It isn't because of what +you would guess if you knew no better. I have a very great friendship +for those people; but it isn't the other feeling--the kind that you were +telling me about. If it is--oh, if it is--I shall never forgive myself." + +"In time--yes. It is quite easy to forgive yourself on account of those +people. I found it so." + +"Oh, don't! You make me feel as if I ought never to speak to myself." + +"Then don't," said Mrs. Dorrington, calmly. "You can speak to me instead +of to that ignorant girl." + +"Oh, you sweetest!" cried Nan, hugging her step-mother; "I am going to +have you for my doll." + +"Very well, then," said Mrs. Dorrington, shrugging her shoulders; "but +you will have some trouble on your hands--yes, more than those people +give you." + +"Johnny, you are my little mother, and you never gave me any trouble in +your life. I am the one that is troublesome; I am troubling you now." + +"Silly thing! will you be good?" cried Mrs. Dorrington, tapping Nan +lightly on the cheek. "How can you trouble me when I don't know what you +mean? You haven't told me." + +"I thought you could guess as well as I can," replied Nan. + +"About some things--yes; but not about this terrible danger that is to +overcome those people." + +Whereupon, Nan told Mrs. Dorrington of the conversation she and Gabriel +had overheard. To this information she added her suspicions that Gabriel +intended to do something desperate; and then she gave a very vivid +description of the strange white man, of his pale and eager countenance, +his glittering, shifty eyes, and his thin, cruel lips. + +Instead of shuddering, as she should have done, Mrs. Dorrington laughed. +"But I don't see what the trouble is," she declared. "That boy is ever +so large; he can take care of himself. But if you think not, then ask +him to tea." + +Nan frowned heavily. "But, Johnny, tea is so tame. Think of rescuing a +friend from danger by means of a cup of tea! Doesn't it seem +ridiculous?" + +"Of course it is," responded Mrs. Dorrington. "But it isn't half so +ridiculous as your make-believe. Oh, Nan! Nan! when will you come down +from your clouds?" + +Now, Nan's world of make-believe was as natural to her as the persons +and things all about her. No sooner had she guessed that it was +Gabriel's intention to find out what the Union League was for, and, in a +way, expose himself to some possible danger of discovery, than she +carried the whole matter into her land of make-believe as naturally as a +mocking-bird carries a flake of thistle-down to its nest. Once there, +nothing could be more reasonable or more logical than the terrible +danger to which Gabriel would be exposed. While it lasted, Nan's feeling +of anxiety and alarm was both real and sincere. Mrs. Absalom could never +enter into this world of Nan's; she was too practical and downright. And +yet she had a ready sympathy for the girl's troubles and humoured her +without stint, though she sometimes declared that Nan was queer and +flighty. + +Mrs. Dorrington, on the other hand, inheriting the sensitive and +artistic temperament of Flavian Dion, her father, was able to enter +heartily into the most of Nan's vagaries. Sometimes she humoured them, +but more frequently she laughed at them as the girl grew older. +Occasionally, in her twilight conversations with her father, whose +gentleness and shyness kept him in the background, Mrs. Dorrington +would deplore Nan's tendency to exploit her imagination. + +"But she was born thus, my dear," Flavian Dion would reply, speaking the +picturesque patois of New France. "It will either be her great misery, +or her great happiness. How was it with me? Once it was my great misery, +but now--you see how it is. Come! we will have some music, if +Mademoiselle the Dreamer is willing." + +And then they would go into the parlour, where, with Mrs. Dorrington at +the piano, Flavian Dion with his violin, and Nan with her voice, which +was rich and strong, they would render the beautiful folk-songs of +France. Moreover, Flavian Dion had caught many of the plantation +melodies, of which Nan knew the words, and when the French songs were +exhausted, they would fall back on these. It frequently happened that +Mademoiselle the Dreamer would add feet as well as voice to the negro +melodies, especially if Tasma Tid were there to incite her, and the way +that Nan reproduced steps and poses was both wonderful and inimitable. + +The reader who takes the trouble to make inferences as he goes along, +will perceive that Nan's solicitude for Gabriel was no compliment to +him; it was not flattering to the heroism of a young man who was +threatening to grow a moustache, for a young lady to believe, or even +pretend to believe, that he needed to be rescued from some imaginary +danger. Gabriel was strong enough to take a man's place at a +log-rolling, and he would have had small relish for the information if +he had been told that Nan Dorrington was planning to rescue him. + +Let the simple truth be told. Gabriel was no hero in Nan's eyes. He was +merely a friend and former comrade, who now was in sad need of some one +to take care of him. That was her belief, and she would have shrunk from +the idea that Gabriel would one day be her lover. She had quite other +views. Yes, indeed! Her lover must be a man who had passed through some +desperate experiences. He must be a hero with sword and plume, a cutter +and slasher, a man who had a relish for bloodshed, such as she had read +about in the romances she had appropriated from her father's library. + +Nan had brought over from her childhood many queer dreams and fancies. +Once upon a time, she had heard her elders talking of John A. Murrell, +the notorious land-pirate and highwayman. The man was one of the +coarsest and cruellest of modern ruffians, but about his name the common +people had placed a halo of romance. It was said of him that he rescued +beautiful maidens from their abductors, and restored them to their +friends, and that he robbed the rich only to give to the poor. Sad to +say, this ruffian was Nan's ideal hero. + +And now, when she was racking her brains to invent some bold and simple +plan for the rescue of Gabriel, her mind reverted to this ideal hero of +her childhood. + +"If you insist, Johnny, I'll ask Gabriel to tea," Nan remarked for the +second time; "but, as you say, it is perfectly ridiculous. Whoever heard +of rescuing persons by inviting them to supper?" She paused a moment, +and then went on with a sigh that would have sounded very real in Mrs. +Absalom's ears, but which simply brought a smile to Mrs. Dorrington's +face--"Heigh-ho! What a pity John A. Murrell isn't alive to-day!" + +"And who is this Mr. Murrell?" Mrs. Dorrington asked. + +"He was a fierce robber-chief," replied Nan, placidly. "He wore a big +black beard, and a hat with a red feather in it. Over his left shoulder +was a red sash, and he rode a big white horse. He carried two big +pistols and a bowie-knife--Nonny can tell you all about him." + +Whereupon, Mrs. Dorrington jumped from her chair, and made an effort to +catch the young romancer; and in a moment, the laughter of the pursuer, +and the shrieks of the pursued, when she thought she was in danger of +being caught, roused the echoes in the old house. Mrs. Absalom, who was +in the kitchen, laughed and shook her head. "I believe them two scamps +will be children when they are sixty year old!" + +But after awhile, when their romp was over, Nan suddenly discovered that +she had been in very high spirits, and this, according to the +constitution and by-laws of the land of make-believe, was an +unpardonable offence, especially when, as now, a very dear friend was in +danger. So she went out upon the veranda, and half-way down the steps, +where she seated herself in an attitude of extreme dejection. + +While sitting there, Nan suddenly remembered that she did have a +grievance and a very real one. Tasma Tid was in a state of insurrection. +She had not been permitted to accompany her young mistress when the +latter visited her girl-friends, and for a long time she had been +sulking and pouting. An effort had been made to induce Tasma Tid to make +herself useful, but even the strong will of Mrs. Absalom collapsed when +it found itself in conflict with the bright-eyed African. + +Tasma Tid had been wounded in her tenderest part--her affections. Her +sentiments and emotions, being primitive, were genuine. Her grief, when +separated from Nan, was very keen. She refused to eat, and for the most +part kept herself in seclusion, and no one was able to find her +hiding-place. Now, when Nan threw herself upon the steps in an attitude +of dejection, with her head on her arm, it happened that Tasma Tid was +prowling about with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. The African, +slipping around the house, suddenly came plump upon the object of her +search. She stood still, and drew a long breath. Here was Honey Nan +apparently in deep trouble. Tasma Tid crept up the steps as silently as +a ghost, and sat beside the prostrate form. If Nan knew, she made no +sign; nor did she move when the African laid a caressing hand on her +hair. It was only when Tasma Tid leaned over and kissed Nan on the hand +that she stirred. She raised her head, saying, + +"You shouldn't do that, Tasma Tid; I'm too mean." + +"How come you dis away, Honey Nan?" inquired the African in a low tone. +"Who been-a hu't you?" + +"No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean." + +"'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma +Tid--dee ain't hu't you no mo'." + +"Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?" + +"Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an' +walk, walk, walk in de graveyard--walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an' +den we go home way off yander in de woods." + +"Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan, +touched by the forlorn look in Tasma Tid's eyes, and the despairing +expression in her voice. + +"No, no, Honey Nan; 'tis-a no home fer we when you drive we 'way fum +foller you, when you shak-a yo' haid ef we come trot, trot 'hind you. We +no want home lak dat. No, no, Honey Nan. We make home in de woods." + +"Where is your home?" Nan inquired, full of curiosity. + +"We take-a you dey when dem sun go 'way." + +"Well, you must stay here," said Nan, emphatically. "You shall follow me +wherever I go." + +"You talk-a so dis time, Honey Nan; nex' time--" Tasma Tid ran down the +steps, and went along the walk mimicking Nan's movements, shaking her +frock first on one side and then on the other. Then she looked over her +shoulder, turned around with a frown, stamped her foot and made menacing +gestures with her hands. "Dat how 'twill be nex' time, Honey Nan." + +Hearing Mrs. Absalom laughing, Nan conjectured that she had witnessed +Tasma Tid's performance. "Nonny," she cried, "do I really walk that way, +and finger my skirt so?" + +"To a t," said Mrs. Absalom, laughing louder. "Ef she was a foot an' a +half higher, I'd 'a' made shore it was you practisin' ag'in the time +when you'll mince by the store where old Silas Tomlin's yearlin' is +clerkin', or by the tavern peazzer, where Frank Bethune an' the rest of +the loafers set at. It's among the merikels that Gabe Tolliver don't mix +wi' that crowd. I reckon maybe it's bekaze he jest natchally too +wuthless." + +"Now, Nonny! I don't think you ought to make fun of me," protested Nan. +"I am perfectly certain that I don't mince when I walk, and you are +always complaining that I don't care how my clothes look." + +"Go roun' to the kitchen, you black slink," exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, +addressing Tasma Tid, "an' git your dinner! You've traipsed and +trolloped until I bet you can gulp down all the vittles on the place." + +"And when you have finished your dinner, come to my room," said Nan. + +It was not often that Nan was to be found in her own room during the +day, but now she remembered that she had promised to spend the night +with Eugenia Claiborne; and how was she to invite Gabriel to tea, as +Mrs. Dorrington had suggested? There was but one thing to do, and that +was to break her engagement with Eugenia. She was of half a dozen minds +what to say to her friend. She wrote note after note, only to destroy +each one. She pulled her nose, stuck out her tongue, looked at the +ceiling, and bit her thumb, but all to no purpose. + +Tasma Tid, who had finished her dinner, sat on the floor eying Nan as an +intelligent dog eyes its master, ready to respond to look, word or +gesture. Finally, the African, seeing Nan's perplexity, made a +suggestion. + +"Make dem cuss-words come," she said. Tasma Tid had heard men use +profane language when fretted or irritated, and she supposed that it was +a remedy for troubles both small and large. + +"Be jigged if I haven't a mind to," cried Nan, laughing at the African's +earnestness. + +But at last she flung her pen down, seized her hat, and, with an +unspoken invitation to Tasma Tid, went out into the street, determined +to go to the Gaither Place, where Eugenia lived, and present her excuses +in person. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +_Mr. Sanders in His Cups_ + + +When Nan came in sight of the court-house she saw a crowd of men and +boys gazing at some spectacle on the side opposite her. Some were +laughing, while others had serious faces. Among them she noticed Francis +Bethune, and she also saw Gabriel, who was standing apart from the rest +with a very gloomy countenance. Arriving near the crowd, she paused to +discover what had excited their curiosity; and there before her eyes, +seated on the court-house steps, was Mr. Billy Sanders, relating to an +imaginary audience some choice incidents in his family history. His hat +was off, and his face was very red. + +As Nan listened, he was telling how his "pa" and "ma" had married in +South Carolina, and had subsequently moved to Jasper County in Georgia. +In coming away (according to Mr. Sanders's version), they had fetched a +half dozen hogs too many, and maybe a cow or two that didn't belong to +them. By-and-by the owners of the stock appeared in the neighbourhood +where Mr. Sanders, Sr., had settled, found the missing property, and +carried him away with them. They had, or claimed to have, a warrant, and +they hustled the pioneer off to South Carolina, and put him in jail. + +"Now, Sally Hart was Nancy's own gal," said Mr. Sanders, pausing to take +a nip from a bottle he carried in his pocket. "She was a chip off'n the +old block ef they ever was a block that had a chip. So Sally (that was +ma) she went polin' off to Sou' Ca'liny. The night she got to whar she +was agwine, she tore a hole in the side of the jail that you could 'a' +driv a buggy through. Then she took poor pa by one ear, an' fetched him +home. An' that ain't all. Arter she got him home, she took a rawhide an' +liter'ly wore pa out. She said arterwards that she didn't larrup him for +fetchin' the stock off, but for layin' up there in jail an' lettin' his +crap spile. Well, that frailin' made a good Christian of pa. He j'ined +the church, an' would 'a' been a preacher, but ma wouldn't let him. She +allowed they'd be too much gaddin' about, an' maybe a little too much +honeyin' up wi' the sisterin'. 'No,' says she, 'ef you want to do good +prayin', pray whilst you're ploughin'. I'll look arter the hoein' +myself,' says she." + +Mr. Sanders was not regarded as a dangerous man in his cups, but on one +well-remembered occasion he had fired into a crowd of men who were +inclined to be too familiar, and since that day he had been given a wide +berth when he took a seat on the court-house steps and began to recite +his family history. While Nan stood there, Mr. Sanders drew a pistol +from his pocket, and, smiling blandly, began to flourish it around. As +he did so, Gabriel Tolliver sprang into the street and ran rapidly +toward him. Some one in the crowd uttered a cry of warning. Seized by +some blind impulse Nan ran after Gabriel. Francis Bethune caught her +arm as she ran by him, but she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ran +faster than ever. + +"Stand back there!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders in an angry voice, raising his +pistol. For one brief moment, the spectators thought that Gabriel was +doomed, for he went on without wavering. But he was really in no danger. +Mr. Sanders had mistaken him for some of the young men who had been +taunting him as they stood at a safe distance. But when he saw who it +was, he replaced the pistol in his pocket, remarking, "You ought to hang +out your sign, Gabe. Ef I hadn't 'a' had on my furseein' specks, I'm +afear'd I'd a plugged you." + +At that moment Nan arrived on the scene, her anger at white heat. She +caught her breath, and then stood looking at Mr. Sanders, with eyes that +fairly blazed with scorn and anger. "Ef looks'd burn, honey, they +wouldn't be a cinder left of me," said Mr. Sanders, moving uneasily. +"Arter she's through wi' me, Gabriel, plant me in a shady place, an' +make old Tar-Baby thar," indicating Tasma Tid, who had followed +Nan--"make old Tar-Baby thar set on my grave, an' warm it up once in +awhile. I leave you my Sunday shirts wi' the frills on 'em, Gabriel, an' +my Sunday boots wi' the red tops; an' have a piece put in the Malvern +paper, statin' that I was one of the most populous and public-sperreted +citizens of the county. An' tell how I went about killin' jimson weeds +an' curkle-burrs for my neighbours by blowin' my breath on 'em." + +What Nan had intended to say, she left unsaid. Her feelings reacted +while Mr. Sanders was talking, and she turned her back on him and began +to cry. Under the circumstances, it was the very thing to do. Mr. +Sanders's face fell. "I'll tell you the honest truth, Gabriel--I never +know'd that anybody in the roun' world keer'd a continental whether I +was drunk or sober, alive or dead; an' I'd lots ruther some un 'd stick +a knife through my gizzard than to see that child cryin'." + +He rose and went to Nan--he was not too tipsy to walk--and tried to lay +his hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said, +"what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say." + +"Go home and try to be decent," she answered. + +"I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for to +keep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, you +be the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"--he held out both elbows, so that +each could take him by an arm--"an' when you're ready to start, give the +word." + +Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consent +to go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask of +apple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house. + +"Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in a +quarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" He +paused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty good +thing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' jury +an' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wall +there. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart, +too?" he asked again, turning to Nan. + +"I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red and +swollen, Gabriel?" + +"They are somewhat red, but----" + +"But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused. + +"They are just as pretty as ever." + +"Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life." + +"You'll remember it longer on that account," said Mr. Sanders. "Gabriel +is lazy-minded, but he'll brighten up arter awhile. Speakin' of fust an' +last, an' things of that kind," he went on, "I reckon this is the fust +time I ever come betwixt you children. I hope no harm's done." + +"Well, sir," said Nan, addressing Gabriel with a pretty formality, +"since you are kind enough to pay me a compliment, I'll be bold enough +to ask you to take tea with me this evening; and I'll have no refusal." + +Gabriel found himself in an awkward predicament. He felt bound to +discover what part the Union League was playing. He had read of its +sinister influence in other parts of the South, and he judged that the +hour of its organisation at Shady Dale was the aptest time for such a +discovery. He couldn't tell Nan what his plans were--he had no idea that +she had already guessed them--and he hardly knew what to say. He was +thoroughly uncomfortable. He was silent so long that Mr. Sanders had an +opportunity to ask Nan if she hadn't made a remark to Gabriel. + +"Yes; I asked him to tea," she replied in a low voice; "he has forgotten +it by this time." But Nan well knew why Gabriel was silent; she was +neither vexed nor surprised at his hesitation. Nevertheless, she must +play her part. + +"Give him time, Nan; give him time," said Mr. Sanders, consolingly. +"Gabriel comes of a stuttering family. They say it took his grandma e'en +about seven year to tell Dick Lumsden she'd have him. I lay Gabriel is +composin' in his mind a flowery piece sorter like, 'Here's my heart, an' +here's my hand; ef you ax me to tea, I'm your'n to command.'" + +"I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, but I can't; and it's just my luck that +you should invite me to-day," said Gabriel, finally. + +"You have another engagement?" asked Nan. + +"No, not an engagement," he replied. + +"Well, you are going to do something very unnecessary and improper," +said Nan, with the air and tone of a mature woman. "You are sure to get +into trouble. Why don't you ask your Mr. Bethune to take your place, or +at least go with you?" + +"Why, you talk as if you knew what I am going to do," remarked Gabriel; +"but you couldn't guess in a week." + +At this point Mr. Sanders tried to stop in order to deliver an address. +"I bet you--I bet you a seven-pence ag'in a speckled hen that Nan knows +precisely what you're up to." + +But Nan and Gabriel pulled him along in spite of his frequently +expressed desire to "lay down in the road an' take a nap." "It's a +shame," he said, "for a great big gal an' a great big boy to be harryin' +a man as old as me. Why don't you ketch hands an' run to play? No, +nothin' will do, but you must worry William H. Sanders, late of said +county." He received no reply to this, and continued: "I'm glad I took +too much, Gabriel, ef only for one thing. You know what I told you about +Nan's temper--well, you've seed it for yourself. She's frailed Frank, +she'd 'a' frailed me jest now ef you hadn't 'a' been on hand, an' she'll +frail you out before long. She's jest turrible." + +Mr. Sanders kept up his good-humour all the way home, and when he had +been placed in charge of Uncle Plato, who knew how to deal with him, he +said: "Now, fellers, I had a mighty good reason for restin' my mind. You +cried bekase old Billy Sanders was drunk, didn't you, Nan? Well, I'm +mighty glad you did. I never know'd before that a sob or two would make +a Son of Temperance of a man; but that's what they'll do for me. Nobody +in this world will ever see me drunk ag'in. So long!" + +It may be said here that Mr. Sanders kept his promise. The events which +followed required clear heads and steady hands for their shaping, but +each crisis, as it arose, found Mr. Sanders, and a few others who acted +with him, fully prepared to meet it, though there were times and +occasions when he, as well as the rest, was overtaken by a profound +sense of his helplessness. Some fell into melancholy, and some were +overtaken by dejection, but Mr. Sanders never for a moment forgot to be +cheerful. + +"I don't suppose there is another girl in the country who would make +such a spectacle of herself as I made to-day," said Nan, as she and +Gabriel walked slowly in the direction of town. + +"What do you mean?" inquired Gabriel. + +"You know well enough," replied Nan. "Why, think of a young woman +rushing across the public square in the face of a crowd, and doing as I +did! I'll be the talk of the town. What is your opinion?" + +"Well, considering who the man was, and everything, I think it was very +becoming in you," replied Gabriel. + +"Oh, thank you!" said Nan. "Under the circumstances, you could say no +less. You have changed greatly, Gabriel, since Eugenia Claiborne began +to make eyes at you. You seem to think it is a mark of politeness to pay +compliments right and left, and to agree with everybody. No doubt, if an +invitation to tea had come from further up the street, you would have +found some excuse for accepting." + +Nan's logic was quite feminine, but Gabriel took no advantage of that +fact. "I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, and I hope you'll not be angry." + +"Angry! why should I be angry?" Nan exclaimed. "An invitation to tea is +not so important." + +"But this one is important to me," said Gabriel. "It is the first time +you have asked me, and I hope it won't be the last." + +Nan said nothing more until she bade Gabriel good-bye at her father's +gate. He thought she was angry, while she was wondering if he considered +her bold. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +_Caught in a Corner_ + + +It was no difficult matter for Nan Dorrington to infer what course of +action Gabriel intended to pursue. The Union Leagues established in the +South under the auspices of the political department of the Freedman's +Bureau had already excited the suspicion of the whites. The reputation +they instantly achieved was extremely sinister, and they had become the +source of much uneasiness. There was an air of mystery about them which, +however pleasing it might be to the negroes, was not at all relished by +those who had been made the victims of radical legislation. There were +wild rumours to the effect that the object of these leagues was to +organise the negroes and prepare them for an armed attack on the whites. + +These rumours were to be seen spread out in the newspapers, and were to +be heard wherever people gathered together. Nan was familiar with them, +and, while both she and Gabriel were possibly too young to harbour all +the anxieties entertained by their elders, they nevertheless took a very +keen interest in the situation; and it was not less keen because it had +curiosity for its basis. + +Gabriel had no sooner digested the purport of the conversation to which +he had listened than he made up his mind to unravel, if he could, the +mystery of the Union League, and to discover what part the new-comer, +the companion of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin, proposed to play. It was +characteristic of the lad that he should act promptly. When he left Nan +so unceremoniously, he ran to the Clopton Place to report what he had +heard to Mr. Sanders, but he found that worthy citizen in no condition +to give him aid, or even advice. Meriwether Clopton chanced to be in +consultation with some gentleman from Atlanta, and could not be seen, +while Francis Bethune was said to be in town somewhere. + +It was then that Gabriel made up his mind that he would act alone. He +knew the old school-house in which the league was to be organised, as +well as he knew his own home. It had formerly been called the Shady Dale +Male Academy, and its reputation, before the war, had gone far and wide. +Gabriel had spent many a happy hour there, and some that were memorably +unpleasant, especially during the term that a school-master by the name +of McManus wielded the rod. Among the things that Gabriel remembered was +the fact that the space under the stairway--the building had two +stories--was boarded up so as to form a large closet, where the pupils +deposited their extra coats and wraps, as well as their lunches. The +closet had also been used as a reformatory for refractory pupils, and +this was one reason why Gabriel remembered it so well; he had spent +numerous uncomfortable hours there at a time when darkness and isolation +had real terrors for him. + +The building had been abandoned by the whites during the war, and was +for a time used as a hospital. At the close of the war it was turned +over to the negroes, who established there a flourishing school, which +was presided over by a native Southerner, an old gentleman whom the war +had stripped of this world's goods. + +Gabriel thought it best to begin operations before the sun went down. He +made a detour wide enough to place the school-house between him and +Shady Dale, so that if by any chance his movements should attract +attention he would have the appearance of approaching the building quite +by accident. Under the circumstances, it was perhaps fortunate that he +took this precaution, for when he drew near the school-house, the Rev. +Jeremiah Tomlin was standing in the back door flourishing a broom. + +"Hello, Jeremiah!" said Gabriel by way of salutation. "What's up now?" + +"Good-evenin', Mister Gabe," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. "Dey been +havin' some plasterin' done in my chu'ch, suh, an' we 'lowd we'd hol' +pra'r-meetin' here ter-night. An' I'll tell you why, suh: You know +mighty well how we coloured folks does--we ain't got nothin' fer ter +hide, an' we couldn't hide it ef we did had sump'n. Well, suh, dem +mongst us what got any erligion is bleeze ter show it; when de sperret +move um, dey bleeze ter let one an'er know it; an' in dat way, suh, dey +do a heap er movin' 'bout. Dey rastles wid Satan, ez you may say, when +dey gits in a weavin' way; an' I wuz fear'd, suh, dat dey mought shake +de damp plasterin' down." + +"But you have no pulpit here," suggested Gabriel, who associated a +pulpit with all religious gatherings. + +"So much de better, suh," replied the Rev. Jeremiah. "Ef you wuz ter +come ter my chu'ch, you'd allers see me come down when I gits warmed up. +Dey ain't no pulpit big nuff for me long about dat time. No, suh; I'm +bleeze ter have elbow-room, an' I'm mighty glad dey ain't no pulpit in +here. But whar you been, Mr. Gabe?" inquired the Rev. Jeremiah, craftily +changing the subject. + +"Just walking about in the woods and fields," answered Gabriel. + +"'Twant no use fer ter ax you, suh; you been doin' dat sence you wuz big +nuff ter clime a fence. Ef you wan't wid Miss Nan, you wuz by yo'se'f. I +uv seed you many a day, suh, when you didn't see me. You wuz wid Miss +Nan dis ve'y day." The Rev. Jeremiah dropped his head to one side, and +smiled a knowing smile. "Oh, you needn't be shame un it, suh," the negro +went on as the colour slowly mounted to Gabriel's face. "I uv said it +befo' an' I'll say it ag'in, an' I don't keer who hears me--Miss Nan is +boun' ter make de finest 'oman in de lan'. An' dat ain't all, suh: when +I hear folks hintin' dat she's gwine ter make a match wid Mr. Frank +Bethune, sez I, 'Des keep yo' eye on Mr. Gabe'; dat zackly what I sez." + +"Oh, the dickens and Tom Walker!" exclaimed Gabriel impatiently; "who's +been talking of the affairs of Miss Dorrington in that way?" + +"Why, purty nigh eve'ybody, suh," remarked the Rev. Jeremiah, smacking +his lips. "What white folks say in de parlour, you kin allers hear in de +kitchen." + +After firing this homely truth at Gabriel, the Rev. Jeremiah went to +work with his broom and made a great pretence of sweeping and moving the +benches about. The lad followed him in, and looked about him with +interest. It was the first time he had revisited the old school-house +since he was a boy of ten, and he was pleased to find that there had +been few changes. The desk at which he had sat was intact. His initials, +rudely carved, stared him in the face, and there, too, was the hole he +had cut in the seat. He remembered that this was a dungeon in which he +had imprisoned many a fly. These mute evidences of his idleness seemed +to be as solid as the hills. Between those times and the present, the +wild and furious perspective of war lay spread out, and Gabriel could +imagine that the idler who had hacked the desk belonged to another +generation altogether. + +He went to the blackboard, found a piece of chalk, and wrote in a large, +bold hand: "Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin will lecture here to-night, beginning +at early candle-light." + +The Rev. Jeremiah, witnessing the performance, had his curiosity +aroused: "What is de word you uv writ, suh?" he inquired, and when +Gabriel had read it off, the negro exclaimed, "Well, suh! You put all +dat down, an' it didn't take you no time; no, suh, not no time. But I +might uv speckted it, bekase I hear lots er talk about how smart you is +on all sides--dey all sesso." + +"Does Tasma Tid belong to your church?" Gabriel inquired with a most +innocent air. + +"Do which, suh?" exclaimed Rev. Jeremiah, pausing with his broom +suspended in the air. When Gabriel repeated his inquiry, the Rev. +Jeremiah drew a deep breath, his nostrils dilated, and he seemed to grow +several inches taller. "No, suh, she do not; no, suh, she do not belong +ter my chu'ch. You kin look at her, suh, an' see de mark er de Ol' Boy +on her. She got de hoodoo eye, suh; an' de blue gums dat go long wid it, +an' ef she wuz ter jine my chu'ch, she'd be de only member." + +It was very clear to Gabriel that nothing was to be gained by remaining, +so he bade the Rev. Jeremiah good-bye, and went toward Shady Dale. When +he was well out of sight, the negro approached the blackboard, and, with +the most patient curiosity, examined the inscription or announcement +that Gabriel had written. With his forefinger, he traced over the lines, +as if in that way he might absorb the knowledge that was behind the +writing. Then, stepping back a few paces, he viewed the writing +critically. Finally he shook his head doubtfully, exclaiming aloud: +"Dat's whar dey'll git us--yes, suh, dat's whar dey sho' will git us." + +After which, he carefully closed the doors of the school-house and +followed the path leading to Shady Dale--the path that Gabriel had +taken. The Rev. Jeremiah mumbled as he walked along, giving oral +utterance to his thoughts, but in a tone too low to reveal their import. +He had taken a step which it was now too late to retrace. He was not a +vicious negro. In common with the great majority of his race--in +common, perhaps with the men of all races--he was eaten up by a desire +to become prominent, to make himself conspicuous. Generations of +civilisation (as it is called) have gone far to tone down this desire in +the whites, and they manage to control it to some extent, though now and +then we see it crop out in individuals. But there had been no toning +down of the Rev. Jeremiah's egotism; on the contrary, it had been fed by +the flattery of his congregation until it was gross and rank. + +It was natural, therefore, under all the circumstances, that the Rev. +Jeremiah should become the willing tool of the politicians and +adventurers who had accepted the implied invitation of the radical +leaders of the Republican Party to assist in the spoliation of the +South. The Rev. Jeremiah, once he had been patted on the back, and +addressed as Mr. Tomlin by a white man, and that man a representative of +the Government, was quite ready to believe anything he was told by his +new friends, and quite as ready to aid them in carrying out any scheme +that their hatred of the South and their natural rapacity could suggest +or invent. + +Therefore, let it not be supposed that the Rev. Jeremiah, as he went +along the path, mumbling out his thoughts, was expressing any doubt of +the wisdom or expediency of the part he was expected to play in arraying +the negroes against the whites. No; he was simply putting together as +many sonorous phrases as he could remember, and storing them away in +view of the contingency that he would be called on to address those of +his race who might be present at the organisation of the Union League. +He had been very busy since his conference with the agent of the +Freedman's Bureau, and, in one way and another, had managed to convey +information of the proposed meeting to quite a number of the negroes; +and in performing this service he was careful that a majority of those +notified should be members of his church--negroes with whom his +influence was all-powerful. But he had also invited Uncle Plato, +Clopton's carriage-driver, Wiley Millirons, and Walthall's Jake, three +of the worthiest and most sensible negroes to be found anywhere. + +While the Rev. Jeremiah, full of his own importance, and swelling with +childish vanity, was making his way toward Neighbour Tomlin's, on whose +lot he had a house, rent free, there were other plotters at work. In +addition to Gabriel Tolliver, Nan Dorrington was a plotter to be +reckoned with, especially when she had as her copartner Tasma Tid, who +was as cunning as some wild thing. + +When the day was far spent, or, as Mrs. Absalom would say, "along to'rds +the shank of the evenin'," Nan and Tasma Tid went wandering out of town +in the direction of the school-house. The excuse Nan had given at home +was that she wanted to see Tasma Tid's hiding-place. As they passed +Tomlin's, they saw the Rev. Jeremiah splitting wood for his wife, who +was the cook. At sight of Jeremiah, Tasma Tid began to laugh, and she +laughed so long and so loud that the parson paused in his labours and +looked at her. He took off his hat and bowed to Nan, whereupon Tasma Tid +raised her hand above her head, and indulged in a series of wild +gesticulations, which, to the Rev. Jeremiah, were very mysterious and +puzzling. He shook his head dubiously, and mopped his face with a large +red handkerchief. + +"What are you trying to do to Jeremiah?" inquired Nan, as they went +along. + +"Him fool nigger. We make him dream bad dream," responded Tasma Tid +curtly. + +The two were in no hurry. They sauntered along leisurely, and, although +the sun had not set, by the time they had entered the woods in which the +school-house stood, the deep shadows of the trees gave the effect of +twilight to the scene. Tasma Tid led Nan to the old building, and told +her to wait a moment. The African crawled under the house, and then +suddenly reappeared at the back door, near which Nan stood waiting. +Tasma Tid had crawled under the house, and lifted a loose plank in the +floor of the closet, making her entrance in that way. The front door was +locked and the key was safe in the pocket of the Rev. Jeremiah, but the +back door was fastened on the inside, and Tasma Tid had no trouble in +getting it open. + +It is fair to say that Nan hesitated before entering. Some instinct or +presentiment held her a moment. She was not afraid; her sense of fear +had never developed itself; it was one of the attributes of human nature +that was foreign to her experience; and this was why some of her +actions, when she was younger, and likewise when she was older, were +inexplicable to the rest of her sex, and made her the object of +criticism which seemed to have good ground to go upon. Nan hesitated +with her foot on the step, but it was not her way to draw back, and she +went in. Tasma Tid refastened the door very carefully, and then turned +and led the way toward the closet. The room was not wholly dark; one or +two of the shutters had fallen off, and in this way a little light +filtered in. Nan followed Tasma Tid to the closet, the door of which was +open. + +"Dis-a we house," said Tasma Tid; "dis-a de place wey we live at." + +"Why did you come here?" Nan asked. + +"We had no nurrer place; all-a we frien' gone; da's why." + +What further comment Nan may have made cannot even be guessed, for at +that moment there was a noise at one of the windows; some one was trying +to raise the sash. Nan and Tasma Tid held their breath while they +listened, and then, when they were sure that some one was preparing to +enter the building, the African closed the closet door noiselessly, and +pulled Nan after her to the narrowest and most uncomfortable part of the +musty and dusty place--the space next the stairway, where it was so low +that they were compelled to sit flat on the floor. + +The intruder, whoever he might be, crawled cautiously through the +window--they could hear the buttons of his coat strike against the +sill--and leaped lightly to the floor. He lowered the window again, and +then, after tiptoeing about among the benches, came straight to the +closet. As Tasma Tid had not taken time to fasten it on the inside, the +door was easily opened. Dark as it was, Nan and the African could see +that the intruder was a man, but, beyond this, they could distinguish +nothing. Nan and her companion would have breathed freer if recognition +had been possible, for the new-comer was Gabriel, who had determined to +take this method of discovering the aim and object of the Union League. + +Once in the closet, Gabriel took pains to make the inside fastenings +secure. It was one of the whims of Mr. McManus, the school-master, who +had so often caused Gabriel's head and the blackboard to meet, that the +fastenings of this closet should be upon the inside. It tickled his +humour to feel that a refractory boy should be his own jailer, able, and +yet not daring, to release himself until the master should rap sharply +on the door. + +Gabriel was less familiar with these fastenings than he had formerly +been, and he fumbled about in the dark for some moments before he could +adjust them to his satisfaction. He made no effort to explore the +closet, taking for granted that it could have no other occupant. This +was fortunate for Nan, for if he had moved about to any extent, he would +inevitably have stumbled over the African and her young mistress, who +were crouched and huddled as far under the stairway as they could get. + +Gabriel stood still a moment, as if listening, and then he sat flat on +the floor, and stretched out his legs with a sigh of relief. After that +there was a long period of silence, during which Nan had a fine +opportunity to be very sorry that she had ever ventured out on such a +fool's errand. "If I get out of this scrape," she thought over and over +again, "I'll never be a tomboy; I'll never be a harum-scarum girl any +more." She had no physical fear, but she realised that she was placed in +a very awkward position. + +She was devoured with curiosity to know whether the intruder really was +Gabriel. She hoped it was, and the hope caused her to blush in the dark. +She knew she was blushing; she felt her ears burn--for what would +Gabriel think if he knew that she was crouching on the floor, not more +than an arm's length from him? Why, naturally, he would have no respect +for her. How could he? she asked herself. + +As for Gabriel, he was sublimely unconscious of the fact that he was not +alone. Once or twice he fancied he heard some one breathing, but he was +a lad who was very close to nature, and he knew how many strange and +varied sounds rise mysteriously out of the most profound silence; and +so, instead of becoming suspicious, he became drowsy. He made himself as +comfortable as he could, and leaned against the wall, pitting his +patience against the loneliness of the place and the slow passage of +time. + +Being a healthy lad, Gabriel would have gone to sleep then and there, +but for a mysterious splutter and explosion, so to speak, which went off +right at his elbow, as he supposed. He was in that neutral territory +between sleeping and waking and he was unable to recognise the sound +that had startled him; and it would have remained a mystery but for the +fact that a sneeze is usually accompanied by its twin. Nan had for some +time felt an inclination to sneeze, and the more she tried to resist it +the greater the inclination grew, until finally, it culminated in the +spluttering explosion that had aroused Gabriel. This was followed by a +sneeze which he had no difficulty in recognising. + +The fact that some unknown person was a joint occupant of the closet +upset him so little that he was surprised at himself. He remained +perfectly quiet for awhile, endeavouring to map out a course of action, +little knowing that Nan Dorrington was chewing her nails with anger a +few feet from where he sat. + +"Who are you?" he asked finally. He spoke in a firm low tone. + +In another moment Nan's impulsiveness would have betrayed her, but Tasma +Tid came to her rescue. + +"Huccum you in we house? Whaffer you come dey? How you call you' name?" + +"Oh, shucks! Is that you, Tiddy Me Tas?"--this was the way Gabriel +sometimes twisted her name. "I thought you were the booger-man. You'd +better run along home to your Miss Nan. She says she wants to see you. +What are you hiding out here for anyway?" + +"We no hide, Misser Gable. 'Tis-a we house, dis. Honey Nan no want we; +she no want nobody. She talkin' by dat Misser Frank what live-a down dey +at Clopton. Dee got cake, dee got wine, dee got all de bittle dee want." + +Tasma Tid told this whopper in spite of the fact that Nan was giving her +warning nudges and pinches. + +"Yes, I reckon they are having a good time," said Gabriel gloomily. +"Miss Nan gave me an invitation, but I couldn't go." It was something +new in Nan's experience to hear Gabriel call her Miss Nan, and she +rather relished the sensation it gave her. She was now ready to believe +that she was really and truly a young lady. + +"Whaffer you ain't gone down dey?" inquired Tasma Tid. "Ef you kin come +dis-a way, you kin go down dey." + +"I was obliged to come here," responded Gabriel. + +"Shoo! dem fib roll out lak dey been had grease on top um," exclaimed +Tasma Tid derisively. "Who been ax you fer come by dis way? 'Tis-a we +house, dis. You better go, Misser Gable; go by dat place wey Honey Nan +live, an' look in de blin' wey you see dat Misser Frank, and dat Misser +Paul Tomlin, an' watch um how dee kin make love. Maybe you kin fin' out +how fer make love you'se'f." + +Gabriel laughed uneasily. "No, Tiddy Me Tas--no love-making for me. I'm +either too old or too young, I forget which." + +They ceased talking, for they heard footsteps outside, and the sound of +voices. Presently some one opened the door, and it seemed from the noise +that was made, the shuffling of feet, and the repressed tones of +conversation, that a considerable number of negroes had responded to the +Rev. Jeremiah's invitation. + +The first-comers evidently lit a candle, for a phantom-like shadow of +light trickled through a small crack in the closet door, and a faint, +but unmistakable, odour of a sulphur match readied Gabriel's nostrils. +There were whispered consultations, and a good deal of muffled and +subdued conversation, but every word that was distinctly enunciated was +clearly heard in the sound-box of a closet. But suddenly all +conversation ceased, and complete silence took possession of those +present. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +_The Union League Organises_ + + +The silence was presently broken by a very clear and distinct voice, +which both Nan and Gabriel recognised as that of the stranger whom they +had overheard talking to the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"Before we proceed to the business that has called us together," said +the voice, "it is best that we should come to some clear understanding. +I am not here in my own behalf. I have nothing to lose except my life, +and nothing to gain but the betterment of those who have been released +from the horrors of slavery. Very few of you know even my name, but the +very fact that I am here with you to-night should go far to reassure +you. It is sufficient to say that I represent the great party that has +given you your freedom. That fact constitutes my credentials." + +"Bless God!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah, piously. He rolled the word +"credentials" under his tongue, and resolved to remember it and bring it +out in one of his sermons. The stranger had a very smooth and pleasing +delivery. There was a sort of Sunday-school cadence to his voice well +calculated to impress his audience. The language he employed was far +above the heads of those to whom he spoke, but his persuasive tone, and +his engaging manner carried conviction. The great majority of the +negroes present were ready to believe what he said whether they +understood it or not. + +"My name," he went on, "is Gilbert Hotchkiss, and I belong to a family +that has been striving for more than a generation to bring about the +emancipation of the negroes. My father worked until the day of his death +for the abolition of slavery; and now that slavery has been abolished, +I, with thousands of devoted women and men whom you have never seen and +doubtless never will see, have begun the work of uplifting the coloured +people in order that they may be placed in a position to appreciate the +benefits that have been conferred on them, and enable them to enjoy the +fruits of freedom. It is a great work, a grand work, and all we ask is +the active co-operation and assistance of the coloured people +themselves." + +These were the words of Mr. Hotchkiss, the philanthropist; but now Mr. +Hotchkiss, the politician, took his place, and there was an indefinable +change in the tone of his voice. + +"There is no need to ask," he said, "why we do not, in this great work +of uplifting the coloured race, ask the assistance of those who were +lately in rebellion against the best and the greatest Government on +which the sun ever shone. It would be foolish and unreasonable to expect +their assistance. They fought to destroy the Union, and they were +defeated; they fought to perpetuate slavery, and they failed. More than +that, there is every reason to believe that they will refuse to abide +by the results of the war. They are very quiet now, but they are merely +waiting their opportunity. With our troops withdrawn, and with the +Republican Party weakened by opposition, what is to prevent your late +masters from placing you back in slavery? Could we expect anything less +from those who have been brought up to believe that slavery is a divine +institution?" + +"You hear dat, people?" cried the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"You cannot help believing," continued Mr. Hotchkiss, "that your former +masters would force the chains of slavery on you if they could; all they +lack is the opportunity; and if you are not careful, they will find an +opportunity, or make one. Slavery was profitable to them once, and it +would be profitable again. There is one fact you should never forget," +said the speaker, warming up a little. "It is a most stupendous fact, +namely: that every dollar's worth of property in all this Southern land +has been earned by the labour of your hands and by the sweat of your +brows. It has been earned by you, not once, but many times over. You +have earned every dollar that has ever circulated here. The lands, the +houses, the stock, and all the farm improvements are a part of the +fruits of negro labour; and when right and justice prevail, this +property, or a very large part of it, will be yours." + +This statement was received with demonstrations of approval, one of the +audience exclaiming: "You sho' is talkin' now, boss!" + +"But how are right and justice to prevail? Only by the constant and +continued success of the party of which the martyred Lincoln was the +leader. The mission of that party has not yet been fulfilled. First, it +made you freemen. Then it went a step further, and made you citizens and +voters. Should you sustain it by your votes, it will take still another +step, and give you an opportunity to reap some of the fruits of your +toil, as well as the toil of the unfortunates who pined away and died or +who were starved under the infamous system of slavery." + +"Ain't it de trufe!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah fervently. + +"We have met here to-night to organise a Union League," continued Mr. +Hotchkiss. "The object of this league is to bring about a unity of +purpose and action among its members, to give them opportunities to +confer together, and to secure a clear understanding. No one knows what +will happen. Your former masters are jealous of your rights; they will +try by every means in their power to take these rights away from you. +They will employ both force and fraud, and the only way for you to meet +and overcome this danger is to organise. Ten men who understand one +another and act together are more powerful than a hundred who act as +individuals. You must be as wise as serpents, but not as harmless as +doves. Your rights have been bought for you by the blood of thousands of +martyrs, and you must defend them. If necessary arm yourselves. Yea! if +necessary apply the torch." + +There was a certain air of plausibility about this harangue, a degree +of earnestness, that impressed Gabriel, and he does not know to this day +whether this ill-informed emissary of race hatred and sectional +prejudice really believed all that he said. Who shall judge? Certainly +not those who remember the temper of those times, the revengeful +attitude of the radical leaders at the North, and the distorted fears of +those who suddenly found themselves surrounded by a horde of ignorant +voters, pliant tools in the hands of unscrupulous carpet-baggers. + +Hotchkiss brought his remarks to a close, and then proceeded to read the +constitution and by-laws of the proposed Union League, under which, he +explained, hundreds of leagues had been organised. Each one who desired +to become a member was to make oath separately and individually that he +would not betray the secrets of the league, nor disclose the signs and +passwords, nor tolerate any opposition to the Republican Party, nor have +any unnecessary dealings with rebels and former slave-holders. He was to +keep eyes and ears open, and report all important developments to the +league. + +"We are now ready, I presume, for the ceremonies to begin," remarked Mr. +Hotchkiss. "First we will elect officers of the league, and I suggest +that the Honourable Jeremiah Tomlin be made President." + +"Dat's right!" "He sho is de man!" "No needs fer ter put dat ter de +question!" were some of the indorsements that came from various parts of +the room. + +The Rev. Jeremiah was immensely tickled by the title of Honourable that +had been so unexpectedly bestowed on him. He hung his head with as much +modesty as he could summon, and, bearing in mind his calling, one might +have been pardoned for suspecting that he was offering up a brief prayer +of thanksgiving. He rose in his place, however, passed the back of his +hand across his mouth, paused a moment, and then began: + +"Mr. Cheer, I thank you an' deze friends might'ly fer de renomination er +my name, an' de gener'l endossments er de balance er deze gentermen. So +fur, so good. But, Mr. Cheer, 'fo' we gits right spang down ter +business, I moves dat some er de br'ers be ax'd fer ter give der idee er +dis plan which have been laid befo' us by our hon'bul frien'. I moves +dot we hear fum Br'er Plato Clopton, ef so be de sperret is on him fer +ter gi' us his sesso." + +Uncle Plato, taken somewhat by surprise, was slow in responding, but +when he rose, he presented a striking figure. He was taller than the +average negro, and there was a simple dignity--an air of gentility and +serene affability--in his attitude and bearing that attracted the +attention of Mr. Hotchkiss. The Rev. Jeremiah was still standing, and +Uncle Plato, after bowing gracefully to Mr. Hotchkiss, turned with a +smile to the negro who had called on him. + +"You know mighty well, Br'er Jerry, dat I ain't sech a talker ez ter git +up an' say my say des dry so, an' let it go at dat. Howsomever, I laid +off ter say sump'n, an' I ain't sorry you called my name. In what's been +said dey's a heap dat I 'gree wid. I b'lieve dat de cullud folks oughter +work tergedder, an' stan tergedder fer ter he'p an' be holped. But when +you call on me fer ter turn my back on my marster, an' go to hatin' 'im, +you'll hatter skuzen me. You sho will." + +"He ain't yo' marster now, Br'er Plato, an' you know it," said the Rev. +Jeremiah. + +"I know dat mighty well," replied Uncle Plato, "but ef it don't hurt my +feelin's fer ter call him dat it oughtn't ter pester yuther people. How +it may be wid you all, I dunno; but me an' my marster wus boys +tergedder. We useter play wid one an'er, an' fall out an' fight, an' +I've whipped him des ez many times ez he ever whipped me--an' he'll tell +you de same." + +"But all this," suggested Mr. Hotchkiss coldly, "has nothing to do with +the matter in hand. The coloured race is facing conditions that amount +to a crisis--a crisis that has no parallel in the world's history." + +"Dat is suttinly so!" the Rev. Jeremiah ejaculated, though he had but a +dim notion of what Hotchkiss was talking about. + +"They have been made citizens," pursued the organiser, "and it is their +duty to demand all their rights and to be satisfied with nothing less. +The best men of our party believe that the rebels are still rebellious, +and that they will seize the first opportunity to re-enslave the +coloured people." + +"Ah-yi!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah triumphantly. + +"Does you reely b'lieve, Br'er Jerry, dat Pulaski Tomlin will ever try +ter put you back in slav'ry?" asked Uncle Plato. + +The inquiry was a poser, and the Rev. Jeremiah was unable to make any +satisfactory reply. Perceiving this, Mr. Hotchkiss came to the rescue. +"You must bear in mind," he blandly remarked, "that this is not a +question of one person here and another person there. It concerns a +whole race. Should all the former slave-owners of the South succeed in +reclaiming their slaves, Mr. Tomlin and Mr. Clopton would be compelled +by public sentiment to reclaim theirs. If they refused to do so, their +former slaves would fall into the hands of new masters. It is not a +question of individuals at all." + +"Well, suh, we'll fin' out atter awhile dat we'll hatter do like de +white folks. Eve'y tub'll hatter stan' on its own bottom. I'm des ez +free now ez I wuz twenty year ago----" + +"I can well believe that, after what you have said," Mr. Hotchkiss +interrupted. + +The tone of his voice was as smooth as velvet, but his words carried the +sting of an imputation, and Uncle Plato felt it and resented it. "Yes, +suh,--an' I wuz des ez free twenty year ago ez you all will ever be. My +marster has been good ter me fum de work go. I ain't stayin' wid 'im +bekaze he got money. Ef him an' Miss Sa'ah di'n'a have a dollar in de +worl', an no way ter git it, I'd work my arms off fer 'm. An' ef I +'fused ter do it, my wife'd quit me, an' my chillun wouldn't look at me. +But I'll tell you what I'll do: when my marster tu'ns his back on me +I'll tu'n my back on him." + +"I'm really sorry that you persist in making this question a personal +one when it affects all the negroes now living and millions yet to be +born," said Mr. Hotchkiss. + +"Well, suh, le's look at it dat away," Uncle Plato insisted. "Spoz'n you +ban' tergedder like dis, an' try ter tu'n de white folks ag'in you, an' +dey see what you up ter, an' tu'n der backs, den what you gwine ter do? +You got ter live here an' you got ter make yo' livin' here. Is you gwine +ter cripple de cow dat gives de cream?" + +Uncle Plato paused and looked around. He saw at once that he was in a +hopeless minority, and so he reached for his hat. "I'm mighty glad ter +know you, suh," he said to Mr. Hotchkiss, with a bow that Chesterfield +might have envied, "but I'll hatter bid you good-night." With that, he +went out, followed by Wiley Millirons and Walthall's Jake, much to the +relief of the Rev. Jeremiah, who proceeded to denounce "white folks' +niggers," and to utter some very violent threats. + +Then, in no long time, the Union League was organised. Those in the +closet failed to hear the words that constituted the ceremony of +initiation. Only low mutterings came to their ears. But the ceremony +consisted of a lot of mummery well calculated to impress the +simple-minded negroes. After a time the meeting adjourned, the solitary +candle was blown out, and the last negro departed. + +Gabriel waited until all sounds had died away, and then, with a brief +good-night to Tasma Tid, he opened the closet door, slipped out, and was +soon on his way home. But before he was out of the dark grove, some one +went flitting by him--in fact, he thought he saw two figures dimly +outlined in the darkness; yet he was not sure--and presently he thought +he heard a mocking laugh, which sounded very much as if it had issued +from the lips of Nan Dorrington. But he was not sure that he heard the +laugh, and how, he asked himself, could he imagine that it was Nan +Dorrington's even if he had heard it? He told himself confidentially, +the news to go no further, that he was a drivelling idiot. + +As Gabriel went along he soon forgot his momentary impressions as to the +two figures in the dark and the laugh that had seemed to come floating +back to him. The suave and well-modulated voice of Mr. Hotchkiss rang in +his ears. He had but one fault to find with the delivery: Mr. Hotchkiss +dwelt on his r's until they were as long as a fishing-pole, and as sharp +as a shoemaker's awl. Though these magnified r's made Gabriel's flesh +crawl, he had been very much impressed by the address, only part of +which has been reported here. Boylike, he never paused to consider the +motives or the ulterior purpose of the speaker. Gabriel knew of course +that there was no intention on the part of the whites to re-enslave the +negroes; he knew that there was not even a desire to do so. He knew, +too, that there were many incendiary hints in the address--hints that +were illuminated and emphasised more by the inflections of the speaker's +voice than by the words in which they were conveyed. In spite of the +fact that he resented these hints as keenly as possible, he could see +the plausibility of the speaker's argument in so far as it appealed to +the childish fears and doubts and uneasiness of the negroes. If anything +could be depended on, he thought, to promote a spirit of incendiarism +among the negroes such an address would be that thing. + +If Gabriel had attended some of the later meetings of the league, he +would have discovered that the address he had heard was a milk-and-water +affair, compared with some of the harangues that were made to the +negroes in the old school-house. + +All that Gabriel had heard was duly reported to Meriwether Clopton, and +to Mr. Sanders, and in a very short time all the whites in the community +became aware of the fact that the negroes were taking lessons in +race-hatred and incendiarism, and as a natural result, Hotchkiss became +a marked man. His comings and goings were all noted, so much so that he +soon found it convenient as well as comfortable to make his +head-quarters in the country, at the home of Judge Mahlon Butts, whose +Union principles had carried him into the Republican Party. The Judge +lived a mile and a half from the corporation line, and Mr. Hotchkiss's +explanation for moving there was that the exercise to be found in +walking back and forth was necessary to his health. + +Uncle Plato was very much surprised the next day to be called into the +house where Mr. Sanders was sitting with Meriwether Clopton and Miss +Sarah in order that they might shake hands with him. + +"I want to shake your hand, Plato," said his old master. "I've always +thought a great deal of you, but I think more of you to-day than ever +before." + +"And you must shake hands with me, Plato," remarked Sarah Clopton. + +"Well, sence shakin' han's is comin' more into fashion these days, I +reckon you'll have to shake wi' me," declared Mr. Sanders. + +"I declar' ter gracious I dunner whedder you all is makin' fun er me or +not!" exclaimed Uncle Plato. "But sump'n sholy must 'a' happened, kaze +des now when I wuz downtown Mr. Alford call me in his sto' an' 'low, +'Plato, when you wanter buy anything, des come right in, money er no +money, kaze yo' credit des ez good in here ez de best man in town.' I +dunner what done come over eve'ybody." He went away laughing. + +Nevertheless, Uncle Plato was more seriously affected by the schemes of +Mr. Hotchkiss than any other inhabitant of Shady Dale. He had been a +leader in the Rev. Jeremiah's church, and up to the day of the +organisation of the Union League, had wielded an influence among the +negroes second only to that of the Rev. Jeremiah himself. But now all +was changed. He soon found that he would have to resign his deaconship, +for those whom he had regarded as his spiritual brethren were now his +enemies--at any rate they were no longer his friends. + +But Uncle Plato had one consolation in his troubles, and that was the +strong indorsement and support of Aunt Charity, his wife, who was the +cook at Clopton's, famous from one end of the State to the other for her +biscuits and waffles. Uncle Plato had been somewhat dubious about her +attitude, for the negro women had developed the most intense +partisanship, and some of them were loud in their threats, going much +further than the men. No doubt Aunt Charity would have taken a different +course had she been in her husband's place, if only for the sake of her +colour, as she called her race. She was very fond of her own white +folks, but she had her prejudices against the rest. + +When Uncle Plato reached home and told his wife what he had said and +done, she drew a long breath and looked at him hard for some time. Then +she took up her pipe from the chimney-corner, remarking, "Well, what you +done, you done; dar's yo' supper." + +Uncle Plato had a remarkably good appetite, and while he ate, Aunt +Charity sat near a window and looked out at the stars. She was getting +together in her mind a supply of personal reminiscences, of which she +had a goodly store. Presently, she began to shake with laughter, which +she tried to suppress. Uncle Plato mistook the sound he heard for an +evidence of grief, and he spoke up promptly: + +"I declar' ef I'd 'a' know'd I wuz gwine ter hurt yo' feelings, I'd 'a' +j'ined in wid um den an' dar. An' 'taint too late yit. I kin go ter +Br'er Jerry an' tell him whilst I ain't change my own min' I'll j'ine in +wid um druther dan be offish an' mule-headed." + +"No you won't! no you won't! no you won't!" exclaimed Aunt Charity. "I +mought 'a' done diffunt, an' I mought 'a' done wrong. We'll hatter git +out'n de church, ef you kin call it a church, but dat ain't so mighty +hard ter do. Yit, 'fo' we does git out I'm gwine ter preach ol' Jerry's +funer'l one time--des one time. Dat what make me laugh des now; I was +runnin' over in my min' how I kin raise his hide. Some folks got de +idee dat kaze I'm fat I'm bleeze ter be long-sufferin'; but you know +better'n dat, don't you?" + +"Well, I know dis," said Uncle Plato, wiping his mouth with the back of +his hand, "when you git yo' dander up you kin talk loud an' long." + +"Miss Sa'ah done tol' me dat when I git mad, I kin keep up a +conversation ez long ez de nex' one," remarked Aunt Charity, with real +pride. "An' den dar's dat hat Miss Sa'ah gi' me; I laid off ter w'ar it +ter church nex' Sunday, but now--well, I speck I better des w'ar my +head-hankcher, kaze dey's sho gwine ter be trouble ef any un um look at +me cross-eyed." + +"You gwine, is you?" Uncle Plato asked. + +"Ef I live," replied Aunt Charity, "I'm des ez good ez dar right now. +An' mo' dan dat, you'll go too. 'Tain't gwineter be said dat de Clopton +niggers hung der heads bekaze dey stood by der own white folks. Ef it's +said, it'll hatter be said 'bout some er de yuthers." + +"I'll go," said Uncle Plato, "but I hope I won't hatter frail Br'er +Jerry out." + +"Now, dat's right whar we gits crossways," Aunt Charity declared. "I +hope you'll hatter frail 'im out." + +Fortunately, Uncle Plato had no excuse for using his walking-cane on the +Rev. Jeremiah, when Sunday came. None of the church-members made any +active show of animosity. They simply held themselves aloof. Aunt +Charity had her innings, however. When services were over, and the +congregation was slowly filing out of the building, followed by the Rev. +Jeremiah, she remarked loud enough for all to hear her: + +"Br'er Jerry, de nex' time you want me ter cook pullets fer dat ar +Lizzie Gaither, des fetch um 'long. I'll be glad ter 'blige you." + +As the Rev. Jeremiah's wife was close at hand, the closing scenes can be +better imagined than described. In this chronicle the veil of silence +must be thrown over them. + +It may be said, nevertheless, that Uncle Plato and his wife felt very +keenly the awkward position in which they were placed by the increasing +prejudice of the rest of the negroes. They were both sociable in their +natures, but now they were practically cut off from all association with +those who had been their very good friends. It was a real sacrifice they +had to make. On the other hand, who shall say that their firmness in +this matter was not the means of preventing, at least in Shady Dale, +many of the misfortunes that fell to the lot of the negroes elsewhere? +There can hardly be a doubt that their attitude, firm and yet modest, +had a restraining influence on some of the more reckless negroes, who, +under the earnest but dangerous teachings of Hotchkiss and his +fellow-workers, would otherwise have been led into excesses which would +have called for bloody reprisals. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +_Nan and Her Young Lady Friends_ + + +Nan Dorrington found a pretty howdy-do at her house when she reached +home the night the Union League was organised. The members of the +household were all panic-stricken when the hours passed and Nan failed +to return. Ordinarily, there would have been no alarm whatever, but a +little after dark, Eugenia Claiborne, accompanied by a little negro +girl, came to Dorrington's to find out why Nan had failed to keep her +engagement. She had promised to take supper with Eugenia, and to spend +the night. + +It will be remembered that Nan was on her way to present her excuses to +Eugenia when the spectacle of Mr. Sanders, tipsy and talkative, had +attracted her attention. She thought no more of her engagement, and for +the time being Eugenia was to Nan as if she had never existed. +Meanwhile, the members of the Dorrington household, if they thought of +Nan at all, concluded that she had gone to the Gaither Place, where +Eugenia lived. But when Miss Claiborne came seeking her, why that put +another face on affairs. Eugenia decided to wait for her; but when the +long minutes, and the half hours and the hours passed, and Nan failed to +make her appearance, Mrs. Absalom began to grow nervous, and Mrs. +Dorrington went from room to room with a very long face. She could have +made a very shrewd guess as to Nan's whereabouts, but she didn't dare to +admit, even to herself, that the girl had been so indiscreet as to go in +person to the rescue of Gabriel. + +They waited and waited, until at last Mrs. Dorrington suggested that +something should be done. "I don't know what," she said, "but something; +that would be better than sitting here waiting." + +Mrs. Absalom insisted on keeping up an air of bravado. "The child's safe +wherever she is. She's been a rippittin' 'round all day tryin' to git +old Billy Sanders sober, an' more'n likely she's sot down some'rs an' +fell asleep. Ef folks could sleep off the'r sins, Nan'd be a saint." + +"But wherever she is, she isn't here," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, +tearfully; "and here is where she should be. I wonder what her father +will say when he comes?" Dr. Dorrington had gone to visit a patient in +the country. + +"Perhaps she went with him," Eugenia suggested. + +"No fear of that," said Mrs. Absalom. "Ridin' in a gig is too much like +work for Nan to be fond of it. No; she's some'rs she's got no business, +an' ef I could lay my hand on her, I'd jerk her home so quick, her head +would swim worse than old Billy Sanders's does when he's full up to the +chin." + +After awhile, Eugenia said she had waited long enough, but Mrs. +Dorrington looked at her with such imploring eyes that she hesitated. +"If you go," said the lady, "I will feel that Nan is not coming, but as +long as you stay, I have hope that she will run in any moment. She is +with that Tasma Tid, and I think it is terrible that we can't get rid of +that negro. I have never been able to like negroes." + +"Well, you needn't be too hard on the niggers," declared Mrs. Absalom. +"Everything they know, everything they do, everything they +say--everything--they have larnt from the white folks. Study a nigger +right close, an' you'll ketch a glimpse of how white folks would look +an' do wi'out the'r trimmin's." + +"Oh, perhaps so," assented Mrs. Dorrington, with a little shrug of the +shoulders which said a good deal plainer than words, "You couldn't make +me believe that." + +Just as Dr. Dorrington drove up, and just as Mrs. Absalom was about to +get her bonnet, for the purpose, as she said, of "scouring the town," +Nan came running in out of breath. "Oh, such a time as I've had!" she +exclaimed. "You'll not be angry with me, Eugenia, when you hear all! +Talk of adventures! Well, I have had one at last, after waiting all +these years! Don't scold me, Nonny, until you know where I've been and +what I've done. And poor Johnny has been crying, and having all sorts of +wild thoughts about poor me. Don't go, Eugenia; I am going with you in a +moment--just as soon as I can gather my wits about me. I am perfectly +wild." + +"Tell us something new," said Mrs. Absalom drily. "Here we've been on +pins and needles, thinkin' maybe some of your John A. Murrells had +rushed into town an' kidnapped you, an' all the time you an' that slink +of a nigger have been gallivantin' over the face of the yeth. I declare +ef Randolph don't do somethin' wi' you they ain't no tellin' what'll +become of you." + +But Dr. Dorrington was not in the humour for scolding; he rarely ever +was; but on that particular night less so than ever. For one brief +moment, Nan thought he was too angry to scold, and this she dreaded +worse than any outbreak; for when he was silent over some of her capers +she took it for granted that his feelings were hurt, and this thought +was sufficient to give her more misery than anything else. But she soon +discovered that his gravity, which was unusual, had its origin +elsewhere. She saw him take a tiny tin waggon, all painted red, from his +pocket and place it on the mantel-piece, and both she and Mrs. +Dorrington went to him. + +"Oh, popsy! I'm so sorry about everything! He didn't need it, did he?" + +"No, the little fellow has no more use for toys. He sent you his love, +Nan. He was talking about you with his last breath; he remembered +everything you said and did when you went with me to see him. He said +you must be good." + +Now, if Nan was a heroine, or anything like one, it would never do to +say that she hid her face in her hands and wept a little when she heard +of the death of the little boy who had been her father's patient for +many months. In the present state of literary criticism, one must be +very careful not to permit women and children to display their +sensitive and tender natures. Only the other day, a very good book was +damned because one of the female characters had wept 393 times during +the course of the story. Out upon tears and human nature! Let us go out +and reform some one, and leave tears to the kindergarten, where steps +are taking even now to dry up the fountains of youth. + +Nevertheless, Nan cried a little, and so did Eugenia Claiborne, when she +heard the story of the little boy who had suffered so long and so +patiently. The news of his death tended to quiet Nan's excitement, but +she told her story, and, though the child's death took the edge off +Nan's excitement, the story of her adventure attracted as much attention +as she thought it would. She said nothing about Gabriel, and it was +supposed that only she and Tasma Tid were in the closet; but the next +morning, when Dr. Dorrington drove over to Clopton's to carry the +information, he was met by the statement that Gabriel had told of it the +night before. A little inquiry developed the fact that Gabriel had +concealed himself in the closet in order to discover the mysteries of +the Union League. + +Dorrington decided that the matter was either very serious or very +amusing, and he took occasion to question Nan about it. "You didn't tell +us that Gabriel was in the closet with you," he said to Nan. + +"Well, popsy, so far as I was concerned he was not there. He certainly +has no idea that I was there, and if he ever finds it out, I'll never +speak to him again. He never will find it out unless he is told by some +one who dislikes me. Outside of this family," Nan went on with dignity, +"not a soul knows that I was there except Eugenia Claiborne, and I'm +perfectly certain she'll never tell any one." + +Dorrington thought his daughter should have a little lecture, and he +gave her one, but not of the conventional kind. He simply drew her to +him and kissed her, saying, "My precious child, you must never forget +the message the little boy sent you. About the last thing he said was, +'Tell my Miss Nan to be dood.' And you know, my dear, that it is neither +proper nor good for my little girl to be wandering about at night. She +is now a young lady, and she must begin to act like one--not too much, +you know, but just enough to be good." + +Now, you may depend upon it, this kind of talk, accompanied by a smile +of affection, went a good deal farther with Nan than the most tremendous +scolding would have gone. It touched her where she was weakest--or, if +you please, strongest--in her affections, and she vowed to herself that +she would put off her hoyden ways, and become a demure young lady, or at +least play the part to the best of her ability. + +Eugenia Claiborne declared that Nan had acted more demurely in the +closet than she could have done, if, instead of Gabriel, Paul Tomlin had +come spying on the radicals where she was. "I don't see how you could +help saying something. If I had been in your place, and Paul had come in +there, I should certainly have said something to him, if only to let him +know that I was as patriotic as he was." Miss Eugenia had grand ideas +about patriotism. + +"Oh, if it had been Paul instead of Gabriel I would have made myself +known," said Nan; "but Gabriel----" + +"I don't see what the difference is when it comes to making yourself +known to any one in the dark, especially to a friend," remarked Eugenia. +"For my part, horses couldn't have dragged me in that awful place. I'm +sure you must be very brave, to make up your mind to go there. Weren't +you frightened to death?" + +"Why there was nothing to frighten any one," said Nan; "not even rats." + +"Ooh!" cried Eugenia with a shiver. "Why of course there were rats in +that dark, still place. I wouldn't go in there in broad daylight." + +This conversation occurred while Nan was visiting Eugenia, and in the +course thereof, Nan was given to understand that her friend thought a +good deal of Paul Tomlin. As soon as Nan grasped the idea that Eugenia +was trying to convey--there never was a girl more obtuse in +love-matters--she became profuse in her praises of Paul, who was really +a very clever young man. As Mrs. Absalom had said, it was not likely +that he would ever be brilliant enough to set the creek on fire, but he +was a very agreeable lad, entirely unlike Silas Tomlin, his father. + +If Eugenia thought that Nan would exchange confidences with her, she was +sadly mistaken. Nan had a horror of falling in love, and when the name +of Gabriel was mentioned by her friend, she made many scornful +allusions to that youngster. + +"But you know, Nan, that you think more of Gabriel than you do of any +other young man," said Eugenia. "You may deceive yourself and him, but +you can't deceive me. I knew the moment I saw you together the first +time that you were fond of him; and when I was told by some one that you +were to marry Mr. Bethune, I laughed at them." + +"I'm glad you did," replied Nan. "I care no more for Frank Bethune than +for Gabriel. I'll tell you the truth, if I thought I was in love with a +man, I'd hate him; I wouldn't submit to it." + +"Well, you have been acting as if you hate Gabriel," suggested Eugenia. + +"Oh, I don't like him half as well as I did when we were playfellows. I +think he's changed a great deal. His grandmother says he's timid, but to +me it looks more like conceit. No, child," Nan went on with an +affectation of great gravity; "the man that I marry must be somebody. He +must be able to attract the attention of everybody." + +"Then I'm afraid you'll have to move away from this town, or remain an +old maid," said the other. "Or it may be that Gabriel will make a great +man. He and Paul belong to a debating society here in town, and Paul +says that Gabriel can make as good a speech as any one he ever heard. +They invited some of the older men not long ago, and mother heard Mr. +Tomlin say that Gabriel would make a great orator some day. Paul thinks +there is nobody in the world like Gabriel. So you see he is already +getting to be famous." + +"But will he ever wear a red feather in his hat and a red sash over his +shoulder?" inquired Nan gravely. She was reverting now to the ideal hero +of her girlish dreams. + +"Why, I should hope not," replied Eugenia. "You don't want him to be the +laughing-stock of the people, do you?" + +"Oh, I'm not anxious for him to be anything," said Nan, "but you know +I've always said that I never would marry a man unless he wore a red +feather in his hat, and a red sash over his shoulder." + +"When I was a child," remarked Eugenia, "I always said I would like to +marry a pirate--a man with a long black beard, a handkerchief tied +around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, and a shining sword in +one hand and a pistol in the other." + +"Oh, did you?" cried Nan, snuggling closer to her friend. "Let's talk +about it. I am beginning to be very old, and I want to talk about things +that make me feel young again." + +But they were not to talk about their childish ideals that day, for a +knock came on the door, and Margaret Gaither was announced--Margaret, +who seemed to have no ideals, and who had confessed that she never had +had any childhood. She came in dignified and sad. Her face was pale, and +there was a weary look in her eyes, a wistful expression, as if she +desired very much to be able to be happy along with the rest of the +people around her. + +The two girls greeted her very cordially. Both were fond of her, and +though they could not understand her troubles, she had traits that +appealed to both. She could be lively enough on occasion, and there was +a certain refinement of manner about her that they both tried to +emulate--whenever they could remember to do so. + +"I heard Nan was here," she said, with a beautiful smile, "and I thought +I would run over and see you both together." + +"That is a fine compliment for me," Eugenia declared. + +"Miss Jealousy!" retorted Margaret, "you know I am over here two or +three times a week--every time I can catch you at home. But I wish you +were jealous," she added with a sigh. "I think I should be perfectly +happy if some one loved me well enough to be jealous." + +"You ought to be very happy without all that," said Nan. + +"Yes, I know I should be; but suppose you were in my shoes, would you be +happy?" She turned to the girls with the gravity of fate itself. As +neither one made any reply, she went on: "See what I am--absolutely +dependent on those who, not so very long ago, were entire strangers. I +have no claims on them whatever. Oh, don't think I am ungrateful," she +cried in answer to a gesture of protest from Nan. "I would make any +sacrifice for them--I would do anything--but you see how it is. I can do +nothing; I am perfectly helpless. I--but really, I ought not to talk so +before you two children." + +"Children! well, I thank you!" exclaimed Eugenia, rising and making a +mock curtsey. "Nan is nearly as old as you are, and I am two days +older." + +"No matter; I have no business to be bringing my troubles into this +giddy company; but as I was coming across the street, I happened to +think of the difference in our positions. Talk about jealousy! I am +jealous and envious. Yes, and mean; I have terrible thoughts sometimes. +I wouldn't dare to tell you what they are." + +"I know better," said Nan; "you never had a mean thought in your life. +Aunt Fanny says you are the sweetest creature in the world." + +"Don't! don't tell me such things as that, Nan. You will run me wild. +There never was another woman like Aunt Fanny. And, oh, I love her! But +if I could get away and become independent, and in some way pay them +back for all they have done for me, and for all they hope to do, I'd be +the happiest girl in the world." + +"I think I know how you feel," said Nan, with a quick apprehension of +the situation; "but if I were in your place, and couldn't help myself, I +wouldn't let it trouble me much." + +"Very well said," Mrs. Claiborne remarked, as she entered the room. +"Nan, you are becoming quite a philosopher. And how is Margaret?" she +inquired, kissing that blushing maiden on the check. + +"I am quite well, I thank you, but I'd be a great deal better if I +thought you hadn't heard my foolish talk." + +"I heard a part of it, and it wasn't foolish at all. The feeling does +you credit, provided you don't carry it too far. You are alone too +much; you take your feelings too seriously. You must remember that you +are nothing but a child; you are just beginning life. You should +cultivate bright thoughts. My dear, let me tell you one thing--if +Pulaski Tomlin had any idea that you had such feelings as you have +expressed here, he would be miserable; he would be miserable, and you +would never know it. You said something about gratitude; well if you +want to show any gratitude and make those two people happy, be happy +yourself--and if you can't really be happy, pretend that you are happy. +And the first thing you know, it will be a reality. Now, I have had +worse troubles than ever fell to your portion and if I had brooded over +them, I should have been miserable. Your lot is a very fortunate one, as +you will discover when you are older." + +This advice was very good, though it may have a familiar sound to the +reader, and Margaret tried hard for the time being to follow it. She +succeeded so well that her laughter became as loud and as joyous as that +of her companions, and when she returned home, her countenance was so +free from care and worry that both Neighbour Tomlin and his sister +remarked it, and they were the happier for it. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +_Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble_ + + +One day--it was a warm Saturday, giving promise of a long hot Sunday to +follow--Mr. Sanders was on his way home, feeling very blue indeed. He +had been to town on no particular business--the day was a half-holiday +with the field-hands--and he had wandered about aimlessly, making +several unsuccessful efforts to crack a joke or two with such +acquaintances as he chanced to meet. He had concluded that his liver was +out of order, and he wondered, as he went along, if he would create much +public comment and dissatisfaction if he should break his promise to Nan +Dorrington by purchasing a jug of liquor and crawling into the nearest +shuck-pen. It was on this warm Saturday, the least promising of all +days, as he thought, that he stumbled upon an adventure which, for a +season, proved to be both interesting and amusing. + +He was walking along, as has been said, feeling very blue and +uncomfortable, when he heard his name called, and, turning around, saw a +negro girl running after him. She came up panting and grinning. + +"Miss Ritta say she wish you'd come dar right now," said the girl. "I +been runnin' an' hollin atter you tell I wuz fear'd de dogs 'd take +atter me. Miss Ritta say she want to see you right now." + +The girl was small and very slim, bare-legged and good-humoured. Mr. +Sanders looked at her hard, but failed to recognise her; nor had he the +faintest idea as to the identity of "Miss Ritta." The girl bore his +scrutiny very well, betraying a tendency to dance. As Mr. Sanders tried +in vain to place her in his memory, she slapped her hands together, and +whirled quickly on her heel more than once. + +"You're a way yander ahead of me," he remarked, after reflecting awhile. +"I reckon I've slipped a cog some'rs in my machinery. What is your +name?" + +"I'm name Larceeny. Don't you know me, Marse Billy? I use ter b'long ter +de Clopton Cadets, when Miss Nan was de Captain; but I wan't ez big den +ez I is now. I been knowin' you most sence I was born." + +"What is your mammy's name?" + +"My mammy name Creecy," replied the girl, grinning broadly. "She cookin' +fer Miss Ritta." + +Mr. Sanders remembered Creecy very well. She had belonged to the Gaither +family before the war. "Where do you stay?" he inquired. He was not +disposed to admit, even indirectly, that he didn't know every human +being in the town. + +"I stays dar wid Miss Ritta," replied Larceeny. "I goes ter de do', an' +waits on Miss Nugeeny." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, with a smile of satisfaction. Here was a +clew. Miss Nugeeny must be Eugenia Claiborne, and Miss Ritta was +probably her mother. + +"Miss Ritta say she wanter see you right now," insisted Larceeny. "When +she seed you on de street, you wuz so fur, she couldn't holla at you, +an' time she call me outer de gyarden, you wuz done gone. I wuz at de +fur een' er de gyarden, pickin' rasbe'ies, an' I had ter drap +ever'thing." + +"Do you pick raspberries with your mouth?" inquired Mr. Sanders, with a +very solemn air. + +"Is my mouf dat red?" inquired Larceeny, with an alarmed expression on +her face. She seized her gingham apron by the hem, and, using the +underside, proceeded to remove the incriminating stains, remarking, "I'm +mighty glad you tol' me, kaze ef ol' Miss Polly had seed dat--well, she +done preach my funer'l once, an' I don't want ter hear it no mo'." + +Mr. Sanders, following Larceeny, proceeded to the Gaither Place, and was +ushered into the parlour, where, to his surprise, he found Judge +Vardeman, of Rockville, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the +State. Mr. Sanders knew the Judge very well, and admired him not only on +account of his great ability as a lawyer, but because of the genial +simplicity of his character. They greeted each other very cordially, and +were beginning to discuss the situation--it was the one topic that never +grew stale during that sad time--when Mrs. Claiborne came in; she had +evidently been out to attend to some household affairs. + +"I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Sanders," she said. "I have sent for you +at the suggestion of Judge Vardeman, who is a kinsman of mine by +marriage. He is surprised that you and I are not well acquainted; but I +tell him that in such sad times as these, it is a wonder that one knows +one's next-door neighbours." + +Mr. Sanders made some fitting response, and as soon as he could do so +without rudeness, closely studied the countenance of the lady. There was +a vivacity, a gaiety, an archness in her manner that he found very +charming. Her features were not regular, but when she laughed or smiled, +her face was beautiful. If she had ever experienced any serious trouble, +Mr. Sanders thought, she had been able to bear it bravely, for no marks +of it were left on her speaking countenance. "Give me a firm faith and a +light heart," says an ancient writer, "and the world may have everything +else." + +"I have sent for you, Mr. Sanders," said the lady, laughing lightly, "to +ask if you will undertake to be my drummer." + +"Your drummer!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, I've been told that I have +a way of blowin' my own horn, when the weather is fine and the spring +sap is runnin', but as for drummin', I reely hain't got the knack on +it." + +"Oh, I only want you to do a little talking here and there, and give out +various hints and intimations--you know what I mean. I am anxious to +even up matters with a friend of yours, who, I am afraid, isn't any +better than he should be." + +While the lady was talking, Mr. Sanders was staring at a couple of +crayon portraits on the wall. He rose from his seat, walked across the +room, and attentively studied one of the portraits. It depicted a man +between twenty-five and thirty-five. + +"Well, I'll be jigged!" he exclaimed as he resumed his seat. "Ef that +ain't Silas Tomlin I'm a Dutchman!" + +"Why, I shouldn't think you would recognise him after all these years," +the lady said, smiling brightly. "Don't you think the portrait flatters +him?" + +"Quite a considerbul," replied Mr. Sanders; "but Silas has got p'ints +about his countenance that a coat of tar wouldn't hide. Trim his +eyebrows, an' give him a clean, close shave, an' he's e'en about the +same as he was then. An' ef I ain't mighty much mistaken, the pictur' by +his side was intended to be took for you. The feller that took it forgot +to put the right kind of a sparkle in the eye, an' he didn't ketch the +laugh that oughter be hov'rin' round the mouth, like a butterfly tryin' +to light on a pink rose; but all in all, it's a mighty good likeness." + +"Now, don't you think I should thank Mr. Sanders?" said the lady, +turning to Judge Vardeman. "It has been many a day since I have had such +a compliment. Actually, I believe I am blushing!" and she was. + +"It wasn't much of a compliment to the artist," the Judge suggested. + +"Well, when it comes to paintin' a purty 'oman," remarked Mr. Sanders, +"it's powerful hard for to git in all the p'ints. A feller could paint +our picturs in short order, Judge. A couple of kags of pink paint, a +whitewash brush, an' two or three strokes, bold an' free, would do the +business." + +The Judge's eye twinkled merrily, and Mrs. Claiborne laughingly +exclaimed, "Why, you'd make quite an artist. You certainly have an eye +for colour." + +Thereupon Judge Vardeman suggested to Mrs. Claiborne that she begin at +the beginning, and place Mr. Sanders in possession of all the facts +necessary to the successful carrying out of the plan she had in view. It +was a plan, the Judge went on to say, that he did not wholly indorse, +bordering, as it did, on frivolity, but as the lady was determined on +it, he would not advise against it, as the results bade fair to be +harmless. + +It must have been quite a story the lady had to tell Mr. Sanders, for +the sun was nearly down when he came from the house; and it must have +been somewhat amusing, too, for he came down the steps laughing +heartily. When he reached the sidewalk, he paused, looked back at the +closed door, shook his head, and threw up his hands, exclaiming to +himself, "Bless Katy! I'm powerful glad I ain't got no 'oman on my +trail. 'Specially one like her. Be jigged ef she don't shake this old +town up!" + +He heard voices behind him, and turned to see Eugenia Claiborne and Paul +Tomlin walking slowly along, engaged in a very engrossing conversation. +Mr. Sanders looked at the couple long enough to make sure that he was +not mistaken as to their identity, and then he went on his way. + +He had intended to go straight home, but, yielding to a sudden whim or +impulse, he went to the tavern instead. This old tavern, at a certain +hour of the day, was the resort of all the men, old and young, who +desired to indulge in idle gossip, or hear the latest news that might be +brought by some stray traveller, or commercial agent, or cotton-buyer +from Malvern. For years, Mr. Woodruff, the proprietor--he had come from +Vermont in the forties, as a school-teacher--complained that the +hospitality of the citizens was enough to ruin any public-house that had +no gold mine to draw upon. But, after the war, the tide, such as it was, +turned in his favour, and by the early part of 1868, he was beginning to +profit by what he called "a pretty good line of custom," and there were +days in the busy season when he was hard put to it to accommodate his +guests in the way he desired. + +During the spring and summer months, there was no pleasanter place than +the long, low veranda of Mr. Woodruff's tavern, and it was very popular +with those who had an idle hour at their disposal. This veranda was much +patronised by Mr. Silas Tomlin, who, after the death of his wife, had no +home-life worthy of the name. Silas was not socially inclined; he took +no part in the gossip and tittle-tattle that flowed up and down the +veranda. The most interesting bit of news never caused him to turn his +head, and the raciest anecdote failed to bring a smile to his face. +Nevertheless, nothing seemed to please him better than to draw a chair +some distance away from the group of loungers, yet not out of ear-shot, +lean back against one of the supporting pillars, close his eyes and +listen to all that was said, or dream his own dreams, such as they might +be. + +Mr. Sanders was well aware of Silas Tomlin's tavern habits, and this +was what induced him to turn his feet in that direction. He expected to +find Silas there at this particular hour and he was not disappointed. +Silas was sitting aloof from the crowd, his chair leaning against one of +the columns, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, and his hands folded in +his lap. But for an occasional nervous movement of his thin lips, and +the twitching of his thumbs, he might have served as a model for a +statue of Repose. As a matter of fact, all his faculties were alert. + +The crowd of loungers was somewhat larger than usual, having been +augmented during the day by three commercial agents and a couple of +cotton-buyers. Lawyer Tidwell was taking advantage of the occasion to +expound and explain several very delicate and intricate constitutional +problems. Mr. Tidwell was a very able man in some respects, and he was a +very good talker, although he wanted to do all the talking himself. He +lowered his voice slightly, as he saw Mr. Sanders, but kept on with his +exposition of our organic law. + +"Hello, Mr. Sanders!" said one of the cotton-buyers, taking advantage of +a momentary pause in Mr. Tidwell's monologue; "how are you getting on +these days?" + +"Well, I was gittin' on right peart tell to-day, but this mornin' I +struck a job that's made me weak an' w'ary." + +"You're looking mighty well, anyhow. What has been the trouble to-day?" + +"Why, I'll tell you," responded Mr. Sanders, with a show of animation. +"I've been gwine round all day tryin' to git up subscriptions for to +build a flatform for Gus Tidwell. Gus needs a place whar he can stand +an' explutterate on the Constitution all day, and not be in nobody's +way." + +"Well, of course you succeeded," remarked Mr. Tidwell, good-naturedly. + +"Middlin' well--middlin' well. A coloured lady flung a dime in the box, +an' I put in a quarter. In all, I reckon I've raised a dollar an' a +half. But I reely believe I could 'a' raised a hunderd dollars ef I'd +'a' told 'em whar the flatform was to be built." + +"Where is that?" some one inquired. + +"In the pine-thicket behind the graveyard," responded Mr. Sanders, so +earnestly and promptly that the crowd shouted with laughter. Even Mr. +Tidwell, who was "case-hardened," as Mrs. Absalom would say, to Mr. +Sanders's jokes, joined in with the rest. + +"Gus is a purty good lawyer," said Mr. Sanders, lifting his voice a +little to make sure that Silas Tomlin would hear every syllable of what +he intended to say; "but he'll never be at his best till he finds out +that the Constitution, like the Bible, can be translated to suit the +idees of any party or any crank. But I allers brag on Gus because I +believe in paternizin' home industries. Howsomever, between us boys an' +gals, an' not aimin' for it to go any furder, there's a lawyer in town +to-day--an' maybe he'll be here to-morrow--who knows more about the law +in one minnit than Gus could tell you in a day and a half. An' when it +comes to explutterations on p'ints of constitutional law, Gus wouldn't +be in it." + +"Is that so? What is the gentleman's name?" asked Mr. Tidwell. + +"Judge Albert Vardeman," replied Mr. Sanders. "Now, when you come to +talk about lawyers, you'll be doin' yourself injustice ef you leave out +the name of Albert Vardeman. He ain't got much of a figure--he's shaped +somethin' like a gourdful of water--but I tell you he's got a head on +him." + +"Is the Judge really here?" Mr. Tidwell asked. "I'd like very much to +have a talk with him." + +"I don't blame you, Gus," remarked Mr. Sanders, "you can git more +straight p'ints from Albert Vardeman than you'll find in the books. He's +been at Mrs. Claiborne's all day; I reckon she's gittin' him to ten' to +some law business for her. They's some kinder kinnery betwixt 'em. His +mammy's cat ketched a rat in her gran'mammy's smokehouse, I reckon. +We've got more kinfolks in these diggin's, than they has been sence the +first generation arter Adam." + +At the mention of Mrs. Claiborne's name Silas Tomlin opened his eyes and +uncrossed his legs. This movement caused him to lose his balance, and +his chair fell from a leaning position with a sharp bang. + +"What sort of a dream did you have, Silas?" Mr. Sanders inquired with +affected solicitude. "You'd better watch out; Dock Dorrin'ton says that +when a man gits bald-headed, it's a sign that his bones is as brittle as +glass. He found that out on one of his furrin trips." + +"Don't worry about me, Sanders," replied Silas. He tried to smile. + +"Well, I don't reckon you could call it worry, Silas, bekaze when I +ketch a case of the worries, it allers sends me to bed wi' the jimmyjon. +I can be neighbourly wi'out worryin', I hope." + +"For a woman with a grown daughter," remarked Mr. Tidwell, speaking his +thoughts aloud, as was his habit, "Mrs. Claiborne is well +preserved--very well preserved." Mr. Tidwell was a widower, of several +years' standing. + +"Why, she's not only preserved, she's the preserves an' the preserver," +Mr. Sanders declared. "To look in her eye an' watch her thoughts +sparklin' like fire, to watch her movements, an' hear her laugh, not +only makes a feller young agin, but makes him glad he's a-livin'. An' +that gal of her'n--well, she's a thoroughbred. Did you ever notice the +way she holds her head? I never see her an' Nan Dorrington together but +what I'm sorry I never got married. I'd put up wi' all the tribulation +for to have a gal like arry one on 'em." + +Mr. Sanders paused a moment, and then turned to Silas Tomlin. "Silas, I +think Paul is fixin' for to do you proud. As I come along jest now, him +an' Jinny Claiborne was walkin' mighty close together. They must 'a' +been swappin' some mighty sweet secrets, bekaze they hardly spoke above +a whisper. An' they didn't look like they was in much of a hurry." + +While Mr. Sanders was describing the scene he had witnessed, +exaggerating the facts to suit his whimsical humour, Silas Tomlin sat +bold upright in his chair, his eyes half-shut, and his thin lips working +nervously. "Paul knows which side his bread is buttered on," he snapped +out. + +"Bread!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, pretending to become tremendously +excited; "bread! shorely you must mean poun'-cake, Silas. And whoever +heard of putting butter on poun'-cake?" + +When the loungers began to disperse, some of them going home, and others +going in to supper in response to the tavern bell, Mr. Silas Tomlin +called to Lawyer Tidwell, and the two walked along together, their homes +lying in the same direction. + +"Gus," said Silas, somewhat nervously, "I want to put a case to you. +It's purely imaginary, and has probably never happened in the history of +the world." + +"You mean what we lawyers call a hypothetical case," remarked Mr. +Tidwell, in a tone that suggested a spacious and a tolerant mind. + +"Precisely," replied Mr. Silas Tomlin, with some eagerness. "I was +readin' a tale in an old copy of _Blackwood's Magazine_ the other day, +an' the whole business turned on just such a case. The sum and substance +of it was about this: A man marries a woman and they get along together +all right for awhile. Then, all of a sudden she takes a mortal dislike +to the man, screams like mad when he goes about her, and kicks up +generally when his name is mentioned. He, being a man of some spirit, +and rather touchy at best, finally leaves her in disgust. Finally her +folks send him word that she is dead. On the strength of that +information, he marries again, after so long a time. All goes well for +eighteen or twenty years, and then suddenly the first wife turns up. +Now what, in law, is the man's status? Where does he stand? Is this +woman really his wife?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Tidwell. "His second marriage is no +marriage at all. The issue of such a marriage is illegitimate." + +"That's just what I thought," commented Silas Tomlin. "But in the tale, +when the woman comes back, and puts in her claim, the judge flings her +case out of court." + +"That was in England," Mr. Tidwell suggested. + +"Or Scotland--I forget which," Silas Tomlin replied. + +"Well, it isn't the law over here," Mr. Tidwell declared confidently. +They walked on a little way, when the lawyer suddenly turned to Silas +and said: "Mr. Tomlin, will you fetch that magazine in to-morrow? I want +to see the ground on which the woman's case was thrown out. It's +interesting, even if it is all fiction. Perhaps there was some +technicality." + +"All right, Gus; I'll fetch it in to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +_Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble_ + + +When Silas Tomlin reached home, he found his son reading a book. No word +of salutation passed between them; Paul simply changed his position in +the chair, and Silas grunted. They had no confidences, and they seemed +to have nothing in common. As a matter of fact, however, Silas was very +fond of this son, proud of his appearance--the lad was as neat as a pin, +and fairly well-favoured,--and proud of his love for books. Unhappily, +Silas was never able to show his affection and his fair-haired son never +knew to his dying day how large a place he occupied in his father's +heart. Miserly Silas was with money, but his love for his son was +boundless. It destroyed or excluded every other sentiment or emotion +that was in conflict with it. His miserliness was for his son's sake, +and he never put away a dollar without a feeling of exultation; he +rejoiced in the fact that it would enable his son to live more +comfortably than his father had cared to live. Silas loved money, not +for its own sake, but for the sake of his son. + +Mrs. Absalom would have laughed at such a statement. The social +structure of the Southern people, and the habits and traditions based +thereon, were of such a character that a great majority could not be +brought to believe that it was possible for parsimony to exist side by +side with any of the finer feelings. All the conditions and +circumstances, the ability to command leisure, the very climate itself, +promoted hospitality, generosity, open-handedness, and that fine spirit +of lavishness that seeks at any cost to give pleasure to others. Popular +opinion, therefore, looked with a cold and suspicious eye on all +manifestations of selfishness. + +But Silas Tomlin's parsimony, his stinginess, had no selfish basis. He +was saving not for himself, but for his son, in whom all his affections +and all his ambitions were centered. He had reared Paul tenderly without +displaying any tenderness, and if the son had speculated at all in +regard to the various liberties he had been allowed, or the indulgent +methods that had been employed in his bringing up, he would have traced +them to the carelessness and indifference of his father, rather than to +the ardent affection that burned unseen and unmarked in Silas's bosom. + +He had never, by word or act, intentionally wounded the feelings of his +son; he had never thrown himself in the path of Paul's wishes. There was +a feeling in Shady Dale that Silas was permitting his son to go to the +dogs; whereas, as a matter of fact, no detective was ever more alert. +Without seeming to do so, he had kept an eye on all Paul's comings and +goings. When the lad's desires were reasonable, they were promptly +gratified; when they were unreasonable, their gratification was +postponed until they were forgotten. Books Paul had in abundance. Half +of the large library of Meredith Tomlin had fallen to Silas, and the +other half to Pulaski Tomlin, and the lad had free access to all. + +Paul was very fond of his Uncle Pulaski and his Aunt Fanny, and he was +far more familiar with these two than he was with his father. His +association with his uncle and aunt was in the nature of a liberal +education. It was Pulaski Tomlin who really formed Paul's character, who +gathered together all the elements of good that are native to the mind +of a sensitive lad, and moulded them until they were strong enough to +outweigh and overwhelm the impulses of evil that are also native to the +growing mind. Thus it fell out that Paul was a young man to be admired +and loved by all who find modest merit pleasing. + +When his father arrived at home on that particular evening, as has been +noted, Paul was reading a book. He changed his position, but said +nothing. After awhile, however, he felt something was wrong. His father, +instead of seating himself at the table, and consulting his note-book, +walked up and down the floor. + +"What is wrong? Are you ill?" Paul asked after awhile. + +"No, son; I am as well in body as ever I was; but I'm greatly troubled. +I wish to heaven I could go back to the beginning, and tell you all +about it; but I can't--I just can't." + +Paul also had his troubles, and he regarded his father gloomily enough. +"Why can't you tell me?" he asked, somewhat impatiently. "But I needn't +ask you that; you never tell me anything. I heard something to-day that +made me ashamed." + +"Ashamed, Paul?" gasped his father. + +"Yes--ashamed. And if it is true, I am going away from here and never +show my face again." + +Silas fell, rather than leaned, against the mantel-piece, his face +ghastly white. He tried to say, "What did you hear, Paul?" His lips +moved, but no sound issued from his throat. + +"Two or three persons told me to-day," Paul went on, "that they had +heard of your intention to join the radicals, and run for the +legislature. I told each and every one of them that it was an infernal +lie; but I don't know whether it is a lie or not. If it isn't I'll leave +here." + +Silas Tomlin's heart had been in his throat, as the saying is, but he +gulped it down again and smiled faintly. If this was all Paul had heard, +well and good. Compared with some other things, it was a mere matter of +moonshine. Paul took up his book again, but he turned the leaves +rapidly, and it was plain that he was impatiently waiting for further +information. + +At last Silas spoke: "All the truth in that report, Paul, is this--It +has been suggested to me that it would be better for the whites here if +some one who sympathises with their plans, and understands their +interests, should pretend to become a Republican, and make the race for +the legislature. This is what some of our best men think." + +"What do you mean by our best men, father?" + +"Why, I don't know that I am at liberty to mention names even to you, +Paul," said Silas, who had no notion of being driven into a corner. "And +then, on the other hand, the white Republicans are not as fond of the +negroes as they pretend to be. And if they can't get some native-born +white man to run, who do you reckon they'll have to put up as a +candidate? Why, old Jerry, Pulaski's man of all work." + +"Well, what of it?" Paul asked with rising indignation. "Jerry is a +great deal better than any white man who puts himself on an equality +with him." + +"Have you met Mr. Hotchkiss?" asked Silas. "He seems to be a very clever +man." + +"No, I haven't met him and I don't want to meet him." Paul rose from his +seat, and stood facing his father. He was a likely-looking young man, +tall and slim, but broad-shouldered. He had the delicate pink complexion +that belongs to fair-haired persons. "This is a question, father, that +can't be discussed between us. You beat about the bush in such a way as +to compel me to believe the reports I have heard are true. Well, you can +do as you like; I'll not presume to dictate to you. You may disgrace +yourself, but you sha'n't disgrace me." + +With that, the high-strung young fellow seized his hat, and flung out of +the house, carrying his book with him. He shut the door after him with a +bang, as he went out, demonstrating that he was full of the heroic +indignation that only young blood can kindle. + +Silas Tomlin sank into a chair, as he heard the street-door slammed. +"Disgrace him! My God! I've already disgraced him, and when he finds it +out he'll hate me. Oh, Lord!" If the man's fountain of tears had not +been dried up years before, he would have wept scalding ones. + +An inner door opened and a negro woman peeped in. Seeing no one but +Silas, she cried out indignantly, "Who dat slammin' dat front do'? +You'll break eve'y glass in de house, an' half de crock'ry-ware in de +dinin'-room, an' den you'll say I done it." + +"It was Paul, Rhody; he was angry about something." + +The negro woman gave an indignant snort. "I don't blame 'im--I don't +blame 'im; not one bit. Ain't I been tellin' you how 'twould be? Ain't I +been tellin' you dat you'd run 'im off wid yo' scrimpin' an' pinchin'? +But 'tain't dat dat run'd 'im off. It's sump'n wuss'n dat. He ain't +never done dat away befo'. Ef dat boy ain't had de patience er Job, he'd +'a' been gone fum here long ago." + +Rhody came into the room where she could look Silas in the eyes. He +regarded her with curiosity, which appeared to be the only emotion left +him. Certainly he had never seen his cook and aforetime slave in such a +tantrum. What would she say and do next? + +"Home!" she exclaimed in a loud voice. Then she turned around and +deliberately inspected the room as if she had never seen it before. "An' +so dis is what you call Home--you, wid all yo' money hid away in holes +in de groun'! Dis de kinder place you fix up fer dat boy, an' him de +onliest one you got! Well!" Rhody's indignation could only be accounted +for on the ground that she had overheard the whole conversation between +father and son. + +"Why, you never said anything about it before," remarked Silas Tomlin. + +"No, I didn't, an' I wouldn't say it now, ef dat boy hadn't 'a' foun' +out fer hisse'f what kinder daddy he got." + +"Blast your black hide! I'll knock your brains out if you talk that way +to me!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, white with anger. + +"Well, I bet you nobody don't knock yo' brains out," remarked Rhody +undismayed. "An' while I'm 'bout it, I'll tell you dis: Yo' supper's in +dar in de pots an' pans; ef you want it you go git it an' put on de +table, er set flat on de h'ath an' eat it. Dat chile's gone, an' I'm +gwine." + +"You dratted fool!" Silas exclaimed, "you know Paul hasn't gone for +good. He'll come back when he gets hungry, and be glad to come." + +"Is you ever seed him do dis away befo' sence he been born?" Rhody +paused and waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. "No, you ain't! +no, you ain't! You don't know no mo' 'bout dat chile dan ef he want +yone. But I--me--ol' Rhody--I know 'im. I kin look at 'im sideways an' +tell ef he feelin' good er bad er diffunt. What you done done ter dat +chile? Tell me dat." + +But Silas Tomlin answered never a word. He sat glowering at Rhody in a +way that would have subdued and frightened a negro unused to his ways. +Rhody started toward the kitchen, but at the door leading to the +dining-room she paused and turned around. "Oh, you got a heap ter answer +fer--a mighty heap; an' de day will come when you'll bar in mind eve'y +word I been tellin' you 'bout dat chile fum de time he could wobble +'roun' an' call me mammy." + +With that she went out. Silas heard her moving about in the back part of +the house, but after awhile all was silence. He sat for some time +communing with himself, and trying in vain to map out some consistent +course of action. What a blessing it would be, he thought, if Paul would +make good his threat, and go away! It would be like tearing his father's +heart-strings out, but better that than that he should remain and be a +witness to his own disgrace, and to the bitter humiliation of his +father. + +Silas had intended to warn his son that he was throwing away his time by +going with Eugenia Claiborne--that marriage with her was utterly +impossible. But it was a very delicate subject, and, once embarked in +it, he would have been unable to give his son any adequate or +satisfactory reason for the interdiction. Many wild and whirling +thoughts passed through the mind of Silas Tomlin, but at the end, he +asked himself why he should cross the creek before he came to it? + +The reflection was soothing enough to bring home to his mind the fact +that he had had no supper. Unconsciously, and through force of habit, he +had been waiting for Rhody to set the small bell to tinkling, as a +signal that the meal was ready, but no sound had come to his ears. He +rose to investigate. A solitary candle was flaring on the dining-table. +He went to the door leading to the kitchen and called Rhody, but he +received no answer. + +"Blast your impudent hide!" he exclaimed, "what are you doing out there? +Why don't you put supper on the table?" + +He would have had silence for an answer, but for the barking of a nearby +neighbour's dog. He went into the kitchen, and found the fire nearly +out, whereupon he made dire threats against his cook, but, in the end, +he was compelled to fish his supper from the pans as best he could. + +When he had finished he looked at the clock, and was surprised to find +that it was only a little after eight. During the course of an hour and +a half, he seemed to have lived and suffered a year and a half. The +early hour gave him an opportunity to display one of his characteristic +traits. It had never been his way to run from trouble. When a small boy, +if his nurse told him the booger-man was behind a bush, he always +insisted on investigating. The same impulse seized him now. If this Mrs. +Claiborne proposed to make any move against him--as he inferred from the +hints which the jovial Mr. Sanders had flung at his head--he would beard +the lioness in her den, and find out what she meant, and what she +wanted. + +Silas was prompt to act on the impulse, and as soon as he could make the +house secure, he proceeded to the Gaither Place. His knock, after some +delay, was answered by Eugenia. The girl involuntarily drew back when +she saw who the visitor was. "What is it you wish?" she inquired. + +"If your mother is at home, please ask her if she will see Silas Tomlin +on a matter of business." + +Eugenia left the door open, and in a moment, from one of the rear rooms +came the sound of merry, unrestrained laughter, which only ceased when +some one uttered a warning "Sh-h!" + +Eugenia returned almost immediately, and invited the visitor into the +parlour, saying, "It is rather late for business, mamma says, but she +will see you." + +Silas seated himself on a sofa, and had time to look about him before +the lady of the house came in. It was his second visit to Mrs. +Claiborne, and he observed many changes had taken place in the +disposition of the furniture and the draperies. He noted, too, with a +feeling of helpless exasperation, that his own portrait hung on the wall +in close proximity to that of Rita Claiborne. He clenched his hands with +inward rage. "What does this she-devil mean?" he asked himself, and at +that moment, the object of his anger swept into the room. There was +something gracious, as well as graceful, in her movements. She had the +air of a victor who is willing to be magnanimous. + +"What is your business with me?" she asked with lifted eyebrows. There +was just the shadow of a smile hovering around her mouth. Silas caught +it, and looking into a swinging mirror opposite, he saw how impossible +it was for a man with a weazened face and a skull-cap to cope with such +a woman as this. However, he had his indignation, his sense of +persecution, to fall back upon. + +"I want to know what you intend to do," said Silas. There was a note of +weakness and helplessness in his voice. "I want to know what to expect. +I'm tired of leading a dog's life. I hear you have been colloguing with +lawyers." + +"Do you remember your first visit here?" inquired Mrs. Claiborne very +sweetly. If she was an enemy, she certainly knew how to conceal her +feelings. "Do you remember how wildly you talked--how insulting you +were?" + +"I declare to you on my honour that I never intended to insult you," +Silas exclaimed. + +"Why, all your insinuations were insulting. You gave me to understand +that my coming here was an outrage--as if you had anything to do with my +movements. But you insisted that my coming here was an attack on you and +your son. When and where and how did I ever do you a wrong?" + +"Why didn't you--didn't--" Silas tried hard to formulate his wrongs, but +they were either so many or so few that words failed him. + +"Did I desert you when you were ill and delirious? Did I put faith in an +anonymous letter and believe you to be dead?" The lady spoke with a +calmness that seemed to be unnatural and unreal. + +For a little while, Silas made no reply, but sat like one dazed, his +eyes fixed on the crayon portrait of himself. "Did you hang that thing +up there for Paul to see it and ask questions about it?" he asked, +after awhile. + +"I hung it there because I chose to," she replied. "Judge Vardeman +thinks it is a very good likeness of you, but I don't agree with him. Do +you think it does you justice?" she asked. + +"And then there's Paul," said Silas, ignoring her question. "Do you +propose to let him go ahead and fall in love with the girl?" + +"Paul is not my son," the lady calmly answered. + +"But the girl is your daughter," Silas insisted. + +"I shall look after her welfare, never fear," said the lady. + +"But suppose they should take a notion to marry; what would you do to +stop 'em?" + +"Oh, well, that is a question for the future," replied the lady, +serenely. "It will be time enough to discuss that matter when the +necessity arises." + +Her composure, her indifference, caused Silas to writhe and squirm in +his chair, and she, seeing the torture she was inflicting, appeared to +be very well content. + +"I didn't come to argue," said Silas presently. "I came for information; +I want to know what you intend to do. I don't ask any favours and I +don't want any; I'm getting my deserts, I reckon. What I sowed that I'm +reaping." + +"Ah!" the lady exclaimed softly, and with an air of satisfaction. "Do +you really feel so?" She leaned forward a little, and there was that in +her eyes that denoted something else besides satisfaction; compassion +shone there. Her mood had not been a serious one up to this point, but +she was serious now, and Silas could but observe how beautiful she was. +"Do you really feel that I would be justified if I confirmed the +suspicions you have expressed?" + +"So far as I am concerned, you'd be doing exactly right," said Silas +bluntly. "But what about Paul?" + +"Well, what about Paul?" Mrs. Claiborne asked. + +"Well, for one thing, he's never done you any harm. And there's another +thing," said Silas rising from his seat: "I'd be willing to have my body +pulled to pieces, inch by inch, and my bones broken, piece by piece, to +save that boy one single pang." + +He stood towering over the lady. For once he had been taken clean out of +himself, and he seemed to be transfigured. Mrs. Claiborne rose also. + +"Paul is a very good young man," she said. + +"Yes, he is!" exclaimed Silas. "He never had a mean thought, and he has +never been guilty of a mean action. But that would make no difference in +my feelings. It would be all the same to me if he was a thief and a +scoundrel or if he was deformed, or if he was everything that he is not. +No matter what he was or might be, I would be willing to live in eternal +torment if I could know that he is happy." + +His face was not weazened now. It was illuminated with his love for his +son, the one passion of his life, and he was no longer a contemptible +figure. The lady refixed her eyes upon him, and wondered how he could +have changed himself right before her eyes, for certainly, as it seemed +to her, this was not the mean and shabby figure she had found in the +parlour when she first came in. She sighed as she turned her eyes away. + +"Do you remember what I told you on the occasion of your first visit?" +she inquired very seriously. "You were both rude and disagreeable, but I +said that I'd not trouble you again, so long as you left me alone." + +"Well, haven't I left you alone?" asked Silas. + +"What do you call this?" There was just the shadow of a smile on her +face. + +"That's a fact," said Silas after a pause. "But I just couldn't help +myself. Honestly I'm sorry I came. I'm no match for you. I must bid you +good-night. I hardly know what's come over me. If I've worried you, I'm +truly sorry." + +"One of these days," she said very kindly, as she accompanied him to the +door, "I'll send for you. At the proper time I'll give you some +interesting news." + +"Well, I hope it will be good news; if so, it will be the first I have +heard in many a long day. Good-night." + +The lady closed the door, and returned to the parlour and sat down. +"Why, I thought he was a cold-blooded, heartless creature," she said to +herself. Then, after some reflection she uttered an exclamation and +clasped her hands together. Suppose he were to make way with himself! +The bare thought was enough to keep the smiles away from the face of +this merry-hearted lady for many long minutes. Finally, she caught a +glimpse of herself in the swinging mirror. She snapped her fingers at +her reflection, saying, "Pooh! I wouldn't give that for your firmness of +purpose!" + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +_Rhody Has Something to Say_ + + +Now, all this time, while the mother was engaged with Silas, Eugenia, +the daughter, was having an experience of her own. When Rhody, Silas +Tomlin's cook and housekeeper, discovered that Paul had left the house +in a fit of anger, she knew at once that something unusual had occurred, +and her indignation against Silas Tomlin rose high. She was familiar +with every peculiarity of Paul's character, and she was well aware of +the fact that behind his calm and cool bearing, which nothing ever +seemed to ruffle, was a heart as sensitive and as tender as that of a +woman, and a temper hot, obstinate and unreasonable when aroused. + +So, without taking time to serve Silas's supper, she went in search of +Paul. She went to the store where he was the chief clerk, but the doors +were closed; she went to the tavern, but he was not to be seen; and she +walked along the principal streets, where sometimes the young men +strolled after tea. There she met a negro woman, who suggested that he +might be at the Gaither Place. "Humph!" snorted Rhody, "how come dat +ain't cross my mind? But ef he's dar dis night, ef he run ter dat gal +when he in trouble, I better be layin' off ter cook some weddin' +doin's." + +There wasn't a backyard in the town that Rhody didn't know as well as +she knew her own, and she stood on no ceremony in entering any of them. +She went to the Gaither Place, swung back the gate, shutting it after +her with a bang, and stalked into the kitchen as though it belonged to +her. At the moment there was no one in sight but Mandy, the house-girl, +a bright and good-looking mulatto. + +"Why, howdy, Miss Rhody!" she exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like a +flute. "What wind blowed you in here?" + +"Put down dem dishes an' wipe yo' han's," said Rhody, by way of reply. +The girl silently complied, expressing no surprise and betraying no +curiosity. "Now, den, go in de house, an' ax ef Paul Tomlin is in dar," +commanded Rhody. "Ef he is des tell 'im dat Mammy Rhody want ter see +'im." + +"I hope dey ain't nobody dead," suggested Mandy with a musical laugh. +"I'm lookin' out for all sorts er trouble, because I've had mighty funny +dreams for three nights han'-runnin'. Look like I can see blood. I wake +up, I do, cryin' an' feelin' tired out like de witches been ridin' me. +Then I drop off to sleep, an' there's the blood, plain as my han'." + +She went on in the house and Rhody followed close at her heels. She was +determined to see Paul if she could. She was very willing for Silas +Tomlin to be drawn through a hackle; she was willing to see murder done +if the whites were to be the victims; but Paul--well, according to her +view, Paul was one of a thousand. She had given him suck; she had +fretted and worried about him for twenty years; and she couldn't break +off her old habits all at once. She had listened to and indorsed the +incendiary doctrines of the radical emissary who pretended to be +representing the government; she had wept and shouted over the strenuous +pleadings of the Rev. Jeremiah; but all these things were wholly apart +from Paul. And if she had had the remotest idea that they affected his +interests or his future, she would have risen in the church and +denounced the carpet-bagger and his scalawag associates, and likewise +the Rev. Jeremiah. + +When Mandy, closely followed by Rhody, went into the house, she heard +voices in the parlour, but Eugenia was in the sitting-room reading by +the light of a lamp. + +"Miss Genia," said the girl, "is Mr. Paul here?" + +"Why do you ask?" inquired Eugenia. + +"They-all cook wanter speak with him." At this moment, Eugenia saw the +somewhat grim face of Rhody peering over the girl's shoulder. + +"Paul isn't here," said the young lady, rising with a vague feeling of +alarm. "What is the matter?" And then, feeling that if there was any +trouble, Rhody would feel freer to speak when they were alone together, +Eugenia dismissed Mandy, and followed to see that the girl went out. +"Now, what _is_ the trouble, Rhody? Mr. Silas Tomlin is in the parlour +talking to mother." + +Rhody opened her eyes wide at this. "_He_ in dar? What de name er +goodness he doin' here?" Eugenia didn't know, of course, and said so. +"Well, he ain't atter no good," Rhody went on; "you kin put dat down in +black an' white. Dat man is sho' ter leave a smutty track wharsomever he +walk at. You better watch 'im; you better keep yo' eye on 'im. Is he +yever loant yo' ma any money?" + +"Why, no," replied Eugenia, laughing at the absurdity of the question. +"What put that idea in your head?" + +"Bekaze dat's his business--loanin' out a little dab er money here an' a +little dab dar, an' gittin' back double de dab he loant," said Rhody. +"Deyer folks in dis county, which he loant um money, an' now he got all +de prop'ty dey yever had; an' deyer folks right here in dis town, which +he loant um dat ar Conferick money when it want wuff much mo dan +shavin's, an' now dey got ter pay 'im back sho nuff money. I hear 'im +sesso. Oh, dat's him! dat's Silas Tomlin up an' down. You kin take a +thrip an' squeeze it in yo' han' tell it leave a print, an' hol' it up +whar folks kin see it, an' dar you got his pictur'; all it'll need will +be a frame. He done druv Paul 'way fum home." + +She spoke with some heat, and really went further than she intended, but +she was swept away by her indignation. She was certain, knowing Paul as +well as she did, that he had left the house in a fit of anger at +something his father had said or done and she was equally as certain +that he would have to be coaxed back. + +"Surely you are mistaken," said Eugenia. "It is too ridiculous. Why, +Paul--Mr. Paul is----" She paused and stood there blushing. + +"Go on, chile: say it out; don't be shame er me. Nobody can't say +nothin' good 'bout dat boy but what I kin put a lots mo' on what dey er +tellin'. Silas Tomlin done tol' me out'n his own mouf dat Paul went fum +de house vowin' he'd never come back." + +Eugenia was so sure that Rhody (after her kind and colour) was +exaggerating, that she refused to be disturbed by the statement. "Why +did you come here hunting for Paul?" the young lady asked. + +"Oh, go away, Miss Genia!" exclaimed Rhody, laughing. "'Tain't no needs +er my answerin' dat, kaze you know lots better'n I does." + +"Are you very fond of him?" Eugenia inquired. + +"Who--_me_? Why, honey, I raised 'im. Sick er well, I nussed 'im fer +long years. I helt 'im in deze arms nights an' nights, when all he had +ter do fer ter leave dis vale wuz ter fetch one gasp an' go. Ef his +daddy had done all dat, he wouldn't 'a' druv de boy fum home." + +Alas! how could Rhody, in her ignorance and blindness, probe the +recesses of a soul as reticent as that of Silas Tomlin? + +"Oh, don't say he was driven from home!" cried Eugenia, rising and +placing a hand on Rhody's arm. "If you talk that way, other people will +take it up, and it won't be pleasant for Paul." + +"Dat sho is a mighty purty han'," exclaimed Rhody enthusiastically, +ignoring the grave advice of the young woman. "I'm gwine ter show +somebody de place whar you laid it, an' I bet you he'll wanter cut de +cloff out an' put it in his alvum." + +Eugenia made a pretence of pushing Rhody out of the room, but she was +blushing and smiling. "Well'm, he ain't here, sho, an' here's whar he +oughter be; but I'll fin' 'im dis night an' ef he ain't gwine back home, +I ain't gwine back--you kin put dat down." With that, she bade the young +lady good-night, and went out. + +As Rhody passed through the back gate, she chanced to glance toward +Pulaski Tomlin's house, and saw a light shining from the library window. +"Ah-yi!" she exclaimed, "he's dar, an' dey ain't no better place fer +'im. Dey's mo' home fer 'im right dar den dey yever wus er yever will be +whar he live at." + +So saying, she turned her steps in the direction of Neighbour Tomlin's. +In the kitchen, she asked if Paul was in the house. The cook didn't +know, but when the house-girl came out, she said that Mr. Paul was +there, and had been for some time. "Deyer holdin' a reg'lar expeunce +meetin' in dar," she said. "Miss Fanny sho is a plum sight!" + +The house-girl went in again to say that Rhody would like to speak with +him, and Rhody, as was her custom, followed at her heels. + +"Come in, Rhody," said Miss Fanny. "I know you are there. You always +send a message, and then go along with it to see if it is delivered +correctly. 'Twould save a great deal of trouble if the rest of us were +to adopt your plan." + +"I hope you all is well," remarked Rhody, as she made her appearance. +"I declar', Miss Fanny, you look good enough to eat." + +"Well, I do eat," responded Miss Fanny, teasingly. + +"I mean you look good enough ter be etted," said Rhody, correcting +herself. + +"Now, that is what I call a nice compliment," Miss Fanny observed +complacently. "Brother Pulaski, if I am ever 'etted' you won't have to +raise a monument to my memory." + +"No wonder you look young," laughed Rhody. "Anybody what kin git fun +out'n a graveyard is bleeze ter look young." + +Paul was lying on the wide lounge that was one of the features of the +library. His eyes were closed, and his Aunt Fanny was gently stroking +his hair. Pulaski Tomlin leaned back in an easy chair, lazily enjoying a +cigar, the delicate flavour of which filled the room. There was +something serene and restful in the group, in the furniture, in all the +accessories and surroundings. The negro woman turned around and looked +at everything in the room, as if trying to discover what produced the +effect of perfect repose. + +It is the rule that everything beautiful and precious in this world +should have mystery attached to it. There is the enduring mystery of +art, the mystery that endows plain flesh and blood with genius. A little +child draws you by its beauty; there is mystery unfathomable in its +eyes. You enter a home, no matter how fine, no matter how humble; it may +be built of logs, and its furnishings may be of the poorest; but if it +is a home, a real home, you will know it unmistakably the moment you +step across the threshold. Some subtle essence, as mysterious as thought +itself, will find its way to your mind and enlighten your instinct. You +will know, however fine the dwelling, whether the spirit of home dwells +there. + +Rhody, as she looked around in the vain effort to get a clew to the +secret, wondered why she always felt so comfortable in this house. She +sighed as she seated herself on the floor at the foot of the lounge on +which Paul lay. This was her privilege. If Miss Fanny could sit at his +head, Rhody could sit at his feet. + +"You wanted to speak to Paul," suggested Miss Fanny. + +"Yes'm; he lef' de house in a huff, an' I wanter know ef he gwine +back--kaze ef he ain't, I'm gwineter move way fum dar. He ain't take +time fer ter git his supper." + +"Why, Paul!" exclaimed Miss Fanny. + +"I couldn't eat a mouthful to save my life," said Paul. + +"Whar Miss Margaret?" Rhody inquired; and she seemed pleased to hear +that the young lady was spending the night with Nan Dorrington. "Honey," +she said to Paul, "how come yo' pa went ter de Gaither Place ter-night? +What business he got dar?" + +This was news to Paul, and he could make no reply to Rhody's question. +He reflected over the matter a little while. "Was he really there?" he +asked finally. + +"I hear 'im talkin' in de parlour, an' Miss Genia say it's him." + +"What were _you_ doing there?" inquired Miss Fanny, pushing her jaunty +grey curls behind her ears. + +"A coloured 'oman recommen' me ter go dar ef I wan' ter fin' dat chile." + +"Why, Paul! And is the wind really blowing in that quarter?" cried Miss +Fanny, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead. + +"Now, Mammy Rhody, why did you do that?" Paul asked with considerable +irritation. "What will Miss Eugenia and her mother think?" He sat bolt +upright on the sofa. + +"Well, her ma ain't see me, an' Miss Genia look like she wuz sorry I +couldn't fin' you dar." + +Miss Fanny laughed, but Rhody was perfectly serious. "Miss Fanny," she +said, turning to the lady, "how come dat chile lef' home?" + +"Shall I tell her, Paul? I may as well." Whereupon she told the negro +woman the cause of Paul's anger, and ended by saying that she didn't +blame him for showing the spirit of a Southern gentleman. + +"Well, he'll never j'ine de 'Publican Party in dis county," Rhody +declared emphatically. + +"He will if he has made up his mind to do so. You don't know Silas," +said Miss Fanny. + +"Who--me? Me not know dat man? Huh! I know 'im better'n he know hisse'f; +an' I know some yuther folks, too. I tell you right now, he'll never +j'ine; an' ef you don't believe me, you wait an' see. Time I git thoo +wid his kaycter, de 'Publicans won't tetch 'im wid a ten-foot pole." + +"I hope you are right," said Pulaski Tomlin, speaking for the first +time. "There's enough trouble in the land without having a scalawag in +the Tomlin family." + +"Well, you nee'nter worry 'bout dat, kaze I'll sho put a stop ter dem +kinder doin's. Honey," Rhody went on, addressing Paul, "you come on home +when you git sleepy; I'm gwineter set up fer you, an' ef you don't come, +yo' pa'll hatter cook his own vittles ter-morrer mornin'." + +"Good-night, Rhody, and pleasant dreams," said Miss Fanny, as the negro +woman started out. + +"I dunner how anybody kin have pleasin' drams ef dey sleep in de same +lot wid Marse Silas," replied Rhody. "Good-night all." + +Now, the cook at the Tomlin Place was the wife of the Rev. Jeremiah. She +was a tall, thin woman, some years older than her husband, and she ruled +him with a rod of iron. The new conditions, combined with the insidious +flattery of the white radicals, had made her vicious against the whites. +Rhody knew this, and from the "big house," she went into the kitchen, +where Mrs. Jeremiah was cleaning up for the night. Her name was Patsy. + +"You gittin' mighty thick wid de white folks, Sis' Rhody," said Patsy, +pausing in her work, as the other entered the door. + +For answer, Rhody fell into a chair, held both hands high above her +head, and then let them drop in her lap. The gesture was effective for a +dozen interpretations. "Well!" she exclaimed, and then paused, Patsy +watching her narrowly the while. "I dunner how 'tis wid you, Sis' Patsy, +but wid me, it's live an' l'arn--live an' l'arn. An' I'm a-larnin', +mon, spite er de fack dat de white folks think niggers ain't got no +sense." + +"Dey does! Dey does!" exclaimed Patsy. "Dey got de idee dat we all ain't +got no mo' sense dan a passel er fryin'-size chickens. But dey'll fin' +out better, an' den--Ah-h-h!" This last exclamation was a hoarse +gutteral cry of triumph. + +"You sho is talkin' now!" cried Rhody, with an admiring smile. "I knows +it ter-night, ef I never is know'd it befo'." + +Patsy knew that some disclosure was coming, and she invited it by +putting Rhody on the defensive. "It's de trufe," she declared. "Dat what +make me feel so quare, Sis' Rhody, when I see you so ready fer ter +collogue wid de white folks. I wuz talkin' wid Jerry 'bout it no +longer'n las' night. Yes'm, I wuz. I say, 'Jerry, what de matter wid +Sis' Rhody?' He say, 'Which away, Pidgin?'--desso; he allers call me +Pidgin," explained Patsy, with a smile of pride. "I say, 'By de way she +colloguin' wid de white folks.'" + +"What Br'er Jerry say ter dat?" inquired Rhody. + +"He des shuck his head an' groan," was the reply. + +Rhody leaned forward with a frown that was almost tragic in its +heaviness, and spoke in a deep, unnatural tone that added immensely to +the emphasis of her words. "'Oman, lemme tell you: I done it, an' I'm +glad I done it; an' you'll be glad I done it; an' he'll be glad I done +it." Patsy was drying the dish-pan with a towel, but suspended +operations the better to hear what Rhody had to say. "Dey done got it +fixt up fer ol' Silas ter j'ine in wid de 'Publican Party. He gwineter +j'ine so he kin fin' out all der doin's, an' all der comin's an' der +gwines, so he kin tell de yuthers." + +"Huh! Oh, yes--yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes! We er fools; we ain't got no +sense!" cackled Patsy viciously. + +"He des gwineter make out he's a 'Publican," Rhody went on; "dey got it +all planned. He gwineter j'ine de Nunion League, an' git all de names. +Dey talk 'bout it, Sis' Patsy, right befo' my face an' eyes. Dey mus' +take me fer a start-natchel fool." + +"Dey does--dey does!" cried Patsy; "dey takes us all fer fools. But +won't dey be a wakin' up when de time come?" + +Then and there was given the death-blow to Silas Tomlin's ambition to +become a Republican politician. The Rev. Jeremiah was apprised of the +plan, which so far as Rhody was concerned, was a pure invention. Word +went round, and when Silas put in his application to become a member of +the Union League, he was informed that orders had come from Atlanta that +no more members were to be enrolled. + +When Rhody went out into the street, after her talk with Patsy, a +passer-by would have said that her actions were very queer. She leaned +against the fence and went into convulsions of silent laughter. "Oh, I +wish I wuz some'rs whar I could holler," she said aloud between gasps. +"He calls her 'Pidgin!' Pidgin! Ef she's a pidgin, I'd like ter know +what gone wid de cranes!" + +She recurred to this name some weeks afterward, when the Rev. Jeremiah +informed her confidentially that his wife had discovered Silas Tomlin's +plan to unearth the secrets of the Union League. Rhody's comment +somewhat surprised the Rev. Jeremiah. "I allers thought," she said with +a laugh, "dat Pidgin had sump'n else in her craw 'sides corn." + +Rhody waited in the kitchen that night until Paul returned, and then she +went to bed. Silas and his son were up earlier than usual the next +morning, but they found breakfast ready and waiting. The attitude of +father and son toward each other was constrained and reserved. Silas +felt that he must certainly say something to Paul about Eugenia +Claiborne. He hardly knew how to begin, but at last he plunged into the +subject with the same shivering sense of fear displayed by a small boy +who is about to jump into a pond of cold water--dreading it, and yet +determined to take a header. + +"I hear, Paul," he began, "that you are very attentive to Eugenia +Claiborne." + +"I call on her occasionally," said Paul. "She is a very agreeable young +lady." He spoke coolly, but the blood mounted to his face. + +"So I hear--so I hear," remarked Silas in a business-like way. "Still, I +hope you won't carry matters too far." + +"What do you mean?" Paul inquired. + +"I wish I could go into particulars; I wish I could tell you exactly +what I mean, but I can't," said Silas. "All I can say is that it would +be impossible for you to marry the young woman. My Lord!" he exclaimed, +as he saw Paul close his jaws together. "Ain't there no other woman in +the world?" + +"Do you know anything against the young lady's character?" the son +asked. + +"Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the response. + +"Well," said Paul, "I hadn't considered the question of marriage at all, +but since you've brought the subject up, we may as well discuss it. You +say it will be impossible for me to marry this young lady, and you +refuse to tell me why. Don't you think I am old enough to be trusted?" + +"Why, certainly, Paul--of course; but there are some things--" Silas +paused, and caught his breath, and then went on. "Honestly, Paul, if I +could tell you, I would; I'd be glad to tell you; but this is a matter +in which you will have to depend on my judgment. Can't you trust me?" + +"Just as far as you can trust me, but no farther," was the reply. "I'm +not a child. In a few months I'll be of age. But if I were only ten +years old, and knew the young lady as well as I know her now, you +couldn't turn me against her by insinuations." He rose, shook himself, +walked the length of the room and back again, and stood close to his +father. "You've already settled the question of marriage. I asked you +last night about the report that you intended to act with the radicals, +and you refused to give me a direct answer. That means that the report +is true. Do you suppose that Eugenia Claiborne, or any other decent +woman would marry the son of a scalawag?" he asked with a voice full of +passion. "Why, she'd spit in his face, and I wouldn't blame her." + +The young man went out, leaving Silas sitting at the table. "Lord! I +hate to hurt him, but he'd better be dead than to marry that girl." + +Rhody, who was standing in the entryway leading from the dining-room to +the kitchen, and who had overheard every word that passed between father +and son, entered the room at this moment, exclaiming: + +"Well, you des ez well call 'im dead den, kaze marry her he will, an' I +don't blame 'im; an' mo'n dat I'll he'p 'im all I can." + +"You don't know what you are talking about," said Silas, wiping his +lips, which were as dry as a bone. + +"Maybe I does, an' maybe I don't," replied Rhody. "But what I does know, +I knows des ez good ez anybody. You say dat boy sha'n't marry de gal; +but how come you courtin' de mammy?" + +"Doing what?" cried Silas, pushing his chair back from the table. + +"Courtin' de mammy," answered Rhody, in a loud voice. "You wuz dar las' +night, an' fer all I know you wuz dar de night befo', an' de night 'fo' +dat. You may fool some folks, but you can't fool me." + +"Courting! Why you blasted idiot! I went to see her on business." + +Rhody laughed so heartily that few would have detected the mockery in +it. "Business! Yasser; it's business, an' mighty funny business. Well, +ef you kin git her, you take her. Ef she don't lead you a dance, I ain't +name Rhody." + +"I believe you've lost what little sense you used to have," said Silas +with angry contempt. + +"I notice dat nobody roun' here ain't foun' it," remarked Rhody, +retiring to the kitchen with a waiter full of dishes. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +_The Knights of the White Camellia_ + + +Matters have changed greatly since those days, and all for the better. +The people of the whole country understand one another, and there is no +longer any sectional prejudice for the politicians to feed and grow fat +upon. But in the days of reconstruction everything was at white heat, +and every episode and every development appeared to be calculated to add +to the excitement. In all this, Shady Dale had as large a share as any +other community. The whites had witnessed many political outrages that +seemed to have for their object the renewal of armed resistance. And it +is impossible, even at this late day, for any impartial person to read +the debates in the Federal Congress during the years of 1867-68 without +realising the awful fact that the prime movers in the reconstruction +scheme (if not the men who acted as their instruments and tools) were +intent on stirring up a new revolution in the hope that the negroes +might be prevailed upon to sack cities and towns, and destroy the white +population. This is the only reasonable inference; no other conceivable +conclusion can explain the wild and whirling words that were uttered in +these debates: unless, indeed, some charitable investigator shall +establish the fact that the radical leaders were suffering from a sort +of contagious dementia. + +It is all over and gone, but it is necessary to recall the facts in +order to explain the passionate and blind resistance of the whites of +the South and their hatred of everything that bore the name or earmarks +of Republicanism. Shady Dale, in common with other communities, had +witnessed the assembling of a convention to frame a new constitution for +the State. This body was well named the mongrel convention. It was made +up of political adventurers from Maine, Vermont, and other Northern +States, and boasted of a majority composed of ignorant negroes and +criminals. One of the most prominent members had served a term in a +Northern penitentiary. The real leaders, the men in whose wisdom and +conservatism the whites had confidence, were disqualified from holding +office by the terms of the reconstruction acts, and the convention +emphasised and adopted the policy of the radical leaders in +Washington--a policy that was deliberately conceived for the purpose of +placing the governments of the Southern States in the hands of ignorant +negroes controlled by men who had no interest whatever in the welfare of +the people. + +But this was not all, nor half. When the military commandant who had +charge of affairs in Georgia, found that the State government +established under the terms of Mr. Lincoln's plan of reconstruction, had +no idea of paying the expenses of the mongrel convention out of the +State's funds, he issued an order removing the Governor and Treasurer, +and "detailed for duty as Governor of Georgia," one of the members of +his staff. + +The mongrel convention, which would have been run out of any Northern +State in twenty-four hours, had provided for an election to be held in +April, 1868, for the ratification or rejection of the new constitution +that had been framed, and for the election of Governor and members of +the General Assembly. Beginning on the 20th, the election was to +continue for three days, a provision that was intended to enable the +negroes to vote at as many precincts as they could conveniently reach in +eighty-three hours. No safeguard whatever was thrown around the +ballot-box, and it was the remembrance of this initial and overwhelming +combination of fraud and corruption that induced the whites, at a later +day, to stuff the ballot-boxes and suppress the votes of the ignorant. + +These things, with the hundreds of irritating incidents and episodes +belonging to the unprecedented conditions, gradually worked up the +feelings of the whites to a very high pitch of exasperation. The worst +fears of the most timid bade fair to be realised, for the negroes, +certain of their political supremacy, sure of the sympathy and support +of Congress and the War Department, and filled with the conceit produced +by the flattery and cajolery of the carpet-bag sycophants, were +beginning to assume an attitude which would have been threatening and +offensive if their skins had been white as snow. + +Gabriel was now old enough to appreciate the situation as it existed, +though he never could bring himself to believe that there were elements +of danger in it. He knew the negroes too well; he was too familiar with +their habits of thought, and with their various methods of accomplishing +a desired end. But he was familiar with the apprehensions of the +community, and made no effort to put forward his own views, except in +occasional conversations with Meriwether Clopton. After a time, however, +it became clear, even to Gabriel, that something must be done to +convince the misguided negroes that the whites were not asleep. + +He conformed himself to all the new conditions with the ready +versatility of youth. He studied hard both night and day, but he spent +the greater part of his time in the open air. It was perhaps fortunate +for him at this time that there was a lack of formality in his methods +of acquiring knowledge. He had no tutor, but his line of study was +mapped out for him by Meriwether Clopton, who was astonished at the +growing appetite of the lad for knowledge--an appetite that seemed to be +insatiable. + +What he most desired to know, however, he made no inquiries about. He +ached, as Mrs. Absalom would have said, to know why he had suddenly come +to be afraid of Nan Dorrington. He had been somewhat shy of her before, +but now, in these latter days, he was absolutely afraid of her. He liked +her as well as ever, but somehow he became panic-stricken whenever he +found himself in her company, which was not often. + +It was impossible that his desire to avoid her should fail to be +observed by Nan, and she found a reason for it in the belief that +Gabriel had discovered in some way that she was in the closet with Tasma +Tid the night the Union League had been organised. Nan would never have +known what a crime--this was the name she gave the escapade--what a +crime she had committed but for the shock it gave her step-mother. This +lady had been trained and educated in a convent, where every rule of +propriety was emphasised and magnified, and most rigidly insisted upon. + +One day, when Nan was returning home from the village, she saw Gabriel +coming directly toward her. She studied the ground at her feet for a +considerable distance, and when she looked up again Gabriel was gone; he +had disappeared. This episode, insignificant though it was, was the +cause of considerable worry to Nan. She gave Mrs. Dorrington the +particulars, and then asked her what it all meant. + +"Why should it mean anything?" that lady asked with a laugh. + +"Oh, but it must mean something, Johnny. Gabriel has avoided me before, +and I have avoided him, but we have each had some sort of an excuse for +it. But this time it is too plain." + +"What silly children!" exclaimed Mrs. Dorrington, with her cute French +accent. + +Nan went to a window and looked out, drumming on a pane. Outside +everything seemed to be in disorder. The flowers were weeds, and the +trees were not beautiful any more. Even the few birds in sight were all +dressed in drab. What a small thing can change the world for us! + +"I know why he hid himself," Nan declared from the window. "He has found +out that I was in the closet with Tasma Tid." How sad it was to be +compelled to realise the awful responsibilities that rest as a burden +upon Girls who are Grown! + +"Well, you were there," replied Mrs. Dorrington, "and since that is so, +why not make a joke of it? Gabriel has no squeamishness about such +things." + +"Then why should he act as he does?" Nan was about to break down. + +"Well, he has his own reasons, perhaps, but they are not what you think. +Oh, far from it. Gabriel knows as well as I do that it would be +impossible for you to do anything _very_ wrong." + +"Oh, but it isn't impossible," Nan insisted. "I feel wicked, and I know +I am wicked. If Gabriel Tolliver ever dares to find out that I was in +that closet, I'll tell him what I think of him, and then I'll--" Her +threat was never completed. Mrs. Dorrington rose from her chair just in +time to place her hand over Nan's mouth. + +"If you were to tell Gabriel what you really think of him," said the +lady, "he would have great astonishment." + +"Oh, no, he wouldn't, Johnny. You don't know how conceited Gabriel is. +I'm just ready to hate him." + +"Well, it may be good for your health to dislike him a little +occasionally," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, with a smile. + +"Now, what _do_ you mean by that, Johnny?" cried Nan. But the only +reply she received was an eloquent shrug of the shoulders. + +Gabriel was as much mystified by his own dread of meeting Nan, as he was +by her coolness toward him. He could not recall any incident which she +had resented; but still she was angry with him. Well, if it was so, so +be it; and though he thought it was cruel in his old comrade to harbour +hard thoughts against him, he never sought for an explanation. He had +his own world to fall back upon--a world of books, the woods and the +fields. And he was far from unhappiness; for no human being who loves +Nature well enough to understand and interpret its meaning and its +myriad messages to his own satisfaction, can be unhappy for any length +of time. Whatever his losses or his disappointments, he can make them +all good by going into the woods and fields and taking Nature, the great +comforter, by the hand. + +So Gabriel confined his communications for the most part to his old and +ever-faithful friends, the woods and the velvety Bermuda fields. He +walked about among these old friends with a lively sense of their +vitality and their fruitfulness. He was certain that the fields knew him +as well as he knew them--and as for the trees, he had a feeling that +they knew his name as well as he knew theirs. He was so familiar with +some of them, and they with him, that the katydids in the branches +continued their cries even while he was leaning against the trunks of +the friends of his childhood: whereas, if a stranger or an alien to the +woods had so much as laid the tip of his little finger on the rugged +bark of one of them, a shuddering signal would have been sent aloft, and +the cries would have ceased instantly. + +Gabriel's grandmother went to bed early and rose early--a habit that +belongs to old age. But it was only after the darkness and silence of +night had descended upon the world that all of Gabriel's faculties were +alert. It was his favourite time for studying and reading, and for +walking about in the woods and fields, especially when the weather was +too warm for study. Every Sunday night found him in the Bermuda fields, +long since deserted by Nan and Tasma Tid. To think of the old days +sometimes brought a lump in his throat; but the skies, and the +constellations (in their season) remained, and were as fresh and as +beautiful as when they looked down in pity on the sufferings of Job. + +Gabriel's favourite Bermuda field was crowned by a hill, which, +gradually sloping upward, commanded a fine view of the surrounding +country; and though it was close to Shady Dale, it was a lonely place. +Here the killdees ran, and bobbed their heads, and uttered their +plaintive cries unmolested; here the partridge could raise her brood in +peace; and here the whippoorwill was free to play upon his flute. + +Many and many a time, while sitting on this hill, Gabriel had watched +the village-lights go out one by one till all was dark; and the silence +seemed to float heaven-ward, and fall again, and shift and move in vast +undulations, keeping time to a grand melody which the soul could feel +and respond to, but which the ear could not hear. And at such time, +Gabriel believed that in the slow-moving constellations, with their +glittering trains, could be read the great secrets that philosophers and +scientists are searching for. + +Beyond the valley, still farther away from the town, was the negro +church, of which the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin was the admired pastor. +Ordinarily, there were services in this church three times a week, +unless one of the constantly recurring revivals was in progress, and +then there were services every night in the week, and sometimes all +night long. The Rev. Jeremiah was a preacher who had lung-power to +spare, and his voice was well calculated to shatter our old friend the +welkin, so dear to poets and romancers. But if there was no revival in +progress, the nights devoted to prayer-meetings were mainly musical, and +the songs, subdued by the distance, floated across the valley to Gabriel +with entrancing sweetness. + +One Wednesday night, when the political conditions were at their worst, +Gabriel observed that while the lights were lit in the church, there was +less singing than usual. This attracted his attention and then excited +his curiosity. Listening more intently, he failed to hear the sound of a +single voice lifted in prayer, in song or in preaching. The time was +after nine o'clock, and this silence was so unusual that Gabriel +concluded to investigate. + +He made his way across the valley, and was soon within ear-shot of the +church. The pulpit was unoccupied, but Gabriel could see that a white +man was standing in front of it. The inference to be drawn from his +movements and gestures was that he was delivering an address to the +negroes. Hotchkiss was standing near the speaker, leaning in a familiar +way on one of the side projections of the pulpit. Gabriel knew +Hotchkiss, but the man who was speaking was a stranger. He was flushed +as with wine, and appeared to have no control of his hands, for he flung +them about wildly. + +Gabriel crept closer, and climbed a small tree, in the hope that he +might hear what the stranger was saying, but listen as he might, no +sound of the stranger's voice came to Gabriel. The church was full of +negroes, and a strange silence had fallen on them. He marvelled somewhat +at this, for the night was pleasant, and every window was open. The +impression made upon the young fellow was very peculiar. Here was a man +flinging his arms about in the heat and ardour of argument or +exhortation, and yet not a sound came through the windows. + +Suddenly, while Gabriel was leaning forward trying in vain to hear the +words of the speaker, a tall, white figure, mounted on a tall white +horse, emerged from the copse at the rear of the church. At the first +glance, Gabriel found it difficult to discover what the figures were, +but as horse and rider swerved in the direction of the church, he saw +that both were clad in white and flowing raiment. While he was gazing +with all his eyes, another figure emerged from the copse, then another, +and another, until thirteen white riders, including the leader, had come +into view. Following one another at intervals, they marched around the +church, observing the most profound silence. The hoofs of their horses +made no sound. Three times this ghostly procession marched around the +church. Finally they paused, each horseman at a window, save the leader, +who, being taller than the rest, had stationed himself at the door. + +He was the first to break the silence. "Brothers, is all well with you?" +his voice was strong and sonorous. + +"All is not well," replied twelve voices in chorus. + +"What do you see?" the impressive voice of the leader asked. + +"Trouble, misery, blood!" came the answering chorus. + +"Blood?" cried the leader. + +"Yes, blood!" was the reply. + +"Then all is well!" + +"So mote it be! All is well!" answered twelve voices in chorus. + +Once more the ghostly procession rode round and round the church, and +then suddenly disappeared in the darkness. Gabriel rubbed his eyes. For +an instant he believed that he had been dreaming. If ever there were +goblins, these were they. The figures on horseback were so closely +draped in white that they had no shape but height, and their heads and +hands were not in view. + +It may well be believed that the sudden appearance and disappearance of +these apparitions produced consternation in the Rev. Jeremiah's +congregation. The stranger who had been addressing them was left in a +state of collapse. The only person in the building who appeared to be +cool and sane was the man Hotchkiss. The negroes sat paralysed for an +instant after the white riders had disappeared--but only for an instant, +for, before you could breathe twice, those in the rear seats made a +rush for the door. This movement precipitated a panic, and the entire +congregation joined in a mad effort to escape from the building. The +Rev. Jeremiah forgot the dignity of his position, and, umbrella in hand, +emerged from a window, bringing the upper sash with him. Benches were +overturned, and wild shrieks came from the women. The climax came when +five pistol-shots rang out on the air. + +Gabriel, in his tree, could hear the negroes running, their feet +sounding on the hard clay like the furious scamper of a drove of wild +horses. Years afterward, he could afford to laugh at the events of that +night, but, at the moment, the terror of the negroes was contagious, and +he had a mild attack of it. + +The pistol-shots occurred as the Rev. Jeremiah emerged from the window, +and were evidently in the nature of a signal, for before the echoes of +the reports had died away, the white horsemen came into view again, and +rode after the fleeing negroes. Gabriel did not witness the effect of +this movement, but it came near driving the fleeing negroes into a +frenzy. The white riders paid little attention to the mob itself, but +selected the Rev. Jeremiah as the object of their solicitude. + +He had bethought him of his dignity when he had gone a few hundred +steps, and found he was not pursued, and, instead of taking to the +woods, as most of his congregation did, he kept to the public road. +Before he knew it, or at least before he could leave the road, he found +himself escorted by the entire band. Six rode on each side, and the +leader rode behind him. Once he started to run, but the white riders +easily kept pace with him, their horses going in a comfortable canter. +When he found that escape was impossible, he ceased to run. He would +have stopped, but when he tried to do so he felt the hot breath of the +leader's horse on the back of his neck, and the sensation was so +unexpected and so peculiar, that the frightened negro actually thought +that a chunk of fire, as he described it afterward, had been applied to +his head. So vivid was the impression made on his mind that he declared +that he had actually seen the flame, as it circled around his head; and +he maintained that the back of his head would have been burned off if +"de fier had been our kind er fier." + +Finding that he could not escape by running, he began to walk, and as he +was a man of great fluency of speech, he made an effort to open a +conversation with his ghostly escort. He was perspiring at every pore, +and this fact called for a frequent use of his red pocket-handkerchief. + +"Blood!" cried the leader, and twelve voices repeated the word. + +"Bosses--Marsters! What is I ever done to you?" To this there was no +reply. "I ain't never hurted none er you-all; I ain't never had de idee +er harmin' you. All I been doin' for dis long time, is ter try ter fetch +sinners ter de mercy-seat. Dat's all I been doin', an' dat's all I +wanter do--I tell you dat right now." Still there was no response, and +the Rev. Jeremiah made bold to take a closer look at the riders who were +within range of his vision. He nearly sunk in his tracks when he saw +that each one appeared to be carrying his head under his arm. "Name er +de Lord!" he cried; "who is you-all anyhow? an' what you gwineter do wid +me?" + +Silence was the only answer he received, and the silence of the riders +was more terrifying than their talk would have been. "Ef you wanter know +who been tryin' fer ter 'casion trouble, I kin tell you, an' dat mighty +quick." But apparently the white riders were not seeking for +information. They asked no questions, and the perspiration flowed more +freely than ever from the Rev. Jeremiah's pores. Again his red +handkerchief came out of his pocket, and again the rider behind him +cried out "Blood!" and the others repeated the word. + +The Rev. Jeremiah, in despair, caught at what he thought was the last +straw. "Ef you-all think dey's blood on dat hankcher, you mighty much +mistooken. 'Twuz red in de sto', long 'fo' I bought it, an' ef dey's any +blood on it, I ain't put it dar--I'll tell you dat right now." + +But there was no answer to his protest, and the ghostly cortčge +continued to escort him along the road. The white riders went with him +through town and to the Tomlin Place. Once there, each one filed between +him and the gate he was about to enter, and the last word of each was +"Beware!" + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +_Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives_ + + +Gabriel was struck by the fact that Hotchkiss seemed to be undisturbed +by the events that had startled and stampeded the negroes and the white +stranger. He remained in the church for some time after the others were +gone, and he showed no uneasiness whatever. He had seated himself on one +of the deacons' chairs near the pulpit, and, with his head leaning on +his hand, appeared to be lost in thought. After awhile--it seemed to be +a very long time to Gabriel--he rose, put on his hat, blew out one by +one the lamps that rested in sconces along the wall, and went out into +the darkness. + +Gabriel had remained in the tree, and with good reason. He knew that +whoever fired the pistol, the reports of which added so largely to the +panic among the negroes, was very close to the tree where he had hid +himself, and so he waited, not patiently, perhaps, but with a very good +grace. When Hotchkiss was out of sight, and presumably out of hearing, +Gabriel heard some one calling his name. He made no answer at first, but +the call was repeated in a tone sufficiently loud to leave no room for +mistake. + +"Tolliver, where are you? If you're asleep, wake up and show me a +near-cut to town." + +"Who are you?" Gabriel asked. + +"One," replied the other. + +"I don't know your voice," said Gabriel; "how did you know me?" + +"That is a secret that belongs to the Knights of the White Camellia," +answered the unknown. "If you don't come down, I'm afraid I'll have to +shake you out of that tree. Can't you slide down without hurting your +feelings?" + +Gabriel slid down the trunk of the small tree as quickly as he could, +and found that the owner of the voice was no other than Major Tomlin +Perdue, of Halcyondale. + +"You didn't expect to find me roosting around out here, did you?" the +irrepressible Major asked, as he shook Gabriel warmly by the hand. +"Well, I fully expected to find you. Your grandmother told me an hour +ago that I'd find you mooning about on the hills back there. I didn't +find you because I didn't care to go about bawling your name; so I came +around by the road. I was loafing around here when you came up, and I +knew it was you, as soon as I heard you slipping up that tree. But that +hill business, and the mooning--how about them? You're in love, I +reckon. Well, I don't blame you. She's a fine gal, ain't she?" + +"Who?" inquired Gabriel. + +"Who!" cried Major Perdue, mockingly. "Why, there's but one gal in the +Dale. You know that as well as I do. She never has had her match, and +she'll never have one. And it's funny, too; no matter which way you +spell her first name, backwards or forwards, it spells the same. Did you +ever think of that, Tolliver? But for Vallic--you know my daughter, +don't you?--I never would have found it out in the world." + +Gabriel laughed somewhat sheepishly, wondering all the time how Major +Perdue could think and talk of such trivial matters, in the face of the +spectacle they had just witnessed. + +"Well, you deserve good luck, my boy," the Major went on. "Everybody +that knows you is singing your praises--some for your book-learning, +some for your modesty, and some for the way you ferreted out the designs +of that fellow who was last to leave the church." + +"I'm sure I don't deserve any praise," protested Gabriel. + +"Continue to feel that way, and you'll get all the more," observed the +Major, sententiously. "But for you these dirty thieves might have got +the best of us. Why, we didn't know, even at Halcyondale, what was up +till we got word of your discovery. Well, sir, as soon as we found out +what was going on, we got together, and wiped 'em up. Why, you've got +the pokiest crowd over here I ever heard of. They just sit and sun +themselves, and let these white devils do as they please. When they do +wake up, the white rascals will be gone, and then they'll take their +spite out of the niggers--and the niggers ain't no more to blame for all +this trouble than a parcel of two-year-old children. You mark my words: +the niggers will suffer, and these white rascals will go scot-free. Why +don't the folks here wake up? They can't be afraid of the Yankee +soldiers, can they? Why the Captain here is a rank Democrat in politics, +and a right down clever fellow." + +"He is a clever gentleman," Gabriel assented. "I have met him walking +about in the woods, and I like him very much. He is a Kentuckian, and +he's not fond of these carpet-baggers and scalawags at all. But I never +told anybody before that he is a good friend of mine. You know how they +are, especially the women--they hate everything that's clothed in blue." + +"Well, by George! you are the only person in the place that keeps his +eyes open, and finds out things. You saw that rascal talking to the +niggers awhile ago, didn't you? Well, he's the worst of the lot. He has +been preaching his social equality doctrine over in our town, but I +happened to run across him t'other day, and I laid the law down to him. +I told him I'd give him twenty-four hours to get out of town. He stayed +the limit; but when he saw me walk downtown with my shot-gun, he took a +notion that I really meant business, and he lit out. Minervy Ann found +out where he was headed for, and I've followed him over here. He's the +worst of the lot, and they're all rank poison." + +Major Perdue paused a moment in his talk, as if reflecting. "Can you +keep a secret, Tolliver?" he asked after awhile. + +"Well, I haven't had much practice, Major, but if it is important, I'll +do my best to keep it." + +"Oh, it is not so important. That fellow you saw talking to the negroes +awhile ago is named Bridalbin." + +"Bridalbin!" exclaimed Gabriel. + +"Yes; he goes by some other name, I've forgotten what. He used to hang +around Malvern some years before the war, and a friend of mine who lived +there knew him the minute he saw him. He's the fellow that married +Margaret Gaither; you remember her; she came home to die not so very +long ago. Pulaski Tomlin adopted her daughter, or became the girl's +guardian. Now, Tolliver, whatever you do, don't breathe a word about +this Bridalbin--don't mention his name to a soul, not even to your +grandmother. There's no need of worrying that poor girl; she has already +had trouble enough in this world. I'm telling you about him because I +want you to keep your eye on him. He's up to some kind of devilment +besides exciting the niggers." + +Gabriel promptly gave his word that he would never mention anything +about Bridalbin's name, and then he said--"But this parade--what does it +mean?" + +The Major laughed. "Oh, that was just some of the boys from our +settlement. They are simply out for practice. They want to get their +hands in, as the saying is. They heard I was coming over, and so they +followed along. They don't belong to the Kuklux that you've read so much +about. A chap from North Carolina came along t'other day, and told about +the Knights of the White Camellia, and the boys thought it would be a +good idea to have a bouquet of their own. They have no signs or +passwords, but simply a general agreement. You'll have to organise +something of that kind here, Tolliver. Oh, you-all are so infernally +slow out here in the country! Why, even in Atlanta, they have a Young +Men's Democratic Club. You've got to get a move on you. There's no way +out of it. The only way to fight the devil is to use his own weapons. +The trouble is that some of the hot-headed youngsters want to hold the +poor niggers responsible, as I said just now, and the niggers are no +more to blame than the chicken in a new-laid egg. Don't forget that, +Tolliver. I wouldn't give my old Minervy Ann for a hundred and +seventy-five thousand of these white thieves and rascals; and Jerry +Tomlin, fool as he is, is more of a gentleman than any of the men who +have misled him." + +They walked back to the village the way Gabriel had come. On top of the +Bermuda hill, Major Perdue paused and looked toward Shady Dale. Lights +were still twinkling in some of the houses, but for the most part the +town was in darkness. + +The Major waved his hand in that direction, remarking, "That's what +makes the situation so dangerous, Tolliver--the women and the children. +Here, and in hundreds of communities, and in the country places all +about, the women and children are in bed asleep, or they are laughing +and talking, with only dim ideas of what is going on. It looks to me, my +son, as if we were between the devil and the deep blue sea. I, for one, +don't believe that there's any danger of a nigger-rising. But look at +the other side. I may be wrong; I may be a crazy old fool too fond of +the niggers to believe they're really mean at heart. Suppose that such +men as this--ah, now I remember!--this Boring--that is what Bridalbin +calls himself now--suppose that such men as he were to succeed in what +they are trying to do? I don't believe they will, even if we took no +steps to prevent it; but then there's the possibility--and we can't +afford to take any chances." + +Gabriel agreed with all this very heartily. He was glad to feel that his +own views were also those of this keen, practical, hard-headed man of +the world. + +"But men of my sort will be misjudged, Tolliver," pursued the Major; +"violent men will get in the saddle, and outrages will be committed, and +injustice will be done. Public opinion to the north of us will say that +the old fire-eaters, who won't permit even a respectable white man to +insult them with impunity--the old slave-drivers--are trying to destroy +the coloured race. But you will live, my son, to see some of these same +radicals admit that all the injustice and all the wrong is due to the +radical policy." + +This prophecy came true. Time has abundantly vindicated the Major and +those who acted with him. + +"Yes, yes," Major Perdue went on musingly, "injustice will be done. The +fact is, it has already begun in some quarters. Be switched if it +doesn't look like you can't do right without doing wrong somewhere on +the road." + +Gabriel turned this paradox over in his mind, as they walked along; but +it was not until he was a man grown that it straightened itself out in +his mind something after this fashion: When a wrong is done the +innocent suffer along with the guilty; and the innocent also suffer in +its undoing. + +Shady Dale woke up the next morning to find the walls and the fences in +all public places plastered with placards, or handbills, printed in red +ink. The most prominent feature of the typography, however, was not its +colour, but the image of a grinning skull and cross-bones. The handbill +was in the nature of a proclamation. It was dated "Den No. Ten, Second +Moon. Year 21,000 of the Dynasty." It read as follows: + +"To all Lovers of Peace and Good Order--Greeting: Whereas, it has come +to the knowledge of the Grand Cyclops that evil-minded white men, and +deluded freedmen, are engaged in stirring up strife; and whereas it is +known that corruption is conspiring with ignorance-- + +"Therefore, this is to warn all and singular the persons who have made +or are now making incendiary propositions and threats, and all who are +banded together in secret political associations to forthwith cease +their activity. And let this warning be regarded as an order, the +violation of which will be followed by vengeance swift and sure. The +White Riders are abroad. + +"Thrice endorsed by the Venerable, the Grand Cyclops, in behalf of the +all-powerful Klan. (. (. (. K. K. K. .) .) .)" + +Now, if this document had been in writing, it might have passed for a +joke, but it was printed, and this fact, together with its grave and +formal style, gave it the dignity and importance of a genuine +proclamation from a real but an unseen and unknown authority. It had +the advantage of mystery, and there are few minds on which the +mysterious fails to have a real influence. In addition to this, the +spectacular performance at the Rev. Jeremiah's church the night before +gave substance to the proclamation. That event was well calculated to +awe the superstitious and frighten the timid. + +The White Riders had disappeared as mysteriously as they came. Only one +person was known to have seen them after they had left the church--it +was several days before the Rev. Jeremiah could be induced to relate his +experience--and that person was Mr. Sanders. What he claimed to have +witnessed was even more alarming than the brief episode that occurred at +the Rev. Jeremiah's church. Mr. Sanders was called on to repeat the +story many times during the next few weeks, but it was observed by a few +of the more thoughtful that he described what he had seen with greater +freedom and vividness when there was a negro within hearing. His +narrative was something like this: + +"Gus Tidwell sent arter me to go look at his sick hoss, an' I went an' +doctored him the best I know'd how, an' then started home ag'in. I had +but one thought on my mind; Gus had offered to pay me for my trouble +sech as it was, an' I was tryin' for to figger out in my mind what in +the name of goodness had come over Gus. I come mighty nigh whirlin' +roun' in my tracks, an' walkin' all the way back jest to see ef he +didn't need a little physic. He was cold sober at the time, an' all of a +sudden, when he seed that I had fetched his hoss through a mighty bad +case of the mollygrubs, he says to me, 'Mr. Sanders,' says he, 'you've +saved me a mighty fine hoss, an' I want to pay you for it. You've had +mighty hard work; what is it all wuth?' 'Gus,' says I, 'jest gi' me a +drink of cold water for to keep me from faintin', an' we'll say no more +about it.' + +"Well, I didn't turn back, though I was much of a mind to. I mosied +along wondering what had come over Gus. I had got as fur on my way home +as the big 'simmon tree--you-all know whar that is--when all of a +sudden, I felt the wind a-risin'. It puffed in my face, an' felt warm, +sorter like when the wind blows down the chimbley in the winter time. +Then I heard a purrin' sound, an' I looked up, an' right at me was a +gang of white hosses an' riders. They was right on me before I seed 'em, +an' I couldn't 'a' got out'n the'r way ef I'd 'a' had the wings of a +hummin'-bird. So I jest ketched my breath, an' bowed my head, an' tried +to say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep.' I couldn't think of the rest, an' +it wouldn't 'a' done no good nohow. I cast my eye aroun', findin' that I +wasn't trompled, an' the whole caboodle was gone. I didn't feel nothin' +but the wind they raised, as they went over me an' up into the elements. +Did you ever pass along by a pastur' at night, an' hear a cow fetch a +long sigh? Well, that's jest the kind of fuss they made as they passed +out'n sight." + +This story made a striking climax to the performances that the negroes +themselves had witnessed, and for a time they were subdued in their +demeanour. They even betrayed a tendency to renew their old familiar +relations with the whites. The situation was not without its pathetic +side, and if Mr. Sanders professed to find it simply humourous, it was +only because of the effort which men make--an effort that is only too +successful--to hide the tenderer side of their natures. But the episode +of the White Riders soon became a piece of history; the alarm that it +had engendered grew cold; and Hotchkiss, aided by Bridalbin, who called +himself Boring, soon had the breach between the two races wider than +ever. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +_Gabriel at the Big Poplar_ + + +Late one afternoon, at a date when the tension between the two races was +at its worst, Gabriel chanced to be sitting under the great poplar which +was for years, and no doubt is yet, one of the natural curiosities of +Shady Dale, on account of its size and height. He had been reading, but +the light had grown dim as the sun dipped behind the hills, and he now +sat with his eyes closed. His seat at the foot of the tree was not far +from the public highway, though that fact did not add to its attractions +from Gabriel's point of view. He preferred the seat for sentimental +reasons. He had played there when a little lad, and likewise Nan had +played there; and they had both played there together. The old poplar +was hollow, and on one side the bark and a part of the trunk had +sloughed away. Here Gabriel and Nan had played housekeeping, many and +many a day before the girl had grown tired of her dolls. The hollow +formed a comfortable playhouse, and the youngsters, in addition to +housekeeping, had enjoyed little make-believe parties and picnics there. + +As Gabriel sat leaning against the old poplar, his back to the road and +his eyes closed, he heard the sound of men's voices. The conversation +was evidently between country folk who had been spending a part of the +day in town. Turning his head, Gabriel saw that there were three +persons, one riding and two walking. Directly opposite the tree where +Gabriel sat, they met an acquaintance who was apparently making a +belated visit to town. + +"Hello, boys!" said the belated one by way of salutation. "I 'low'd I'd +find you in town, an' have company on my way home." + +"What's the matter, Sam?" asked one of the others. "This ain't no time +of day to be gwine away from home." + +"Well, I'm jest obliged to git some ammunition," replied Sam. "I've been +off to mill mighty nigh all day, an' this evenin', about four o'clock, +whilst my wife was out in the yard, a big buck nigger stopped at the +gate, an' looked at her. She took no notice of him one way or another, +an' presently, he ups an' says, 'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a feller +howdy?'" + +"_He did?_" cried the others. Gabriel could hear their gasps of +astonishment and indignation from where he sat. + +"He said them very words," replied Sam; "'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a +feller howdy?'" + +"Did you leave anybody at home?" inquired one of the others. + +"You bet your sweet life!" replied Sam in the slang of the day. "Johnny +Bivins is there, an' he ain't no slouch, Johnny ain't. I says to Molly, +says I, 'Johnny will camp here till I can run to town, an' git me some +powder an' buckshot.'" + +"We have some," one of the others suggested. + +"Better let 'im go on an' git it," said another; "we can't have too much +in our neck of the woods when things look like they do now. We'll wait +for you, Sam, if you'll hurry up." + +"Good as wheat!" responded Sam, who went rapidly toward town. + +"I tell you what, boys, we didn't make up our minds about this business +a single minute too soon," remarked one of the three who were waiting +for the return of their neighbour. "Somethin's got to be done, an' the +sooner it's done, the sooner it'll be over with." + +"You're talkin' now with both hands and tongue!" declared one of the +others, in a tone of admiration. + +"You'll see," remarked the one who had proposed to wait, "that Sam is +jest as ripe as we are. We know what we know, an' Sam knows what he +knows. I don't know as I blame the niggers much. Look at it from their +side of the fence. They see these d--d white hellians goin' roun', +snortin' an' preachin' ag'in the whites, an' they see us settin' down, +hands folded and eyes shet, and they jest natchally think we're whipped +and cowed. Can you blame 'em? I hate 'em all right enough, but I don't +blame 'em." + +Gabriel knew that the man who was speaking was George Rivers, a small +farmer living a short distance in the country. His companions were Tom +Alford and Britt Hanson, and the man who had gone to town for the +ammunition was Sam Hathaway. + +"Are you right certain an' shore that this man Hotchkiss is stayin' wi' +Mahlon Butts?" George Rivers inquired. + +"He lopes out from there every mornin'," replied Tom Alford. + +"Mahlon allers was the biggest skunk in the woods," remarked Hanson. +"He's runnin' for ordinary. I happened to hear him talkin' to a lot of +niggers t'other day, and I went up and cussed him out. I wanted the +niggers to see how chicken-hearted he is. Well, sirs, he never turned a +feather. I never seed a more lamblike man in my life. I started to spit +in his face, and then I happened to think about his wife. Yes, sirs, it +seemed to me for about the space of a second or two that I was lookin' +right spang in Becky's big eyes, an' I couldn't 'a' said a word or done +a thing to save my life. I jest whirled in my tracks and went on about +my business. You-all know Becky Butts--well, there's a woman that comes +mighty nigh bein' a saint. Why she married sech a rapscallion as Mahlon, +I'll never tell you, an' I don't believe she knows herself. But she's +all that's saved Mahlon." + +"That's the Lord's truth," responded Tom Alford. + +"Why, when he first j'ined the stinkin' radicals," continued Britt +Hanson, "a passel of the boys, me among 'em, laid off to pay him a party +call, an' string him up. Well, the very day we'd fixed on, here comes +Becky over to my house; an' she fetched the baby, too. I knowed, time I +laid eyes on her, that she had done got wind of what we was up to. Says +she to me, 'Britt, I hear it whispered around that you are fixin' up to +do me next to the worst harm a man can do to a woman.' 'Why, Becky,' +says I, 'I wouldn't harm you for the world, and I wouldn't let anybody +else do it.' 'Oh, yes, you would, Britt,' says she. She laughed as she +said it, but when I looked in her big eyes, I could see trouble and pain +in 'em. I says to her, says I, 'What put that idee in your head, Becky?' +And says she, 'No matter how it got there, Britt, so long as it's there. +You're fixin' up to hurt me an' my baby.' + +"Well, sirs, you can see where she had me. I says, says I, 'Becky, +what's to hender you from takin' supper here to-night?' This kinder took +her by surprise. She says, 'I'd like it the best in the world, Britt; +but don't you think I'd better be at home--to-night?' 'No,' says I, 'a +passel of the boys'll be here d'reckly after supper, and I reckon maybe +they'd like to see you. You know yourself that they're all mighty fond +of you, Becky,' says I. She sorter studied awhile, an' then she says, +'I'll tell you what I'll do, Britt--I'll come over after supper an' set +awhile.' 'You ain't afeard to come?' says I. 'No, Britt,' says she; 'I +ain't afeard of nothin' in this world except my friends.' She was +laughin', but they ain't much diff'ence betwixt that kind of laughin' +an' cryin'. + +"About that time, mother come in. Says she, 'An' be shore an' fetch the +baby, Becky.' The minnit mother said that, I know'd that she was the one +that told Becky what we had laid off to do. You-all know what happened +after that." + +"We do that away," said George Rivers. "When I walked in on you, and +seen Becky an' the baby, I know'd purty well that the jig was up, but I +thought I'd set it out and see what'd happen." + +"I never seen a baby do like that'n done that night," remarked Tom +Alford. "It laughed an' it crowed, an' helt out its han's to go to ever' +blessed feller in the crowd; an' Becky looked like she was the happiest +creetur in the world. I was the fust feller to cave, an' I didn't feel a +bit sheepish about it, neither. I rose, I did, an' says, 'Well, boys, +it's about my bedtime, an' I reckon I'll toddle along,' an' so I handed +the baby to the next feller, an' mosied off home." + +"You did," said Britt Hanson, "an' by the time the boys got through +passin' the baby to the next feller, there wan't any feller left but me. +An' then the funniest thing happened that you ever seed. You know how +Becky was gwine on, laughin' an' talkin'. Well, the last man hadn't +hardly shet the door behind him, when Becky flopped down and put her +head in mother's lap, and cried like a baby. I'm mighty glad I ain't +married," Britt Hanson went on. "There ain't a man in the world that +knows a woman's mind. Why, Becky was runnin' on and laughin' jest like a +gal at picnic up to the minnit the last man slammed the door, and then, +down she went and began to boohoo. Now, what do you think of that?" + +"I know one thing," remarked George Rivers--"the meaner a man is, the +quicker he gits the pick of the flock. The biggest fool in the world +allers gits the best or the purtiest gal." + +Then there was a pause, as if the men were listening. "Well," said Tom +Alford, after awhile, "we ain't after the gals now. That Hotchkiss +feller goes out to Mahlon's by fust one road and then the other. You +know where Ike Varner lives; well, Ike's wife is a mighty good-lookin' +yaller gal, an' when Hotchkiss knows that Ike ain't at home, he goes by +that road. I got all that from a nigger that works for me. If Ike ain't +at home, he goes in for a drink of water, an' then he tells the yaller +gal how to convert Ike into bein' a radical--Ike, you know, don't flock +with that crowd. That's what the gal tells my nigger. Well, I put a flea +in Ike's ear t'other day, an' night before last, Ike comes to me to +borry my pistol. You know that short, single-barrel shebang? Well, I +loant it to him on the express understandin' that he wasn't to shoot any +spring doves nor wild pea-fowls." + +The men laughed, and then sat or stood silent, each occupied with his +own reflections, until Sam Hathaway returned. Whereupon, they moved on, +one of them singing, in a surprisingly sweet tenor, the ballad of "Nelly +Gray." + +It was now dark, and ordinarily, Gabriel would have gone to supper. But, +instead of doing that, he went on toward town, and met Hotchkiss and +Boring on the outskirts. They were engaged in a close discussion when +Gabriel met them. It would have been a great deal better for him and his +friends if he had passed on without a word; but Gabriel was Gabriel, and +he was compelled to act according to Gabriel's nature. So, without +hesitation, he walked up to the two men. + +"Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired. + +"That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone. + +"Are you going out to Butts's to-night?" + +"Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause--"a +very queer question. What is your name?" + +"Tolliver--Gabriel Tolliver." + +"Gabriel Tolliver--h'm--yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous +of knowing whether I go to Butts's to-night?" + +"Honestly," replied Gabriel, a little nettled at the man's airs, "I +don't want to know at all. I simply wanted to advise you not to go there +to-night." + +"Oh, you wanted to _advise_ me not to go. Now, then, let's go a little +further into the matter. _Why_ do you want to advise me?" Hotchkiss was +a man who was not only ripe for a discussion at all times, and upon any +subject, but made it a point to emphasise all the most trifling details. +"Have you any special interest in my welfare?" + +"I think not," replied Gabriel, bluntly. "I simply wanted to drop you a +hint. You can take it or not, just as you choose." With that, he turned +on his heel, and went home to supper, little dreaming that his kindness +of heart, and his sincere efforts to do a stranger a favour would +involve him in a tangled web of circumstances, from which he would find +it almost impossible to escape. + +Gabriel heard Hotchkiss laugh, but he did not hear the remark that +followed. + +"Why, even the children and the young men think I am a coward. They have +the idea that courage exists nowhere but among themselves. It is the +most peculiar mental delusion I ever heard, and it persists in the face +of facts. The probability is that the young man who has just delivered +this awful warning has laid a wager with some of his companions that he +can fill me full of fright and prevent my going to Butts's." + +"Now, I don't think that," replied Boring, or Bridalbin. "I know these +people to the core. I had their ideas and thought their thoughts until I +found that sentiment doesn't pay. That young man has probably heard some +threat made against you, and he thinks he is doing the chivalrous thing +to give you a warning. Chivalry! Why, I reckon that word has done more +harm to this section, first and last, than the war itself." + +"Or, more probable still," suggested Hotchkiss, his voice as smooth and +as flexible as a snake, "he was simply trying to find out whether I +propose to go to Butts's to-night. If I had some one to keep an eye on +him, we might be able to procure some important information, disclosing +a conspiracy against the officers of the Government. A few arrests in +this neighbourhood might have a wholesome and subduing effect." + +"Don't you believe it," said Bridalbin. "I know these people a great +deal better than you do." + +"I know them a great deal better than I care to," remarked Hotchkiss +drily. "I have not a doubt that this young Tolliver was one of that +marauding band of conspirators that surrounded the church recently, and +endeavoured to intimidate our coloured fellow-citizens. Nor do I doubt +that these same conspirators will make an effort to frighten me. I have +no doubt that they will make a strong effort to run me away. But they +can't do it, my friend. I feel that I have a mission here, and here I +propose to stay until there is no work for me to do." + +"Well, I can keep an eye on Tolliver if you think it best," Bridalbin +suggested somewhat doubtfully. "I know where he lives." + +"Do that, Boring," exclaimed Hotchkiss with grateful enthusiasm. "Come +to the lodge about nine or half-past, and report." The "lodge" was the +new name for the old school-house, and in that direction Hotchkiss +turned his steps. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +_Bridalbin Follows Gabriel_ + + +Boring, or Bridalbin--no one ever discovered why he changed his name, +for he changed neither his nature nor his associations--followed along +after Gabriel, and was in time to see him enter the door and close it +behind him. The Lumsden Place was somewhat in the open, but the trees, +where Bridalbin took up his position of watcher, made such dense and +heavy shadows that it was almost impossible to distinguish objects more +than a few feet away. In these heavy shadows Bridalbin stood while +Gabriel was supposed to be eating his supper. + +A dog trotting along the walk shied and growled when he saw the +motionless figure, but after that, there was a long period of silence, +which was finally broken by voices on a veranda not far away. The owners +of the voices had evidently come out for a breath of fresh air, and were +carrying on a conversation which had begun inside. Bridalbin could see +neither the house nor the occupants of the veranda, but he could hear +every word that was said. One of the voices was soft and clear, while +the other was hard, almost harsh, yet it was the voice of a woman. If +Bridalbin had been at all familiar with Shady Dale, he would have known +that one of the speakers was Madame Awtry and the other Miss Puella +Gillum. + +"It was only a few weeks ago that they told the poor child about her +father," said Miss Puella. "Neighbour Tomlin couldn't muster up the +courage to do it, and so it became Fanny's duty. I know it nearly broke +her heart." + +"Why did they tell her at all? Why did they think it was necessary?" +inquired Madame Awtry. Her voice had in it the quality that attracts +attention and compels obedience. + +"Well, you know Margaret is of age now, and Neighbour Tomlin, who is +made up of heart and conscience, felt that it would be wrong to keep her +in ignorance, but he couldn't make up his mind to be the bearer of bad +news; so it fell to Fanny's lot. But it seems that Margaret already +knew, and on that occasion Fanny had to do all the crying that was done. +Margaret had known it all along, and had only feigned ignorance in order +not to worry her mother. 'I have known it from the first,' she said. +'Please don't tell Nan.' But Nan had known it all along, and Fanny told +Margaret so. It is a pity about her father. If he was what he should be, +he'd be very proud of Margaret." + +"His name was Bridlebin, or something of that kind, was it not?" Madame +Awtry asked. + +"Something like that," replied Miss Puella. "The world is full of +trouble," she said after awhile, and her voice was as gentle as the +cooing of a dove--"so very full of trouble. I sometimes think that we +should have as much pity for those who are the cause of it as for those +who are the victims." Alas! Miss Puella was thinking of Waldron Awtry, +whose stormy spirit had passed away. + +"That is the Christian spirit, certainly," said Waldron's mother, in her +firm, clear tones. "Let those live up to it who can!" + +"The girl is in good hands," remarked Miss Puella, after a pause, "and +she should be happy. Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny fairly worship her." + +"Yes, she's in good hands," responded Madame Awtry, "yet when she comes +here, which she is kind enough to do sometimes, it seems to me that I +can see trouble in her eyes. It is hard to describe, but it's such an +expression as you or I would have if we were dependent, and something +was wrong or going wrong with those on whom we depended. But it may be +merely my imagination." + +"It certainly must be," Miss Puella declared, "for there is nothing +wrong or going wrong with Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny." + +At this point the conversation ceased, and the two women sat silent, +each occupied with her own thoughts. Miss Puella wondered that Madame +Awtry could even imagine trouble at the Tomlin Place, while the Madame +was smiling grimly to herself, and pitying Miss Puella because she could +not perceive what the trouble really was. "What a world it is! what a +world!" Madame Awtry said to herself with a sigh. + +And Bridalbin stood wondering at the freak of chance or circumstance +that had enabled him to hear two persons unknown to him discussing the +dependence of his daughter. "Dependent" was the word that grated on his +ear. He never thought of Providence--how few of us do!--he never dreamed +that his presence at that particular place at that particular moment was +to be the means of providing a sure remedy for the most serious trouble, +short of bereavement, that his daughter would ever be called on to face. + +Bridalbin walked slowly in the direction of the Lumsden Place, which +having fewer trees around it could be dimly seen in the starlight. +Before he emerged from the denser shadows he heard the door open and +close, and then Gabriel came down the steps whistling, and was soon in +the thoroughfare. But, instead of going toward town, he turned and went +toward the fields. Following the road for a hundred yards or more he +soon came to the bars, which formed a sort of gateway to the rich +pastures of Bermuda, and, vaulting lightly over these, he was soon lost +to view, though the stars were shining as brightly as they could. He was +making his way toward his favourite Bermuda hill. + +Now, Bridalbin knew enough about the topography of Shady Dale to know +that the path or roadway, leading from the bars across the Bermuda +fields, was a short cut to one of the highways that led from town past +the door of Mahlon Butts. He paused a moment, and then, more sedate than +Gabriel, climbed the bars and followed the path across the field. He +walked rapidly, for he was anxious to discover what course Gabriel had +taken. He crossed the fields and saw no one; he reached the highway, +and followed it for a quarter of a mile or more, but he could see no +sign of Gabriel. + +And for a very good reason. That young man had followed the field-path +only a short distance. He had turned sharply, to the right, making for +the Bermuda hill, where, with no fear of the dewy dampness to disturb +him, he flung himself at full length on the velvety grass, and gulped +down great draughts of the cool, sweet air. He heard the sound of +Bridalbin's footsteps, as that worthy went rapidly along the path, and +he had a boy's mischievous impulse to hail the passer-by. But he was so +fond of the hill, and so jealous of his possession of the silence, the +night, and the remote stars, that he suppressed the impulse, and +Bridalbin went on his way, firm in the belief that Gabriel had crossed +the field to the public highway, and was now going in the direction of +Mahlon Butts's home. He believed it, and continued to believe it to his +dying day, though the only evidence he had was the hint conveyed in the +surmises of Hotchkiss. + +Bridalbin finally abandoned his wild-goose chase, and returned to the +neighbourhood of Gabriel's home, where he waited and watched until his +engagement with Hotchkiss compelled him to abandon his post. The +business of the Union League was not very pressing that night, or it had +been dispatched with unusual celerity, for when Bridalbin reached the +old school-house, the Rev. Jeremiah, who had taken upon himself the +duties of janitor, was in the act of closing the doors. + +"I been waitin' fer you, Mr. Borin'," said the Rev. Jeremiah, after he +had responded to Bridalbin's salutation. "De Honerbul Mr. Hotchkiss tol' +me ter tell you, in case I seed you, dat he gwine on home; an' he say +p'intedly dat dey's no need fer ter worry 'bout him, kaze eve'ything's +all right. Ez he gun it ter me, so I gin it ter you. You oughter been +here ter-night. Me an' Mr. Hotchkiss took an' put all de business thoo +'fo' you kin bat yo' eye; yes, suh, we did fer a fack." + +"I'm very sorry he didn't wait for me," said Bridalbin. + +As for Gabriel, he lay out on the Bermuda hill, contemplating himself +and the rest of the world. The stars rode overhead, all moving together +like some vast fleet of far-off ships. In the northwest, while Gabriel +was watching, a huge star seemed to break away from its companions and +rush hurtling toward the west, leaving a trail of white vapour behind +it. The illumination was but momentary. The Night was quick to snuff out +all lights but its own. Whatever might be taking place on the other side +of the world, Night had possession here, and proposed to maintain it as +long as possible. A bird might scream when Brother Fox seized it; a +mouse might squeak when Cousin Screech-Owl swooped down on noiseless +wing and seized it; Uncle Wind might rustle the green grass in search of +Brother Dust: nevertheless, the order of the hour was silence, and Night +was prompt to enforce it. + +It is a fine night, Gabriel thought--and the Silence might have +answered, "Yes, a fine night and a fateful." It was a night that was to +leave its mark on many lives. + +At supper, Gabriel's grandmother had informed him that three of his +friends had come by to invite him to accompany them to a country dance +on the further side of Murder Creek--a dance following a neighbouring +barbecue. These friends, his grandmother said, were Francis Bethune, +Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. They had searched the town over for +Gabriel, and were disappointed at not finding him at home. + +"Where do you hide yourself, Gabriel?" his grandmother had asked him. +"And why do you hide? This is not the first time by a dozen that your +friends have been unable to find you." + +Gabriel shook his curly head and laughed. "Let me see, grandmother: +directly after dinner, I said my Latin and Greek lessons to Mr. Clopton. +Bethune was upstairs in his own room, for I heard him singing. After +that, I went into the library, and read for an hour or more. Then I +selected a book and went over the hill to the big poplar--you know where +it is--and there I stayed until dark." + +"It is all very well to read and study, Gabriel, and I am sure I am glad +to know that you are doing both," said his grandmother, with a smile, +"but you must remember that there are social obligations which cannot be +ignored. You will have to go out into the world after awhile, and you +should begin to get in the habit of it now. You should not avoid your +friends. I don't mean, of course, that you should run after them, or +fling yourself at their heads; I wouldn't have you do that for the +world; but you shouldn't make a hermit of yourself. To be popular, you +should mix and mingle freely with your equals. I know how it was in my +day. I was not fond of society myself, but my mother always insisted +that I should sacrifice my own inclinations for the pleasure of others, +and in this way earn the only kind of popularity that is really +gratifying. And I really believe I was the most popular of all the +girls." The dear old lady tossed her head triumphantly. + +"That's what Mr. Clopton says," remarked Gabriel; "but you know, +grandmother, your time was different from our time"--oh, these +youngsters who persist in reminding us of our fogyism--"and you were a +girl in those days, while I am a boy in these. I am lazy, I know; I can +loaf with a book all day long; but for the life of me, I can't do as +Bethune does. He doesn't read, and he doesn't study; he just dawdles +around, and calls on the girls, and talks with them by the hour. He used +to be in love with Nan (so Mr. Sanders says) and now he's in love with +Margaret Bridalbin; he's just crazy about her. Now, I'm not in love with +anybody"--"oh, Gabriel!" protested a still, small voice in his +bosom--"and if I were, I wouldn't dawdle around, and whittle on +dry-goods boxes, and go and sit for hours at a time with Sally, and +Susy, and Bessy, and Molly." Decidedly, Gabriel was coming out; here he +was with strong views of his own. + +His grandmother laughed aloud at this, saying, "You are very much like +your grandfather, Gabriel. He was a very serious and masterful man. He +detested small-talk and tittle-tattle, and I was the only girl he ever +went with. But Francis Bethune is very foolish not to stick to Nan; she +is such a delightful girl. It would be very unfortunate indeed if those +two were not to marry." + +If the dear old lady had not been so loyal to her sex, she would have +told Gabriel that Nan had visited her that very day, and had asked a +thousand and one questions about her old-time comrade. Indeed, Nan, with +that delightful spirit of unconventionality that became her so well, had +made bold to rummage through Gabriel's books and papers. She found one +sheet on which he had evidently begun a letter. It started out well, and +then stopped suddenly: "Dear Nan: I hardly know----" Then the attempt +was abandoned in despair, and on the lower part of the sheet was +scrawled: "Dearest Nan: I hardly know, in fact I don't know, and you'll +never know till Gabriel blows his horn." This sheet the fair forager +promptly appropriated, saying to herself "Boys are such funny +creatures." + +The conversation between Gabriel and his grandmother, as has been said, +took place while they were eating their supper. The youngster was not +sorry that he was absent when his friends called for him. It was a long +ride to the Samples plantation, where the dance was to be, and a long, +long ride back home, when the fiddles were in their bags, the dancers +fagged out, and the fun and excitement all over and done with. The +Bermuda hill was good enough for Gabriel, unless he could arrange his +own dances, and have one partner--just one--from early candle-light till +the grey dawn of morning. + +It was late when Gabriel returned from the Bermuda hill, later than he +thought, for he had completely lost himself in the solemn imaginings +that overtake and overwhelm a young man who is just waking up to the +serious side of existence, and on whose mind are beginning to dawn the +possibilities and responsibilities of manhood. Ah, these young men! How +lovable they are when they are true to themselves--when they try boldly +to live up to their own ideals! + +Once in his room, Gabriel looked about for the book he had been reading +during the afternoon. It was his habit to read a quarter of an hour at +least--sometimes longer--before going to bed. But the book was not to be +found. This was surprising until he remembered that he had not entered +his bed-room since the dinner-hour; and then it suddenly dawned on his +mind that he had left the book at the foot of the big poplar. + +Well! that was a pretty come-off for a young man who was inclined to be +proud of his careful and systematic methods. And the book was a borrowed +one, and very valuable--one of the early editions of Franklin's +autobiography, bound in leather. What would Meriwether Clopton think, +if, through Gabriel's carelessness, the dampness and the dew had injured +the volume, which, after Horace and Virgil, was one of Mr. Clopton's +favourites? + +There was but one thing to be done, and that Gabriel was prompt to do. +He went softly downstairs, so as not to disturb his grandmother, and +made his way to the big poplar, where he was fortunate enough to find +the book. Thanks to the sheltering arms of the tree, and the +leaf-covered ground, the volume had sustained no damage. + +As Gabriel recovered the book, and while he was examining it, he heard a +chorus of whistlers coming along the road. Mingled with the whistling +chorus were the various sounds made by a waggon drawn by horses. Gabriel +judged that the waggon contained the young men who had been to the dance +at the Samples plantation, and in this his judgment turned out to be +correct. The young men were in a double-seated spring waggon, drawn by +two horses. They drew up in response to Gabriel's holla, and he climbed +into the waggon. + +"Well, what in the name of the seven stars are you doing out here in the +woods at this time of night?" cried Jesse Tidwell, and he laughed with +humourous scorn when Gabriel told him. + +"But the book belongs to Bethune's grandfather," explained Gabriel. "It +might have been ruined by rain, or by the damp night-air, if left out +until morning. If it had been my own book, perhaps I'd have trusted to +luck." + +"You missed it to-night, Tolliver," said Francis Bethune. "Feel +Samples"--his name was Felix--"was considerably put out because you +didn't come. And the girls--Tolliver, when did you get acquainted with +them? They all know you. Nelly Kendrick tossed her head and turned up +her nose, and said that a dance wasn't a dance unless Mr. Tolliver was +present. Tidwell, who was the red-headed girl that raved so about +Tolliver's curls?" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, "that was Amy Rowland. If she wasn't +the belle of the ball, I'll never want any more money in this world. +It's no use for Gabriel to blow his horn, when he has all the girls in +that part of the country to blow it for him. My son, when and where did +you come to know all these young ladies?" + +"Why, I used to go out there to church with Mr. Sanders, and sometimes +with Mrs. Absalom. There are some fine people in that settlement." + +"Fine!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, with real enthusiasm; "why, split silk +is as coarse as gunny-bagging by the side of those girls. I told 'em I +was coming back. 'You must!' they declared, 'and be sure and bring Mr. +Tolliver!'" Young Tidwell mimicked a girl's voice with such ridiculous +completeness that his companions shouted with laughter. "There's another +thing you missed, Tolliver," he went on. "Feel Samples has a cow that +gives apple-brandy, and old Burrel Bohannon, the one-legged fiddler, +must have milked her dry, for along about half-past ten he kind of +rolled his eyes, and fetched a gasp, and wobbled out of his chair, and +lay on the floor just as if he was stone dead." + +In a short time the young men had reached the tavern, where the team and +vehicle belonged. As they drew up in front of the door, Jesse Tidwell, +continuing and completing his description of the condition of Burrel +Bohannon, exclaimed: "Yes, sir, he fell and lay there. He may have +kicked a time or two, and I think he mumbled something, but he was as +good as dead." + +Bridalbin, restless and uneasy, had been wandering about the town, and +he came up just in time to hear this last remark. At that moment, a +negro issued from the tavern with a lantern, and Bridalbin was not at +all surprised to see Gabriel Tolliver with the rest; and he wondered +what mischief the young men had been engaged in. Some one had been badly +hurt or killed. That much he could gather from Tidwell's declaration; +but who? + +He went to his lodging and to bed in a very uncomfortable frame of +mind. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + +_The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss_ + + +Mr. Hotchkiss, after leaving the Union League, had decided not to wait +for his co-worker, whom he knew as Boring. So far as he was concerned, +he had no fears. He knew, of course, that he was playing with fire, but +what of that? He had the Government behind him, and he had two companies +of troops within call. What more could any man ask? More than that, he +was doing what he conceived to be his duty. He belonged to that large +and pestiferous tribe of reformers, who go through the world without +fixed principles. He had been an abolitionist, but he was not of the +Garrison type. On the contrary, he thought that Garrison was a +time-server and a laggard who needed to be spurred and driven. He was +one of the men who urged John Brown to stir up an insurrection in which +innocent women and children would have been the chief sufferers; and he +would have rejoiced sincerely if John Brown had been successful. He +mistook his opinions for first principles, and went on the theory that +what he thought right could not by any possibility be wrong. He belonged +to the Peace Society, and yet nothing would have pleased him better +than an uprising of the blacks, followed by the shedding of innocent +blood. + +In short, there were never two sides to any question that interested +Hotchkiss. He held the Southern people responsible for American slavery, +and would have refused to listen to any statement of facts calculated to +upset his belief. He was narrow-minded, bigoted, and intensely in +earnest. Some writer, Newman, perhaps, has said that a man will not +become a martyr for the sake of an opinion; but Newman probably never +came in contact with the whipper-snappers of Exeter Hall, or their +prototypes in this country--the men who believe that philanthropy, and +reform, and progress generally are worthless unless it be accompanied by +strife, and hate, and, if possible, by bloodshed. You find the type +everywhere; it clings like a leech to the skirts of every great +movement. The Hotchkisses swarm wherever there is an opening for them, +and they always present the same general aspect. They are as productive +of isms as a fly is of maggots, and they live and die in the belief that +they are promoting the progress of the world; but if their success is to +be measured by their operations in the South during the reconstruction +period, the world would be much better off without them. They succeeded +in dedicating millions of human beings to misery and injustice, and +warped the minds of the whites to such an extent that they thought it +necessary to bring about peace and good order by means of various acute +forms of injustice and lawlessness. + +Mr. Hotchkiss was absolutely sincere in believing that the generation +of Southern whites who were his contemporaries were personally +responsible for slavery in this country, and for all the wrongs that he +supposed had been the result of that institution. He felt it in every +fibre of his cultivated but narrow mind, and he went about elated at the +idea that he was able to contribute his mite of information to the +negroes, and breed in their minds hatred of the people among whom they +were compelled to live. If there had been a Booker Washington in that +day, he would have been denounced by the Hotchkisses as a traitor to his +race, and an enemy of the Government, just as they denounced and +despised such negroes as Uncle Plato. + +Hotchkiss went along the road in high spirits. He had delivered a +blistering address to the negroes at the meeting of the league, and he +was feeling happy. His work, he thought, was succeeding. Before he +delivered his address, he had initiated Ike Varner, who was by all odds +the most notorious negro in all that region. Ike was a poet in his way; +if he had lived a few centuries earlier, he would have been called a +minstrel. He could stand up before a crowd of white men, and spin out +rhymes by the yard, embodying in this form of biography the weak points +of every citizen. Some of his rhymes were very apt, and there are men +living to-day who can repeat some of the extemporaneous satires composed +by this negro. He had the reputation among the blacks of being an +uncompromising friend of the whites. In the town, he was a privileged +character; he could do and say what he pleased. He was a fine cook, and +provided possum suppers for those who sat up late at night, and +ice-cream for those who went to bed early. He tidied up the rooms of the +young bachelors, he sold chicken-pies and ginger-cakes on public days, +and Cephas, whose name was mentioned at the beginning of this chronicle, +is willing to pay five dollars to the man or woman who can bake a +ginger-cake that will taste as well as those that Ike Varner made. He +was a happy-go-lucky negro, and spent his money as fast as he made it, +not on himself, but on Edie, his wife, who was young, and bright, and +handsome. She was almost white, and her face reminded you somehow of the +old paintings of the Magdalene, with her large eyes and the melancholy +droop of her mouth. Edie was the one creature in the world that Ike +really cared for, and he had sense enough to know that she cared for him +only when he could supply her with money. Yet he watched her like a +hawk, madly jealous of every glance she gave another man; and she gave +many, in all directions. Ike's jealousy was the talk of the town among +the male population, and was the subject for many a jest at his expense. +His nature was such that he could jest about it too, but far below the +jests, as any one could see, there was desperation. + +In spite of all this, Ike was the most popular negro in the town. His +wit and his good-humour commended him to the whole community. He had +moved his wife and his belongings into the country, two or three miles +from town, on the ground that the country is more conducive to health. +Ike's white friends laughed at him, but the negro couldn't see the joke. +Why should a negro be laughed at for taking precautions of this sort, +when there is a whole nation of whites that keeps its women hid, or +compels them to cover their faces when they go out for a breath of fresh +air? The fact is that Ike didn't know what else to do, and so he sent +his handsome wife into exile, and went along to keep her company. +Nevertheless, all his interests were within the corporate limits of +Shady Dale, and he was compelled by circumstances to leave Edie to pine +alone, sometimes till late at night. Whether Edie pined or not, or +whether she was lonely, is a question that this chronicler is not called +on to discuss. + +Now, the fact of Ike's popularity with the whites had struck Mr. +Hotchkiss as a very unfavourable sign, and he set himself to work to +bring about a change. He sent some of the negro leaders to talk with +Ike, who sent them about their business in short order. Then Mr. +Hotchkiss took the case in hand, and called on Ike at his house. The two +had an argument over the matter, Ike interspersing his remarks with +random rhymes which Hotchkiss thought very coarse and crude. At the +conclusion of the argument, Hotchkiss saw that the negro had been +laughing at him all the way through, and he resented this attitude more +than another would. He went away in a huff, resolved to leave the negro +with his idols. + +This would have been very well, if the matter had stopped there, but +Edie put her finger in the pie. One day when Ike was away, she called to +Hotchkiss as he was passing on his way to town, and invited him into the +house. There was something about the man that had attracted the wild +and untamed passions of the woman. He was not a very handsome man, but +his refinement of manner and speech stood for something, and Edie had +resolved to cultivate his acquaintance. He went in, in response to her +invitation, and found that she desired to ask his advice as to the best +and easiest method of converting Ike into a Union Leaguer. Hotchkiss +gave her such advice as he could in the most matter-of-fact way, and +went on about his business. Otherwise he paid no more attention to her +than if she had been a sign in front of a cigar-store. Edie was not +accustomed to this sort of thing, and it puzzled her. She went to her +looking-glass and studied her features, thinking that perhaps something +was wrong. But her beauty had not even begun to fade. A melancholy +tenderness shone in her lustrous eyes, her rosy lips curved archly, and +the glow of the peach-bloom was in her cheeks. + +"I didn't know the man was a preacher," she said, laughing at herself in +the glass. + +Time and again she called Mr. Hotchkiss in as he went by, and on some +occasions they held long consultations at the little gate in front of +her door. Ike was not at all blind to these things; if he had been, +there was more than one friendly white man to call his attention to +them. The negro was compelled to measure Hotchkiss by the standard of +the most of the white men he knew. He was well aware of Edie's purposes, +and he judged that Hotchkiss would presently find them agreeable. + +Ike listened to Edie's arguments in behalf of the Union League with a +great deal of patience. Prompted by Hotchkiss, she urged that +membership in that body would give him an opportunity to serve his race +politically; he might be able to go to the legislature, and, in that +event, Edie could go to Atlanta with him, where (she said to herself) +she would be able to cut a considerable shine. Moreover, membership in +the league, with his aptitude for making a speech, would give him +standing among the negro leaders all over the State. + +Ike argued a little, but not much, considering his feelings. He pointed +out that all his customers, the people who ate his cakes and his cream, +and so forth and so on, were white, and felt strongly about the +situation. Should they cease their patronage, what would he and Edie do +for victuals to eat and clothes to wear? + +"Oh, we'll git along somehow; don't you fret about that," said Edie with +a toss of her head. + +"Maybe you will, but not me," replied Ike. + +At last, however, he had consented to join the league, and appeared to +be very enthusiastic over the matter. As Mr. Hotchkiss went along home +that night--the night on which the young men had gone to the country +dance--he was feeling quite exultant over Ike's conversion, and the +enthusiasm he had displayed over the proceedings. After he had decided +to go home rather than wait for Bridalbin, he hunted about in the crowd +for Ike, but the negro was not to be found. As their roads lay in the +same direction Hotchkiss would have been glad of the negro's company +along the way, and he was somewhat disappointed when he was told that +Ike had started for home as soon as the meeting adjourned. Mr. Hotchkiss +thereupon took the road and went on his way, walking a little more +rapidly than usual, in the hope of overtaking Ike. At last, however, he +came to the conclusion that the negro had remained in town. He was +sorry, for there was nothing he liked better than to drop gall and venom +into the mind of a fairly intelligent negro. + +As for Ike, he had his own plans. He had told Edie that in all +probability he wouldn't come home that night, and advised her to get a +nearby negro woman to stay all night with her. This Edie promised to do. +When the league adjourned, Ike lost no time in taking to the road, and +for fear some one might overtake him he went in a dog-trot for the first +mile, and walked rapidly the rest of the way. Before he came to the +house, he stopped and pulled off his shoes, hiding them in a +fence-corner. He then left the road, and slipped through the woods until +he was close to the rear of the house. Here his wariness was redoubled. +He wormed himself along like a snake, and crept and crawled, until he +was close enough to see Edie sitting on the front step--there was but +one--of their little cabin. He was close enough to see that she had on +her Sunday clothes, and he thought he could smell the faint odour of +cologne; he had brought her a bottle home the night before. + +He lay concealed for some time, but finally he heard footsteps on the +road, and he rose warily to a standing position. Edie heard the +footsteps too, for she rose and shook out her pink frock, and went to +the gate. The lonely pedestrian came leisurely along the road, having no +need for haste. When he found that it was impossible to overtake Ike, +Mr. Hotchkiss ceased to walk rapidly, and regulated his pace by the +serenity of the hour and the deliberate movements of nature. The hour +was rapidly approaching when solitude would be at its meridian on this +side of the world, and a mocking-bird not far away was singing it in. + +Mr. Hotchkiss would have passed Ike's gate without turning his head, but +he heard a voice softly call his name. He paused, and looked around, and +at the gate he saw the figure of Edie. "Is that you, Mr. Hotchkiss? What +you do with Ike?" + +"Isn't he at home? He started before I did." + +"He ain't comin' home to-night, an' I was so lonesome that I had to set +on the step here to keep myse'f company," said Edie. "Won't you come in +an' rest? I know you must be tired; I got some cold water in here, fresh +from the well." + +"No, I'll not stop," replied Mr. Hotchkiss. "It is late, and I must be +up early in the morning." + +"Well, tell me 'bout Ike," said Edie. "You got 'im in the league all +right, I hope?" She came out of the gate, as she said this, and moved +nearer to Hotchkiss. In her hand she held a flower of some kind, and +with this she toyed in a shamefaced sort of way. + +"Mr. Varner is now a member in good standing," replied Hotchkiss, "and I +think he will do good work for his race and for the party." + +Edie moved a step or two nearer to him, toying with her flower. Now, Mr. +Hotchkiss was a genuine reformer of the most approved type, and, as +such, he was entitled to as many personal and private fads as he chose +to have. He was a vegetarian, holding to the theory that meat is a +poison, though he was not averse to pie for breakfast. His pet aversion, +leaving alcohol out of the question, was all forms of commercial +perfumes. As Edie came close to him, he caught a whiff of her +cologne-scented clothes, and his anger rose. + +"Why will you ladies," he said, "persist in putting that sort of stuff +on you?" + +"I dunner what you mean," replied Edie, edging still closer to +Hotchkiss. + +"Why that infernal----" + +He never finished the sentence. A pistol-shot rang out, and Hotchkiss +fell like a log. Edie, fearing a similar fate for herself, ran screaming +down the road, and never paused until she had reached the dwelling of +Mahlon Butts. She fell in the door when it was opened and lay on the +floor, moaning and groaning. When she could be persuaded to talk, her +voice could have been heard a mile. + +"They've killt him!" she screamed; "they've killt him! an' he was sech a +good man! Oh, he was sech a good man!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + +_Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence_ + + +The news of the shooting of Hotchkiss spread like wildfire, and startled +the community, giving rise to various emotions. It created consternation +among the negroes, who ran to and fro, and hither and yonder, like wild +creatures. Many of the whites, especially the thoughtless and the +irresponsible, contemplated the tragedy with a certain degree of +satisfaction, feeling that a very dangerous man had been providentially +removed. On the other hand, the older and more conservative citizens +deplored it, knowing well that it would involve the whole community in +trouble, and give it a conspicuous place in the annals which radical +rage was daily preparing, in order still further to inflame the public +mind of the North. + +Bridalbin promptly disappeared from Shady Dale, but returned in a few +days, accompanied by a squad of soldiers. It was the opinion of the +community, when these fresh troops made their appearance, that they were +to be added to the detachment stationed in the town; but this proved to +be a mistake. Two nights after their arrival, when the officer in +charge, who was a member of the military commander's staff, had +investigated the killing, he gave orders for the arrest of Gabriel +Tolliver, Francis Bethune, Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. The arrests +were made at night, and so quietly that when the town awoke to the +facts, and was ready to display its rage at such a high-handed +proceeding, the soldiers and their prisoners were well on their way to +Malvern. + +The people felt that something must be done, but what? One by one the +citizens instinctively assembled at the court-house. No call was issued; +the meeting was not preconcerted; there was no common understanding; but +all felt that there must be a conference, a consultation, and there was +no place more convenient than the old court-house, where for long years +justice had been simply and honestly administered. + +It was, indeed, a trying hour. Meriwether Clopton and his daughter Sarah +were the first to make their appearance at the court-house, and it was +perhaps owing to their initiative that a large part of the community +shortly assembled there. At first, there was some talk of a rescue, and +this would have been feasible, no doubt; but while Lawyer Tidwell was +violently advocating this course, Mr. Sanders mounted the judge's bench, +and rapped loudly for order. When this had been secured, he moved that +Meriwether Clopton be called to the chair. The motion had as many +seconds as there were men in the room, for the son of the First Settler +was as well-beloved and as influential as his father had been. + +"My friends," he said, after thanking the meeting for the honour +conferred upon him, "I feel as if we were all in the midst of a dream, +and therefore I am at a loss what to say to you. As it is all very +real, and far removed from the regions of dreams, the best that I can do +is to counsel moderation and calmness. The blow that has fallen on a few +of us strikes at all, for what has happened to some of our young men may +easily happen to the rest, especially if we meet this usurpation of +civil justice with measures that are violent and retaliatory. We can +only hope that the Hand that has led us into the sea of troubles by +which we have been overwhelmed of late will lead us safely out again. +For myself, I am fully persuaded that what now seems to be a calamity +will, in some shape or other, make us all stronger and better. I am an +old man, and this has been my experience. You need have no fears for the +welfare of the young men. They may be deprived for a time of the +comforts to which they are accustomed, but their safety is assured. They +will probably be tried before a military court, but if there is a spark +of justice in such a tribunal, our young men will shortly be restored to +us. We all know that these lads never dreamed of assassination, and this +is what the killing of this unfortunate man amounts to. We have met here +to-day, not to discuss measures of vengeance and retaliation, but to +consult together as to the best means of securing evidence of the +innocence of the young men. Speaking for myself, I think it would be +well to place the whole matter in the hands of Mr. Sanders, leaving him +to act as he thinks best." + +This was agreed to by the meeting, more than one of the audience +declaring loudly that Mr. Sanders was the very man for the occasion. By +unanimous agreement it was decided that one of the most distinguished +lawyers in the State should be retained to defend the young men and that +he should be authorised to employ such assistant counsel as he might +deem necessary. + +It was the personality of Meriwether Clopton, rather than his remarks, +that soothed and subdued the crowd which had assembled at the +court-house. He was serenity itself; his attitude breathed hope and +courage; and in the tones of his voice, in his very gestures, there was +a certainty that the young men would not be made the victims of +political necessity. In his own mind, however, he was not at all sure +that the radical leaders at Washington would not be driven by their +outrageous rancour to do the worst that could be done. + +As may be supposed, Mr. Sanders did not allow the grass to grow under +his feet. He was the first to leave the court-room, but he was followed +and overtaken by Silas Tomlin. + +"Be jigged, Silas, ef you don't look like you've seed a ghost!" +exclaimed Mr. Sanders, whose good-humour had been restored by the +prospect of prompt action. + +"Worse than that, Sanders; Paul has been carried off. If you'll fetch +him back, you may show me an army of ghosts. But I wanted to see you, +Sanders, about this business. You'll need money, and if you can't get it +anywhere else, come to me; I'll take it as a favour." + +Mr. Sanders frowned and pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle. +"You mean, Silas, that if I need money, and can't beg, nor borry, nor +steal it, maybe you'll loan me a handful of shinplasters. Why, man, I +wouldn't give you the wroppin's of my little finger for all the money +you eber seed or saved. Do you think that I'm tryin' to make money?" + +"But there'll be expenses, William, and money's none too plentiful among +our people." Silas spoke in a pleading tone, and his lips were trembling +from grief or excitement. + +Noticing this, Mr. Sanders relented a little in his attitude toward the +man. "Well, Silas, when I reely need money, I'll call on you. But don't +lose any sleep on account of that promise, for it'll be many a long day +before I call on you." + +With that, Mr. Sanders mounted his horse--known far and wide as the +Racking Roan--and was soon out of sight. His destination was the +residence of Mahlon Butts, and in no long time his horse had covered the +distance. + +Although the murder of Hotchkiss was more than a week old, a +considerable number of negroes were lounging about the premises of Judge +Butts--he had once been a Justice of the Peace--and in the road near by, +drawn to the spot by that curious fascination which murder or death +exerts on the ignorant. They moved about with something like awe, +talking in low tones or in whispers. Mr. Sanders tied his horse to a +swinging limb and went in. He was met at the door by Mahlon himself. + +"Why, come in, William; come in an' make yourself welcome. You uv heard +of the trouble, I make no doubt, or you wouldn't be here. It's turrible, +William, turrible, for a man to be overcome in this off-hand way, wi' no +time for to say his pra's or even so much as to be sorry for his +misdeeds." + +Judge Butts's dignity was of the heavy and oppressive kind. His +enunciation was slow and deliberate, and he had a way of looking over +his spectacles, and nodding his head to give emphasis to his words. This +dignity, which was fortified in ignorance, had received a considerable +reinforcement from the fact that he was a candidate for a county office +on the Republican ticket. + +Before Mr. Sanders could make any reply to Mahlon's opening remark, Mrs. +Becky Butts came into the room. She was not in a very good humour, and, +at first, she failed to see Mr. Sanders. + +"Mahlon, if you don't go and run that gang of niggers off, I'll take the +shot-gun to 'em. They've been hanging around--why, howdye, Mr. Sanders? +I certainly am glad to see you. I hope you'll stay to dinner; it looks +like old times to see you in the house." + +There was something about Mrs. Becky Butts that was eminently satisfying +to the eye. She was younger than her husband, who, at fifty, appeared to +be an old man. Her sympathies were so keen and persistent that they +played boldly in her face, running about over her features as the +sunshine ripples on a pond of clear water. + +"Set down, Becky," said Mr. Sanders, after he had responded to her +salutation. "I've come to find out about the killing of that feller +Hotchkiss." + +"You may well call it killin', William, bekaze Friend Hotchkiss was +stone dead a few hours arter the fatal shot was fired," declared Judge +Butts. + +"Where was the killin' done?" inquired Mr. Sanders. He addressed himself +to Mrs. Butts, but Mahlon made reply. + +"We found him, William, right spang in front of Ike Varner's +cabin--right thar, an' nowhar else. He war doin' his level best for to +git on his feet, an' he tried to talk, but not more than two or three +words did he say." + +"Well, what did he say?" inquired Mr. Sanders. + +"It was the same thing ever' time--'Why, Tolliver, Tolliver'--them was +his very words." + +"Are you right certain about that, Mahlon?" asked Mr. Sanders. + +"As certain an' shore, William, as I am that I'm settin' here. Ef he +said it once, he said it a dozen times." + +"I reckon maybe he had been talking with young Tolliver before he came +from town," remarked Mrs. Butts, noting Mr. Sanders's serious +countenance. + +"Whar was he wounded, Becky?" asked Mr. Sanders. + +"Between the left ear and the temple." + +"Becky's right, William," was the solemn comment of Mahlon. "Yes, sir, +he was hit betwixt the year an' the temple." + +"Did you have a doctor?" + +"We sent for one, but if he come, we never saw him," Mrs. Butts replied. + +"Would you uv believed it, William? An' yit it's the plain truth," said +Mahlon. + +"What time was Hotchkiss killed?" + +"'Bout half-past ten; maybe a little sooner." + +This was all the information Mr. Sanders could get, and it was a great +deal more than he wanted in one particular. He knew that Gabriel +Tolliver was innocent of the killing; but the fact that his name was +called by the dying man was almost as damaging as an ante-mortem +accusation would have been. + +Mr. Sanders rode to Ike Varner's cabin, a few hundred yards away. Tying +his horse to the fence on the opposite side of the road, he entered the +house without ceremony. + +"Who is that? La! Mr. Sanders, you sho did skeer me," exclaimed Edie. +"Why, when did you come? I would as soon have spected to see a ghost!" + +"You'll see 'em here before you're much older," replied Mr. Sanders, +grimly. "They ain't fur off. Wher's Ike?" + +"La! ef you know anything about Ike you know more than I does. I ain't +laid eyes on that nigger man, not sence----" She paused, and looked at +Mr. Sanders with a smile. + +"Not sence the night Hotchkiss was killed," said Mr. Sanders, completing +her sentence for her. + +"La, Mr. Sanders! how'd you know that? But it's the truth: I ain't never +seen Ike sence that night." + +"I know a heap more'n you think I do," Mr. Sanders remarked. "Hotchkiss +was talkin' to you at the gate thar when he was shot. What was he +sayin'?" + +The woman was a bright mulatto, and, remembering her own designs and +desires so far as Hotchkiss was concerned, her face flushed and she +turned her eyes away. "Why, he wan't sayin' a word, hardly; I was doin' +all the talkin'. I was settin' on the step there, an' I seen him +passin', an' hollad at him. I ast him if he wouldn't have a drink of +cold water, an' he said he would, an' I took it out to the gate, an' +while I was talkin', they shot him. They certainly did." + +"Did you ask Ike about it?" Mr. Sanders inquired. + +"La! I ain't seen Ike sence that night," exclaimed Edie, flirting her +apron with a coquettish air that was by no means unbecoming. + +"Now, Edie," said Mr. Sanders, with a frown to match the severity of his +voice, "you know as well as I do, that when you heard the pistol go off, +and saw what had happened, you run in the house an' flung your apern +over your head." It was a wild guess, but it was close to the truth. + +"La, Mr. Sanders! you talk like you was watchin' me. 'Twa'n't my apern, +'twas my han's. I didn't have on no apern that night; I had on my Sunday +frock." + +"An' you know jest as well as I do that Ike come in here an' stood over +you, an' said somethin' to you." + +"No, sir; he didn't stand over me; I was here"--she illustrated his +position by her movements--"an' when Ike come in, he stood over there." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said," replied Edie, smiling to show her pretty teeth, "'If you want +him, go out there an' git him.' Yes, sir, he said that. La! I never +heard of a nigger killin' a white man on _that_ account; did you, Mr. +Sanders?" + +"I don't know as I ever did," replied Mr. Sanders, regarding her with an +expression akin to pity. "But times has changed." + +"They certainly has," said Edie. "I tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I don't +b'live Mr. Hotchkiss was a man." She looked up at Mr. Sanders, as she +made the remark. Catching his eye, she exclaimed--"I don't; I declare I +don't! I never will believe it." She gave a chirruping laugh, as she +made the remark. + +It is to be doubted if, in the history of the world, a man ever had a +higher compliment paid to his devotion and his singleness of purpose. + +As Mr. Sanders mounted his horse, Edie watched him, and, as she stood +with her arms extended, each hand grasping a side of the doorway, +smiling and showing her white teeth, she presented a picture of wild and +irresponsible beauty that an artist would have admired. Finally, she +turned away with a laugh, saying, "I declare that Mr. Sanders is a +sight!" + +In due time the Racking Roan carried Mr. Sanders across Murder Creek to +the plantation of Felix Samples, where the news of the arrest of the +young men occasioned both grief and indignation. They had arrived at the +dance about nine o'clock, and had started home between eleven and +twelve. Gabriel, Mr. Samples said, was not one of the party. Indeed, he +remembered very well that when some of the young people asked for +Gabriel, Francis Bethune had said that the town had been searched for +Gabriel, and he was not to be found. + +Evidently, there was no case against the three young men who had gone to +the dance. They could prove an alibi by fifty persons. "Be jigged ef I +don't b'lieve Gabriel is in for it," said Mr. Sanders to himself as he +was going back to Shady Dale. "An' that's what comes of moonin' aroun' +an' loafin' about in the woods wi' the wild creeturs." + +Mr. Sanders went straight to the Lumsden Place to consult with Gabriel's +grandmother. Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny Tomlin were already +there, each having called for the purpose of offering her such comfort +and consolation as they could. This fine old gentlewoman had had the +care of Gabriel almost from the time he was born, for his birth left his +mother an invalid, the victim of one of those mysterious complaints that +sometimes seize on motherhood. It was well known in that community, +whose members knew whatever was to be known about one another, that Lucy +Lumsden's mind and heart were wholly centred on Gabriel and his affairs. +She was a frail, delicate woman, gentle in all her ways, and ever ready +to efface herself, as it were, and give precedence to others. Her +manners were so fine that they seemed to cling to her as the perfume +clings to the rose. + +So these old friends--Meriwether Clopton, and Miss Fanny +Tomlin--considered it to be their duty, as it was their pleasure, to +call on Lucy Lumsden in her trouble. They expected to find her in a +state of collapse, but they found her walking about the house, +apparently as calm as a June morning. + +"Good-morning, Meriwether," she said pleasantly; "it is a treat indeed, +and a rare one, to see you in this house. And here is Fanny! I am glad +to see you, my dear. It is very good of you to come to an old woman who +is in trouble. I think we are all in trouble together. No, don't sit +here, my dear; the library is cooler, and you must be warm. Come into +the library, Meriwether." + +"Upon my word, you look twenty years younger," said Miss Fanny Tomlin. + +"Do I, indeed? Then trouble must be good for me. Still, I don't +appreciate it. I am an old woman, my dear, and all the years of my life +I have had a contempt for those who fly into a rage, or lose their +tempers. And now, look at me! Never in all your days have you seen a +woman in such a rage as I have felt all day and still feel!" + +"The idea!" exclaimed Miss Fanny. "Why, you look as cool as a cucumber." + +"Yes, the idea!" echoed Mrs. Lumsden. "If I had those miserable +creatures in my power, do you know what I would do? Do you know, +Meriwether?" + +"I can't imagine, Lucy," he replied gently. He saw that the apparent +calmness of Gabriel's grandmother was simply the result of suppressed +excitement. + +"Well, I'll not tell you if you don't know." She seated herself, but +rose immediately, and went to the window, where she stood looking out, +and tapping gently on the pane with her fingers. She stood there only a +short time. "You may imagine that I am nervous," she said, turning away +from the window, "but I am not." She held out her hand to illustrate. It +was frail, but firm. "No," she went on, "I am not nervous; I am simply +furious. I know what you came for, my friends, and it is very kind of +you; but it is useless. I love you both well, and I know what you would +say. I have said such things to my friends, and thought I was performing +a duty." + +"Well, you know the old saying, Lucy," said Meriwether Clopton. "Misery +loves company. We are all in the same boat, and it seems to be a leaky +one. I have heard it said that a woman's wit is sometimes better than a +man's wisdom, and, for my part, I have not come to see if you needed to +be consoled, but to find out your views." + +"I have none," she said somewhat curtly. "Show me a piece of blue cloth, +and I'll tear it to pieces. That is the only thought or idea I have." + +"Well, that doesn't help us much," Meriwether Clopton remarked. + +At that moment, Mr. Sanders was announced, and word was sent to him to +come right in. "Howdy, everybody," he said in his informal way, as he +entered the room. He was warm, and instead of leaving his hat on the +hall-rack, he had kept it in his hand, and was using it as a fan. "Miss +Lucy," he said, "I won't take up two minutes of your time----" + +"Mr. Sanders, you may take up two hours of my time. Time!" Mrs. Lumsden +exclaimed bitterly--"why, time is about all I have left." + +"Oh, it ain't nigh as bad as you think," remarked Mr. Sanders, as +cheerfully as he could. "But I want to settle a p'int or two. Do you +remember what time it was when Gabriel come home the night Hotchkiss was +killed?" + +Mrs. Lumsden reflected a moment. "Why, he went out directly after +supper, and came in--well, I don't remember when he came in. I must have +been asleep." + +"Um-m," grunted Mr. Sanders. + +"Is it important?" Mrs. Lumsden asked. + +"It may turn out to be right down important," replied Mr. Sanders, and +then he said no more, but sat looking at the floor, and wondering how +Gabriel could be released from the tangled web that the spider, +Circumstance, had woven about him. + +As Mr. Sanders went out, he met Nan at the door, and he was amazed at +the change that had come over her. Perplexity and trouble looked forth +from her eyes, and there was that in her face that Mr. Sanders had never +seen there before. "Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "you look like you've +lost your best friend." + +"Well, perhaps I have. Who is in there?" And when Mr. Sanders told her, +she cried out, "Oh, why don't they leave her alone?" + +"Well, they ain't pesterin' her much, honey. Go right in. Lucy Lumsden +has got as much grit as a major gener'l, an' she'll be glad to see +you." + +But Nan stood staring at Mr. Sanders, as if she wanted to ask him a +question, and couldn't find words for it. Her face was pale, and she had +the appearance of one who is utterly forspent. + +"Why, honey, what ails you? I never seed you lookin' like this before." + +"You've never seen me ill before," answered Nan. "I thought the walk +would do me good, but the sun--oh, Mr. Sanders! please don't ask me +anything else." + +With that, she ran up the steps very rapidly for an ill person, and +stood a moment in the hallway. + +"Be jigged ef she ain't wuss hit than any on us!" declared Mr. Sanders, +to himself, as he turned away. "What a pity that she had to go an' git +grown!" + +Following the sound of voices, Nan went into the library. Mrs. Lumsden, +who was still walking about restlessly, paused and tried to smile when +she saw Nan; but it was only a make-believe smile. Nan went directly to +her, and stood looking in the old gentlewoman's eyes. Then she kissed +her quite suddenly and impulsively. + +"Nan, you must be ill," Miss Fanny Tomlin declared. + +"I am, Aunt Fanny; I am not feeling well at all." + +"Lie there on the sofa, child," Mrs. Lumsden insisted. Taking Nan by the +arm, she almost forced her to lie down. + +"If you-all are talking secrets, I'll go away," said Nan. + +"No, child," remarked Mrs. Lumsden; "we are talking about trouble, and +trouble is too common to be much of a secret in this world." She seated +herself on the edge of the sofa, and held Nan's hand, caressing it +softly. + +"This is the way I used to cure Gabriel, when he was ill or weary," she +said in a tone too low for the others to hear. + +"Did you?" whispered Nan, closing her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction. + +"This is the second time I have been able to sit down since breakfast," +remarked Mrs. Lumsden. + +"I have walked miles and miles," replied Nan, wearily. + +There was a noise in the hall, and presently Tasma Tid peeped cautiously +into the room. "Wey you done wit Honey Nan?" she asked. "She in dis +house; you ain' kin fool we." + +"Come in, and behave yourself if you know how," said Mrs. Lumsden. "Come +in, Tid." + +"How come we name Tid? How come we ain't name Tasma Tid?" + +No one thought it worth while to make any reply to this, and the African +came into the room, acting as if she were afraid some one would jump at +her. "Sit in the corner there at the foot of the sofa," said Mrs. +Lumsden. Tasma Tid complied very readily with this command, since it +enabled her to be near Nan. The African squatted on the floor, and sat +there motionless. + +Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny went away after awhile, but Mrs. +Lumsden continued to sit by Nan, caressing her hand. Not a word was said +for a long time, but the silence was finally broken by Nan, who spoke to +the African. + +"Tasma Tid, I want you to go home and tell Miss Johnny that I will spend +the rest of the day and the night with Grandmother Lumsden." + +"Don't keer; we comin' back," said Tasma Tid. + +"Yes, come back," said Mrs. Lumsden; whereupon, the African whisked out +of the room as quick as a flash. + +After Tasma Tid had gone, a silence fell on the house--a silence so +profound that Nan could hear the great clock ticking in the front hall, +and the bookshelves cracked just as they do in the middle of the night. + +"If I had known what was going to happen when Gabriel came and kissed me +good-bye," said Mrs. Lumsden, after awhile, "I would have gone out there +where those men were, and--well, I don't know what I wouldn't have +done!" + +"Didn't Gabriel tell you? Why----" Nan paused. + +"Not he! Not Gabriel!" cried Mrs. Lumsden in a voice full of pride. "He +wanted to spare his grandmother one night's worry, and he did." + +"Didn't you know when he kissed you good-night that something was +wrong?" Nan inquired. + +"How should I? Why, he sometimes comes and kisses me in the middle of +the night, even after he has gone to bed. He says he sleeps better +afterwards." + +What was there in this simple statement to cause Nan to catch her +breath, and seize the hand that was caressing her. For one thing, it +presented the tender side of Gabriel's nature in a new light; and for +the rest--well, who shall pretend to fathom a young woman's heart? + +"Yes, he was always doing something of that kind," remarked the +grandmother proudly; "and I have often thought that he should have been +a girl." + +"A girl!" cried Nan. + +"Yes; he will marry some woman who doesn't appreciate his finer +qualities--the tenderness and affection that he tries to hide from +everybody but his grandmother; and he will go about with a hungry heart, +and his wife will never suspect it. I am afraid I dislike her already." + +"Oh, don't say that!" Nan implored. + +"But if he was a girl," the grandmother went on, "he would be better +prepared to endure coldness and neglect. This is partly what we were +born for, my dear, as you will find out one day for yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + +_Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions_ + + +It was not often that Mr. Sanders had a surprise, but he found one +awaiting him when he left the Lumsden Place, and started in the +direction of home. He had not taken twenty steps before he met the young +Captain who had charge of the detachment of Federal troops stationed at +Shady Dale. + +"This is Mr. Sanders, I believe," he said without ceremony. "My name is +Falconer. I have just been to call on Mr. Clopton, but they tell me +there that he is at Mrs. Lumsden's." + +"Well, I wouldn't advise you to go there," said Mr. Sanders, bluntly. +"The lady is in a considerbul state of mind about her gran'son." + +"It is a miserable piece of business all the way through," remarked +Captain Falconer. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, which Mr. +Sanders could not fail to catch, and it interested him. + +"I called upon my cousin, Mrs. Claiborne, for the first time to-day," +the Captain went on. "She has invited me to tea often, but I have +refused the invitation on account of the state of feeling here. I know +how high it is. It is natural, of course, but it is not justifiable. +Take my case, for instance: I am a Democrat, and I come from a family of +Democrats, who have never voted anything else but the Democratic ticket, +except when Henry Clay was a candidate, and when Lincoln was running for +a second term." + +"You don't tell me!" cried Mr. Sanders, with genuine astonishment. + +"It is a fact," said Captain Falconer, with emphasis. "If you think that +I, or any of the men under me, or any of the men who fought at all, +intended to bring about such a condition as now exists in this part of +the country, you are doing us a great wrong. Don't mistake me! I am not +apologising for the part I took. I would do it all over again a hundred +times if necessary. Yet I do not believe in negro suffrage, and I abhor +and detest every exaction that the politicians in Washington have placed +upon the people of the South." + +Mr. Sanders was too much astonished to make appropriate comment. He +could only stare at the young man. And Captain Falconer was very good to +look upon. He was of the Kentucky type, tall, broad-shouldered and +handsome. His undress uniform became him well, and he had the +distinctive and pleasing marks that West Point leaves on all young men +who graduate at the academy there. + +"Well, as I told you, I called on my cousin to-day for the first time, +and after we had talked of various matters, especially the unfortunate +events that have recently occurred, she insisted that I make it my +business to see you or Mr. Clopton. She told me," the Captain said, +with a pleasant smile, "that you are the man that kidnapped Mr. +Lincoln." + +"She's wrong about that," replied Mr. Sanders; "I'm the man that didn't +kidnap him. But I want to ask you: ain't you some kin to John Barbour +Falconer?" + +"He was my father," the Captain replied. + +"Well, I've heard Meriwether Clopton talk about him hundreds of times. +They ripped around in Congress together before the war." + +"Now, that is very interesting to me," said the Captain, his face +brightening. + +He was silent for some time, as they walked slowly along, and during +this period of silence, Meriwether Clopton came up behind them. He would +have passed on, with a polite inclination of his head, but Mr. Sanders +drew his attention. + +"Mr. Clopton," he said, "here's a gentleman I reckon you'd like to +know--Captain Falconer. He's a son of John Barbour Falconer." + +"Is that so?" exclaimed Meriwether Clopton, a wonderful change passing +over his face. "Well, I am glad to see a son of my dear old friend, +anywhere and at any time." He shook hands very cordially with the +Captain. "Let me see--let me see: if I am not mistaken, your first name +is Garnett; you were named after your maternal grandfather." + +"That is true, sir," replied the Captain, with a boyish laugh that was +pleasing to the ear--he was not more than thirty. "But I am surprised +that you should remember these things so well." + +"Why, my dear sir, it is not surprising at all. I have dandled you on my +knee many and many a time; I know the very house, yes, the very room, in +which you were born. Some of the happiest hours of my manhood were spent +with your father and mother in Washington. Your father is dead, I +believe. Well, he was a good man; among the best I ever knew. What of +your mother?" + +"She has broken greatly," responded the Captain. "The war was a great +burden to her. She was a Virginian, you know." + +"Yes--yes!" said Meriwether Clopton. "The war has been a dreadful +nightmare to the people on both sides; and it seems to be still going on +disguised as politics. Only last night, as you perhaps know, a posse of +soldiers arrested and carried off four of our worthiest young men." + +"Yes, sir, I know of it and regret it," responded Captain Falconer. "And +I have no doubt that a majority of the people here are incensed at the +soldiers, forgetting that they are the mere instruments of their +superiors, and that their superiors themselves take their orders from +other superiors who are engaged in the game of politics. It is the duty +of a soldier to blindly obey orders. To pause to ask a question would be +charged to a spirit of insubordination. The army is at the beck and call +of what is called the Government, and to-day the Government happens to +be the radical contingent of the Republican Party. A soldier may detest +the service he is called on to perform, but he is bound to obey orders. +I can answer for the officer who was sent to arrest these young men. He +was boiling over with rage because he had been sent here on such an +errand." + +"I am glad to hear that," declared Meriwether Clopton, with great +heartiness. + +"His feelings were perfectly natural, sir," said Captain Falconer. "Take +the army as it stands to-day, and it would be hard, if not impossible, +to find a man in it who does not shrink from doing the dirty work of the +politicians. Can you imagine that my mission here is pleasant to me? I +can assure you, sir, it is the most disagreeable duty that ever fell to +my lot. I am glad you spoke of these arrests. At your convenience, I +should like to have a little conversation with you and Mr. Sanders on +this subject." + +"There is no time like the present," replied Meriwether Clopton. "Will +you come with me to my house?" + +"Certainly, sir; and with the more pleasure because I called on my +cousin Mrs. Claiborne to-day. I have forborne to call on her heretofore +on account of the prejudice against us. But these arrests made it +necessary for me to communicate with some of the influential friends of +the young men. I was afraid my visit to-day would prove to be +embarrassing to her. If I visit you at your invitation, the probability +is she will have no social penalty to pay. I know what the feeling is." + +Indeed, he knew too well. He had passed along the streets apparently +perfectly oblivious to the attitude and movements of those whom he +chanced to meet, but all his faculties had been awake, for he was a man +of the keenest sensibilities. He had seen women and young girls curl +their lips in a sneer, and toss their heads in scorn, as he passed them +by; and some of them pulled their skirts aside, lest his touch should +pollute them. He had observed all this, and he was wounded by it; and +yet he had no resentment. Being a Southerner himself, he knew that the +feelings which prompted such actions were perfectly natural, the fitting +accompaniment of the humiliation which the radical element compelled the +whites to endure. + +In the course of his long and frequent walks in the countryside, Captain +Falconer had made the acquaintance of Gabriel Tolliver, in whose nature +the spirit of a gypsy vagrant seemed to have full sway; and Gabriel was +the only person native to Shady Dale, except the ancient postmaster, +with whom the young officer had held communication. He seemed to be cut +off not only from all social intercourse, but even from +acquaintanceship. + +"You may rest assured," declared Meriwether Clopton, "that if I had +known you were the son of my old friend, I would have sought you out, +much as I detest the motives and purposes of those who have inaugurated +this era of bayonet rule. And you may be sure, too, that in my house you +will be a welcome guest." + +"I appreciate your kindness, sir, and I shall remember it," said Captain +Falconer. + +That portion of Shady Dale which was moving about the streets with its +eyes open was surprised and shocked--nay, wellnigh paralysed--to see the +"Yankee Captain" on parade, as it were, with Meriwether Clopton on one +side of him, and Mr. Sanders on the other. Yes, and the hand of the son +of the First Settler (could their eyes deceive them?) was resting +familiarly on the shoulder of the "Yankee!" Surely, here was food for +thought. Were Meriwether Clopton and Mr. Sanders about to join the +radicals? Well, well, well! At last one of the loungers, a man of middle +age, who had seen service, raised his voice and put an end to comment. + +"You can bet your sweet life," he declared, "that Billy Sanders knows +what he's up to. He may not git the game he's after, but he'll fetch +back a handful of feathers or hair. Mr. Clopton I don't know so well, +but I was in the war wi' Billy Sanders, and I wish you'd wake me up and +let me know when somebody fools him. There ain't a living man on the +continent, nor under it neither, that can git on his blind side." + +"Now you are whistlin'!" exclaimed one of his companions, and this +seemed to settle the matter. If Mr. Sanders didn't know what he was +about, why, then, everybody else in that neighbourhood might as well +give up, "and let natur' cut her caper." + +"I understand now why Mrs. Claiborne referred me to you," said Captain +Falconer, when Mr. Sanders had related the nature and extent of the +information which he had been able to gather during the morning. + +"The lady is kinder partial," remarked Mr. Sanders, "but she's as bright +as a new dollar, somethin' I ain't seed sence I cut my wisdom teeth." + +"You already know what I intended to tell you," said the Captain. But +it turned out, nevertheless, that he was able to give them some very +startling information. It was the general understanding in Shady Dale +that the prisoners were to be sent to Atlanta; but the military +authorities, fearing an attempt at rescue, perhaps, had ordered them to +be sent to Fort Pulaski, below Savannah. There were other reasons, the +Captain explained, for sending the young men there. They would be +isolated from their friends, and, so placed, might be induced to +confess; and if the circumstances surrounding them were not sufficient +to produce such a result then other measures were to be taken. + +Meanwhile, the circumstantial evidence against Gabriel was very +strong--stronger even than Mr. Sanders had imagined. Bridalbin, whom +Captain Falconer knew as Boring, had informed that officer of his own +supposed discoveries with respect to Gabriel's movements; and the +evidence he was prepared to give, coupled with the fact that Hotchkiss +had pronounced the lad's name with his last breath, made out a case of +exceptional strength. Urged on by the vindictiveness of the radical +leaders in Congress, it was more than probable that the military court +before which the young men were to be tried, would convict any or all of +them on much slighter evidence than that which had accumulated against +Gabriel. It was all circumstantial evidence of course, but even in the +civil courts, and before juries made up of their peers, men accused of +crime have frequently been convicted on circumstantial evidence +alone--that is to say, on probability. + +"Now, this is what I wanted to say," remarked Captain Falconer, as they +sat in the library at the Clopton Place, and after he had gone over the +evidence, item by item: "I was given to understand by the officer who +made the arrests that I would shortly be transferred to Savannah, or, +rather, to Fort Pulaski, and placed in charge of the prisoners, the idea +being that I, knowing something of the young men, would be able to +extract a confession from them by fair means. This failing, there are +others who could be depended on to employ foul. The officer, who is a +very fine soldier, and thoroughly in love with his profession, dropped a +hint that, all other means failing, the young men are to be put through +a course of sprouts in order to extort a confession." + +Mr. Sanders looked hard at the Captain; he was taking the young man's +measure. What he saw or divined must have been satisfactory, for his +face, which had been in a somewhat puckered condition, as he himself +would have expressed it, suddenly cleared up, and he rose from his chair +with a laugh. + +"Do you-all know what I've gone an' done?" he asked. + +"You do so many clever things, William, that we cannot possibly imagine +what the newest is," said Meriwether Clopton. + +"Well, sir, this is the cleverest yit. I've come off from Lucy Lumsden's +an' clean forgot my hoss. It's a wonder I didn't forgit my head. Now, +you might 'a' said, an' said truly, that I'd forgit a man, or a 'oman, +but when William H. Sanders, Esquire, walks off in the broad light of +day, an' forgits his hoss, an' that hoss the Rackin' Roan, you may know +that his thinkin' machine has slipped a cog. Ef you'll excuse me, I'll +go right arter that creetur. I'm mighty glad he can't talk--it's about +the only thing he can't do--bekaze he'd gi' me a long an' warm piece of +his mind." + +Captain Falconer rose also, but Meriwether Clopton protested. "I should +be glad if you would stay to dinner," he said. "I have several things to +show you--some interesting letters from your father, for instance." + +"But the ladies?" suggested the Captain, with a comically doubtful lift +of the eyebrows. He had no notion of bearding any of the Confederate +lionesses in their dens. "You know how they regard us here." + +"Only my daughter Sarah is here. She knew your father well, and has a +very lively remembrance of him. She was fifteen when you were three, and +many a day she was your volunteer nurse." + +So it was arranged that the Captain should remain to dinner, and it may +be said that he spent a very pleasant time, after his long period of +social isolation. "I shall call you Garnett, to begin with," said Sarah +Clopton, as she shook his hand, "but you must not expect me to be very +cordial to-day. It was only last night, you must remember, that some of +the people you associate with arrested and carried off a young man who +is very dear to me." + +"You may be very sure, Miss Clopton, that the officer who did that piece +of work had no relish for it. He simply obeyed orders. He had no +discretion in the matter whatever." + +"Well, I shall be very glad to think that, Garnett, for your sake. But +that fact doesn't restore our young men," she said with a sigh. "Oh, I +wonder when we'll all be at peace and happy again?" + +"In God's own time, and not before," declared Meriwether Clopton +solemnly. + +"Well, we'll try an' help that time to come," said Mr. Sanders, entering +the room at that moment. He was followed by Cephas, who was one of +Gabriel's favourites among the small boys. Cephas was bashful enough, +but he always felt at ease at the Clopton Place, where everything moved +along the lines of simplicity and perfect openness. The small boy had a +sort of chilly feeling when he saw the officer, but he soon got over +that. + +"I went an' got my hoss," said Mr. Sanders, "an' he paid me back for my +forgitfulness by purty nigh bitin' a piece out'n my arm; an' whilst I +was a-rubbin' the place, up comes Cephas for to find out somethin' about +the boys. When I got through makin' a few remarks sech as you don't hear +at church, a kinder blind idee popped in my head, an' so I tuck Cephas +up behind me, an' fetched him here." + +"Sit on the sofa, Cephas. Have a chair, William, and tell us about your +blind idea." + +"Ef you'll promise not to laugh," Mr. Sanders stipulated. "You know Mrs. +Ab's sayin' that ef the old sow knowed she was swallerin' a tree ev'ry +time she crunched an acorn, she'd grunt a heap louder'n she does: well, +I know what I'm fixin' for to swaller, and you won't hear much loud +gruntin' from me." + +"Well, we are ready to hear from you," said Meriwether Clopton. +Whereupon, Mr. Sanders threw his head back and laughed. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + +_Mr. Sanders's Riddle_ + + +"I tell you how it is," said Mr. Sanders: "The riddle is how to git a +message to Gabriel; I could git the Captain thar to take it, but the +Captain will have as much as he can attend to, an' for that matter, so +have I. Wi' this riddle I'm overcrapped. Sence I left here, I've gone +over the whole matter in my mind, ef you can call it a mind. I could go +down thar myself, an' I'd be glad to, but could I git to have a private +talk wi' Gabriel? I reckon not." + +The remark was really interrogative, and was addressed to Captain +Falconer, who made a prompt reply--"I hardly think the scheme would +work. My impression is that orders have been issued from Atlanta for +these young men to be isolated. If that is so they can hold +communication with no one but the sentinel on duty, or the officer who +has charge of them. They are to be treated as felons, though nothing has +been proved against them. I am not sure, but I think that is the +programme." + +"That is about what I thought," said Mr. Sanders, "an' that's what I +told Cephas here. When I was fetchin' my horse, Cephas, he comes up, an' +he says, 'Mr. Sanders, have you heard from Gabriel?' an' I says, 'No, +Cephas, we ain't had time for to git a word from 'em.' An' then he went +on to say, Cephas did, that he'd like mighty well to see Gabriel. I told +him that maybe we could fix it up so as he could see Gabriel. You can't +imagine how holp up the little chap was. To see him then, an' see him +now, you'd think it was another boy." + +Captain Falconer looked at Cephas, and could see no guile. On the +contrary, he saw a freckled lad who appeared to be about ten years old; +he was really nearly fourteen. Cephas was so ugly that he was ugly when +he laughed, as he was doing now; but there was something about him that +attracted the attention of those who were older. It was a fact much +talked about that this freckled little boy never went with children of +his own age, but was always to be found with those much older. He was +Gabriel's chum when Gabriel wanted a chum; he went hunting with Francis +Bethune; and he could often be found at the store in which Paul Tomlin +was the chief clerk. He knew all the secrets of these young men, and +kept them, and they frequently advised with him about the young ladies. + +But he was fonder of Gabriel than of all the rest, and he was also fond +of Nan, who had been kind to him in many ways. Cephas was one of those +ill-favoured little creatures, who astonish everybody by never +forgetting a favour. Gratitude ran riot in his small bosom, and he was +ever ready to sacrifice himself for his friends. + +Seeing that Captain Falconer continued to look at him, Cephas hung his +head. He was only too conscious of his ugliness, and was very sensitive +about it. He wanted to be large and strong and handsome like Gabriel, or +dark and romantic-looking like Francis Bethune; and sometimes he was +very miserable because of the unkindness of fate or Providence in this +matter. + +"And so you want to see your friends," said the Captain, very kindly. +Every feature of his face showed that his sympathies were keen. "They +are very far away, or will be when they get to their journey's end--too +far, I should think, for a little boy to travel." + +"Maybe so," said Cephas, "but Gabriel had to go." + +"I see," said the Captain; "wherever Gabriel goes, you are willing to +go?" + +"Yes, sir," replied Cephas very simply. + +"I hope Gabriel appreciates it," remarked Sarah Clopton. + +"Oh, he does!" exclaimed Cephas. "Gabriel knows. Why, one day----" Then, +remembering the company he was in, he blushed, and refused to go on with +what he intended to say. + +Seeing his embarrassment, Mr. Sanders came to his rescue. "What I want +to know, Captain, is this: if that little chap comes down to Savannah, +will you allow him to see Gabriel and talk to him?" + +Again the Captain looked at the boy, and Cephas, catching a certain +humourous gleam in the gentleman's eye, began to smile. "Now, then," +said Captain Falconer, with an answering smile, "how would you like to +go with me?" + +"I think I would like it," replied Cephas, with a broad grin; "I think +that would be fine." + +"And what does Mr. Sanders think of it?" the Captain asked. + +"Well, I hadn't looked at it from that p'int of view," said Mr. Sanders. +"I 'lowed maybe that the best an' cheapest plan would be for me to take +the little chap down an' fetch him back." + +"My opinion may not be worth much, Mr. Sanders," said Sarah Clopton, +"but I think it would be a shame to take that child so far away from +home. I don't believe his mother will allow him to go." + +"That is a matter that was jest fixin' for to worry me," remarked Mr. +Sanders. "I could feel it kinder fermentin' in my mind, like molasses +turnin' to vinegar, an' now that you've fetched it to the top, Sarah, +we'll settle it before we go any furder. Come, Cephas; we'll go an' see +your mammy, an' see ef we can't coax her into lettin' you go. You'll +have to do your best, my son; I'll coax, an' you must wheedle." + +As they went out, Cephas was laughing at Mr. Sanders's remark about +wheedling. The youngster was an expert in that business. He was his +mother's only child, and he had learned at a very early age just how to +manage her. + +"What troubles me, Cephas," said Mr. Sanders, "is how you can git a +message to Gabriel wi'out lettin' the cat out'n the bag. He'll be +surrounder'd in sech a way that you can't git a word wi' 'im wi'out +tellin' the whole caboodle." + +At that moment, Mr. Sanders heard a small voice cry out something like +this: "Phazasee! Phazasee! arawa ooya ingagog?" + +To which jabbering Cephas made prompt reply: "Iya ingagog ota annysavvy +ota eesa gibbleable!" + +"Ooya ibfa! Ooya ibfa!" jeered the small voice. + +Mr. Sanders looked at Cephas in astonishment. "What kinder lingo is +that?" he asked. + +"It's the way we school-children talk when we don't want anybody to know +what we are saying. Johnny asked me where I was going, and I told him I +was going to Savannah to see Gabriel." + +"Did he know what you said?" + +"Why, he couldn't help but know, but he didn't believe it; he said it +was a fib." + +"Well, I'll be jigged!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Call that boy over +here." + +Cephas turned around--they had passed the house where the little boy +lived--and called out: "Onnaja! Onnaja! Stermera Andersa antwasa ota +eesa ooya." + +The small boy came running, though there was a doubtful look on his +face. He had frequently been the victim of Cephas's practical jokes. + +Mr. Sanders questioned him closely, and he confirmed the interpretation +of the lingo which Cephas had given to Mr. Sanders. + +"Do you mean to tell me," said Mr. Sanders to Cephas when they had +dismissed the small boy, "that this kinder thing has been goin' on right +under my nose, an' I not knowin' a word about it? How'd you pick up the +lingo?" + +"Gabriel teached it to me," replied Cephas. "He talks it better than any +of the boys, and I come next." This last remark Cephas made with a +blush. + +"Do I look pale, my son?" inquired Mr. Sanders, mopping his red face +with his handkerchief. Cephas gave a negative reply by shaking his head. +"Well, I may not look pale, but I shorely feel pale. You'll have to loan +me your arm, Cephas; I feel like Christopher Columbus did when he +discovered Atlanta, Ga." + +"Why, he didn't discover Atlanta, Mr. Sanders," protested Cephas. + +"He didn't!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, it was his own fault ef he +didn't. All he had to do was to read the country newspapers. But that's +neither here nor thar. Here I've been buttin' my head ag'in trees, an' +walkin' in my sleep tryin' for to study up some plan to git word to +Gabriel, an' here you walk along the street an' make me a present of the +very thing I want, an' I ain't even thanked you for it." + +Cephas couldn't guess what Mr. Sanders was driving at, and he asked no +questions. His mind was too full of his proposed trip. When the +proposition was first broached to Cephas's mother, she scouted the idea +of allowing her boy to make the journey. He was all she had, and should +anything happen to him--well, the world wouldn't be the same world to +her. And it was so far away; why, she had heard some one say that +Savannah was right on the brink of the ocean--that great monster that +swallowed ships and men by the thousand, and was just as hungry +afterward as before. But Cephas began to cry, saying that he wanted to +see Gabriel; and Mr. Sanders told Gabriel's side of the story. Between +the two, the poor woman had no option but to say that she'd consider the +matter, and when a woman begins to consider--well, according to the +ancient philosophers, it's the same as saying yes. + +The truth is, a great deal of pressure was brought to bear on Cephas's +mother, in one way and another. Meriwether Clopton called on her, +bringing Captain Falconer. She was not at all pleased to see the +Captain, and she made no effort to conceal her prejudice. "I never did +think that I'd speak to a man in that uniform," she said with a very red +face. But she was better satisfied when Meriwether Clopton told her that +the Captain was the son of his dearest friend, and that he was utterly +opposed to the radical policy. + +The upshot of the matter was that, with many a sigh and some tears, she +gave her consent for her onliest, her dearest, and her bestest, to go on +the long journey. And then, after consenting, she was angry with herself +because she had consented. In short, she was as miserable and as anxious +as mother-love can make a woman, and poor Cephas never could understand +until he became a grown man, and had children of his own, how his mother +could make such a to-do over the opportunity that Providence had thrown +in his way. To tell the truth, he was almost irritated at the obstacles +and objections that the vivid imagination of his mother kept conjuring +up. She said he must be sure not to fall in the ocean, and he must keep +out of the way of the railroad trains. She cried silently all the time +she was packing his modest supply of clothes in a valise, and put some +tea-cakes in one corner, and a little Testament in the other. + +It is no wonder that children who do not understand such feelings should +be impatient of them, and Cephas is to be excused if he watched the +whole proceeding with something like contempt for woman's weakness. But +he has bitterly regretted, oh, tens of thousands of times, that, instead +of standing aloof from his mother's feelings, he did not throw his arms +around her, and tell how much he appreciated her love, and how every +tear she shed for him was worth to him a hundred times more than a +diamond. But Cephas was a boy, and, being a boy, he could not rise +superior to his boy's nature. + +It was arranged that Cephas was to go to Savannah with Captain Falconer, +and return with Mr. Sanders, who would take advantage of the occasion to +settle up some old business with the firm that had acted as factor for +Meriwether Clopton before the war. The arrangement took place when Mr. +Sanders returned home after his visit to Cephas's mother, and was of +course conditional on her consent, which was not obtained at once. + +Mr. Sanders was shrewd enough not to dwell too much on the plight of the +young men on his return. By some method of his own, he seemed to sweep +the whole matter from his mind, and both he and Meriwether Clopton +addressed themselves to such topics as they imagined the Federal Captain +would find interesting; and in this they were seconded by Sarah Clopton, +whom Robert Toombs declared to be one of the finest conversationalists +of her time when she chose to exert her powers. But for the softness +and fine harmony of her features, her face would have been called +masculine. Her countenance was entirely responsive to her emotions, and +it was delightful to watch the eloquent play of her features. Captain +Falconer fell quickly under the spell of her conversation, for one of +its chiefest charms was the ease with which she brought out the best +thoughts of his mind--thoughts and views that were a part of his inner +self. + +It was the same at dinner, where, without monopolising the talk, she led +it this way and that, but always in channels that were congenial and +pleasing to the Captain, and that enabled him to appear at his best. In +honour of his guest, Meriwether Clopton brought out some fine old claret +that had lain for many years undisturbed in the cellar. + +"Thank you, Sarah," said Mr. Sanders, when the hostess pressed him to +have a glass, "I'll not trouble you for any to-day. I've made the +acquaintance of that claret. It ain't sour enough for vinegar, nor +strong enough for liquor; it's a kind of a cross betwixt a second +drawin' of tea an' the syrup of squills; an' no matter how hard you hit +it it'll never hit you back. It's lots too mild for a Son of Temp'rance +like me. No; gi' me a full jug an' a shuck-pen to crawl into, an' you +may have all the wine, red or yaller." + +But the fine old claret was thoroughly enjoyed by those who could +appreciate the flower of its age and the flavour of its vintage; and +when dinner was over, and Captain Falconer was on his way to camp, he +felt that, outside of his own home, he had never had such a pleasant +experience. + +In the course of a few days orders came from Atlanta for Captain +Falconer to turn over the command of the detachment to the officer next +in rank, and proceed to Malvern, where he would find further +instructions awaiting him. When the time came for Cephas to be off with +the Captain, you may well believe that his mother saw all sorts of +trouble ahead for him. She had dreamed some very queer dreams, she said, +and she was very sure that no good would follow. And at the last moment, +she would have taken Cephas from the barouche which had come for him, if +the driver, following the instructions of Mr. Sanders, had not whipped +up his horses, and left the lady standing in the street. + +As for Cephas, he found that parting from his mother was not such a fine +thing after all. He watched her through a mist of tears, and waved his +handkerchief as long as he could see her; and then after that he was the +loneliest little fellow you have ever seen. He refused to eat the extra +tea-cake that his mother had put in the pocket of his jacket, and made +up his mind to be perfectly miserable until he got back home. But, after +all, boys are boys, and the feeling of loneliness and dejection wore +away after awhile, and before he had gone many miles, what with making +the acquaintance of the driver, who was a private soldier, and getting +on friendly terms with Captain Falconer, he soon arrived at the point +where he relished his tea-cake, and when this had been devoured, he felt +as if travelling was the most delightful thing in the world, especially +if a fellow has been intrusted with a tremendous secret that nobody else +in the world knew besides Mr. Sanders and himself. + +For as soon as Mr. Sanders discovered that the Captain would be willing +to have Cephas go along, he had taken the little chap in hand, and +thoroughly impressed upon his mind everything he wanted him to say to +Gabriel, and he was not satisfied until Cephas had written the message +out in the dog-latin of the school-children, and had learned it by +heart. Mr. Sanders also impressed on the little lad's mind the +probability that the Captain would be curious as to the nature of the +message; and he gave Cephas a plausible answer for every question that +an inquisitive person could put to him, and made him repeat these +answers over and over again. In fact, Cephas was compelled to study as +hard as if he had been in school, but he relished the part he was to +play, and learned it with a zest that was very pleasing to Mr. Sanders. +Only an hour before he was to leave with the Captain, Mr. Sanders went +to Cephas's home, and made him repeat over everything he had been +taught, and the glibness with which the little lad repeated the answers +to the questions was something wonderful in so small a chap. + +"Don't git lonesome, Cephas," was the parting injunction of Mr. Sanders. +"Don't forgit that I'll be on the train when the whistle blows. I'm +gwine to start right off. You may not see me, but I'll not be far off. +Keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't git into no panic. The whole thing is +gwine through like it was on skids, an' the skids greased." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + +_Cephas Has His Troubles_ + + +Usually there is a yawning gulf between youth and old age; but in the +case of Mrs. Lumsden and Nan Dorrington, it was spanned by the +simplicity and tenderness common to both. Whether any of the ancients or +moderns have mentioned the fact, it is hardly worth while to inquire, +but good-humour is a form of tenderness. Those who are easy to laugh are +likewise ready to be sorry, and they have a fund of sympathy to draw on +whenever the necessity arises. Simplicity and tenderness connect the +highest wisdom with the deepest ignorance, and find the elements of +brotherhood where the intellect is unable to discern it. It was +simplicity and tenderness that bridged the gulf of years that lay +between the old gentlewoman and the young girl. Age can find no comfort +for itself unless it can make terms with youth. Where it stands alone, +depending upon the respect that should belong to what is venerable, +there is something gruesome about it. It quenches the high spirits of +children and young people, and chills their enthusiasm. All that it does +for them is to give notorious advertisement to the complexion to which +they must all come at last. "You see these wrinkled and flabby +features, this gray hair, these faded and watery eyes, these shaking +limbs and trembling hands: well, this is what you must come to." And, +indeed, it is an object lesson well calculated to sober and subdue the +giddy. + +Now, age had dealt very gently with Gabriel's grandmother; it became her +well. Her white hair was even more beautiful now than it had been when +she was young, as Meriwether Clopton often declared. Her eyes were +bright, and all her sympathies were as keenly alive as they had been +fifty years before. She had kept in touch with Gabriel and the young +people about her, and none of her faculties had been impaired. She was +the gentlest of gentlewomen. + +Once Nan had asked her--"Grandmother Lumsden, what is the perfume I +smell every time I come here? You have it on your clothes." + +"Life Everlasting, my dear." For one brief and fleeting instant, Nan had +the odd feeling that she could see millions and millions of years into +the future. Life Everlasting! She caught her breath. But the vision or +feeling was swept away by the placid voice of Mrs. Lumsden. "I believe +you and Gabriel call it rabbit tobacco," she explained. + +Nan had a great longing to be with Mrs. Lumsden the moment she heard +that Gabriel had been spirited away by the strong arm of the Government. +She felt that she would be more comfortable there than at home. + +"My dear, what put it into that wise little head of yours to come and +comfort an old woman?" Mrs. Lumsden asked, when Meriwether Clopton and +Miss Fanny Tomlin had taken their departure. She was still sitting close +to Nan, caressing her hand. + +"I thought you would be lonely with Gabriel gone, and I just made up my +mind to come. I was afraid until I reached the door, and then I wasn't +afraid any more. If you don't want me, I'll soon find it out." + +"I can't tell you how glad I am, Nan, to have you here; and I can guess +your feelings. No doubt you were shocked to hear that Francis Bethune +had been taken with the rest." The dear old lady had the knack of +clinging to her ideas. + +"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Grandmother Lumsden. I care no +more for Mr. Bethune than I do for the others--perhaps not so much." + +"I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Lumsden, "but I have always looked +forward to the day when you and Francis would be married." + +"I've heard you talk that way before, and I've often wondered why you +did it." + +"Oh, well! perhaps it is one of my foolish dreams," said Mrs. Lumsden +with a sigh. + +"Your father's plantation and that of Francis's grandfather are side by +side, and I have thought it would be romantic for the heirs to join +hands and make the two places one." + +"I can't see anything romantic in that, Grandmother Lumsden. It's like a +sum in arithmetic." + +"Well, you must allow old people to indulge in their dreams, my dear. +When you are as old as I am, and have seen as much of life, you will +have different ideas about romance." + +"I hope, ma'am, that your next dream will be truer," said Nan, almost +playfully. + +That night, Nan lay awake for a long time. At last she slipped out of +bed, felt her way around it, and leaned over and kissed Gabriel's +grandmother. In an instant she felt the motherly arms of the old +gentlewoman around her. + +"Is that the way you do, when Gabriel comes and kisses you in the +night?" whispered Nan wistfully. + +"Yes, yes, my dear--many times." + +"Oh, I am so glad!" the words exhaled from the girl's lips in a +long-drawn, trembling sigh. Then she went back to her place in bed, and +soon both the comforter and the comforted were sound asleep. + +As has been hinted, the moment Mr. Sanders discovered there was some +slight chance of getting a message to Gabriel, he became one of the +busiest men in Shady Dale, though his industry was not immediately +apparent to his friends and neighbours. Among those whom he took +occasion to see was Mr. Tidwell, whose son Jesse was among the +prisoners. + +"Gus," said Mr. Sanders, without any ceremony, "you remember the row you +come mighty nigh havin' wi' Tomlin Perdue, not so many years ago?" + +"Yes; I remember something of it," replied Mr. Tidwell. He was a man who +ordinarily went with his head held low, as though engaged in deep +thought. When spoken to he straightened up, and thereby seemed to add +several inches to his height. + +"Well, it's got to be done over ag'in," remarked Mr. Sanders. "It +happened in Malvern, didn't it?" + +"Yes, in the depot," replied Mr. Tidwell. "We were both on our way to +Atlanta, and the Major misunderstood something I had said." + +"Egzackly! Well, it must be done over ag'in." + +Mr. Tidwell lowered his head and appeared to reflect. Then he +straightened up again, and his face was very serious. "Mr. Sanders, has +Tomlin Perdue been dropping his wing about that fuss? Has he been making +remarks?" + +"Oh, I reckon not," replied Mr. Sanders cheerfully. "But I've got a +mighty good reason for axin' you about it. Come in your office, Gus, an' +I'll tell you all I know, an' it won't take me two minnits." + +They went in and closed the door, and remained in consultation for some +time. While they were thus engaged, Silas Tomlin came to the door, tried +the bolt, and finding that it would not yield, walked restlessly up and +down, preyed upon by many strange and conflicting emotions. He had +evidently gone through much mental suffering. His face was drawn and +haggard, and his clothes were shabbier than ever. He took no account of +time, but walked up and down, waiting for Mr. Tidwell to come out, and +as he walked he was the victim both of his fears and his affections. One +moment, he heartily wished that he might never see his son again; the +next he would have given everything he possessed to have the boy back, +and hear once more the familiar, "Hello, father!" + +After awhile, Mr. Sanders and Mr. Tidwell came forth from the lawyer's +office. They appeared to be in fine humour, for both were laughing, as +though some side-splitting joke had just passed between them. + +"There's no doubt about it, Mr. Sanders," Lawyer Tidwell was saying, +"you ought to be a major-general!" + +"I declare, Tidwell!" exclaimed Silas, with something like indignation, +"I don't see how you can go around happy and laughing under the +circumstances. You do like you could fetch your son back with a laugh. I +wish I could fetch Paul back that way." + +"Well, he'd stay whar he is, Silas," said Mr. Sanders, with a benevolent +smile, "ef his comin' back had to be brung about by any hilarity from +you. Why, you ain't laughed but once sence you was a baby, an' when you +heard the sound of it you set up a howl that's lasted ever sence." + +"If you think, Silas, that crying will bring the boys back," said Mr. +Tidwell, "I'll join you in a crying-match, and stand here and boohoo +with you just as long as you want to." + +"I just called by to see if you had heard any news," remarked Silas, +taking no offence at the sarcastic utterances of the two men. "I am just +obliged to get some news. I am on pins: I can't sleep at night; and my +appetite is gone." + +Mr. Sanders looked at the man's haggard face, and immediately became +serious and sympathetic. "Well, I tell you, Silas, you needn't worry +another minnit. The only one amongst 'em that's in real trouble is +Gabriel Tolliver. I've looked into the case from A to Izzard, an' that's +the way it stan's." + +"That is perfectly true," assented Mr. Tidwell. "We can account for the +movements of all the boys on the night of the killing except those of +Tolliver; and he is in considerable danger. By the way, Silas, you said +some time ago--oh, ever so long ago--that you would bring me a copy of +_Blackwood's Magazine_. You remember there was a story in it you wanted +me to read." + +"No, I--well, I tried to find it; I hunted for it high and low; but I +haven't been able to put my hands on it. But I've had so much trouble of +one kind and another, that I clean forgot it. I'm glad you mentioned it; +I'll try to find it again." + +"Well, as a lawyer," said Mr. Tidwell, somewhat significantly--or so it +seemed to Silas--"I don't charge you a cent for telling you that your +case wouldn't stand a minnit." + +"My case--my case! What case? I have no case. Why, I don't know what you +are talking about." He shook his head and waved his hand nervously. + +"Oh, I remember now; your case was purely hypothetical," said Mr. +Tidwell. "Well, your _Blackwood_ was wrong about it." + +"That's what I thought," Silas assented with a grunt; and with that, he +turned abruptly away, and went in the direction of his house. + +"I'll tell you what's the fact," remarked Mr. Sanders, as he watched the +shabby and shrunken figure retreat; "I'm about to change my mind about +Silas. I used to think he was mean all through; but he's got a nice warm +place in his heart for that son of his'n. I declare I feel right sorry +for the man." + +Before Cephas went away, he was not too busy learning the lessons Mr. +Sanders had set for him to forget to hunt up Nan Dorrington and tell her +the wonderful news; to-wit, that he was about to go on a journey, and +that while he was gone he would most likely see Gabriel. + +"Well," said Nan, drawing herself up a little stiffly, "what is that to +me?" Unfortunately, Cephas had come upon the girl when she was talking +with Eugenia Claiborne, who had sought her out at the Lumsden Place. + +Cephas looked at her hard a moment, and then his freckled face turned +red. He was properly angry. "Well, whatever it may be to you, it's a +heap to me," he said. "I hope it's nothing to you." + +"Cephas, will you see Paul Tomlin?" asked Eugenia. "If you do, tell him +that one of his friends sent him her love." + +"Is it sure enough love?" inquired Cephas. + +"Yes, Cephas, it is," replied Eugenia simply and seriously--but her face +was very red. "Tell him that Eugenia Claiborne sent him her love." + +"All right," said Cephas, and turned away without looking at Nan. She +had hurt his feelings. + +This turn of affairs didn't suit Nan at all. She ran after Cephas, and +caught him by the arm. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Cephas, to treat +me so? How could I tell you anything before others? If you see Gabriel, +tell him--oh, I don't know what to say. If I was to tell you what I want +to, you'd say that Nan Dorrington had lost her mind. No, I'll not send +any word, Cephas. It wouldn't be proper in a young lady. If he asks +about me, just tell him that I am well and happy." + +She turned away, in response to a call from Eugenia Claiborne, but she +kept her eyes on Cephas for some time. Evidently she wished to send a +message, but was afraid to. "Don't be angry with me, Cephas," she said, +before the youngster got out of hearing. Cephas made no reply, but +trudged on stolidly. He was at the age when a boy is easily disgusted +with girls and young women. You may call them sweet creatures if you +want to, but a twelve-year-old boy is not to be deceived by fine words. +The sweet creatures are under no restraints when dealing with small +boys, and the small boys are well acquainted with all their worst +traits. What is most strange is that this intimate knowledge is of no +service to them when they grow a little older. They forget all about it +and fall into the first trap that love sets for them. + +Cephas was angry without knowing why. He felt that both Gabriel and +himself had been insulted, though he couldn't have explained the nature +of the insult; and he was all the angrier because he was fond of Nan. +She had been very kind to the little boy--kinder, perhaps, than he +deserved, for he had made the impulsive young lady the victim of many a +practical joke. + +As Cephas went along, it suddenly occurred to him that he had done wrong +to say anything about his proposed journey, and the thought took away +all his resentment. He whirled in his tracks, and ran back to where he +had left the girls. He saw Eugenia Claiborne sauntering along the +street, but Nan was nowhere in sight. He had no trouble in pledging Miss +Claiborne to secrecy, for she was very fond of all sorts of secrets, and +could keep them as well as another girl. + +Nan, she informed Cephas, had expressed a determination to visit him at +his own home, and, in fact, Cephas found her there. She was as sweet as +sugar, and was not at all the same Nan who had drawn herself up proudly +and as good as told Cephas that it was nothing to her that he was going +to see Gabriel. No; this was another Nan, and she had a troubled look in +her eyes that Cephas had never seen there before. + +"I came to see if you were still angry, Cephas," she said by way of +explanation. "I wasn't very nice to you, was I?" + +"Well, I hope you don't mind Cephas," said the lad's mother. "If you do, +he'll keep you guessing. Has he been rude to you, Nan?" + +And it was then that Cephas heard praise poured on his name in a steady +stream. Cephas rude! Cephas saucy! A thousand times no! Why, he was the +best, the kindest, and the brightest child in the town. Nan was so much +in earnest that Cephas had to blush. + +"I didn't know," said his mother. "He has been going with those large +boys so much that I was afraid he was getting too big for his breeches." +She loved her son, but she had no illusions about the nature of boys; +she knew them well. + +"Are you still angry, Cephas?" Nan asked. She appeared very anxious to +be sure on that score. + +"N-o-o," replied Cephas, somewhat doubtfully; he hesitated to surrender +the advantage that he saw he had. + +"Yes, you are," said Nan, "and I think it is very unkind of you. I am +sorry you misunderstood me; if you only knew how I really feel, and how +much trouble I have, you would be sorry instead of angry." + +"I'm the one to blame," said Cephas penitently. "Gabriel says you +dislike him, and I thought he was only guessing. But he knew better than +I did. I had no business to bother you." + +Nan caught her breath. "Did Gabriel say I disliked him?" + +"He didn't say that word," replied Cephas. "I think he said you detested +him, and I told him he didn't know what he was talking about. But he +did; he knew a great deal better than I did, because I didn't really +know until just now." + +"But, Cephas!" cried Nan; "what could have put such an idea in his +head?" Cephas's mother was now busy about the house. + +"I didn't know then, but I know now," remarked the boy stolidly. + +"Don't be unkind, Cephas. If you knew me better, you'd be sorry for me. +You and Gabriel are terribly mistaken. I'm very fond of both of you." + +"Oh, _I_ don't count in this game," Cephas declared. + +"Oh, yes, you do," said Nan. "You are one of my dearest friends, and so +is Gabriel." + +"All right," said Cephas. "If you treat all your dearest friends as you +do Gabriel, I'm very sorry for them." + +"Cephas, if you tell Gabriel what I said while Eugenia Claiborne was +standing there, all ears, I'll never forgive you." Nan was at her wit's +end. + +"Tell him that!" cried Cephas; "why, I wouldn't tell him that, not for +all the world. I'll tell him nothing." + +"Please, Cephas," said Nan. "Tell him"--she paused, and threw her hair +away from her pale face--"tell him that if he doesn't come home soon, I +shall die!" Then her face turned from pale to red, and she laughed +loudly. + +"Well, I certainly sha'n't tell him that," said Cephas. + +"I didn't think you would," said Nan. "You are a nice little boy, and I +am going to kiss you good-bye. If you don't have something sweet to tell +me when you come back, I'll think you detest me--wasn't that Gabriel's +word? Poor Gabriel! he's in prison, and here we are joking about him." + +"I'm not joking about him!" exclaimed Cephas. + +"Just as much as I am," said Nan; and then she leaned over and kissed +Cephas's freckled face, leaving it very red after the operation. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + +_Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends_ + + +It will be observed by those who are accustomed to make note of trifles, +that the chronicler, after packing Cephas off in a barouche with the +handsome Captain Falconer, still manages to retain him in Shady Dale. +For the sake of those who may be puzzled over the matter, let us say +that it is a mistake of the reporter. That is the way our public men +dispose of their unimportant inconsistencies--and the reporter, for his +part, can say that the trouble is due to a typographical error. The +truth is, however, that when a cornfield chronicler finds himself +entangled in a rush of events, even if they are minor ones, he feels +compelled to resort to that pattern of the "P. S." which is so +comforting to the lady writers, and so captivating to their readers. + +Mr. Sanders is supposed to be on his way to Savannah on the same train +with Cephas and Captain Falconer, supposing the train to be on time. +Nevertheless, it is necessary to give a further account of his movements +before he started on the journey that was to prove to be such an +important event in Gabriel's career. + +On the third morning after the arrest of the young men, Mrs. Lumsden +expressed a desire to see Mr. Sanders, but he was nowhere to be found. +Many sympathetic persons, including Nan Dorrington, joined in the +search, but it proved to be a fruitless one. As a matter of fact, Mr. +Sanders had gone to bed early the night before, but a little after +midnight he awoke with a start. This was such an unusual experience that +he permitted it to worry him. He had had no dream, he had heard no +noise; yet he had suddenly come out of a sound and refreshing sleep with +every faculty alert. He struck a match, and looked at his watch. It was +a quarter to one. + +"I wish, plague take 'em!" he said with a snort, "that somebody would +whirl in an' make a match that wouldn't smifflicate the whole house an' +lot." + +He lit the candle, and then proceeded to draw on his clothes. In the +course of this proceeding, he lay back on the bed with his hands under +his head. He lay thus for some minutes, and then suddenly jumped to his +feet with an exclamation. He put on his clothes in a hurry, and went out +to the stables, where he gave his horse a good feed--seventeen ears of +corn and two bundles of fodder. + +Then he returned to the house, and rummaged around until he found a +pitcher of buttermilk and a pone of corn-bread, which he disposed of +deliberately, and with great relish. This done, he changed his clothes, +substituting for those he wore every day the suit he wore on Sundays and +holidays. When all these preparations were complete, the hands of his +watch stood at quarter past three. He had delayed and dillydallied in +order to give his horse time to eat. The animal had taken advantage of +the opportunity, for when Mr. Sanders went to the stables, the Racking +Roan was playfully tossing the bare cobs about in the trough with his +flexible upper lip. + +"Be jigged ef your appetite ain't mighty nigh as good as mine," he +remarked, whereupon the roan playfully bit at him. "Don't do that, my +son," protested Mr. Sanders. "Can't you see I've got on my Sunday duds?" + +To bridle and saddle the horse was a matter of a few moments only, and +when Mr. Sanders mounted, the spirited horse was so evidently in for a +frolic that he was going at a three-minute gait by the time the rider +had thrown a leg over the saddle. + +A horseback ride, when the weather is fine and the sun is shining, is a +very pleasing experience, but it is not to be compared to a ride in the +dark, provided you are on good terms with your horse, and are familiar +with the country. You surrender yourself entirely to the creature's +movements, and if he is a horse equipped with courage, common-sense and +energy, you are lifted entirely out of your everyday life into the +regions of romance and derring-do--whatever that may be. There is no +other feeling like it, no other pleasure to be compared to it; all the +rest smell of the earth. + +"I'm sorter glad I lit that match," Mr. Sanders remarked to the horse. +"It's like gittin' a whiff of the Bad Place, an' then breathin' the +fresh air of heav'n." The reply of the roan was a sharp affirmative +snort. + +The sun was just rising when Mr. Sanders rode into Halcyondale. +Coincident with his arrival, the train from Atlanta came in with a +tremendous clatter. There was much creaking and clanking as it slowed up +at the modest station. It paused just long enough for the mail-bag and a +trunk to be thrown off with a bang, and then it went puffing away. Short +as the pause had been, one of the passengers, in the person of Colonel +Bolivar Blasengame, had managed to escape from it. The Colonel, with his +valise in his hand, paused to watch the train out of sight, and then +leisurely made his way toward his home. To reach that point, he was +compelled to cross the public square, and as he emerged from the side +street leading to the station, he met Mr. Sanders, who had also been +watching the train. + +"Hello, Colonel, how are you? We belong apparently to the early bird +society." + +"Good-morning, Mr. Sanders," replied the Colonel, with a smile of +friendly welcome. "What wind has blown you over here?" + +"Why, I want to see Major Perdue. You know we have had trouble in our +settlement." + +"And you want to see Tomlin because you have had trouble; but why is it, +Mr. Sanders, that your people never think of me when you have trouble? +Am I losing caste in your community?" + +"Well, you know, Colonel, you haven't been over sence the year one; an' +then the Major is kinder kin to one of the chaps that's been took off." + +"Exactly; but did it ever occur to you that whoever is kin to Tomlin is +a little kin to me," remarked the Colonel. "Tomlin is my +brother-in-law--But where are you going now?" + +"Well, I thought I would go to the tavern, have my hoss put up an' fed, +git a snack of somethin' to eat, an' then call on the Major." + +"You hadn't heard, I reckon, that the tavern is closed, and the +livery-stable broke up," said the Colonel, by way of giving the visitor +some useful information. + +At that moment a negro came out on the veranda of the hotel--only the +older people called it a tavern--and rang the bell that meant breakfast +in half an hour. + +"What's that?" inquired Mr. Sanders, though he knew well enough. + +"It's pure habit," replied the Colonel. "That nigger has been ringing +the bell so long that he can't quit it. Anyhow, you can't go to the +tavern, and you can't go to Tomlin's. He's got a mighty big family to +support, Tomlin has. He's fixin' up to have a son-in-law, and he's +already got a daughter, and old Minervy Ann, who brags that she can eat +as much as she can cook. No, you can't impose on Tomlin." + +"Then, what in the world will I do?" Mr. Sanders asked with a laugh. He +was perfectly familiar with the tactics of the Colonel. + +"Well, there wasn't any small-pox or measles at my house when I left day +before yesterday. Suppose we go there, and see if there's anything the +matter. If the stable hasn't blown away or burned down, maybe you'll +find a place for your horse, and then we can scuffle around maybe, and +find something to eat. That's a fine animal you're on. He's the one, I +reckon, that walked the stringer, after the bridge had been washed away. +I never could swallow that tale, Mr. Sanders." + +"Nor me nuther," replied Mr. Sanders. "All I know is that he took me +across the river one dark night after a fresh, an' some folks on t'other +side wouldn't believe I had come across. They got to the place whar the +bridge ought to 'a' been long before dark, and they found it all gone +except one stringer. I seed the stringer arterwards, but I never could +make up my mind that my hoss walked it wi' me a-straddle of his back." + +"Still, if he was my horse," Colonel Blasengame remarked, "I wouldn't +take a thousand dollars for him, and I reckon you've heard it rumoured +around that I haven't got any more money than two good steers could +pull." + +Mr. Sanders turned his horse's head in the direction that Colonel +Blasengame was going, and when they arrived at his home, he stopped at +the gate. "Mr. Sanders," he said, taking out his watch, "I'll bet you +two dollars and a half to a horn button that breakfast will be ready in +ten minutes, and that everything will be fixed as if company was +expected." + +And it was true. By the time the horse had been put in the stable and +fed, breakfast was ready, and when Mr. Sanders was ushered into the +room, Mrs. Blasengame was sitting in her place at the table pouring out +coffee. She was a frail little woman, but her eyes were bright with +energy, and she greeted the unexpected guest as cordially as if he had +come on her express invitation. She had little to say at any time, but +when she spoke her words were always to the purpose. + +"What did you accomplish?" she asked her husband, after Mr. Sanders, as +in duty bound, had praised the coffee and the biscuit, and the meal was +well under way. + +"Nothing, honey; not a thing in the world. I thought the boys had been +carried to Atlanta, but they are at Fort Pulaski." + +Mrs. Blasengame said nothing more, and the Colonel was for talking about +something else, but the curiosity of Mr. Sanders was aroused. + +"What boys was you referrin' to, Colonel?" he asked. + +"I don't like to tell you, Mr. Sanders," replied Colonel Blasengame, +"but if you'll take no offence, I'll say that the boys are from a little +one-horse country settlement called Shady Dale, a place where the people +are asleep day and night. A parcel of Yankees went over there the other +night, snatched four boys out of their beds, and walked off with them." + +"That's so," Mr. Sanders assented. + +"Yes, it's so," cried the Colonel hotly. "And it's a----" He caught the +eye of his wife and subsided. "Excuse me, honey; I'm rather wrought up +over this thing. What worries me," he went on, "is that the boys were +yerked out of bed, and carried off, and then their own families went to +sleep again. But suppose they didn't turn over and go back to sleep: +doesn't that make matters worse? I can't understand it to save my life. +Why, if it had happened here, the whole town would have been wide awake +in ten minutes, and the boys would never have been carried across the +corporation line. Tomlin is mighty near wild about it. If I hadn't gone +to Atlanta, he would have gone; and you know how he is, honey. Somebody +would have got hurt." + +Yet, strange to say, Major Tomlin Perdue was far cooler and more +deliberate than his brother-in-law, Colonel Blasengame. It was the +peculiarity of each that he was anxious to assume all the dangerous +responsibilities with which the other might be confronted; and the only +serious dispute between the two men was in the shape of a hot +controversy as to which should call to account the writer of a card in +which Major Perdue was criticised somewhat more freely than politeness +warranted. + +"You are correct in your statement about the four boys bein' took away," +said Mr. Sanders, "but you'll have to remember that the woods ain't so +full of Blasengames an' Perdues as they used to be; an' you ain't got in +this town a big, heavy balance-wheel the size an' shape of Meriwether +Clopton." + +"Yes, dear, you were about to be too hasty in your remarks," suggested +Mrs. Blasengame. Her soft voice had a strangely soothing effect on her +husband. "If some of our young men had been seized, all of us, including +you, my dear, would have been in a state of paralysis, just as our +friends in Shady Dale were." + +"The only man in town that know'd it," Mr. Sanders explained, "was Silas +Tomlin. He was sleepin' in the same room wi' Paul, an' they rousted him +out, an' took him along. They carried him four or five mile. He had to +walk back, an' by the time he got home, the sun was up." + +"That puts a new light on it," said the Colonel, "and Tomlin will be as +glad to hear it as I am. But I wonder what the rest of the State will +think of us." + +"My dear, didn't these young men, and the Yankees who arrested them, +take the train here?" inquired Mrs. Blasengame. She nodded to Mr. +Sanders, and a peculiar smile began to play over that worthy's features. + +"By George! I believe they did, honey!" exclaimed the Colonel. + +"And in broad daylight?" persisted the lady. + +To this the Colonel made no reply, and Mr. Sanders became the +complainant. "I dunner what we're comin' to," he declared, "when a +passel of Yankees can yerk four of our best young men on a train in this +town in broad daylight, an' all the folks a-stanin' aroun' gapin' at +'em, an' wonderin' what they're gwine to do next." + +"Say no more, Mr. Sanders; say no more--the mule is yours." This in the +slang of the day meant that the point at issue had been surrendered. + +"I suppose Lucy Lumsden is utterly crushed on Gabriel's account," +remarked Mrs. Blasengame. + +"Crushed!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "no, ma'am! not much, if any. She's +fightin' mad." + +"I know well how she feels," said the pale, bright-eyed little woman. +"It is a pity the men can't have the same feeling." + +"Why, honey, what good would it do?" the Colonel asked, somewhat +querulously. + +"It would do no good; it would do harm--to some people." + +"And yet," said the Colonel, turning to Mr. Sanders with a protesting +frown on his face, "when I want to show some fellow that I'm still on +top of the ground, or when Tomlin takes down his gun and goes after some +rascal, she makes such a racket that you'd think the world was coming to +an end." + +"A racket! I make a racket? Why, Mr. Blasengame, I'm ashamed of you! the +idea!" + +"Well, racket ain't the word, I reckon; but you look so sorry, honey, +that to me it's the same as making a racket. It takes all the grit out +of me when I know that you are sitting here, wondering what minute I'll +be brought home cut into jiblets, or shot full of holes." + +Mrs. Blasengame laughed, as she rose from the table. She stood tiptoe to +pin a flower in her husband's button-hole. + +"You've missed a good deal, Mr. Sanders," said the Colonel, stooping to +kiss his wife. "You don't know what a comfort it is to have a little bit +of a woman to boss you, and cuss you out with her eyes when you git on +the wrong track." + +"Yes," said Mr. Sanders, "I allers feel like a widower when I see a man +reely in love wi' his wife. It's a sight that ain't as common as it used +to be. We'll go now, if you're ready, an' see the Major. I ain't got +much time to tarry." + +"Oh, you want me to go too?" said the Colonel eagerly. "Well, I'm your +man; you can just count on me, no matter what scheme you've got on +hand." + +They went to Major Perdue's, and were ushered in by Minervy Ann. "I'm +mighty glad you come," said she; "kaze 'taint been ten minnits sence +Marse Tomlin wuz talkin' 'bout gwine over dar whar you live at; an' he +ain't got no mo' business in de hot sun dan a rabbit is got in a blazin' +brushpile. Miss Vallie done tole 'im so, an' I done tole 'im so. He went +ter bed wid de headache, an' he got up wid it; an' what you call dat, ef +'taint bein' sick? But, sick er well, he'll be mighty glad ter see you." + +Aunt Minervy Ann made haste to inform the Major that he had visitors. "I +tuck 'em in de settin'-room," she said, "kaze dat parlour look ez cold +ez a funer'l. It give me de shivers eve'y time I go in dar. De cheers +set dar like dey waitin' fer ter make somebody feel like dey ain't +welcome, an' dat ar sofy look like a coolin'-board." + +Mr. Sanders was very much at home in the Major's house; he had dandled +Vallie on his knee when she was a baby; and he had made the Major's +troubles his own as far as he could. Consequently the greeting he +received was as cordial as he could have desired. "Major," he said, when +he found opportunity to state the nature of his business, "do you know +young Gabe Tolliver?" + +"Mighty well--mighty well," responded Major Perdue, "and a fine boy he +is. He'll make his mark some day." + +"Not onless we do somethin' to help him out. They ain't no way in the +world he can prove that he didn't kill that feller Hotchkiss. Ike Varner +done the killin', but he's gone, an' I think his wife is fixin' to go to +Atlanta. They've got the dead wood on Gabriel. They ain't no case at all +ag'in the rest; but you know how Gabriel is--he goes moonin' about in +the fields both day an' night, an' it's mighty hard for to put your +finger on him when you want him. An' to make it wuss, Hotchkiss called +his name more'n once before he died. It looks black for Gabriel, an' we +must do somethin' for him." + +Major Perdue leaned forward a little, a frown on his face, and stretched +forth his left hand, in the palm of which he placed the forefinger of +his right. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I'm just as much obliged to +you for coming to me as if you had saved me from drowning. I have come +to the point where I can't hold in much longer, and maybe you'll keep me +from making a fool of myself. I'll say beforehand, I don't care what +your plan is; I don't care to know it--just count on me." + +"And where do I come in?" Colonel Blasengame inquired. + +"Right by my side," responded Major Perdue. + +Without further preliminaries, Mr. Sanders set forth the details of the +programme that had arranged itself in his mind, and when he was through, +Major Perdue leaned back in his chair, and gazed with admiration at the +bland and child-like countenance of this Georgia cracker. The innocence +of childhood shone in Mr. Sanders's blue eyes. + +"I swear, Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of serving +with you in Virginia. If there is anything in this world that I like +it's a man with a head on him, and that's what you've got. You can count +on us if we are alive. I don't know how Bolivar feels about it, but I +feel that you have done me a great favour in thinking of me in +connection with this business. You couldn't pay either of us a higher +compliment." + +"Tomlin expresses my views exactly," said Colonel Blasengame; "yet I +feel that one of us will be enough. It may be that your scheme will +fail, and that those who are engaged in it will have to take the +consequence. Now, I'd rather take 'em alone than to have Tumlin mixed up +with it." + +"Fiddlesticks, Bolivar! you couldn't keep me out of it unless you had a +bench-warrant served on me five minutes before the train left, and if +you try that, I'll have one served on you. Now, don't forget to tell +Tidwell that I'll be glad to renew that dispute. I bear no malice, but +when it comes to a row, I don't need malice to keep my mind and my gun +in working order. I'm going down to Malvern to-morrow, and before I come +away, I'll have everything fixed. There are some details, you know, that +never occurred to you: the police, for instance. Well, the chief of +police is a very good friend of mine, and the major was Bolivar's +adjutant." + +"Well, I thank the Lord for all his mercies!" cried Mr. Sanders; and he +meant what he said. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + +_Nan and Margaret_ + + +It was hinted in some of the early chapters of this chronicle that none +of the characters would turn out to be very heroic, but this was a +mistake. The chronicler had forgotten a few episodes that grew out of +the expedition of Cephas to Fort Pulaski--episodes that should have +stood out clear in his memory from the first. Cephas was very meek and +humble when he started on his expedition, so much so that there were +long moments when he would have given a large fortune, if he had +possessed it, to be safe at home with his mother. A hundred times he +asked himself why he had been foolish enough to come away from home, and +trust himself to the cold mercy of the world; and he promised himself +faithfully that if he ever got back home alive, he would never leave +there again. + +Captain Falconer was very kind and attentive to the lad, but he was also +very inquisitive. He asked Cephas a great many artful questions, all +leading up to the message he was to deliver to Gabriel; but the +instructions he had received from Mr. Sanders made Cephas more than a +match for the Captain. When the lad came to the years of maturity, he +often wondered how a plain and comparatively ignorant countryman could +foresee the questions that were to be asked, and provide simple and +satisfactory answers to them; and the matter is still a mystery. + +Well, Cephas was not a hero when he started, and if the truth is to be +told, he developed none of the symptoms until he had returned home +safely, accompanied by Mr. Sanders. Then he became the lion of the +village, and was sought after by old and young. All wanted to hear the +story of his wonderful adventures. He speedily became a celebrated +Cephas, and when he found that he was really regarded as a hero by his +schoolmates, and by some of the young women, he was quick to appropriate +the character. He became reticent; he went about with a sort of weary +and travel-worn look, as if he had seen everything that was worth +seeing, and heard everything that was worth hearing. + +Now, what Cephas had seen and heard was bad enough. He could hardly be +brought to believe that the haggard and wild-eyed young fellow who +answered to Gabriel's name at the fort was the Gabriel that he had +known, and when he made up his mind that it really was Gabriel, he +couldn't hold the tears back. "Brace up, old man," said Gabriel. It was +then in a choking voice that Cephas delivered Mr. Sanders's message, +using the dog-latin which they both knew so well. And in that tongue +Gabriel told Cephas of the tortures to which he and his fellow-prisoners +had been subjected, of the horrors of the sweat-boxes, and the terrors +of the wrist-rack. So effective was the narrative that Gabriel rattled +off in the school tongue, that when he was ordered back to his solitary +cell, Cephas turned away weeping. He was no hero then; he was simply a +small boy with a tender heart. + +There were grave faces at Shady Dale when Cephas told what he had seen +and heard. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, became almost savage +when he heard of the indignities to which the unfortunate young men had +been subjected. He wrote a card and published it in the _Malvern +Recorder_, and the card was so much to the purpose, and created such +indignation in the State, that the authorities at Washington took +cognisance thereof, and issued orders that there was to be no more +torture of the prisoners. This fact, however, was not known until months +afterward, and, meanwhile, the newspapers of Georgia were giving a wide +publicity to the cruelties which had been practised on the young men, +and radicalism became the synonym of everything that was loathsome and +detestable. Reprisals were made in all parts of the State, and as was to +be expected, the negroes were compelled to bear the brunt of all the +excitement and indignation. + +The tale that Cephas told to Mr. Sanders was modest when compared to the +inventions that occurred to his mind after he found how easy it was to +be a hero. Though he pretended to be heartily tired of the whole +subject, there was nothing that tickled him more than to be cornered by +a crowd of his schoolmates and comrades, all intent on hearing anew the +awful recital which Cephas had prepared after his return. + +One of the first to seek Cephas out was Nan Dorrington, and this was +precisely what the young hero wanted. He was very cold and indifferent +when Nan besought him to tell her all about his trip. How did he enjoy +himself? and didn't he wish he was back at home many a time? And what +did Paul and Jesse have to say? Ah, Cephas had his innings now! + +"I didn't see Paul and Jesse," replied Cephas, "and I didn't see Francis +Bethune." + +"Did they have them hid?" asked Nan. + +"I don't know. The one I saw was in a black dungeon. I couldn't hardly +see his face, and when I did see it, I was sorry I saw it." Cephas +leaned back against the fence with the air of a fellow who has seen too +much. Nan was dying to ask a hundred questions about the one Cephas had +seen, but she resented his indifferent and placid attitude. All heroes +are placid and indifferent when they discuss their deeds, but they +wouldn't be if the public in general felt toward them as Nan felt toward +Cephas. The only reason she didn't seize the little fellow and give him +a good shaking was the fact that she was dying to hear all he had to say +about his visit, and all about Gabriel. + +Gradually Cephas thawed out. One or the other had to surrender, and the +small boy had no such incentive to silence as Nan had. His pride was not +involved, whereas Nan would have gone to the rack and suffered herself +to be pulled to pieces before she would have asked any direct questions +about Gabriel. + +"I'm mighty sorry I went," said Cephas finally, and then he stopped +short. + +"Why?" inquired Nan. + +"Oh, well--I don't know exactly. I thought I would find everybody just +like they were before they went away, but the one I saw looked like a +drove of mules had trompled on him. He didn't have on any coat, and his +shirt was torn and dirty, and his face looked like he had been sick a +month. His eyes were hollow, and had black circles around them." + +"Did he say anything?" asked Nan in a low tone. + +"Yes, he said, 'Brace up, old man.'" + +"Was that all?" + +"And then he asked if anybody had sent him any word, and I said, 'Nobody +but Mr. Sanders'; and then he said, 'I might have known that he wouldn't +forget me.'" Cephas could see Nan crushing her handkerchief in her hand, +and he enjoyed it immensely. + +"Was he angry with any one?" Nan asked. + +"Why, when did anybody ever hear of his being angry with any one he +thought was a friend?" exclaimed Cephas scornfully. Nan writhed at this, +and Cephas went on. "He had been tied up by the wrists, and then he had +been put in a sweat-box, and nearly roasted--yes, by grabs! pretty nigh +cooked." + +"Why, you didn't tell his grandmother that," said Nan. + +"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Cephas. "What do you take me for? Do +you reckon I'd tell that to anybody that cared anything for him? Why, I +wouldn't tell his grandmother that for anything in the world, and if she +was to ask me about it, I'd deny it." + +This arrow went home. Cephas had the unmixed pleasure of seeing Nan turn +pale. "I think you are simply awful," she gasped. "You are cruel, and +you are unkind. You know very well that I care something for Gabriel. +Haven't we been friends since we were children together? Do you suppose +I have no feelings?" + +"I know what you said when I told you I was going to see Gabriel." + +"What was that?" inquired Nan. + +"Why, you said, 'Well, what is that to me?'" exclaimed Cephas. He +twisted his face awry, and mimicked Nan's voice with considerable +success, only he made it more spiteful than that charming young woman +could have done. + +"Yes, I did say that, but didn't I go to your house, and tell you what +to say to Gabriel?" + +Cephas laughed scornfully. "Did you think I was going to swallow the +joke that you and that Claiborne girl hatched up between you? Do you +reckon I'm fool enough to tell Gabriel that you'll die if he don't come +home soon?" + +"You didn't tell him, then?" + +"No, I didn't," replied Cephas. "I would cut off one of my fingers +before I'd let him know that there were people here at home making fun +of him." + +Nan gazed at Cephas as if she suspected him of a joke. But she saw that +he was very much in earnest. "I'm glad you didn't tell him," she said +finally. Then she laughed, saying, "Cephas, I really did think you had a +little sense." + +"I have sense enough not to hurt the feelings of them that like me," the +boy replied. And he went on his way, trying to reconcile the Nan +Dorrington who used to be so kind to him with the Nan Dorrington who was +flirting and flitting around with long skirts on. He failed, as older +and more experienced persons have failed. + +But you may be sure that he felt himself no less a hero because Nan +Dorrington had hinted that he had no sense. He knew where the lack of +sense was. After awhile, when interested persons ceased to run after him +to get all the particulars of his visit to Fort Pulaski, he threw +himself in their way, and when the details of his journey began to pall +on the appetite of his friends, he invented new ones, and in this way +managed to keep the centre of the stage for some time. When he could no +longer interest the older folk, he had the school-children to fall back +upon, and you may believe that he caused the youngsters to sit with +open-mouthed wonder at the tales he told. The fact that he stammered a +little, and sometimes hesitated for a word, made not the slightest +difference with his audience of young people. + +There was one fact that bothered Cephas. He had been told that Francis +Bethune was in love with Margaret Gaither, and he knew that the young +man was a constant caller at Neighbour Tomlin's, where Margaret lived. +Indeed, he had carried notes to her from the young man, and had +faithfully delivered the replies. He judged, therefore, as well as a +small boy can judge, that there was some sort of an understanding +between the two, and he itched for the opportunity to pour the tale of +his adventures into Margaret's ears. He loitered around the house, and +threw himself in Margaret's way when she went out visiting or shopping. +She greeted him very kindly on each particular occasion, but not once +did she betray any interest in Francis Bethune or his fellow-prisoners. + +When Nan met Cephas, on the occasion of the interview which has just +been reported, she was on her way to Neighbour Tomlin's to pay a visit +to Margaret, and thither she went, after giving Cephas the benefit of +her views as to his mental capacity. Margaret happened to be out at the +moment, but Miss Fanny insisted that Nan should come in anyhow. + +"Margaret will be back directly," Miss Fanny said; "she has only gone to +the stores to match a piece of ribbon. Besides, I want to talk to you a +little while. But good gracious! what is the matter with you? I expected +cheerfulness from you at least, but what do I find? Well, you and +Margaret should live in the same house; they say misery loves company. +Here I was about to ask you why Margaret is unhappy, and I find you +looking out of Margaret's eyes. Are you unhappy, too?" + +"No, Aunt Fanny, I'm not unhappy; I'm angry. I don't see why girls +should become grown. Why, I was always in a good humour until I put on +long skirts, and then my troubles began. I can neither run nor play; I +must be on my dignity all the time for fear some one will raise her +hands and say, 'Do look at that Nan Dorrington! Isn't she a bold piece?' +I never was so tired of anything in my life as I am of being grown. I +never will get used to it." + +"Oh, you'll get in the habit of it after awhile, child," said Miss +Fanny. "But I never would have believed that Nan Dorrington would care +very much for what people said." + +"Oh, it isn't on my account that I care," remarked Nan, with a toss of +her head, "but I don't want my friends to have their feelings hurt by +what other people say. If there is anything in this world I detest it is +dignity--I don't mean Margaret's kind, because she was born so and can't +help it--but the kind that is put on and taken off like a summer bonnet. +If I can't be myself, I'll do like Leese Clopton did, I'll go into a +convent." + +"Well, you certainly would astonish the nuns when you began to cut some +of your capers," Miss Fanny declared. + +"Am I as bad as all that? Tell me honestly, Aunt Fanny, now while I am +in the humour to hear it, what do I do that is so terrible?" + +"Honestly, Nan, you do nothing terrible at all. Not even Miss Puella +Gillum could criticise you." + +"Why, Miss Puella never criticises any one. She's just as sweet as she +can be." + +"Well, she's an old maid, you know, and old maids are supposed to be +critical," said Miss Fanny. "I'll tell you where all the trouble is, +Nan: you are sensitive, and you have an idea that you must behave as +some of the other girls do--that you must hold your hands and your head +just so. If you would be yourself, and forget all about etiquette and +manners, you'd satisfy everybody, especially yourself." + +"Why, that is what worries me now; I do forget all about those things, +and then, all of a sudden, I realise that I am acting like a child, and +a very noisy child at that, and then I'm afraid some one will make +remarks. It is all very miserable and disagreeable, and I wish there +wasn't a long skirt in the world." + +"Well, when you get as old as I am," sighed Miss Fanny, "you won't mind +little things like that. Margaret is coming now. I'll leave you with +her. Try to find out why she is unhappy. Pulaski is nearly worried to +death about it, and so am I." + +Margaret Gaither came in as sedately as an old woman. She was very fond +of Nan, and greeted her accordingly. Whatever her trouble was, it had +made no attack on her health. She had a fine color, and her eyes were +bright; but there was the little frown between her eyebrows that had +attracted the attention of Gabriel, and it gave her a troubled look. + +"If you'll tell me something nice and pleasant," she said to Nan, "I'll +be under many obligations to you. Tell me something funny, or if you +don't know anything funny, tell me something horrible--anything for a +change. I saw Cephas downtown; that child has been trying for days to +tell me of his adventures, and I have been dying to hear them. But I +keep out of his way; I am so perverse that I refuse to give myself that +much pleasure. Oh, if you only knew how mean I am, you wouldn't sit +there smiling. I hear that the dear boys are having a good deal of +trouble. Well, it serves them right; they had no business to be boys. +They should have been girls; then they would have been perfectly happy +all the time. Don't you think so, sweet child?" + +Nan regarded her friend with astonishment. She had never heard her talk +in such a strain before. "Why, what is the matter with you, Margaret? +You know that girls can be as unhappy as boys; yes, and a thousand times +more so." + +"Oh, I'll never believe it! never!" cried Margaret. "Why, do you mean to +tell me that any girl can be unhappy? You'll have to prove it, Nan; +you'll have to give the name, and furnish dates, and then you'll have to +give the reason. Do you mean to insinuate that you intend to offer +yourself as the horrible example? Fie on you, Nan! You're in love, and +you mistake that state for unhappiness. Why, that is the height of +bliss. Look at me! I'm in love, and see how happy I am!" + +"I know one thing," said Nan, and her voice was low and subdued, "if you +go on like that, you'll frighten me away. Do you want to make your best +friends miserable?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Margaret. "What are friends for? I should +dislike very much to have a friend that I couldn't make miserable. But +if you think you are going to run away, come up to my room and we'll +lock ourselves in, and then I know you can't get away." + +"Now, what is the matter?" Nan insisted, when they had gone upstairs, +and were safe in Margaret's room. She had seized her friend in her arms, +and her tone was imploring. + +"I don't think I can tell you, Nan; you would consider me a fool, and I +want to keep your good opinion. But I can tell you a part of my +troubles. He wants me to marry Francis Bethune! Think of that!" She +paused and looked at Nan. "Well, why don't you congratulate me?" + +"I'll never believe that," said Nan, decisively. "Did he say that he +wanted you to marry Frank Bethune?" The "he" in this case was Pulaski +Tomlin. + +"Well, he didn't insist on it; he's too kind for that. But Francis has +been coming here very often, until our friends in blue gave him a +much-needed rest, and I suppose I must have been going around looking +somewhat gloomy; you know how I am--I can't be gay; and then he asked me +what the trouble was, and finally said that Francis would make me a good +husband. Why, I could have killed myself! Think of me, in this house, +and occupying the position I do!" + +Such heat and fury Nan had never seen her friend display before. "Why, +Margaret!" she cried, "you don't know what you are saying. Why, if he or +Aunt Fanny could hear you, they would be perfectly miserable. I don't +see how you can feel that way." + +"No, you don't, and I hope you never will!" exclaimed Margaret. "Nobody +knows how I feel. If I could, I would tell you--but I can't, I can't!" + +"Margaret," said Nan, in a most serious tone, "has he or Aunt Fanny +ever treated you unkindly?" Nan was prepared to hear the worst. + +"Unkindly!" cried Margaret, bursting into tears; "oh, I wish they would! +I wish they would treat me as I deserve to be treated. Oh, if he would +treat me cruelly, or do something to wound my feelings, I would bless +him." + +Margaret had led Nan into a strange country, so to speak, and she knew +not which way to turn or what to say. Something was wrong, but what? Of +all Nan's acquaintances, Margaret was the most self-contained, the most +evenly balanced. Many and many a time Nan had envied Margaret's +serenity, and now here she was in tears, after talking as wildly as some +hysterical person. + +"Come home with me, Margaret," cried Nan. "Maybe the change would do you +good." + +"I thank you, Nan. You are as good as you can be; you are almost as good +as the people here; but I can't go. I can't leave this house for any +length of time until I leave it for good. I'd be wild to get back; my +misery fascinates me; I hate it and hug it." + +"I am sure that I don't understand you at all," said Nan, in a tone of +despair. + +"No, and you never will," Margaret affirmed. "To understand you would +have to feel as I do, and I hope you may be spared that experience all +the days of your life." + +After awhile Nan decided that Margaret would be more comfortable if she +were alone, and so she bade her friend good-bye, and went downstairs, +where she found Miss Fanny awaiting her somewhat impatiently. + +"Well, what is the trouble, child?" she asked. + +Nan shook her head. "I don't know, Aunt Fanny, and I don't believe she +knows herself." + +"But didn't she give you some hint--some intimation? I don't want to be +inquisitive, child; but if she's in trouble, I want to find some remedy +for it. Pulaski is in a terrible state of mind about her, and I am +considerably worried myself. We love her just as much as if she were our +own, and yet we can't go to her and make a serious effort to discover +what is worrying her. She is proud and sensitive, and we have to be very +careful. Oh, I hope we have done nothing to wound that child's +feelings." + +"It isn't that," replied Nan. "I asked her, and she said that you +treated her too kindly." + +"Well," sighed Miss Fanny, "if she won't confide in us, she'll have to +bear her troubles alone. It is a pity, but sometimes it is best." + +And then there came a knock on the door, and it was so sudden and +unexpected that Nan gave a jump. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + +_Bridalbin Finds His Daughter_ + + +"They's a gentleman out there what says he wanter see Miss Bridalbin," +said the house-girl who had gone to the door. "I tol' him they wan't no +sech lady here, but he say they is. It's that there Mr. Borin'," the +girl went on, "an' I didn't know if you'd let him go in the parlour." + +"Yes, ask him in the parlour," said Miss Fanny, "and then go upstairs +and tell Miss Margaret that some one wants to see her." + +"Oh, yessum!" said the house-girl with a laugh; "it's Miss Marg'ret; I +clean forgot her yuther name." + +"The rascal certainly has impudence," remarked Miss Fanny. "Pulaski +should know about this." Whereupon, she promptly called Neighbour Tomlin +out of the library, and he came into the room just as Margaret came +downstairs. + +"Wait one moment, Margaret," he said. "It may be well for me to see what +this man wants--unless----" He paused. "Do you know this Boring?" + +"No; I have heard of him. I have never even seen him that I know of." + +"Then I'll see him first," said Neighbour Tomlin. He went into the +parlour, and those who were listening heard a subdued murmur of voices. + +"What is your business with Miss Bridalbin?" Neighbour Tomlin asked, +ignoring the proffered hand of the visitor. + +"I am her father." + +Neighbour Tomlin stood staring at the man as if he were dazed. +Bridalbin's face bore the unmistakable marks of alcoholism, and he had +evidently prepared himself for this interview by touching the bottle, +for he held himself with a swagger. + +Neighbour Tomlin said not a word in reply to the man's declaration. He +stared at him, and turned and went back into the sitting-room where he +had left the others. + +"Why, Pulaski, what on earth is the matter?" cried Miss Fanny, as he +entered the room. "You look as if you had seen a ghost." And indeed his +face was white, and there was an expression in his eyes that Nan thought +was most piteous. + +"Go in, my dear," he said to Margaret. "The man has business with you." +And then, when Margaret had gone out, he turned to Miss Fanny. "It is +her father," he said. + +"Well, I wonder what's he up to?" remarked Miss Fanny. There was a touch +of anger in her voice. "She shan't go a step away from here with such a +creature as that." + +"She is her own mistress, sister. She is twenty years old," replied +Neighbour Tomlin. + +"Well, she'll be very ungrateful if she leaves us," said Miss Fanny, +with some emphasis. + +"Don't, sister; never use that word again; to me it has an ugly sound. +We have had no thought of gratitude in the matter. If there is any debt +in the matter, we are the debtors. We have not been at all happy in the +way we have managed things. I have seen for some time that Margaret is +unhappy; and we have no business to permit unhappiness to creep into +this house." So said Neighbour Tomlin, and the tones of his voice seemed +to issue from the fountains of grief. + +"Well, I am sure I have done all I could to make the poor child happy," +Miss Fanny declared. + +"I am sure of that," said Neighbour Tomlin. "If any mistake has been +made it is mine. And yet I have never had any other thought than to make +Margaret happy." + +"I know that well enough, Pulaski," Miss Fanny assented, "and I have +sometimes had an idea that you thought too much about her for your own +good." + +"That is true," he replied. He was a merciless critic of himself in +matters both great and small, and he had no concealments to make. He was +open as the day, except where openness might render others unhappy or +uncomfortable. "Yes, you are right," he insisted; "I have thought too +much about her happiness for my own good, and now I see myself on the +verge of great trouble." + +"If Margaret understood the situation," said Miss Fanny, "I think she +would feel differently." + +"On the contrary, I think she understands the situation perfectly well; +that is the only explanation of her troubles which she has not sought to +conceal." + +At that moment Margaret came to the door. Her face was very pale, almost +ghastly, indeed, but whatever trouble may have looked from her eyes +before, they were clear now. She came into the room with a little smile +hovering around her mouth. She had no eyes for any one but Pulaski +Tomlin, and to him she spoke. + +"My father has come," she said. "He is not such a father as I would have +selected; still, he is my father. I knew him the moment I opened the +door. He wants me to go with him; he says he is able to provide for me. +He has claims on me." + +"Have we none?" Miss Fanny asked. + +"More than anybody in the world," replied Margaret, turning to her; +"more than all the rest of the world put together. But I have always +said to myself," she addressed Neighbour Tomlin again, "that if it +should ever happen that I found myself unable to carry out your wishes, +sir, it would be best for me to leave your roof, where all my happiness +has come to me." She was very humble, both in speech and demeanour. + +Neighbour Tomlin looked at her with a puzzled and a grieved expression. +"Why, I don't understand you, Margaret," said Neighbour Tomlin. "What +wish of mine have you found yourself unable to carry out?" + +"Only one, sir; but that was a very important one; you desired me to +marry Mr. Bethune." + +"I? Why, you were never more mistaken in your life," replied Neighbour +Tomlin, with what Miss Fanny thought was unnecessary energy. "I may have +suggested it; I saw you gloomy and unhappy, and I had observed the +devotion of the young man. What more natural than for me to suggest +that--Margaret! you are giving me a terrible wound!" He turned and went +into the library, and Margaret ran after him. + +It is probable that Nan knows better than any outsider what occurred +then. It seems that Margaret, in her excitement, forgot to close the +door after her, and Nan was sitting where she could see pretty much +everything that happened; and she had a delicious little tale to tell +her dear Johnny when she went home, a tale so impossible and romantic +that she forgot her own troubles, and fairly glowed with happiness. But +it is best not to depend too much on what Nan saw, though her sight was +fairly good where her interests were enlisted. + +Margaret ran after Neighbour Tomlin and seized him by the arm. "Oh, I +never meant to wound you," she cried--"you who have been so kind, and so +good! Oh, if you could only read my heart, you would forgive me, +instantly and forever." + +"I can read my own heart," said Neighbour Tomlin, "and it has but one +feeling for you." + +"Then kiss me good-bye," she said. "I am going with my father." + +"If I kiss you," he replied, "you'll not go." + +She looked at him, and he at her, and she found herself in the focus of +a light that enabled her to see everything more clearly. She caught his +secret and he hers, and there was no longer any room for +misunderstanding. Her father, weak as he was, had been strong enough to +provide his daughter with a remedy for the only serious trouble, short +of bereavement, that his daughter was ever to know. She refused to +return to the parlour, where he awaited her. + +"Shall I go?" said Neighbour Tomlin. + +"If you please, sir," said Margaret, with a faint smile. She could +hardly realise the change that had so suddenly taken place in her hopes +and her plans, so swift and unexpected had it been. + +Neighbour Tomlin went into the parlour, and made Bridalbin acquainted +with the facts. + +"Margaret has changed her mind," said Neighbour Tomlin. "She thinks it +is best to remain under the care and protection of those whom she knows +better than she knows her father." + +"Why, she seemed eager to go a moment ago," said Bridalbin; "and you +must remember that she is my daughter." + +"Her friends couldn't forget that under all the circumstances," +Neighbour Tomlin remarked drily. + +"I believe her mind has been poisoned against me," Bridalbin declared. + +"That is quite possible," replied Neighbour Tomlin; "and I think you +could easily guess the name of the poisoner." + +"May I see my daughter?" + +"That rests entirely with her," said Neighbor Tomlin. + +But Margaret refused to see him again. Since her own troubles had been +so completely swept away, her memory reverted to all the troubles her +mother had to endure, as the result of Bridalbin's lack of fixed +principles, and she sent him word that she would prefer not to see him +then or ever afterward; and so the man went away, more bent on doing +mischief than ever, though he was compelled to change his field of +operations. + +And then, after he was gone, a silence fell on the company. Nan appeared +to be in a dazed condition, while Miss Fanny sat looking out of the +window. Margaret, very much subdued, was clinging to Nan, and Neighbour +Tomlin was pacing up and down in the library in a glow of happiness. All +his early dreams had come back to him, and they were true. The romance +of his youth had been changed into a reality. + +Margaret was the first to break the silence. She left Nan, and went +slowly to Miss Fanny, and stood by her chair. "What do you think of me?" +she said, in a low voice. + +For answer, Miss Fanny rose and placed her arms around the girl, and +held her tightly for a moment, and then kissed her. + +"But I do think, my dear," she said with an effort to laugh, "that the +matter might have been arranged without frightening us to death." + +"I had no thought of frightening you. Oh, I am afraid I had no thought +for anything but my own troubles. Did you know? Did you guess?" + +"I knew about Pulaski, but I had to go away from home to learn the news +about you. Madame Awtry called my attention to it, and then with my +eyes upon, I could see a great many things that were not visible +before." + +"Why, how could she know?" cried Margaret. "I have talked with her not +more than a half dozen times." + +"She is a very wise woman," Miss Fanny remarked, by way of explanation. + +"Well, when I get in love, I'll not visit Madame Awtry," said Nan. + +"My dear, you have been there once too often," Miss Fanny declared. + +"Why, what has she been telling you?" inquired Nan, blushing very red. + +"I'll not disclose your secrets, Nan," answered Miss Fanny. + +"I would thank you kindly, if I had any," said Nan. + +And then, suddenly, while Margaret was standing with her arms around +Miss Fanny, she began to blush and show signs of embarrassment. + +"Nan," she said, "will you take a boarder for--for--for I don't know how +long?" + +"Not for long, Nan. Say a couple of weeks." It was Neighbour Tomlin who +spoke, as he came out of the library. + +"Oh, for longer than that," protested Margaret. + +"You must remember that I am getting old, child," he said very solemnly. + +"So am I, sir," she said archly. "I am quite as old as you are, I +think." + +"This is the first quarrel," Nan declared, "and who knows how it will +all end? You are to come and stay as long as you please, and then after +that, you are to stay as long as I please." + +"I declare, Nan, you talk like an old woman!" exclaimed Miss Fanny; +whereupon Nan laughed and said she had to be serious sometimes. + +And so it was arranged that Margaret was to stay with Nan for an +indefinite period. "I hope you will come to see me occasionally, Mr. +Tomlin, and you too, Aunt Fanny," she said with mock formality. "We +shall have days for receiving company, just as the fine ladies do in the +cities; and you'll have to send in your cards." + +The two young women refused to go in the carriage. + +"It is so small and stuffy," said Margaret to Neighbour Tomlin, "and +to-day I want to be in the fresh air. If you please, sir, don't look at +me like that, or I can never go." She went close to him. "Oh, is it all +true? Is it really and truly true, or is it a dream?" + +"It is true," he said, kissing her. "It is a dream, but it is my dream +come true." + +"I didn't think," she said, as she went along with Nan, "that the world +was as beautiful as it seems to be to-day." + +"Mr. Sanders says," replied Nan, "that it is the most comfortable world +he has ever found; but somehow--well, you know we can't all be happy the +same way at the same time." + +"Your day is still to come," said Margaret, "and when it does, I want to +be there." + +"You say that," remarked Nan, "but you know you would have felt better +if you hadn't had so much company. For a wonder Tasma Tid wouldn't go in +the house with me. She said something was happening in there. Now, how +did she know?" Tasma Tid had joined them as they came through the gate, +and now Nan turned to her with the question. + +"Huh! we know dem trouble w'en we see um. Dee ain't no trouble now. She +done gone--dem trouble. But yan' come mo'." She pointed to Miss Polly +Gaither, who came toddling along with her work-bag and her turkey-tail +fan. + +"Howdy, girls? I'm truly glad to see you. You are looking well both of +you, and health is a great blessing. I have just been to Lucy Lumsden's, +Nan, and she thinks a great deal of you. I could tell you things that +would turn your head. But I'm really sorry for Lucy; she's almost as +lonely as I am. They say Gabriel is sure to be dealt with; I'm told +there is no other way out of it. Have you two heard anything?" Margaret +and Nan shook their heads, but gestures of that kind were not at all +satisfactory to Miss Polly. "They say that little Cephas was sent down +to prepare Gabriel for the worst. But I didn't say a word about that to +Lucy, and if you two girls go there, you must be very careful not to +drop a word about it. Lucy is getting old, and she can't bear up under +trouble as she used to could. She has aged wonderfully in the past few +weeks. Don't you think so, Nan?" + +She held up her ear-trumpet as she spoke, and Nan made a great pretence +of yelling into it, though not a sound issued from her lips. Miss Polly +frowned. "Don't talk so loud, my dear; you will make people think I'm a +great deal deafer than I am. But you always would yell at me, though I +have asked you a dozen times to speak only in ordinary tones. Well, I +don't agree with you about Lucy. She has broken terribly since Gabriel +was carried off; she is not the same woman, she takes no interest in +affairs at all. I told her a piece of astonishing news, and she paid no +more attention to it than if she hadn't heard it; and she didn't use to +be that way. Well, we all have our troubles, and you two will have yours +when you grow a little older. That is one thing of which there is always +enough left to go around. The supply is never exhausted." + +After delivering this truism, Miss Polly waved her turkey-tail fan as +majestically as she knew how, and went toddling along home. Miss Polly +was a kind-hearted woman, but she couldn't resist the inclination to +gossip and tattle. Her tattle did no harm, for her weakness was well +advertised in that community; but, unfortunately, her deafness had made +her both suspicious and irritable. When in company, for instance, she +insisted on feeling that people were talking about her when the +conversation was not carried on loud enough for her to hear the sound of +the voices, if not the substance of what was said, and she had a way of +turning to the one closest at hand, with the remark, "They should have +better manners than to talk of the afflictions of an old woman, for it +is not at all certain that they will escape." Naturally this would call +out a protest on the part of all present, whereupon Miss Polly would +shake her head, and remark that she was not as deaf as many people +supposed; that, in fact, there were days when she could hear almost as +well as she heard before the affliction overtook her. + +"I wonder," said Nan, whose curiosity was always ready to be aroused, +"what piece of astonishing news Miss Polly has been telling Grandmother +Lumsden. Perhaps she has told her of the events of the morning at Mr. +Tomlin's." + +"That is absurd, Nan," Margaret declared. "Still, it would make no +difference to me. He was the only person that I ever wanted to hide my +feelings from. I never so much as dreamed that he could care for +me--and, oh, Nan! suppose that he should be pretending simply to please +me!" + +"You goose!" cried Nan. "Whoever heard of that man pretending, or trying +to deceive any one? If he was a young man, now, it would be different." + +"Not with all young men," Margaret asserted. "There is Gabriel +Tolliver--I don't believe he would deceive any one." + +"Oh, Gabriel--but why do you mention Gabriel?" + +"Because his eyes are so beautiful and honest," answered Margaret. + +But Nan tossed her head; she would never believe anything good about +Gabriel unless she said it herself--or thought it, for she could think +hundreds, yes, thousands, of things about Gabriel that she wouldn't dare +to breathe aloud, even though there was no living soul within a hundred +miles. And that fact needn't make Gabriel feel so awfully proud, for +there were other persons and things she could think about. + +Ah, well! love is such a restless, suspicious thing, such an irritating, +foolish, freakish, solemn affair, that it is not surprising the two +young women were somewhat afraid of it when they found themselves in its +clutches. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY + +_Miss Polly Has Some News_ + + +The news which Miss Polly had laid as a social offering at Mrs. Lucy +Lumsden's feet, and which she boasted was very astonishing, had the +appearance of absurdity on the face of it. Miss Polly, with her work-bag +and her turkey-tail fan, had paid a very early visit to the Lumsden +Place. She went in very quietly, greeted her old friend in a subdued +manner, and then sat staring at her with an expression that Mrs. Lumsden +failed to understand. It might have been the result of special and +unmitigated woe, or of physical pain, or of severe fatigue. Whatever the +cause, it was unnatural, and so Gabriel's grandmother made haste to +inquire about it. + +"Why, what in the world is the matter, Polly? Are you ill?" + +At this Miss Polly acted as if she had been aroused from a dream or a +revery. Her work-bag slid from her lap, and her turkey-tail fan would +have fallen had it not been attached to her wrist by a piece of faded +ribbon. "I declare, Lucy, I don't know that I ought to tell you; and I +wouldn't if I thought you would repeat it to a living soul. It is more +than marvellous; it is, indeed, Lucy"--leaning a little nearer, and +lowering her voice, which was never very loud--"I honestly believe that +Ritta Claiborne is in love with old Silas Tomlin! I certainly do." + +"You must have some reason for believing that," said Mrs. Lumsden, with +a benevolent smile, the cause of which the ear-trumpet could not +interpret. + +"Reasons! I have any number, Lucy. I'm certain you won't believe me, but +it has come to that pass that old Silas calls on her every night, and +they sit in the parlour there and talk by the hour, sometimes with +Eugenia, and sometimes without her. It would be no exaggeration at all +if I were to tell you that they are talking together in that parlour +five nights out of the seven. Now, what do they mean by that?" + +"Why, there's nothing in that, Polly. I have heard that they are old +acquaintances. Surely old acquaintances can talk together, and be +interested in one another, without being in love. Why, very frequently +of late Meriwether Clopton comes here. I hope you don't think I'm in +love with him." + +"Certainly not, Lucy, most certainly not. But do you have Meriwether's +portrait hanging in your parlour? And do you go and sit before it, and +study it, and sometimes shake your finger at it playfully? I tell you, +Lucy, there are some queer people in this world, and Ritta Claiborne is +one of them." + +"She is excellent company," said Mrs. Lumsden. + +"She is, she is," Miss Polly assented. "She is full of life and fun; she +sees the ridiculous side of everything; and that is why I can't +understand her fondness for old Silas. It is away beyond me. Why, Lucy, +she treats that portrait as if it were alive. What she says to it, I +can't tell you, for my hearing is not as good now as it was before my +ears were affected. But she says something, for I can see her lips move, +and I can see her smile. My eyesight is as good now as ever it was. I'm +telling you what I saw, not what I heard. The way she went on over that +portrait was what first attracted my attention; but for that I would +never have had a suspicion. Now, what do you think of it, Lucy?" + +"Nothing in particular. If it is true, it would be a good thing for +Silas. He is not as mean as a great many people think he is." + +"He may not be, Lucy," responded Miss Polly, "but he brings a bad taste +in my mouth every time I see him." + +"Well, directly after Sherman passed through," said Mrs. Lumsden, "and +when few of us had anything left, Silas came to me, and asked if I +needed anything, and he was ready to supply me with sufficient funds for +my needs." + +"Well, he didn't come to me," Miss Polly declared with emphasis, "and if +anybody in this world had needs, I did. You remember Robert Gaither? +Well, Silas loaned him some money during the war, and although Robert +was in a bad way, old Silas collected every cent down to the very last, +and Robert had to go to Texas. Oh, I could tell you of numberless +instances where he took advantage of those who had borrowed from him." + +"I suppose that Mr. Lumsden had been kind to Silas when he was sowing +his wild oats; indeed, I think my husband advanced him money when he had +exhausted the supply allowed him by the executors of the Tomlin estate." + +"And just think of it, Lucy--Ritta Claiborne sits there and plays the +piano for old Silas, and sometimes Eugenia goes in and sings, and she +has a beautiful voice; I'm not too deaf to know that." + +It was then that Mrs. Lumsden leaned over and gave the ear-trumpet some +very good advice. "If I were in your place, Polly, I wouldn't tell this +to any one else. Mrs. Claiborne is an excellent woman; she comes of a +good family, and she is cultured and refined. No doubt she is sensitive, +and if she heard that you were spreading your suspicions abroad, she +would hardly feel like staying in a house where----" Mrs. Lumsden +paused. She had it on her tongue's-end to say, "in a house where she is +spied upon," but she had no desire in the world to offend that +simple-minded old soul, who, behind all her peculiarities and +afflictions, had a very tender heart. + +"I know what you mean, Lucy," said Miss Polly, "and your advice is good; +but I can't help seeing what goes on under my eyes, and I thought there +could be no harm in telling you about it. I am very fond of Ritta +Claiborne, and as for Eugenia, why she is simply angelic. I love that +child as well as if she were my own. If there's a flaw in her character, +I have never found it. I'll say that much." + +The explanation of Miss Polly's suspicions is not as simple as her +recital of them. No one can account for some of the impulses of the +human heart, or the vagaries of the human mind. It is easy to say that +after Silas Tomlin had his last interview with Mrs. Claiborne, he +permitted his mind to dwell on her personality and surroundings, and so +fell gradually under a spell. Such an explanation is not only easy to +imagine, but it is plausible; nevertheless, it would not be true. There +is a sort of tradition among the brethren who deal with character in +fiction that it must be consistent with itself. This may be necessary in +books, for it sweeps away at one stroke ten thousand mysteries and +problems that play around the actions of every individual, no matter how +high, no matter how humble. How often do we hear it remarked in real +life that the actions of such and such an individual are a source of +surprise and regret to his friends; and how often in our own experience +have we been shocked by the unexpected as it crops out in the actions of +our friends and acquaintances! + +For this and other reasons this chronicler does not propose to explain +Silas's motives and movements and try to show that they are all +consistent with his character, and that, therefore, they were all to be +predicated from the beginning. What is certainly true is that Silas was +one day stopped in the street by Eugenia, who inquired about Paul. He +looked at the girl very gloomily at first, but when he began to talk +about the troubles of his son, he thawed out considerably. In this case +Eugenia's sympathies abounded, in fact were unlimited, and she listened +with dewy eyes to everything Silas would tell her about Paul. + +"You mustn't think too much about Paul," remarked Silas grimly, as they +were about to part. + +"Thank you, sir," replied Eugenia, with a smile, "I'll think just enough +and no more. But it was my mother that told me to ask about him if I saw +you. She is very fond of him. You never come to see us now," the sly +creature suggested. + +Silas stared at her before replying, and tried to find the gleam of +mockery in her eyes, or in her smile. He failed, and his glances became +shifty again. "Why, I reckon she'd kick me down the steps if I called +without having some business with her. If you were to ask her who her +worst enemy is, she'd tell you that I am the man." + +"Well, sir," replied Eugenia archly, "I have been knowing mother a good +many years, but I've never seen her put any one out of the house yet. We +were talking about you to-day, and she said you must be very lonely, now +that Paul is away, and I know she sympathises with those who are lonely; +I've heard her say so many a time." + +"Yes; that may be true," remarked Silas, "but she has special reasons +for not sympathising with me. She knows me a great deal better than you +do." + +"I'm afraid you misjudge us both," said Eugenia demurely. "If you knew +us better, you'd like us better. I'm sure of that." + +"Humph!" grunted Silas. Then looking hard at the girl, he bluntly asked, +"Is there anything between you and Paul?" + +"A good many miles, sir, just now," she answered, making one of those +retorts that Paul thought so fine. + +"H-m-m; yes, you are right, a good many miles. Well, there can't be too +many." + +"I think you are cruel, sir. Is Paul not to come home any more? Paul is +a very good friend of mine, and I could wish him well wherever he might +be; but how would you feel, sir, if he were never to return?" + +"Well, I must go," said Silas somewhat bluntly. When Beauty has a glib +tongue, abler men than Silas find themselves without weapons to cope +with it. + +"Shall I tell mother that you have given your promise to call soon?" +Eugenia asked. + +"Now, I hope you are not making fun of me," cried Silas with some +irritation. + +"How could that be, sir? Don't you think it would be extremely pert in a +young girl to make fun of a gentleman old enough to be her father?" + +Silas winced at the comparison. "Well, I have seen some very pert ones," +he insisted, and with that he bade her good-day with a very ill grace, +and went on about his business, of which he had a good deal of one kind +and another. + +"Mother," said Eugenia, after she had given an account of her encounter +with Silas, "I believe the man has a good heart and is ashamed of it." + +"Why, I think the same may be said of most of the grand rascals that we +read about in history; and the pity of it is that they would have all +been good men if they had had the right kind of women to deal with them +and direct their careers." + +"Do you really think so, mother?" the daughter inquired. + +"I'm sure of it," said the lady. + +Then after all there might be some hope for old Silas Tomlin. And his +instinct may have given him an inkling of the remedy for his particular +form of the whimsies, for it was not many days before he came knocking +at the lady's door, where he was very graciously received, and most +delightfully entertained. Both mother and daughter did their utmost to +make the hours pass pleasantly, and they succeeded to some extent. For +awhile Silas was suspicious, then he would resign himself to the +temptations of good music and bright conversation. Presently he would +remember his suspicions, and straighten himself up in his chair, and +assume an attitude of defiance; and so the first evening passed. When +Silas found himself in the street on his way home, he stopped still and +reflected. + +"Now, what in the ding-nation is that woman up to? What is she trying to +do, I wonder? Why, she's as different from what she was when I first +knew her as a butterfly is from a caterpillar. Why, there ain't a +pearter woman on the continent. No wonder Paul lost his head in that +house! She's up to something, and I'll find out what it is." + +Silas was always suspicious, but on this occasion he bethought himself +of the fact that he had not been dragged into the house; he had been +under no compulsion to knock at the door; indeed, he had taken advantage +of the slightest hint on the part of the daughter--a hint that may have +been a mere form of politeness. He remembered, too, that he had +frequently gone by the house at night, and had heard the piano going, +accompanied by the singing of one or the other of the ladies. His +reflections would have made him ashamed of himself, but he had never +cultivated such feelings. He left that sort of thing to the women and +children. + +In no long time he repeated his visit, and met with the same pleasurable +experience. On this occasion, Eugenia remained in the parlour only a +short time. For a diversion, the mother played a few of the old-time +tunes on the piano, and sang some of the songs that Silas had loved in +his youth. This done, she wheeled around on the stool, and began to talk +about Paul. + +"If I had a son like that," she said, "I should be immensely proud of +him." + +"You have a fine daughter," Silas suggested, by way of consolation. + +She shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, but you know we always want that which +we have not. Yet they say that envy is among the mortal sins." + +"Well, a sin's a sin, I reckon," remarked Silas. + +"Oh, no! there are degrees in sin. I used to know a preacher who could +run the scale of evil-doing and thinking, just as I can trip along the +notes on the piano." + +"They once tried to make a preacher out of me," remarked Silas, "but +when I slipped in the church one day and went up into the pulpit, I +found it was a great deal too big for me." + +"They make them larger now," said the lady, "so that they will hold the +exhorter and the horrible example at the same time." + +"Did Paul ever see my picture there?" asked Silas, changing the +conversation into a more congenial channel. + +"Why, I think so," replied the lady placidly. "I think he asked about +it, and I told him that we had known each other long ago, which was not +at all the truth." + +"What did Paul say to that?" asked Silas eagerly. + +"He said that while some people might think you were queer, you had been +a good dad to him. I think he said dad, but I'll not be sure." + +"Yes, yes, he said it," cried Silas, all in a glow. "That's Paul all +over; but what will the poor boy think when he finds out what you know?" + +"Why, he'll enjoy the situation," said the lady, laughing. "As you +Georgians say, he'll be tickled to death." + +Silas regarded her with astonishment, his hands clenched and his thin +lips pressed together. "Do you think, Madam, that it is a matter for a +joke? You women----" + +"Can't I have my own views? You have yours, and I make no objection." + +"But think of what a serious matter it is to me. Do you realise that +there is nothing but a whim betwixt me and disgrace--betwixt Paul and +disgrace?" + +"A whim? Why, you are another Daniel O'Connell! Call me a hyperbole, a +rectangled triangle, a parenthesis, or a hyphen." She was laughing, and +yet it was plain to be seen that she had no relish for the term which +Silas had unintentionally applied to her. + +"I meant to say that if the notion seized you, you would fetch us down +as a hunter bags a brace of doves." + +"Doves!" exclaimed Mrs. Claiborne, with a comical lift of the eyebrows. + +"Buzzards, then!" said Silas with some heat. + +"Oh, you overdo everything," laughed the lady. + +"Well, there's nobody hurt but me," was Silas's gruff reply. + +"And Paul," suggested the lady, with a peculiar smile. + +"Well, when I say Paul, I mean myself. I've been called worse names than +buzzard by people who were trying to walk off with my money. Oh, they +didn't call me that to my face," said Silas, noticing a queer expression +in the lady's eyes. "And people who should have known better have hated +me because I didn't fling my money away after I had saved it." + +"Well, you needn't worry about that," Mrs. Claiborne remarked. "You will +have plenty of company in the money-grabbing business before long. I can +see signs of it now, and every time I think of it I feel sorry for our +young men, yes, and our young women, and the long generations that are +to come after them. In the course of a very few years you will find your +business to be more respectable than any of the professions. You +remember how, before the war, we used to sneer at the Yankees for their +money-making proclivities? Well, it won't be very long before we'll beat +them at their own game; and then our politicians will thrive, for each +and all of them will have their principles dictated by Shylock and his +partners." + +"Why, you talk as if you were a politician yourself. But why are you +sorry for our young women?" + +"That was a hasty remark. I am sorry for those who will grow weary and +fall by the wayside. The majority of them, and the best of them, will +make themselves useful in thousands of ways, and new industries will +spring up for their benefit. They will become workers, and, being +workers, they will be independent of the men, and finally begin to look +down on them as they should." + +"Well!" exclaimed Silas, and then he sat and gazed at the lady for the +first time with admiration. "Where'd you learn all that?" he asked after +awhile. + +"Oh, I read the newspapers, and such books as I can lay my hands on, and +I remember what I read. Didn't you notice that I recited my piece much +as a school-boy would?" + +"No, I didn't," replied Silas. "I do a good deal of reading myself, but +all those ideas are new to me." + +"Well, they'll be familiar to you just as soon as our people can look +around and get their bearings. As for me, I propose to become an +advanced woman, and go on the stage; there's nothing like being the +first in the field. I always told my husband that if he died and left +me without money, I proposed to earn my own living." + +"You told your husband that? When did you tell him?" inquired Silas with +some eagerness. + +"Oh, long before he died," replied the lady. + +Silas sat like one stunned. "Do you mean to tell me that your husband is +dead?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Mrs. Claiborne. "What possible reason could I +have for denying or concealing the fact?" + +Silas straightened himself in his chair, and frowned. "Then why did you +come here and pretend--pretend--ain't you Ritta Rozelle, that used to +be?" + +"There were two of them," the lady replied. "They were twins. One was +named Clarita, and the other Floretta, but both were called Ritta by +those who could not distinguish them apart. I had reason to believe that +you hadn't treated my sister as you should have done, and I came here to +see if you would take the bait. You snapped it up before the line +touched the water. It was not even necessary for me to try to deceive +you. You simply shut your eyes and declared that I was your wife and +that I had come." + +"You are the sister who was going to school in--wasn't it Boston?" + +"Yes; that is why I am broad-minded and free from guile," remarked the +lady with a laugh so merry that it irritated Silas. + +"Then you have never been married to me," Silas suggested, still +frowning. + +"I thank you kindly, sir, I never have been." + +"Well, you never denied it," he said. + +"You never gave me an opportunity," she retorted. + +"You simply sat back, and watched me make a fool of myself." + +"You express it very well." + +Silas squirmed on his chair. "Why, you knew me the minute you saw me!" +he cried. + +"Therefore you are still sure I am the woman you married in Louisiana. +Well, the man who was driving the hack the day of my arrival, saw you in +the fields, and he made a remark I have never forgotten. He said--she +mimicked Mr. Goodlett as well as she could--'Well, dang my hide! ef thar +ain't old Silas Tomlin out huntin'! Ef he shoots an' misses he'll pull +all his ha'r out.' 'Why?' I asked. 'Bekaze he can't afford to waste a +load of powder an' shot.'" + +Silas tried to smile. He knew that the point of Mr. Goodlett's joke was +lost on the lady. + +Silas tried to smile, but the effort was too much for him, and he +frowned instead. "You did all you could to humour my mistake," he +declared. + +"I certainly did," said Mrs. Claiborne, very seriously. "I had good +reason to believe that your treatment of my sister was not what it +should have been." + +"Good Lord! she wouldn't let me treat her well. Why, we hadn't been +married three months before she took a dislike to me, and she never got +over it. The truth is, she couldn't bear the sight of me. I did what any +other young man would have done. I packed up my things and came back +home. I told Dorrington about it when I came back, and he said the +trouble was a form of hysterics that finally develops into insanity." + +"Yes, that was what happened to my poor sister," said Mrs. Claiborne, +"and I never knew the facts until a few months ago. Our aunt, you know, +always contended that you were the cause of it all. But Judge Vardeman, +quite by accident, met the physician who had charge of the case, and I +have a letter from him which clearly explains the whole matter." + +Silas Tomlin sat silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the floor. +"Well, well! here I have been going on for years under the impression +that I was partly responsible for that poor girl's troubles; and it has +been a nightmare riding me every minute that I had time to think." He +stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and drew a long breath. "I +thank you for laying my ghost, and I'll bid you good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + +_Mr. Sanders Receives a Message_ + + +The demeanour of Mr. Sanders about this time was a seven days' wonder in +Shady Dale. As Mrs. Absalom declared, he had tucked his good-humour +under the bed, and was now going about in a state of gloom. This at +least was the general impression; but Mr. Sanders was not gloomy. He was +filled to the brim with impatience, and was to be seen constantly +walking the streets, or occupying his favourite seat on the court-house +steps, the seat that had always attracted him when he was communing with +John Barleycorn. But he and John Barleycorn were strangers now; they +were not on speaking terms. He avoided the companionship of those who +were in the habit of seeking him out to enjoy his drolleries; and +various rumours flew about as to the cause of his apparent troubles. He +was on the point of joining the church, having had enough of the world's +sinfulness; he had lost the money he made by selling cotton directly +after the war; he had been jilted by some buxom country girl. In short, +when a man is as prominent in a community as Mr. Sanders was in Shady +Dale, he must pay such penalty as gossip levies when his conduct becomes +puzzling or problematical. + +The tittle-tattle of the town ran in a different direction when some one +discovered that the Racking Roan was tied every day to the rack behind +the court-house. Then the gossips were certain that the Yankees were +after Mr. Sanders, and his horse was placed close at hand in order to +give him an opportunity to escape. Mr. Sanders apparently confirmed this +rumour when he told Cephas to take the horse to Clopton's, should he +find the animal standing at the rack after sundown. + +As Mr. Sanders walked about, or sat on the court-house steps, he +wondered if he had made all the arrangements necessary to the scheme he +had in view. Hundreds and hundreds of times he went over the ground in +his mind, and reviewed every step he had taken, trying to discover if +anything had been omitted, or if there were any flaw in the plan he +proposed to follow. He had made all his arrangements beforehand. He had +made a visit to Malvern, and remained there several days. He had met the +Mayor of the city, the Chief of Police, and the latter had casually +introduced him to the Chief of the Fire Department. + +Mr. Sanders accounted himself very fortunate in making the acquaintance +of the Fire Chief, who was what might be termed one of the +unreconstructed. He was something more than that, he was an +irreconcilable, who would have been glad of an opportunity to take up +arms again. This official took an eager interest in the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had in view; in fact, as he said himself, it was a personal +interest. He invited Mr. Sanders to the head-quarters of the Fire +Department. + +"I'll tell you why I want you to come," he said. "There's a man in my +office, or he will be there when we arrive, who is likely to take as +much interest in this thing as I do--he couldn't take more--and I want +him to hear your plan. Have you ever heard of Captain Buck Sanford?" + +Mr. Sanders paused in the street, and stared at the Fire Chief. "Heard +of him? Well, I should say! He's the feller that fights a duel before +breakfast to git up an appetite. Well, well! How many men has Buck +Sanford winged?" + +"Oh, quite a number, but not as many as he gets credit for. He comes in +my private office every morning, and he's a great help to me. He was +rather down at the heels right after the war, and then I happened to +find out that he had a great talent in getting the truth out of +criminals. We sometimes arrest a man against whom there is no direct +evidence of guilt, and if we didn't have some one skilful enough to make +him own up, we could do nothing. Buck always knows whether a fellow is +guilty or not, and we turn over the suspects to him, and whatever he +says goes. He sits in my office like a piece of furniture, and you'd +think he was a wooden man. Now you go down with me, and go over your +scheme so that Buck can hear you, and whatever he says do, will be the +thing to do." + +When Mr. Sanders and the Chief arrived at the head-quarters of the +department, and entered the private office, they found a pale and +somewhat emaciated young man sitting in a chair, which was leaned +against the wall at a somewhat dangerous angle. He was apparently +asleep; his eyes were closed, and he held between his teeth a short but +handsome pipe. He made no movement whatever when the two entered the +room. His hat was on the floor at the side of his chair, and had +evidently fallen from his head. If Mr. Sanders had been called on to +describe the young man, he would have said that he was a weasly looking +creature, half gristle and half ghost. His hands were small and thin, +and the skin of his face had the appearance of parchment. + +At the request of the Chief, Mr. Sanders went over the details of his +plan from beginning to end, and at the close the young man, who had +apparently been asleep, remarked in a thin, smooth voice, "Won't it be a +fine day for a parade!" + +His eyes remained closed; he had not even taken the pipe out of his +mouth. There was a silence of many long seconds. But the weasly looking +man made no movement, nor did he add anything to his remark. Evidently, +he had no more to say. + +"Buck is right," said the Chief. + +"What does he mean?" Mr. Sanders inquired. + +"Why, he means that it will be a fine day for a general turn-out of the +department," replied the Chief. + +Mr. Sanders reflected a moment, and then made one of his characteristic +comments. "Be jigged ef he ain't saved my life!" + +"Captain Sanford, this is Mr. Sanders, of Shady Dale," said the Chief, +by way of introducing the two men. Both rose, and Mr. Sanders found +himself looking into the eyes of one of the most interesting characters +that Georgia ever produced. Captain Buck Sanford was one of the last of +the knights-errant, the self-constituted champion of all women, old or +young, good or bad. He said of himself, with some drollery, that he was +one of the scavengers of society, and he declared that the job was +important enough to command a good salary. + +No man in his hearing ever used the name of a woman too freely without +answering for it; and it made no difference whether the woman was rich +or poor, good or bad. Otherwise he was the friendliest and simplest of +men, as modest as a woman, and entirely unobtrusive. His duel with +Colonel Conrad Asbury, one of the most sensational events in the annals +of duelling, owing to the fact that the weapons were shot-guns at ten +paces, was the result of a remark the Colonel had made about a lady whom +Sanford had never seen. But so far as the general public knew, it grew +out of the fact that the Colonel had spilled some water on Sanford's +pantaloons. + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Sanders, "I've heard tell of you many a time, an' +I'm right down glad to see you." + +"You haven't heard much good of me, I reckon," Captain Sanford remarked. + +"Yes; not so very long ago I heard a fine old lady say that if they was +more Buck Sanfords, the wimmen would be better off." + +A faint colour came into the face of the duellist. "Is that so?" he +asked with some eagerness. + +"It's jest like I tell you, an' the lady was Lucy Lumsden, the +grandmother of this chap that we're tryin' to git out'n trouble." + +"I wonder if Tomlin Perdue wouldn't let me into the row?" inquired +Captain Sanford. "You see, it's this way: If the boy can't break away, +it would be well for a serious accident to happen, and in that case, +you'll need a man that's perfectly willing to bear the brunt of such an +accident." + +"We'll see about that," said Mr. Sanders. + +"Suppose it's a rainy day, Buck; what then?" asked the Chief. + +"And you a grown man!" exclaimed Mr. Sanford, sarcastically. "Did you +ever hear of a false alarm? Or were you at a Sunday-school picnic when +it was rung in? Oh, I'm going to get a blacksmith and have your head +worked on," and with that, Captain Buck Sanford turned on his heel and +went out. + +"I know Buck was pleased with your plan," the Chief declared. "He nodded +at me a time or two when you wasn't looking. If you can work him into +the row, it will tickle him mightily. He ain't flighty; he never gets +mad; and he always knows just what to do, and when to shoot." + +Thus, long before he became impatient enough to walk the streets, or +seek consolation on the court-house steps, which he called his +liquor-post, Mr. Sanders had made all the arrangements necessary to the +success of his scheme. He had sent a suit of clothes to a friend in +Malvern, he had shipped three bales of cotton to the firm of Vardeman & +Stark, who had been informed of the use to which Mr. Sanders desired to +put it; he had hired an ox-cart, and made a covered waggon of it; and +the yoke of oxen he proposed to use had been driven through the country +and were now at Malvern. + +In short, no matter how deeply Mr. Sanders might ponder over the matter, +there was nothing he could think of to add to the details of the +arrangement that he had already made. + +One morning, while Nan, who was on her way to borrow a book from Eugenia +Claiborne, was leaning on the court-house fence talking to Mr. Sanders, +Tasma Tid cried out, "Yonner dee come! yonner dee come!" The African, +who had heard the rumour that the Yankees were after Mr. Sanders, +concluded that this was the advance guard, and she therefore sounded the +alarm. But only a solitary rider was in sight, and he was coming as fast +as a tired horse could fetch him. By the time this rider had reached the +public square, Mr. Sanders had mounted the Racking Roan, and was +awaiting him. The rider was no other than Colonel Blasengame, who had +insisted on bringing the message himself. + +He was the bearer of a telegram addressed to Major Perdue. "Consignment +will be shipped to-morrow night. Reach Malvern next morning. Invoice by +mail." This was signed by the firm of factors with whom Meriwether +Clopton had had dealings for many years. It was the form of announcement +that had been agreed on, and to Mr. Sanders the message read, "The +prisoners will go to Atlanta to-morrow night, and they will reach +Malvern the next morning. This information can be relied on." + +"It's a joy to see you, Colonel," cried Mr. Sanders. "One more day of +waitin' would 'a' pulled the rivets out. You know Miss Nan Dorrington, +don't you, Colonel Blasengame? I lay you used to dandle her on your knee +when she was a baby." + +The Colonel bowed lower to Nan than if she had been a queen. "You are +not to go to the tavern," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Meriwether Clopton +wants the messenger to go straight to his house, an' he'll be all the +gladder bekaze it's you. Gus Tidwell will drive you home in his buggy in +the cool of the evenin', an' you can leave your hoss at Clopton's for a +day or two. Ef you see Tidwell, Nan, please tell him that the Colonel is +at Clopton's. I reckon you'll be willin' to buss me, honey, the next +time you see me." + +"If you have earned it, Mr. Sanders," said Nan, trying to smile. + +Thereupon, Mr. Sanders waved his hand miscellaneously, as he would have +described it, and moved away at a clipping gait, stirring up quite a +cloud of dust as he went. He reached Halcyondale, and at once sought out +Major Tomlin Perdue, and found that a telegram had already been sent to +Captain Buck Sanford, whose prompt reply over the wire had been. "All +skue vee," which was as satisfactory as any other form of reply would +have been--more so, perhaps, for it showed that the Captain was in high +good-humour. + +Mr. Tidwell and Colonel Blasengame arrived in time to eat a late +supper, and the next morning found them all ready to take the train for +Malvern. Major Perdue and Mr. Sanders were in high feather. Somehow +their spirits always rose when a doubtful issue was to be faced. On the +other hand, Colonel Blasengame and Mr. Tidwell were somewhat +thoughtful--the Colonel because he had an idea that they were trying to +"crowd him into a back seat," as he expressed it, and Mr. Tidwell +because it had occurred to him that his presence might tend to +jeopardise the case of his son. They were not gloomy; on the contrary +they were cheerful; but their spirits failed to run as high as those of +Mr. Sanders and Major Perdue, who were engaged all the way to Malvern in +relating anecdotes and narrating humourous stories. It seemed that +everything either one of them said reminded the other of a story or a +humourous incident, and they kept the car in a roar until Malvern was +reached. + +Mr. Sanders did not go at once to the hotel, but turned his attention to +the various details which he had arranged for. Mr. Tidwell went to the +hotel opposite the railway station, while Major Perdue and Colonel +Blasengame, for obvious reasons, went to the rival hotel. There they +found Captain Buck Sanford lounging about with a Winchester rifle slung +across his shoulder. A great many people were interested when this pale +and weary-looking little man appeared in public with a gun in his hands, +and he was compelled to answer many questions in regard to the event. To +all he made the same reply, namely, that he had been out practising at a +target. + +"I'm getting so I can't miss," he said to Major Perdue. "I wasted +twenty-four cartridges trying to miss the bull's eye, but I couldn't do +it. I don't know what to make of it," he complained. "There must be +something wrong with me. That kind of shooting don't look reasonable. +I'm afraid something is going to happen to me. It may be a sign that I'm +going to fall over a cellar-door and break my neck, or tumble downstairs +and injure my spine." + +Then he left his gun with a clerk in the hotel, and, taking Major Perdue +by the arm, went into a corner and discussed the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had mapped out. They were joined presently by Colonel +Blasengame; and as they sat there, whispering together, and making many +emphatic gestures, they were the centre of observation, and word went +around that some personal difficulty, in which these noted men were to +act together, was imminent. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + +_Malvern Has a Holiday_ + + +Very early the next morning Malvern aroused itself to the fact that the +firemen and the police, and a very large crowd of the rag, tag and +bobtail that hangs on the edge of all holiday occasions, were out for a +frolic. A band was playing, and the old-fashioned apparatus with which +fire departments were provided in that day and time, was showing the +amazed and amused crowd how to put out an imaginary conflagration. And +it succeeded, too. Worked as it was by hand-power, it sent a famously +strong stream into the very midst of the imaginary conflagration; and +when the fire raged no longer, the gallant firemen turned the stream on +the rag, tag and bobtail, and such screams and such a scattering as +ensued has no parallel in the history of Malvern, which is a long and +varied one. + +But what did it all mean? It was some kind of a celebration, of course, +but why then did the _Malvern Recorder_, one of the most enterprising +newspapers in the State, as its editors and proprietors were willing to +admit, why, then, did the _Recorder_ fail to have an appropriate +announcement of an event so interesting and important? Was our public +press, the palladium of our liberties, losing its prestige and +influence? Certainly it seemed so, when such an affair as this could be +devised and carried out without an adequate announcement in the organ of +public opinion. + +After awhile there was a lull in the display. The Chief, who was +stationed near the depot, received authoritative information that the +train from Savannah was approaching. He waved his trumpet, and the +firemen formed themselves into a procession, and passed twice in review +before their Chief, and then halted, with their hose reels, and their +hook and ladder waggons almost completely blocking up the entrance to +the station. The crowd had followed them, but the police managed to keep +the street clear, so that vehicles might effect a passage. + +It was well that the officers of the law had been thus thoughtful in the +matter, otherwise a countryman who chanced to be coming along just then +would have found it difficult to drive his team even half way through +the jam. He was a typical Georgia farmer in his appearance. He wore a +wide straw hat to preserve his complexion, a homespun shirt and jeans +trousers, the latter being held in place by a dirty pair of home-made +suspenders. He drove what is called a spike-team, two oxen at the +wheels, and a mule in the lead. The day was warm, but he was warmer. The +crowd had flurried him, and he was perspiring more profusely than usual. +He was also inclined to use heated language, as those nearest him had no +difficulty in discovering. In fact, he was willing to make a speech, as +the crowd into which he was wedging his team grew denser and denser. It +was observed that when the crowd really impeded the movements of his +team, he had a way of touching the mule in the flank with the long whip +he carried. This was invariably the signal for such gyrations on the +part of the mule as were calculated to make the spectators pay due +respect to the animal's heels. + +"I don't see," said the countryman, "why you fellers don't get out +some'rs an' go to work. They's enough men in this crowd to make a crop +big enough to feed a whole county, ef they'd git out in the field an' +buckle down to it stidder loafin' roun' watchin' 'em spurt water at +nothin'. It's a dad-blamed shame that the courts don't take a han' in +the matter. Ef you lived in my county, you'd have to work or go to the +poor-house. Whoa, Beck! Gee, Buck! Why don't you gee, contrive your +hide!" + +At a touch from the whip, the rearing, plunging, and kicking of the mule +were renewed, and the team managed to fight its way to a point opposite +where the chief officials of the Police and Fire Department were +standing. The waggon to which the team was attached was a ramshackle +affair apparently, but was strong enough, nevertheless, to sustain the +weight of three bales of cotton, one of the bales being somewhat larger +than the others. + +"My friend," said the Chief of Police, elevating his voice so that the +countryman could hear him distinctly, "this is not a warehouse. If you +want to sell your cotton, carry it around the corner yonder, and there +you'll find the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark." + +"If I want to sell my cotton? Well, you don't reckon I want to give it +away, do you? Way over yander in the fur eend of town, they told me that +the cotton warehouse was down here some'rs, an' that it was made of +brick. This shebang is down yander, an' it's made of brick. How fur is +t'other place?" + +"Right around the corner," said one in the crowd. + +"Humph--yes; that's the way wi' ever'thing in this blamed town; it's +uther down yander, or right around the corner. But ef it was right here, +how could I git to it? Deliver me from places whar they celebrate +Christmas in the hottest part of June! Ef I ever git out'n the town +you'll never ketch me here ag'in--I'll promise you that." + +"Oh, Mister, please don't say that!" wailed some humourist in the crowd. +"There's hundreds of us that couldn't live without you." + +"Oh, is that you?" cried the countryman. "Tell your sister Molly that +I'll be down as soon as I sell my cotton." This set the crowd in a roar, +for though the humourist had no sister Molly, the retort was accepted as +a very neat method of putting an end to impertinence. + +Inside the station another scene was in the full swing of action. +Certain well-known citizens of Halcyondale had been pacing up and down +the planked floor of the station apparently awaiting with some +impatience for the moment to come when the train for Atlanta would be +ready to leave. But the train itself seemed to be in no particular +hurry. The locomotive was not panting and snorting with suppressed +energy, as the moguls do in our day, but stood in its place with the +blue smoke curling peacefully from its black chimney. Presently an +access of energy among the employees of the station gave notice to those +who were familiar with their movements that the train from Savannah was +crossing the "Y." + +Mr. Tidwell, of Shady Dale, who was also among those who were apparently +anxious to take the train for Atlanta, ceased his restless walking, and +stood leaning against one of the brick pillars supporting the rear end +of the structure. Major Tomlin Perdue, on the other hand, leaned +confidently on the counter of the little restaurant, where a weary +traveller could get a cup of hasty and very nasty coffee for a dime. The +Major was acquainted with the vendor of these luxuries, and he informed +the man confidentially that he was simply waiting a fair opportunity to +put a few lead plugs into the carcass of the person at the far end of +the station, who was no other than Mr. Tidwell. + +"Is that so?" asked the clerk breathlessly. "Well, I don't mind telling +you that he has been having some of the same kind of talk about you, and +you'd better keep your eye on him. They say he's 'most as handy with his +pistol as Buck Sanford." + +Slowly the Savannah train backed in, and slowly and carelessly Major +Perdue sauntered along the raised floor. They had decided that the +prisoners would most likely be in the second-class coach, and they +purposed to make that coach the scene of their sham duel. It was a very +delicate matter to decide just when to begin operations. A moment too +soon or too late would be decisive. When this point was referred to Mr. +Sanders, he settled it at once. "What's your mouth for, Gus? Shoot wi' +that tell the time comes to use your gun. And the Major has got about as +much mouth as you. Talk over the rough places, an' talk loud. Don't +whisper; rip out a few damns an' then cut your caper. This is about the +only chance you'll have to cuss the Major out wi'out gittin' hurt. I +wisht I was in your shoes; I'd rake him up one side an' down the other. +You can stand to be cussed out in a good cause, I reckon, Major." + +"Yes--oh, yes! It'll make my flesh crawl, but I'll stand it like a +baby." + +"Don't narry one on you try to be too polite," said Mr. Sanders, and +this was his parting injunction. + +The two men were the length of the car apart when the Savannah train +came to a standstill. "Perdue! they tell me that you have been hunting +for me all over the city," said Mr. Tidwell. He was a trained speaker, +and his voice had great carrying power. The firemen of both trains heard +it distinctly, caught the note of passion in it and looked curiously out +of their cabs. + +"Yes, I've been hunting you, and now that I've found you you'll not get +away until you apologise to me for the language you have used about me," +cried Major Perdue. He was not as loud a talker as Mr. Tidwell, but his +voice penetrated to every part of the building. + +"What I've said I'll stand to," declared Mr. Tidwell, "and if you think +I have been trying to keep out of your way, you will find out +differently, you blustering blackguard!" (The Major insisted afterward +that Tidwell took advantage of the occasion to give his real views.) + +"Are you ready, you cowardly hellian?" cried the Major, apparently in a +rage. + +"As ready as you will ever be," replied Tidwell hotly. He was the better +actor of the two. + +And then just as the prisoners were coming out of the coach--as soon as +Gabriel, lean and haggard, had reached the floor of the station, Major +Perdue whipped out his pistol and a shot rang out, clear and distinct, +and it was immediately reproduced from the further end of the car by Mr. +Tidwell, and then the shooting became a regular fusillade. There was a +wild scattering on the part of the crowd assembled in the station, a +scuffling, scurrying panic, and in the midst of it all Gabriel ducked +his head, and made a rush with the rest. He had been handcuffed, but his +wrist was nearly as large as his hand, and he had found early in his +experience with these bracelets that by placing his thumb in the palm of +his hand, he would have no difficulty in freeing himself from the irons. +This he had accomplished without much trouble, as soon as he started out +of the car, and when he ducked his head and ran, he had nothing to +impede his movements. + +And Gabriel was always swift of foot, as Cephas will tell you. On the +present occasion, he brought all his strength, and energy, and will to +bear on his efforts to escape. Running half-bent, he was afraid the +crowd which he saw all about him, pushing and shoving, and apparently +making frantic efforts to escape, would give him some trouble. But +strangely enough, this struggling crowd seemed to help him along. He saw +men all around him with uniforms on, and wearing queerly shaped hats. +They opened a way before him and closed in behind him. He heard a sharp +cry, "Prisoner escaped!" and he heard the energetic commands of the +officer in charge, but still the crowd opened a way in front of him, and +closed up behind him. This pathway, formed of struggling firemen, led +Gabriel away from the main entrance, and conducted him to the side, +where there was an opening between the pillars. Not twenty feet away was +the countryman with his queer-looking team. He was still complaining of +the way he had been taken in by the town fellers who had told him that +the station was a cotton warehouse. + +Gabriel recognised the voice and ran toward it, jumped into the waggon, +and crawled under the cover. "Now here--now here!" cried the countryman, +"you kin rob me of my money, an' make a fool out'n me about your cotton +warehouses, but be jigged ef I'll let you take my waggin an' team. I +dunner what you're up to, but you'll have to git out'n my waggin." With +that he stripped the cover from the top, and, lo! there was no one +there! + +He turned to the astonished crowd with open mouth. "Wher' in the nation +did he go?" he cried. There was no answer to this, for the spectators +were as much astonished as Mr. Sanders professed to be. The man who had +crawled under the waggon-cover had disappeared. + +He turned to the astonished crowd with a face on which amazement was +depicted, crying out, "Now, you see, gentlemen, what honest men have to +endyore when they come to your blame town. Whoever he is, an' wharsoever +he may be, that chap ain't up to no good." Then he looked under the +waggon and between the bales of cotton, and, finally, took the cover and +shook it out, as if it might be possible for one of the "slick city +fellers" to hide in any impossible place. + +There was a tremendous uproar in the station, caused by the soldiers +trying to run over the firemen and the efforts of the firemen to prevent +them. In a short time, however, a squad of soldiers had forced +themselves through the crowd, and as they made their appearance, Mr. +Sanders gave the word to old Beck, saying as he moved off, "Ef you gents +will excuse me, I'll mosey along, an' the next time I have a crap of +cotton to sell, I'll waggin it to some place or other wher' w'arhouses +ain't depots, an' wher' jugglers don't jump on you an' make the'r +disappearance in broad daylight. This is my fust trip to this great +town, an' it'll be my last ef I know myself, an' I ruther reckon I do." + +As he spoke, his team Was moving slowly off, and the soldiers who were +in pursuit of Gabriel had no idea that it was worth their while to give +the countryman and his superannuated equipment more than a passing +glance. It was providential that Captain Falconer, who was to have +conveyed the prisoners to Atlanta, should have been confined to his bed +with an attack of malarial fever when the order for their removal came. +The Captain would surely have recognised the countryman as Mr. Sanders, +and the probability is that Gabriel would have been recaptured, though +Captain Buck Sanford, who was sitting in an upper window of the hotel, +with his Winchester across his lap, says not. + +The officer in charge did all that he could have been expected to do +under the circumstances. By a stroke of good-luck, as he supposed, he +found the Chief of Police near the entrance of the station and +interested that official in his effort to recapture the prisoner who had +escaped. By order of the military commander in Atlanta, the train was +held a couple of hours while the search for Gabriel proceeded. The whole +town was searched and researched, but all to no purpose. Gabriel had +disappeared, and was not to be found by any person hostile to his +interests. + +Mr. Sanders drove his team around to the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark, +where he was met by Colonel Tom Vardeman, who, besides being a cotton +factor, was one of the political leaders of the day, and as popular a +man as there was in the State. + +"I heard a terrible fusillade in the direction of the depot," he said to +Mr. Sanders, as the latter drove up. "I hope nobody's hurt." + +"Well, they ain't much damage done, I reckon. Gus Tidwell an' Major +Perdue took a notion to play a game of tag wi' pistols. They're doin' it +jest for fun, I reckon. They want to show you city fellers that all the +public sperrit an' enterprise ain't knocked out'n the country chaps." + +"Well, they're almost certain to get in the lock-up," remarked Colonel +Tom Vardeman. + +"It reely looks that away," said Mr. Sanders, drily; "the Chief of +Police was standin' in front of the depot, an' ev'ry time a gun'd go off +he'd wink at me." + +Colonel Tom laughed, and then turned to Mr. Sanders with a serious air. +"What did I tell you about that wild plan of yours to rescue one of the +prisoners? You've had all your trouble for nothing, and the probability +is that you are out considerable cash first and last. You don't catch +grown men asleep any more. Why, if the officer in charge of those poor +boys were to permit one of them to escape, he'd be court-martialled, and +it would serve him right." + +"So it would," replied Mr. Sanders, "an' I'm mighty glad it wa'n't +Captain Falconer. This feller that had the boys in tow is a stranger to +me, an' I'm glad of it. He'll never know who lost him his job. He's a +right nice-lookin' feller, too, but when he run out'n the depot awhile +ago, his face kinder spoke up an' said he had had a dram too much some +time endyorin' of the night; or his colour mought 'a' been high bekaze +he was flurried or skeered. Now, then, Colonel Tom, ef you've done what +you laid off to do, an' I don't misdoubt it in the least, you've got a +safe place wher' I kin store a bale of long-staple cotton, ag'in a rise +in prices. Ef you've got it fixed, I'll drive right in, bekaze the kind +of cotton I'm dealin' in will spile ef it lays in the sun too long." + +"Do you mean to tell me----" + +"I'm mean enough for anything, Colonel Tom; but right now, I want to +git wher' I can drench a long-sufferin' friend of mine wi' a big +gourdful of cold water." + +"But, Mr. Sanders----" + +"Ef you'd 'a' stuck in the William H., you'd 'a' purty nigh had my whole +name," remarked Mr. Sanders with a solemn air. + +"Why, dash it, man! you've taken my breath away. Drive right in there. +John! Henry! come here, you lazy rascals, and take this team out! I told +you," said Colonel Tom to Mr. Sanders as the negroes came forward, "that +you couldn't get any better prices for your cotton than I offered you. +We treat everybody right over here, and that's the way we keep our +trade." + +The two negroes were detailed to convey the mule and the oxen to the +stable where Mr. Sanders had arranged for their "keep," as he termed it, +and as soon as they were out of sight, Mr. Sanders went to the rear of +the waggon, and said playfully, "Peep eye, Gabriel!" Receiving no +answer, he was suddenly seized with the idea that the young man had +suffocated behind the loose cotton which was intended to conceal him. +But no such thing had happened. Gabriel had plenty of breathing-room, +and the practical and unromantic rascal was sound asleep. His quarters +were warm, but the sweat-boxes at Fort Pulaski were hotter. It was very +fortunate for Gabriel that the reaction from the strain under which he +had been, took the blessed shape of sleep. + +Gabriel's place of concealment was simplicity itself. With his own hands +Mr. Sanders had constructed a stout box of oak boards, and around this +he had packed cotton until the affair, when complete, had the +appearance of an extra large bale of cotton, covered with bagging, and +roped as the majority of cotton-bales were in those days. The only way +to discover the sham was to pull out the cotton that concealed the +opening in the end of the box. In delivering his message to Cephas, Mr. +Sanders had called this loose cotton a plug, and the fact that the word +was new to the vocabulary of the school-children gave great trouble to +Gabriel, causing him to lose considerable sleep in the effort to +translate it satisfactorily to himself. The meaning dawned on him one +night when he had practically abandoned all hope of discovering it, and +then the whole scheme became so clear to him that he could have shouted +for joy. + +It was thought that a search would be made for Gabriel in the +neighbourhood of Shady Dale, and it was decided that it would be best +for him to remain in the city until all noise of the pursuit had died +away. But no pursuit was ever made, and it soon became apparent to the +public at large that radicalism was burning itself out at last, after a +weary time. When rage has nothing to feed upon it consumes itself, +especially when various chronic maladies common to mankind take a hand +in the game. + +Not only was no pursuit made of Gabriel, but the detachment of Federal +troops which had been stationed at Shady Dale was withdrawn. The young +men who had been arrested with Gabriel were placed on trial before a +military court, but with the connivance of counsel for the prosecution, +the trial dragged along until the military commander issued a +proclamation announcing that civil government had been restored in the +State, and the prisoners were turned over to the State courts. And as +there was not the shadow of a case against them, they were never brought +to trial, a fact which caused some one to suggest to Mr. Sanders that +all his work in behalf of Gabriel had been useless. + +"Well, it didn't do Gabriel no good, maybe," remarked the veteran, "but +it holp me up mightily. It gi' me somethin' to think about, an' it holp +me acrosst some mighty rough places. You have to pass the time away +anyhow, an' what better way is they than workin' for them you like? Why, +I knowed a gal, an' a mighty fine one she was, who knit socks for a +feller she had took a fancy to. The feller died, but she went right +ahead wi' her knittin' just the same. Now, that didn't do the feller a +mite of good, but it holp the gal up might'ly." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + +_Gabriel as an Orator_ + + +The _Malvern Recorder_ was very kind to Gabriel, and said nothing in +regard to his escape. This was due to a timely suggestion on the part of +Colonel Tom Vardeman, who rightly guessed that the Government +authorities would be more willing to permit the affair to blow over, +provided the details were not made notorious in the newspapers. As the +result of the Colonel's discretion, there was not a hint in the public +press that one of the prisoners had eluded the vigilance of those who +had charge of him. There was a paragraph or two in the _Recorder_, +stating that the Shady Dale prisoners--"the victims of Federal +tyranny"--had passed through the city on their way to Atlanta, and a +long account was given of their sufferings in Fort Pulaski. The facts +were supplied by Gabriel, but the printed account went far beyond +anything he had said. "They are not the first martyrs that have suffered +in the cause of liberty," said the editor of the _Recorder_, in +commenting on the account in the local columns, "and they will not be +the last. Let the radicals do their worst; on the old red hills of +Georgia, the camp-fires of Democracy have been kindled, and they will +continue to burn and blaze long after the tyrants and corruptionists +have been driven from power." + +Gabriel read this eloquent declaration somewhat uneasily. There was +something in it, and something in the exaggeration of the facts that he +had given to the representative of the paper that jarred upon him. He +had already in his own mind separated the Government and its real +interests from the selfish aims and desires of those who were +temporarily clothed with authority, and he had begun to suspect that +there might also be something selfish behind the utterances of those who +made such vigorous protests against tyranny. The matter is hardly worth +referring to in these days when shams and humbugs appear before the +public in all their nakedness; but it was worth a great deal to Gabriel +to be able to suspect that the champions of constitutional liberty, and +the defenders of popular rights, in the great majority of instances had +their eyes on the flesh-pots. The suspicions he entertained put him on +his guard at a time when he was in danger of falling a victim to the +rhetoric of orators and editors, and they preserved him from many a +mistaken belief. + +During the period that intervened between his escape and the +announcement of the restoration of civil government in Georgia, Gabriel +settled down to a course of reading in the law office of Judge Vardeman, +Colonel Tom's brother. He did this on the advice of those who were old +enough to know that idleness does not agree with a healthy youngster, +especially in a large city. His experience in Judge Vardeman's office +decided his career. He was fascinated from the very beginning. He found +the dullest law-book interesting; and he became so absorbed in his +reading that the genial Judge was obliged to warn him that too much +study was sometimes as bad as none. + +Yet the lad's appetite grew by what it fed on. A new field had been +opened up to him, and he entered it with delight. Here was what he had +been longing for, and there were moments when he felt sure that he had +heard delivered from the bench, or had dreamed, the grave and sober +maxims and precepts that confronted him on the printed page. He pursued +his studies in a state of exaltation that caused the days to fly by +unnoted. He thought of home, and of his grandmother, and a vision of Nan +sometimes disturbed his slumbers; but for the time being there was +nothing real but the grim commentators and expounders of the common law. + +When Mr. Sanders returned home, bearing the news of Gabriel's escape, +Nan Dorrington laid siege to his patience, and insisted that he go over +every detail of the event, not once but a dozen times. To her it was a +remarkable adventure, which fitted in well with the romances which she +had been weaving all her life. How did Gabriel look when he ran from the +depot at Malvern? Was he frightened? And how in the world did he manage +to get in the waggon, and crawl on the inside of the sham bale of cotton +and hide so that nobody could see him? And what did he say and how did +he look when Mr. Sanders found him asleep in the cotton-bale box, or the +cotton-box bale, whichever you might call it? + +"Why, honey, I've told you all I know an' a whole lot more," protested +Mr. Sanders. "Ef ever'body was name Nan, I'd be the most populous man in +the whole county." + +"Well, tell me this," Nan insisted; "what did he talk about when he woke +up? Did he ask about any of the home-folks?" + +"Lemme see," said Mr. Sanders, pretending to reflect; "he turned over in +his box, an' got his ha'r ketched in a rough plank, an' then he bust out +cryin' jest like you use to do when you got hurt. I kinder muched him +up, an' then he up an' tol' me a whole lot of stuff about a young lady: +how he was gwine to win her ef he had to stop chawin' tobacco, an' +cussin'. I'll name no names, bekaze I promised him I wouldn't." + +"I think that is disgusting," Nan declared. "Do you mean to tell me he +never asked about his grandmother?" + +"Fiddlesticks, Nan! he looked at me like he was hungry, an' I told him +all about his grandmother, an' he kep' on a-lookin' hungry, an' I told +him all about her neighbours. What he said I couldn't tell you no more +than the man in the moon. He done jest like any other healthy boy would +'a' done, an' that's all I know about it." + +"That's what I thought," said Nan wearily; "boys are so tiresome!" + +"Well, Gabriel didn't look much like a boy when I seed him last. He +hadn't shaved in a month of Sundays, and his beard was purty nigh as +long as my little finger. He couldn't go to a barber-shop in Malvern +for fear some of the niggers might know him an' report him to the +commander of the post there. I begged him not to shave the beard off. He +looks mighty well wi' it." + +"His beard!" cried Nan. "If he comes home with a beard I'll never speak +to him again. Gabriel with a beard! It is too ridiculous!" + +"Don't worry," Mr. Sanders remarked soothingly. "Ef I git word of his +comin' I'll git me a pa'r of shears, an' meet him outside the +corporation line, an' lop his whiskers off for him; but I tell you now, +it won't make him look a bit purtier--not a bit." + +"You needn't trouble yourself," said Nan, with considerable dignity. "I +have no interest in the matter at all." + +"Well, I thought maybe you'd be glad to git Gabriel's beard an' make it +in a sofy pillow." + +"Why, whoever heard of such a thing?" cried Nan. In common with many +others, she was not always sure when Mr. Sanders was to be taken +seriously. + +"I knowed a man once," replied Mr. Sanders, by way of making a practical +application of his suggestion, "that vowed he'd never shave his beard +off till Henry Clay was elected President. Well, it growed an' growed, +an' bimeby it got so long that he had to wrop it around his body a time +or two for to keep it from draggin' the ground. It went on that away for +a considerbul spell, till one day, whilst he was takin' a nap, his wife +took her scissors an' whacked it off. The reason she give was that she +wanted to make four or five sofy pillows; but I heard afterwards that +she changed her mind, an' made a good big mattress." + +Nan looked hard at the solemn countenance of Mr. Sanders, trying to +discover whether he was in earnest, but older and wiser eyes than hers +had often failed to penetrate behind the veil of child-like serenity +that sometimes clothed his features. + +One day while Gabriel was deep in a law-book, Colonel Tom Vardeman came +in smiling. He had a telegram in his hand, which he tossed to Gabriel. +It was from Major Tomlin Perdue, and contained an urgent request for +Gabriel to take the next train for Halcyondale, where he would meet the +prisoners who had been released pending their trial by the State courts, +an event that never came off. Gabriel had seen in the morning paper that +the prisoners were to be released in a day or two; but undoubtedly Major +Perdue had the latest information, for he was in communication with +Meriwether Clopton and other friends of the prisoners who were in +Atlanta watching the progress of the case. + +Gabriel lost no time in making his arrangements to leave, and he was in +Halcyondale some hours before the Atlanta train was due. When all had +arrived, they were for going home at once; but the citizens of +Halcyondale, led by Major Perdue and Colonel Blasengame, would not hear +of such a thing. + +"No, sirs!" exclaimed Major Perdue. "You young ones have been away from +home long enough to be weaned, and a day or two won't make any +difference to anybody's feelings. We have long been wanting a red-letter +day in this section, and now that we've got the excuse for making one, +we're not going to let it go by. Everything is fixed, or will be by day +after to-morrow. We're going to have a barbecue half-way between this +town and Shady Dale. The time was ripe for it anyhow, and you fellows +make it more binding. The people of the two counties haven't had a +jollification since the war, and they couldn't have one while it was +going on. They haven't had an excuse for it; and now that we have the +excuse we're not going to turn it loose until the jollification is +over." + +And so it was arranged. Notice was given to the people in the +old-fashioned way, and nearly everybody in the two counties not only +contributed something to the barbecue, but came to enjoy it, and when +they were assembled they made up the largest crowd that had been seen +together in that section since the day when Alexander Stephens and Judge +Cone had their famous debate--a debate which finally ended in a personal +encounter between the two. + +The details of the barbecue were in the hands of Mr. Sanders, who was +famous in those days for his skill in such matters. The fires had been +lighted the night before, and when the sun rose, long lines of carcasses +were slowly roasting over the red coals, contributing to the breezes an +aroma so persistent and penetrating that it could be recognised miles +away, and so delicious that, as Mr. Sanders remarked, "it would make a +sick man's mouth water." + +A speaker's stand had been erected, and everything was arranged just as +it would have been for a political meeting. There was a good deal of +formality too. Major Perdue prided himself on doing such things in +style. He was a great hand to preside at political meetings, in which +there is considerable formality. As the Major managed the affair, the +friends of the young men caught their first glimpse of them as they went +upon the stand. By some accident, or it may have been arranged by Major +Perdue, Gabriel was the first to make his appearance, but he was closely +followed by the rest. A tremendous shout went up from the immense +audience, which was assembled in front of the stand, and this was what +the Major had arranged for. The shouts and cheers of a great assemblage +were as music in his ears. He comported himself with as much pride as if +all the applause were a tribute to him. He advanced to the front, and +stood drinking it in greedily, not because he was a vain man, but +because he was fond of the excitement with which the presence of a crowd +inspired him. It made his blood tingle; it warmed him as a glass of +spiced wine warms a sick person. + +When the applause had subsided, the Major made quite a little speech, in +which he referred to the spirit of martyrdom betrayed by the young +patriots, who had been seized and carried into captivity by the strong +hand of a tyrannical Government, and he managed to stir the crowd to a +great pitch of excitement. He brought his remarks to a close by +introducing his young friend, Gabriel Tolliver. + +There was tremendous cheering at this, and all of a sudden Gabriel woke +up to the fact that his name had been called, and he looked around with +a dazed expression on his face. He had been trying to see if he could +find the face of Nan Dorrington in the crowd, but so far he had failed, +and he woke out of a dream to hear a multitude of voices shouting his +name. "Why, what do they mean?" he asked. + +"Get up there and face 'em," said Major Perdue. + +Now, Nan was not so very far from the stand, so close, indeed, that she +had not been in Gabriel's field of vision while he was sitting down; but +when he rose to his feet she was the first person he saw, and he +observed that she was very pale. In fact, Nan had shrunk back when the +Major announced that Gabriel would speak for his fellow-martyrs, and for +a moment or two she fairly hated the man. She might not be very fond of +Gabriel, but she didn't want to see him made a fool of before so many +people. + +Somehow or other, the young fellow divined her thought, and he smiled in +spite of himself. He had no notion what to say, but he had the gift of +saying something, very strongly developed in him; and he knew the moment +he saw Nan's scared face that he must acquit himself with credit. So he +looked at her and smiled, and she tried to smile in return, but it was a +very pitiful little smile. Gabriel walked to the small table and leaned +one hand on it, and his composure was so reassuring to everybody but +Nan, that the cheering was renewed and kept up while the youngster was +trying to put his poor thoughts together. + +He began by thanking Major Perdue for his sympathetic remarks, and then +proceeded to take sharp issue with the whole spirit of the Major's +speech, using as the basis of his address an idea that had been put into +his head by Judge Vardeman. The day before he left Malvern, the Judge +had asked him this question: "Why should a parcel of politicians turn us +against a Government under which we are compelled to live?" + +This was the basis of Gabriel's remarks. He elaborated it, and was +perhaps the first person in the country to ask if there was any +Confederate soldier who had feelings of hatred against the soldiers of +the Union. He had not gone far before he had the audience completely +under his control. Almost every statement he made was received with +shouts of approval, and in some instances the applause was such that he +had time to stand and gaze at Nan, whose colour had returned, and who +occasionally waved the little patch of lace-bordered muslin that she +called a handkerchief. + +She was almost frightened at Gabriel's composure. The last time she had +seen him, he was an awkward young man, whose hands and feet were always +in his way. She felt that she was his superior then; but how would she +feel in the presence of this grave young man, who was as composed while +addressing an immense crowd as if he had been talking to Cephas, and who +was dealing out advice to his seniors right and left? Nan was very sure +in her own mind that she would never understand Gabriel again, and the +thought robbed the occasion of a part of its enjoyment. She allowed her +thoughts to wander to such an extent that she forgot the speech, and +had her mind recalled to it only when the frantic screams of the +audience split her ears, and she saw Gabriel, flushed and triumphant, +returning to his seat. Then the real nature of his triumph dawned on +her, as she saw Meriwether Clopton and all the others on the stand +crowding around Gabriel and shaking his hand. She sat very quiet and +subdued until she felt some one touch her shoulder. It was Cephas, and +he wanted to know what she thought of it all. Wasn't it splendiferous? + +Nan made no reply, but gave the little lad a message for Gabriel, which +he delivered with promptness. He edged his way through the crowd, +crawled upon the stand, and pulled at Gabriel's coat-tails. The great +orator--that's what Cephas thought he was--seized the little fellow and +hugged him before all the crowd; and though many years have passed, +Cephas has never had a triumph of any kind that was quite equal to the +pride he felt while Gabriel held him in his arms. The little fellow took +this occasion to deliver his message, which was to the effect that +Gabriel was to ride home in the Dorrington carriage with Nan. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + +_Nan Surrenders_ + + +It was all over at last, and Gabriel found himself seated in the +carriage, side by side with the demurest and the quietest young lady he +had ever seen. He had shaken hands until his arm was sore, and he had +hunted for Nan everywhere; and finally, when he had given up the search, +he heard her calling him and saw her beckoning him from a carriage. +There was not much of a greeting between them, and he saw at once that, +while this was the Nan he had known all his life, she had changed +greatly. What he didn't know was that the change had taken place while +he was in the midst of his speech. She was just as beautiful as ever; in +fact, her loveliness seemed to be enhanced by some new light in her +eyes--or was it the way her head drooped?--or a touch of new-born +humility in her attitude? Whatever it was, Gabriel found it very +charming. + +To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The +change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You +used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of +you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained. + +"If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage +and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the +firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever +he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk. +Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of +Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his +character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every +way--strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet +there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way +that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet +she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully. + +"I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile. +"I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid----" + +"Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm +the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not." + +"I was feeling very bold when I was mouthing to those people; and every +time I looked into your eyes, I said to myself, 'You are mine; you are +mine! and you know it!' And I thought all the time that you could hear +me. It was a very queer impression. Please don't make fun of me to-day; +wait till to-morrow." + +"I couldn't hear you," said Nan, "but I could feel what you said." + +"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps +you were angry, too." + +"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the +actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I +couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was +bold to send for you?" + +"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel. + +"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh. +"Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more." + +"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel. + +"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found +it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested--well, +it is all a dream to me. I didn't know before that one could be +perfectly happy and completely miserable at the same time." + +Then, for the first time since he had entered the carriage she looked at +him. Her eyes met his, and--well, nothing more was said for some time. +Nan had as much as she could do to straighten her hat, and get her hair +smoothed out as it should be, so that people wouldn't know that she and +Gabriel were engaged. That was what she said, and she was so cute and +lovely, so sweet and gentle that Gabriel threatened to crush the hat and +get the hair out of order again. And they were very happy. + +When they arrived at Shady Dale, Gabriel insisted that Nan go home with +him, and he gave what seemed to the young woman a very good reason. "You +know, Nan, my grandmother has been Bethuning me every time I mentioned +your name, and I have heard her Bethuning you. We'll just go in hand in +hand and tell her the facts in the case." + +"Hand in hand, Gabriel? Wouldn't she think I was very bold?" + +"No, Nan," replied Gabriel, very emphatically. "There are two things my +grandmother believes in. She believes in her Bible, and she believes in +love." + +"And she believes in you, Gabriel. Oh, if you only knew how much she +loves you!" cried Nan. + +They didn't go in to the dear old lady hand in hand, for when they +reached the Lumsden Place, they found Miss Polly Gaither there, and they +interrupted her right in the midst of some very interesting gossip. Miss +Polly, after greeting Gabriel as cordially as her lonely nature would +permit, looked at Nan very critically. There was a question in her eyes, +and Nan answered it with a blush. + +"I thought as much," said Miss Polly, oracularly. "I declare I believe +there's an epidemic in the town. There's Pulaski Tomlin, Silas Tomlin, +Paul Tomlin, and now Gabriel Tolliver. Well, I wish them well, +especially you, Gabriel. Nan is a little frivolous now, but she'll +settle down." + +"She isn't frivolous," said Gabriel, speaking in the ear-trumpet; "she +is simply young." + +"Is that the trouble?" inquired Miss Polly, with a smile, "well, she'll +soon recover from that." And then she turned to Gabriel's grandmother, +and took up the thread of her gossip where it had been broken by the +arrival of Nan and Gabriel. + +"I declare, Lucy, if anybody had told me, and I couldn't see for +myself, I never would have believed it. Why, Silas Tomlin is a changed +man. He looks better than he did twenty-five years ago. He goes about +smiling, and while he isn't handsome--he never could be handsome, you +know--he is very pleasant-looking. Yes, he is a changed man. He was +going into the house just now as I came out, and he stopped and shook +hands with me, and asked about my health, something he never did before. +Honestly I don't know what to make of it; I'm clean put out. Why, the +man had two or three quarrels with Ritta Claiborne when she first came +here, and now he is going to marry her, or she him--I don't know which +one did the courting, but I'll never believe it was old Silas. I am +really and truly sorry for Ritta Claiborne. We who know Silas Tomlin +better than she does ought to warn her of the step she is about to take. +I have been on the point of doing so several times; but really, Lucy, I +haven't the heart. She is one of the finest characters I ever knew--she +is perfectly lovely. She is all heart, and I am afraid Silas Tomlin has +imposed on her in some way. But she is perfectly happy, and so is Silas. +If I thought such a thing was possible, I'd say they were very much in +love with each other." + +"Possible!" cried Gabriel's grandmother; "why, love is the only thing +worth thinking about in this world. Even the Old Testament is full of +it, and there is hardly anything else in the New Testament. Read it, +Polly, and you'll find that all the sacrifice and devotion are based on +love--real love, and unselfish because it is real." + +"It may be so, Lucy; I'll not deny it," and then, after some more gossip +less interesting, Miss Polly Gaither took her leave, saying, "I'll +leave you with your grand-children, Lucy." + +When she was gone, Gabriel stood up and beckoned to Nan, and she went to +him without a word. He placed his arm around her, and then called the +attention of his grandmother. + +"You've been Bethuning Nan and me for ever so long, grandmother: what do +you think of this?" + +"Why, I think it is very pretty, if it is real. I have known it all +along; I mean since the night you were carried away. Nan told me." + +"Why, Grandmother Lumsden! I never said a word to you about it; I +wouldn't have dared." + +"I knew it when you came in the door that day--the day that Meriwether +Clopton was here. Do you suppose I would have sat by you on the sofa, +and held your hand if I had not known it?" + +"I'm glad you knew it," said Nan. "I wanted you to know it, but I didn't +dare to tell you in so many words. I am going home now, Gabriel, and you +mustn't call on me to-day or to-night. I want to be alone. I am so +happy," she said to Mrs. Lumsden, as she kissed her, "that I don't want +to talk to any one, not even to Gabriel." + +And this was Gabriel's thought too. He saw none of his friends that day, +and when night fell he went out to the old Bermuda hill, and lay upon +the warm damp grass, the happiest person in the world. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Gabriel Tolliver, by Joel Chandler Harris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + +***** This file should be named 33058-8.txt or 33058-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/5/33058/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gabriel Tolliver + A Story of Reconstruction + +Author: Joel Chandler Harris + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33058] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>GABRIEL TOLLIVER</h1> + +<h3><i>A Story of Reconstruction</i></h3> + +<h2>By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS</h2> + +<h4><i>Author of "Uncle Remus," "The Making of a Statesman," etc.</i></h4> + +<h3>McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.<br /> +NEW YORK<br /> +1902</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1902, by</span><br /> +JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS</h3> + +<h3><i>Published, October, 1902 R</i></h3> + +<h3><i>To</i><br /> +<i>James Whitcomb Riley</i></h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#Prelude">Prelude</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">CHAPTER ONE <i>Kettledrum and Fife</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">CHAPTER TWO <i>A Town with a History</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">CHAPTER THREE <i>The Return of Two Warriors</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">CHAPTER FOUR <i>Mr. Goodlett's Passengers</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">CHAPTER FIVE <i>The Story of Margaret Gaither</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">CHAPTER SIX <i>The Passing of Margaret</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">CHAPTER SEVEN <i>Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">CHAPTER EIGHT <i>The Political Machine Begins Its Work</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">CHAPTER NINE <i>Nan and Gabriel</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">CHAPTER TEN <i>The Troubles of Nan</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">CHAPTER ELEVEN <i>Mr. Sanders in His Cups</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">CHAPTER TWELVE <i>Caught in a Corner</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">CHAPTER THIRTEEN <i>The Union League Organises</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">CHAPTER FOURTEEN <i>Nan and Her Young Lady Friends</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEEN">CHAPTER FIFTEEN <i>Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEEN">CHAPTER SIXTEEN <i>Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN <i>Rhody Has Something to Say</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN <i>The Knights of the White Camellia</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEEN">CHAPTER NINETEEN <i>Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY">CHAPTER TWENTY <i>Gabriel at the Big Poplar</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE">CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE <i>Bridalbin Follows Gabriel</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO">CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO <i>The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE">CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE <i>Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR">CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR <i>Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE">CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE <i>Mr. Sanders's Riddle</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX">CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX <i>Cephas Has His Troubles</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN">CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN <i>Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT">CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT <i>Nan and Margaret</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE">CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE <i>Bridalbin Finds His Daughter</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY">CHAPTER THIRTY <i>Miss Polly Has Some News</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE">CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE <i>Mr. Sanders Receives a Message</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY-TWO">CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO <i>Malvern Has a Holiday</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY-THREE">CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE <i>Gabriel as an Orator</i></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTY-FOUR">CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR <i>Nan Surrenders</i></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>GABRIEL TOLLIVER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Prelude" id="Prelude"></a><i>Prelude</i></h2> + + +<p>"Cephas! here is a letter for you, and it is from Shady Dale! I know you +will be happy now."</p> + +<p>For several years Sophia had listened calmly to my glowing descriptions +of Shady Dale and the people there. She was patient, but I could see by +the way she sometimes raised her eyebrows that she was a trifle +suspicious of my judgment, and that she thought my opinions were unduly +coloured by my feelings. Once she went so far as to suggest that I was +all the time looking at the home people through the eyes of +boyhood—eyes that do not always see accurately. She had said, moreover, +that if I were to return to Shady Dale, I would find that the friends of +my boyhood were in no way different from the people I meet every day. +This was absurd, of course—or, rather, it would have been absurd for +any one else to make the suggestion; for at that particular time, Sophia +was a trifle jealous of Shady Dale and its people. Nevertheless, she was +really patient. You know how exasperating a man can be when he has a +hobby. Well, my hobby was Shady Dale, and I was not ashamed of it. The +man or woman who cannot display as much of the homing instinct as a cat +or a pigeon is a creature to be pitied or despised. Sophia herself was a +tramp, as she often said. She was born in a little suburban town in New +York State, but never lived there long enough to know what home was. She +went to Albany, then to Canada, and finally to Georgia; so that the only +real home she ever knew is the one she made herself—out of the raw +material, as one might say.</p> + +<p>Well, she came running with the letter, for she is still active, though +a little past the prime of her youth. I returned the missive to her with +a faint show of dignity. "The letter is for you," I said. She looked at +the address more carefully, and agreed with me. "What in the world have +I done," she remarked, "to receive a letter from Shady Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it is the simplest thing in the world," I replied. "You have been +fortunate enough to marry me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" she cried, dropping me a little curtsey; "and I thank you +kindly!"</p> + +<p>The letter was from an old friend of mine—a school-mate—and it was an +invitation to Sophia, begging her to take a day off, as the saying is, +and spend it in Shady Dale.</p> + +<p>"Your children," the letter said, "will be glad to visit their father's +old home, and I doubt not we can make it interesting for the wife." The +letter closed with some prettily turned compliments which rather caught +Sophia. But her suspicions were still in full play.</p> + +<p>"I know the invitation is sent on your account, and not on mine," she +said, holding the letter at arm's length.</p> + +<p>"Well, why not? If my old friend loves me well enough to be anxious to +give my wife and children pleasure, what is there wrong about that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," replied Sophia. "I've a great mind to go."</p> + +<p>"If you do, my dear, you will make a number of people happy—yourself +and the children, and many of my old friends."</p> + +<p>"He declares," said Sophia, "that he writes at the request of his wife. +You know how much of that to believe."</p> + +<p>"I certainly do. Imagine me, for instance, inviting to visit us a lady +whom you had never met."</p> + +<p>Whereupon Sophia laughed. "I believe you'd endorse any proposition that +came from Shady Dale," she declared.</p> + +<p>She accepted the invitation more out of curiosity than with any +expectation of enjoying herself; but she stayed longer than she had +intended; and when she came back her views and feelings had undergone a +complete change. "Cephas, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not +going to see those people," she declared. "Why, they are the salt of the +earth. I never expected to be treated as they treated me. If it wasn't +for your business, I would beg you to go back there and live. They are +just like the people you read about in the books—I mean the good +people, the ideal characters—the men and women you would like to meet." +Here she paused and sighed. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed that visit for +anything. But what amazes me, Cephas, is that you've never put in your +books characters such as you find in Shady Dale."</p> + +<p>The suggestion was a fertile one; it had in it the active principle of a +germ; and it was not long before the ferment began to make itself felt. +The past began to renew itself; the sun shone on the old days and gave +them an illumination which they lacked when they were new. Time's +perspective gave them a mellower tone, and they possessed, at least for +me, that element of mystery which seems to attach to whatever is +venerable. It was as if the place, the people, and the scenes had taken +the shape of a huge picture, with just such a lack of harmony and unity +as we find in real life.</p> + +<p>Let those who can do so continue to import harmony and unity into their +fabrications and call it art. Whether it be art or artificiality, the +trick is beyond my powers. I can only deal with things as they were; on +many occasions they were far from what I would have had them to be; but +as I was powerless to change them, so am I powerless to twist +individuals and events to suit the demands or necessities of what is +called art.</p> + +<p>Such a feat might be possible if I were to tell the simple story of Nan +and Gabriel and Tasma Tid during the days when they roamed over the old +Bermuda hills, and gazed, as it were, into the worlds that existed only +in their dreams: for then the story would be both fine and beautiful. It +would be a wonderful romance indeed, with just a touch of tragic +mystery, gathered from the fragmentary history of Tasma Tid, a +child-woman from the heart of Africa, who had formed a part of the cargo +of the yacht <i>Wanderer</i>, which landed three hundred slaves on the coast +of Georgia in the last months of 1858. You may find the particulars of +the case of the <i>Wanderer</i> in the files of the Savannah newspapers, and +in the records of the United States Court for that district; but the +tragic history of Tasma Tid can be found neither in the newspapers nor +in the court records.</p> + +<p>But for this one touch of mystery and tragedy, this chronicle, supposing +it to deal only with the childhood and early youth of Nan and Gabriel, +would resolve itself into a marvellous fairy tale, made up of the +innocent dreams and hopes and beliefs, and all the extraordinary +inventions and imaginings of childhood. And even mystery and tragedy +have their own particular forms of simplicity, so that, with Tasma Tid +in the background the tale would be artless enough to satisfy the most +artful. For, even if the reader, seated on the magic cloak of some +competent story-teller, were transported to the heart of Africa, where +the mountains, with their feet in the jungle, reach up and touch the +moon, or to China, or the Islands of the Sea, the hero of the tale would +be the same. His name is Dilly Bal, and he carries on his operations +wherever there are stars in the sky. He is a restless and a roving +creature, flitting to and fro between all points of the compass.</p> + +<p>When King Sun crawls into his trundle bed and begins to snore, Dilly +Bal creeps forth from Somewhere, or maybe from Nowhere, which is just on +the other side, fetching with him a long broom, which he swishes about +to such purpose that the katydids hear it and are frightened. They hide +under the leaves and are heard no more that night. That is why you never +hear them crying and disputing when you chance to be awake after +midnight.</p> + +<p>But Dilly Bal knows nothing of the katydids; he has his own duties to +perform, and his own affairs to attend to; and these, as you will +presently see, are very pressing. It is his business, as well as his +pleasure, to be the Housekeeper of the Sky, which he dusts and tidies +and puts in order. It is a part of his duty to see that the stars are +safely bestowed against the moment when old King Sun shall emerge from +his tent, and begin his march over the world. And then, in the dusk of +the evening, Dilly Bal must take each star from the bag in which he +carries it, polish it bright, and put it in its proper place.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, as you may have observed, a star will fall while Dilly Bal is +handling it. This happens when he is nervous for fear that King Sun, +instead of going to bed in his tent, has crept back and is watching from +behind the cloud mountains. Sometimes a star falls quite by accident, as +when Lucindy or Patience drops a plate in the kitchen. You will be sure +to know Dilly Bal when you see him, for, in handling the stars and +dusting the sky, his clothes get full of yellow cobwebs, which he never +bothers himself to brush off.</p> + +<p>But Dilly Bal's most difficult job is with the Moon. Regularly the Moon +blackens her face in a vain effort to hide from King Sun. If she used +smut or soot, Dilly Bal's task would not be so difficult; but she has +found a lake of pitch somewhere in Africa, and in this lake she smears +her face till it is so black her best friends wouldn't know her. The +pitch is such sticky stuff that it is days and days before it can be +rubbed off. The truth is, Dilly Bal never does succeed in getting all +the pitch off. At her brightest, the Moon shows signs of it. So said +Tasma Tid, and so we all firmly believed.</p> + +<p>Yes, indeed! If this chronicle could be confined to the childhood and +youth of those children, Dilly Bal would be the hero first and last. He +was so real to all of us that we used to wander out to the old Bermuda +fields almost every fine afternoon, and sit there until the light had +faded from the sky, watching Dilly Bal hanging the stars on their pegs. +The Evening Star was such a large and heavy one that Dilly Bal always +replaced it before dark, so as to be sure not to drop it.</p> + +<p>Once when we stayed out in the Bermuda fields later than usual, a big +star fell from its place, and went flying across the sky, leaving a long +and brilliant streamer behind it. At first, Nan thought that Dilly Bal +had tried to hang the Evening Star on the wrong peg, but when she looked +in the west, there was the big star winking at her and at all of us as +hard as it could.</p> + +<p>The pity of it was that Nan and Gabriel, and all their young friends, +had finally to come in contact with the hard practical affairs of the +world. As for Tasma Tid, contact had no special influence on her. She +was to all appearance as unchangeable as the pyramids, and as mysterious +as the Sphinx. But it was different with Nan and Gabriel, and, indeed, +with all the rest. Their story soon ceased to be a simple one. In some +directions, it appeared to be a hopeless tangle, catching a great many +other persons in its loops and meshes; so that, instead of a simple, +entrancing story, all aglow with the glamour of romance, they had +troubles that were grievous, and their full share of dulness and +tediousness, which are the essential ingredients of everyday life.</p> + +<p>After all, it is perhaps fortunate that the marvellous dreams of Nan and +Gabriel, and the quaint imaginings of Tasma Tid are not to be +chronicled. The spinning of this glistening gossamer once begun would +have no end, for Nan was an expert dreamer both night and day, and in +the practice of this art, Gabriel was not far behind her; while Tasma +Tid, who was Nan's maid and bodyguard, could frame her face in her +hands, and tell you stories from sunrise to sundown and far into the +night.</p> + +<p>Tasma Tid, though she was only a child in stature and nature, was +growner in years, as she said, than some of the grownest grown folks +that they knew. She was a dwarf by race, and always denied bitterly, +sometimes venomously, that she was a negro, declaring that in her +country the people were always at war with the blacks. Her color was +dark brown, light enough for the blood tints to show in her face, and +her hair was straight and glossy black. From the <i>Wanderer</i>, she soon +found herself in the slave market at Malvern, and there she fell under +the eye of Dr. Randolph Dorrington, Nan's father, who bought her +forthwith. He thought that a live doll would please his daughter. The +dwarf said that her name was Tasma Tid in her country, and she would +answer to no other.</p> + +<p>It was a very fortunate bargain all around, especially for Nan, for in +the African woman she found both a playmate and a protector. Tasma Tid +was far above the average negro in intelligence, in courage and in +cunning. She was as obstinate as a mule, and no matter what obstacles +were thrown in her way, her own desires always prevailed in the end, a +fact that will explain her early appearance in the slave market. Those +of her owners who failed to understand her were not willing to see her +spoil on their hands, like a barrel of potatoes or a basket of shrimps. +The African was uncanny when she chose to be, outspoken, vicious, and +tender-hearted, her nature being compounded of the same qualities and +contradictions as those which belong to the great ladies of the earth, +who, with opportunity always at their elbows, have contrived to create a +great stir in the world.</p> + +<p>When Dr. Dorrington fetched Tasma Tid home, he called out to Nan from +his gig: "I have brought you a live doll, daughter; come and see how you +like it."</p> + +<p>Nan went running—she never learned how to walk until she was several +years older—and regarded Tasma Tid with both surprise and sympathy. +The African, seeing only the sympathy, leaped from the gig, seized Nan +around the waist, lifted her from the ground, ran this way and that, and +then released her with a loud and joyous laugh.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" cried Nan, somewhat taken aback.</p> + +<p>"She stan' fer we howdy," the African answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's see you tell popsy howdy," suggested Nan, indicating her +father.</p> + +<p>"Uh-uh! he we buckra."</p> + +<p>From that hour Tasma Tid attached herself to Nan, following her +everywhere with the unquestioning fidelity of a dog. She sat on the +floor of the dining-room while Nan ate her meals, and slept on a pallet +by the child's bed at night. If the African was sweeping the yard, a +task she sometimes consented to perform, she would fling the brushbroom +away and go with Nan if the child started out at the gate. At first this +constant attendance was somewhat annoying to Nan, for she was an +independent lass; but presently, when she found that Tasma Tid was a +most accomplished and versatile playfellow, as well as the depositary of +hundreds of curious fables and quaint tales of the wildwood, Nan's +irritation disappeared.</p> + +<p>As for Gabriel—Gabriel Tolliver—he was almost as indispensable as the +African woman. Children learn a good many things, as they grow older, +and I have heard that Nan and Gabriel were thought to be queer, and that +all who were much in their company were also thought to be queer. No +one knows why. It was a simple statement, and simple statements are +readily believed, because no one takes the trouble to inquire into them. +A man who has views different from those of the majority is called +eccentric; if he insists on promulgating them, he is known as a crank. +In the case of Nan and Gabriel, it may be said by one who knows, that, +while they were different from the majority of children, they were +neither queer nor eccentric.</p> + +<p>They, and those whom they chose as companions, were children at a time +when the demoralisation of war was about to begin—when it was already +casting its long shadow before it—and when their elders were discussing +as hard as ever they could the questions of State rights, the true +interpretation of the Constitution, squatter sovereignty, the right of +secession—every question, in short, except the one at issue. In this +way, and for this reason, the two children and their companions were +thrown back upon themselves.</p> + +<p>Of those who formed this merry little company, not one went to the +academies that had been established in the town early enough to be its +most ancient institutions. Nan was taught by her father, Randolph +Dorrington, and Gabriel and I said our lessons to his grandmother, Mrs. +Lucy Lumsden. Thus it happened that we were through with our school +tasks before the children in the two academies had begun their morning +recess.</p> + +<p>"We would never have been such good friends," said Nan on one occasion, +"if I hadn't wanted to go to your house, Gabriel, to see how your +grandmother wavies her hair. I saw Cephas, and asked him to go along +with me." Child as she was, Nan had her little vanities. She desired +above all things that her hair should fall away from her brow in little +rippling waves, like those that shone in the silver-grey hair of +Gabriel's grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Why, my grandmother doesn't wavie her hair at all," protested Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," replied Nan, with a toss of the hand; "I found that out +for myself. And I was very sorry; I want my hair to wavie like hers and +yours."</p> + +<p>"Well, if your hair was to wavie like mine," said Gabriel, "you'd have a +mighty hard time combing it in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember," Nan went on in a reminiscent way, "that she made +you shake hands with me that day? It was funny the way you came up and +held out your arm. If I had jumped at you and said <i>Boo!</i> I don't know +what would have happened." Gabriel grew very red at this, but Nan +ignored his embarrassment. "You had syrup on your fingers, you know, and +then we all had some in a saucer. Yes, and we all sopped our bread in +the same saucer, and Cephas here got the syrup on his face and in his +hair."</p> + +<p>It never occurred to me in those days that Nan was beautiful, or that +Gabriel was handsome, but looking back in the light of experience, it is +easy to remember that they had in their features all the promises that +the long and slow-moving years were to fulfil. I was struck, however, by +one peculiarity of Nan's face. When her countenance was at rest, it +gave out a hint of melancholy, and there was an appealing look in her +brown eyes; but when she smiled or laughed, the sombre face broke up +into numberless dimples. Apart from her countenance, there was a charm +about her which I have never been able to trace to its source, and which +of course is beyond description; and this charm remained, and made +itself felt whether the appearance of melancholy had its dwelling-place +in her eyes, which were large, and lustrous, and full of tenderness, or +whether her face was brilliant with smiles. She had a deserved +reputation as a tomboy, but she carried off her tricksy whims with a +daintiness that preserved them from all hint of coarseness; and if +sometimes she was rude, she had a way of righting herself that none +could resist.</p> + +<p>As for Gabriel, he was always large for his age. He was strong and +healthy, possessing every physical excuse for roughness and +boisterousness; but association with his grandmother, who was one of the +gentlest of gentlewomen, had toned him down and smoothed the rough +edges. His hair was dark and curly, and his face gave promise of great +strength of character—a promise which, it may be said here, was +fulfilled to the letter. He was as whimsical as Nan, and, in addition, +had moods to which she was a stranger.</p> + +<p>These things did not occur to Cephas the Child, but are the fruits of +his memory and experience. He only knew at that time that Nan and +Gabriel were both very good to him. He was considerably younger than +either of them, and he often wondered then, and has wondered since, why +they were such good friends of his, and why they were constantly hunting +him up if he failed to make his appearance. Perhaps because he was so +full of unadulterated mischief. Gabriel, with all his gravity, was full +of a quaint humour, and Nan hunted for cause for laughter in everything; +and she was never more beautiful than when this same laughter had shaken +her tawny hair about her face.</p> + +<p>We had travelled widely. Nan had been to Malvern with her father, and +had seen sights—railway trains, omilybuses, as she called them, a great +big hotel, and "oodles" of crippled persons; yes, and besides the +crippled persons, there was a blind man standing on the corner with a +big card hanging from his neck; and that very day, she had eaten +"reesins" until she never wanted 'em any more, as she said. Gabriel and +Cephas had not gone so far; but once upon a time, they went to +Halcyondale, and, among other things, had seen Major Tomlin Perdue kill +sparrows with a pistol. Nan had been anxious to go with them at the +time, but when she heard about the slaughter of the sparrows, she was +very glad she had stayed at home, for what did a grown man as old as +Major Perdue want to kill the poor little brown sparrows for? Nan's +question was never answered. Gabriel and Cephas had only seen in the +transaction the enviable skill of the Major; whereas Nan thought of +nothing but the poor little birds that had been slain for a holiday +show. "They may have been singing sparrows, or snow-birds," mourned Nan. +True enough; but Gabriel and Cephas had thought of nothing but the +skill of the marksman with his duelling pistols. Tasma Tid also had her +point of view. "Wey you no fetcha dem lil bud home fer we supper?" She +was hardly satisfied when she was told that the little birds, all put +together, would have made hardly more than a mouthful.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + +<h3><i>Kettledrum and Fife</i></h3> + + +<p>The serene repose of Shady Dale no doubt stood for dulness and lack of +progress in that day and time. In all ages of the world, and in all +places, there are men of restless but superficial minds, who mistake +repose and serenity for stagnation. No doubt then, as now, the most +awful sentence to be passed on a community was to say that it was not +progressive. But when you examine into the matter, what is called +progress is nothing more nor less than the multiplication of the +resources of those who, by means of dicker and barter, are trying all +the time to overreach the public and their fellows, in one way and +another. This sort of thing now has a double name; it is called +civilisation, as well as progress, and those who take things as they +find them in their morning newspaper, without going to the trouble to +reflect for themselves, are no doubt duly impressed by terms that are +large enough to fill both the ear and mouth at one and the same time.</p> + +<p>Well, whatever serene repose stands for, Shady Dale possessed it in an +eminent degree, and the people there had their full share of the sorrows +and troubles of this world, as Madame Awtry, or Miss Puella Gillum, or +Neighbour Tomlin, or even that cheerful philosopher, Mr. Billy Sanders, +could have told you; but of these Nan and Gabriel and Cephas knew +nothing except in a vague, indefinite way. They heard hints of rumours, +and sometimes they saw their elders shaking their heads as they gossiped +together, but the youngsters lived in a world of their own, a world +apart, and the vague rumours were no more interesting to them than the +reports of canals on Mars are to the average person to-day. He reads in +his newspaper that the markings in Mars are supposed to be canals; +whereat he smiles and reflects that these canals can do him no harm. Nan +and Gabriel and Cephas were as far from contemporary troubles as we are +from Mars. The most serious trouble they had was not greater than that +which they discovered one day on the Bermuda hill. As they were sitting +on the warm grass, wondering how long before peaches would be ripe, they +saw a field mouse cutting up some queer capers. Nan was not very +friendly with mice, and she instinctively gathered up her skirts; but +she did not run; her curiosity was ever greater than her fear. Presently +we found that the troubles of Mother Mouse were very real. A tremendous +black beetle had invaded her nest, and had seized one of her children, a +little bit of a thing, naked and red and about the size of a half-ripe +mulberry. We tried hard to rescue the mouse from the beetle, but soon +found that it was quite dead. Cephas crushed the beetle, which was as +venomous-looking a bug as they had ever seen. Was the beetle preparing +to eat the mouse? Tasma Tid said yes, but Gabriel thought not. His idea +was that the Mother Mouse had attacked the beetle, which was blindly +crawling about, and had fallen in the nest accidentally. The beetle, +striving to defend itself, had seized the mouse between its pinchers, +and held it there until it was quite dead.</p> + +<p>But the Bermuda fields were not the only resource of the children. There +were seasons when Uncle Plato, who was Meriwether Clopton's +carriage-driver, came to town with the big waggon to haul home the +supplies necessary for the plantation; loads of bagging and rope; cases +of brogan shoes, and hats for the negroes; and bales on bales of +osnaburgs and blankets. The appearance of the Clopton waggon on the +public square was hailed by these youngsters with delight. They always +made a rush for it, and, in riding back and forth with Uncle Plato, they +spent some of the most delightful moments of their lives.</p> + +<p>And then in the fall season, there was the big gin running at the +Clopton place, with old Beck, the blind mule, going round and round, +turning the cogged and pivoted post that set the machinery in motion. +But the youngsters rarely grew tired of riding back and forth with Uncle +Plato. He was the one person in the world who catered most completely to +their whims, who was most responsive to their budding and eager fancies, +and who entered most enthusiastically into the regions created and +peopled by Nan's skittish and fantastic imagination.</p> + +<p>These children had their critics, as may well be supposed, especially +Nan, who did not always conform to the rules and theories which have +been set up for the guidance of girls; but Uncle Plato, along with +Gabriel and Cephas, accepted her as she was, with all her faults, and +took as much delight in her tricksy and capricious behaviour, as if he +were responsible for it all. She and her companions furnished Uncle +Plato with what all story-tellers have most desired since hairy man +began to shave himself with pumice-stone, and squat around a common +hearth—a faithful and believing audience. Uncle Ęsop, it may be, cared +less for his audience than for the opportunity of lugging in a dismal +and perfunctory moral. Uncle Plato, like Uncle Remus, concealed his +behind text and adventure, conveying it none the less completely on that +account. Not one of his vagaries was too wild for the acceptance of his +small audience, and the elusiveness of his methods was a perpetual +delight to Nan, as hers was to Uncle Plato, though he sometimes shook +his head, and pretended to sigh over her innocent evasions.</p> + +<p>Once when we were all riding back and forth from the Clopton Place to +Shady Dale, Nan asked Uncle Plato if he could spell.</p> + +<p>"Tooby sho I kin, honey. What you reckon I been doin' all deze +long-come-shorts ef I dunner how ter spell? How you speck I kin git +'long, haulin' an' maulin', ef I dunner how ter spell? Why, I could +spell long 'fo' I know'd my own name."</p> + +<p>"Long-come-shorts, what are they?" asked Nan.</p> + +<p>"Rainy days an' windy nights," responded Uncle Plato, throwing his head +back, and closing his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Let's hear you spell, then," said Nan.</p> + +<p>"Dee-o-egg, dog," was the prompt response. Nan looked at Uncle Plato to +see if he was joking, but he was solemnity itself. "E-double-egg, egg!" +he continued.</p> + +<p>"Now spell John A. Murrell," said Nan. Murrell, the land pirate, was one +of her favourite heroes at this time.</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato pretended to be very much shocked. "Why, honey, dat man wuz +rank pizen. En spozen he wa'nt, how you speck me ter spell sump'n er +somebody which I ain't never laid eyes on? How I gwineter spell Johnny +Murrell, an' him done dead dis many a long year ago?"</p> + +<p>"Well, spell goose, then," said Nan, seeing a flock of geese marching +stiffly in single file across a field near the road.</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato looked at them carefully enough to take their measure, and +then shook his head solemnly. "Deyer so many un um, honey, dey'd be +monstus hard fer ter spell."</p> + +<p>"Well, just spell one of them then," Nan suggested.</p> + +<p>"Which un, honey?"</p> + +<p>"Any one you choose."</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato studied over the matter a moment, and again shook his head. +"Uh-uh, honey; dat ain't nigh gwine ter do. Ef you speck me fer ter +spell goose, you got ter pick out de one you want me ter spell."</p> + +<p>"Well, spell the one behind all the rest."</p> + +<p>Again Uncle Plato shook his head. "Dat ar goose got half-grown goslin's, +an' I ain't never larnt how ter spell goose wid half-grown goslin's. You +ax too much, honey."</p> + +<p>"Then spell the one next to head." Nan was inexorable.</p> + +<p>"Dat ar ain't no goose," replied Uncle Plato, with an air of triumph; +"she's a gander."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you know how to spell goose," said Nan, with something +like scorn.</p> + +<p>"Don't you fool yo'se'f, honey," remarked Uncle Plato in a tone of +confidence. "You git me a great big fat un, not too ol', an' not too +young, an' fill 'er full er stuffin', an' bake 'er brown in de big oven, +an' save all de drippin's, an' put 'er on de table not fur fum whar I +mought be settin' at, an' gi' me a pone er corn bread, an' don't have no +talkin' an' laughin' in de game—an' ef I don't spell dat goose, I'll +come mighty nigh it, I sholy will. Ef I don't spell 'er, dey won't be +nuff lef' fer de nex' man ter spell. You kin 'pen' on dat, honey."</p> + +<p>Nan suddenly called Uncle Plato's attention to the carriage horses, +which were hitched to the waggon. She said she knew their names well +enough when they were pulling the carriage, but now—</p> + +<p>"Haven't you changed the horses, Uncle Plato?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"How I gwine change um, honey?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, haven't you changed their places?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am!" he answered with considerable emphasis. "No, ma'am; ef I +wuz ter put dat off hoss in de lead, you'd see some mighty high kickin'; +you sho would."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's try it!" cried Nan, with real eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Dem may try it what choosen ter try it," responded Uncle Plato, dryly, +"but I'll ax um fer ter kindly le' me git win' er what deyer gwine ter +do, an' den I'll make my 'rangerments fer ter be somers out'n sight an' +hearin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you haven't made the horses swap places," remarked Nan, "I'll +bet you a thrip that the right-hand horse is named Waffles, and the +left-hand one Battercakes."</p> + +<p>At once Uncle Plato became very dignified. "Well-'um, I'm mighty glad +fer ter hear you sesso, kaze ef dey's any one thing what I want mo' dan +anudder, it's a thrip's wuff er mannyfac terbacker. Ez fer de off hoss, +dat's his name—Waffles—you sho called it right. But when it comes ter +de lead hoss, anybody on de plantation, er off'n it, I don't keer whar +dey live at, ef dey yever so much ez hear er dat lead hoss, will be glad +fer ter tell you dat he goes by de name er Muffins." He held out his +hand for the thrip.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is the difference?" said Nan, drawing back as if to prevent +him from taking the thrip.</p> + +<p>"De diffunce er what?" inquired Uncle Plato.</p> + +<p>"And you expect me to give you money you haven't won," declared Nan. +"What's the difference between Battercakes and Muffins? A muffin is a +battercake if you pour three big spoonfuls in a pan and spread it out, +and a battercake is a muffin if you pen it up in a tin-thing like a +napkin ring. Anybody can tell you that, Uncle Plato—yes, anybody."</p> + +<p>What reply the old negro would have made to this bit of home-made +casuistry will never be known. That it would have been reasonable, if +not entirely adequate, may well be supposed, but just as he had given +his head a preliminary shake, the rattle of a kettle-drum was heard, and +above the rattle a fife was shrilling.</p> + +<p>The shrilling fife, and the roll and rattle of the drums! These were +sounds somewhat new to Shady Dale in 1860; but presently they were to be +heard all over the land.</p> + +<p>"I can see dem niggers right now!" exclaimed Uncle Plato, as we hustled +out of his waggon. "Riley playin' de fife, Green beatin' on de +kittledrum, an' Ike Varner bangin' on de big drum. Ef de white folks pay +much 'tention ter dem niggers, dey won't be no livin' in de same county +wid um. But dey better not come struttin' 'roun' me!"</p> + +<p>The drums were beating the signal for calling together the men whose +names had been signed to the roll of a company to be called the Shady +Dale Scouts, and the meeting was for the purpose of organizing and +electing officers. All this was accomplished in due time; but meanwhile +Nan and Gabriel and Cephas, as well as Tasma Tid and all the rest of the +children in the town, went tagging after the fife and drums listening to +Riley play the beautiful marching tunes that set Nan's blood to +tingling. Riley was a master hand with the fife, and we had never known +it, had never even suspected it! Nan thought it was very mean in Riley +not to tell somebody that he could play so beautifully.</p> + +<p>Well, in a very short time, the company was rigged out in the finest +uniforms the children had even seen. All the men, even the privates, had +plumes in their hats and epaulettes of gold on their shoulders; and on +their coats they wore stripes of glowing red, and shiny brass buttons +without number. And at least twice a week they marched through the +streets and out into the Bermuda fields, where they had their drilling +grounds. These were glorious days for the youngsters. Nan was so +enthusiastic that she organised a company of little negroes, and +insisted on being the captain. Gabriel was the first lieutenant, and +Cephas was the second. When the company was ready to take the field, it +was discovered that Nan would also have to be orderly sergeant and +color-bearer. But she took on herself the duties and responsibilities of +these positions without a murmur. She wore a paper hat of the true +Napoleonic cut, and carried in one hand her famous sword-gun, and the +colors in the other. The oldest private in Nan's company was nine; the +youngest was four, and had as much as he could do to keep up with the +rest. The uniforms of these sun-seasoned troops was the regulation +plantation fatigue dress—a shirt coming to the knees. Two or three of +the smaller privates had evidently fallen victims to the pot-liquor and +buttermilk habits, for their bellies stuck out black and glistening from +rents in their shirts.</p> + +<p>Their accoutrements prefigured in an absurd way the resources of the +Confederacy at a later date. They were armed with broomsticks, and +what-not. The file-leader had an old pair of tongs, which he snapped +viciously when Nan gave the word to fire. The famous sword-gun, with +which Nan did such execution, had once seen service as an umbrella +handle.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, as Nan was drilling her troops, she chanced to glance +down the road, and saw a waggon coming along. Deploying her company +across the highway, she went forward in person to reconnoitre. She soon +discovered that the waggon was driven by Uncle Plato. Running back to +her veterans, she placed herself in front of them, and calmly awaited +events. Slowly the fat horses dragged the waggon along, when suddenly +Nan cried "Halt!" whereupon the drummer, obeying previous instructions, +began to belabour his tin-pan, while Nan levelled her famous sword-gun +at Uncle Plato. "Bang!" she exclaimed, and then, "Why didn't you fall +off the waggon?" she cried, as Uncle Plato remained immovable. "Why, you +don't know any more about real war than a baby," she said scornfully.</p> + +<p>If the truth must be told, Uncle Plato had been dozing, and when he +awoke he viewed the scene before him with astonishment. There was no +need to cry "Halt!" or exclaim "Bang!" for as soon as the drummer began +to beat his tin-pan, the horses stood still and craned their necks +forward, with a warning snort, trying to see what this strange and +unnatural proceeding meant. Uncle Plato had involuntarily tightened the +reins when he was so rudely awakened, and the horses took this for a +hint that they must avoid the danger, and, as the shortest way is the +best way, they began to back, and had the waggon nearly turned around +before Uncle Plato could tell them a different tale.</p> + +<p>"Ef I'd 'a' fell out'n de waggon, honey, who gwine ter pick me up?" he +asked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why, no one is picked up in war!"</p> + +<p>"Is dis war, honey?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," Nan declared.</p> + +<p>"Does bofe sides hafter take part in de rucus?" asked Uncle Plato, +making a terrible face at the little negroes.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said Nan.</p> + +<p>Seeing the scowl, Nan's veteran troops began to edge slowly toward the +nearest breach in the fence. Uncle Plato seized his whip and pretended +to be clambering from the waggon. At this a panic ensued, and Nan's army +dispersed in a jiffy. The seasoned troops dropped their arms and fled. +The four-year-old became lost or entangled in a thick growth of jimson +weed, seeing which, Uncle Plato cried out in terrible voice, "Ketch um +dar! Fetch um here!"</p> + +<p>Then and there ensued a wild scene of demoralisation and anarchy; loud +shrieks and screams filled the air; the dogs barked, the hens cackled, +and the neighbours began to put their heads out of the windows. Mrs. +Absalom, who had charge of the Dorrington household, and who had raised +Nan from a baby, came to the door—the defeat of the troops occurred +right at Nan's own home—crying, "My goodness gracious! has the yeth +caved in?" Then, seeing the waggon crosswise the road, and mistaking +Nan's shrieks of laughter for cries of pain, she bolted from the house +with a white face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom's reactions from her daily alarms about Nan usually +resulted in bringing her into open and direct war with everybody in +sight or hearing, except the child; but on this occasion, her fright had +been so serious that when Nan, somewhat sobered, ran to her the good +woman was shaking.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nonny!" cried Nan, hugging her, "you are all trembling."</p> + +<p>"No wonder," said Mrs. Absalom in a subdued voice; "I saw you under them +waggon wheels as plain as I ever saw anything in my life. I'm gittin' +old, I reckon."</p> + +<p>And yet there were some people who wondered how Nan could endure such a +foster-mother as Mrs. Absalom.</p> + +<p>But the complete rout of Nan's army made no change in the general +complexion of affairs. The Shady Dale Scouts continued to perfect +themselves in the tactics of war, and after awhile, when the great +controversy began to warm up—the children paid no attention to the +passage of time—the company went into camp. This was a great hour for +the youngsters. Here at last was something real and tangible. The +marching and the countermarching through the streets and in the old +field were very well in their way, but Nan and Gabriel and the rest had +grown used to these man[oe]uvres, and they longed for something new. +This was furnished by the camp, with its white tents, and the grim +sentinels pacing up and down with fixed bayonets. No one, not even an +officer, could pass the sentinels without giving the password, or +calling for the officer of the guard.</p> + +<p>All this, from the children's point of view, was genuine war; but to the +members of the company it was a veritable picnic. The citizens of the +town, especially the ladies, sent out waggon loads of food every +day—boiled ham, barbecued shote, chicken pies, and cake; yes, and +pickles. Nan declared she didn't know there were as many pickles in the +world, as she saw unloaded at the camp.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodlett, who was Mrs. Absalom's husband, went out to the camp, +looked it over with the eye of an expert, and turned away with a groan. +This citizen had served both in the Mexican and the Florida wars, and he +knew that these gallant young men would have a rude awakening, when it +came to the real tug of war.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't it look like war, Mr. Ab?" Nan asked, running after the +veteran.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodlett looked at the bright face lifted up to his, and frowned, +though a smile of pity showed itself around his grizzled mouth. He was a +very deliberate man, and he hesitated before he spoke. "You think that +looks like war?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. Isn't that the way they do when there's a war?"</p> + +<p>"What! gormandise, an' set in the shade? Why, it ain't no more like war +than sparrergrass is like jimson weed—not one ioter." With that, he +sighed and went on his way.</p> + +<p>But when did the precepts of age and experience ever succeed in chilling +the enthusiasm of youth? With the children, it was "O to be a soldier +boy!" and Nan and her companions continued to linger around the edges of +the spectacle, taking it all in, and enjoying every moment. And the +Scouts themselves continued to live like lords, eating and drilling, and +dozing during the day, and at night dancing to the sweet music of +Flavian Dion's violin. Nan and Gabriel thought it was fine, and, as well +as can be remembered, Cephas was of the same opinion. As for Tasma Tid, +she thought that the fife and drums, and the general glare and glitter +of the affair were simply grand, very much nicer than war in her +country, where the Arab slave-traders crept up in the night and seized +all who failed to escape in the forest, killing right and left for the +mere love of killing. Compared with the jungle war, this pageant was +something to be admired.</p> + +<p>And many of the older citizens held views not very different from those +of the children, for enthusiasm ran high. The Shady Dale Scouts went +away arrayed in their holiday uniforms. Many of them never returned to +their homes again, but those that did were arrayed in rags and tatters. +Their gallantry was such that the Shady Dale Scouts, disguised as +Company B, were always at the head of their regiment when trouble was on +hand. But all this is to anticipate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + +<h3><i>A Town with a History</i></h3> + + +<p>Before, during, and after the war, Shady Dale presented always the same +aspect of serene repose. It was, as you may say, a town with a history. +Then, as now, there were towns all about that had no such fortunate +appendage behind them to explain their origin. No one could tell what +they were begun for; no one could say whether they had for their nucleus +an old field or a cross-roads grocery, or whether a party of immigrants +pitched their tents there because the grass was fine and the water +abundant. There is one city in Georgia, and it is the most prosperous of +all, that was built on the idea that the cattle-paths and the old +government roads afford the most convenient and picturesque contours for +the streets; and to this day, the thoroughfares of that city afford a +most interesting study to those who are interested in either topography +or human nature; for it is possible to go to that city, and, with half +an eye, discover the places where the waggons and other vehicles turned +aside nearly a hundred years ago to avoid the mudholes, the fallen +trees, and other temporary obstructions. They have been preserved in the +conformation of the streets.</p> + +<p>Shady Dale is no city, and it may be that its public-spirited citizens +stretch the meaning of the term when they call it a town. Nevertheless, +the community has a well-defined history. When Raleigh Clopton, shortly +after the signing of the treaty of peace between the United States and +Great Britain, crossed the Oconee, and settled on the lands of the +hostile Creeks, his friends declared that he was tempting Providence; +and so it seemed; but the event proved that from first to last, his +adventure was under the direct guidance of Providence. He demonstrated +anew the truth of two ancient maxims: he who risks nothing, gains +nothing; heaven helps those who help themselves. Raleigh Clopton risked +everything and gained the most beautiful domain in all the land. He had, +indeed, one stormy interview with General McGillivray, the great Creek +chief and statesman, but after that all was peace and prosperity.</p> + +<p>General McGillivray was one of the most remarkable men of his time, and +his time was during an era of remarkable men. He possessed a genius that +enabled him to cope successfully with the ablest statesmen of his day. +He drew Washington into a secret treaty with the Creek Nation, and when +McGillivray died, the Father of his country referred to him as "my +friend," and deplored his taking off. Courageous and adventurous +himself, McGillivray was no doubt attracted by the attitude and +personality of the fearless Virginian. He became the warm friend of +Raleigh Clopton, and marked that friendship by deeding to the first +white settler two thousand acres of land lying between the Little River +hills on one side, and the meadows of Murder Creek on the other. +Moreover, he named the estate Shady Dale, and aided Raleigh Clopton to +establish a trading-post where the court-house of the town now stands; +and on a pine near by, he caused to be made the semblance of a broken +arrow, a token that between the Creeks and the Master of Shady Dale a +lasting peace had been established.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning. When the multifarious and long-disputed treaties +between the United States and the Creek Nation had been signed, and a +general peace was assured, Raleigh Clopton communicated with his friends +in Wilkes, Burke, Columbia and Richmond counties—the choice spirits who +had fought by his side in the bloodiest battles of the War for +Independence—informed them of his good fortune, and invited them to +share it. The response was all that he could have desired. His old +friends and comrades lost no time in joining him—the Dorringtons, the +Tomlins, the Gaithers, the Awtrys, the Terrells, the Odoms, the +Lumsdens, and, later, the friends and relatives of these. For the most +part they were men of substance and character.</p> + +<p>Well, perhaps not all. There are black sheep in every flock, and +wherever the nature of Adam survives, there we may behold wisdom and +folly dancing to the same tune, and sin and repentance occupying the +same couch. So it has been from the first, and so it will be to the end. +But, take them all in all, making due allowance for the tendencies of +human nature, the men and women who responded to the invitation of +Raleigh Clopton may be described as the salt of the earth. They had all, +women and men, been subjected to the trials and hardships of a war in +which no quarter was asked or given; and their experiences had given +them a strength of character, and a versatility in dealing with +unexpected events, that could hardly be matched elsewhere. To each of +those who responded to his invitation, Raleigh Clopton gave a part of +his domain, and laid out their settlement for them.</p> + +<p>This was the origin of Shady Dale. But to set forth its origin is not to +describe its beauty, which is of a character that refuses to submit to +description. You go down to the old town from the city, and you say to +yourself and your friends that you are enjoying the delights of the +country. You visit it from the plantations, and you feel that you are +breathing the kind of atmosphere that should be found in the social life +of a large, refined and perfectly homogeneous community. But whether you +go there from the city, or from the plantations, you are inevitably +impressed with a sense of the attractiveness of the place; you fall +under the spell of the old town—it was old even in the old times of the +sixties. And yet if you were called upon to define the nature of the +spell, what could you say? What name could you give to the tremulous +beauty that hovers about and around the place, when the fresh green +leaves of the great trees are fluttering in the cool wind, and +everything is touched and illumined by the tender colours of spring? +Under what heading in the catalogue of things would you place the vivid +richness which animates the town and the landscape all around when the +summer is at its height? And how could you describe the harmony that +time has brought about between the fine old houses and the setting in +which they are grouped?</p> + +<p>All these things are elusive; they make themselves keenly felt, but they +do not lend themselves to analysis.</p> + +<p>It is a pity that those who are interested in traditions that are truer +than history could not have all the facts in regard to Shady Dale from +the lips of Mr. Obadiah Tutwiler, who had constituted himself the oral +historian of the community. Mr. Tutwiler was alive as late as 1869, and +had at his fingers'-ends all the essential facts relating to the origin +and growth of the town, and he related the story with a fluency, an +accuracy, and a relish quite surprising in so old a man.</p> + +<p>As was fitting, the old court-house, the temple of justice, had been +reared in the centre of the town, and the square that surrounds it took +the shape of a park of considerable dimensions. On two sides were some +of the more pretentious dwellings; the tavern, with a few of the more +modest houses took up a third side; while the fourth side was taken up +by the shops and stores; and so careful had the early settlers been with +the trees, that it was possible to stand in a certain upper window of +the court-house, and look out upon the town with not a house in sight.</p> + +<p>Naturally, the most interesting feature of Shady Dale was the Clopton +Place. It had been the home of the First Settler, and in 1860, when Nan +and Gabriel were enjoying their happiest days, it was owned and occupied +by the son, Meriwether Clopton.</p> + +<p>From the time of the First Settler, the Clopton Place had been dedicated +and set apart to the uses of hospitality. The deed in which General +McGillivray, in the name of the Creek Nation, conveyed the domain to +Raleigh Clopton, distinctly sets forth the condition that the Clopton +Place was to be an asylum and a place of refuge for the unfortunate and +for those who needed succour. During the long and bloody contests +between the white settlers and the Creeks, it was the pleasure of the +Creek chief to pay out of his own private fortune, which was a large one +for those days, the ransoms which, under the rules of the tribal +organisations, each Indian town demanded for the prisoners captured by +its warriors. Such was the poverty of the whites in general that only +occasionally was General McGillivray reimbursed for his expenditures in +this direction.</p> + +<p>But no matter by whom the ransoms were paid, the prisoners were one and +all forwarded to the Clopton Place, where they were cared for until such +time as they could be transferred to the white settlements. In this way +hospitality became a habit at the Place, and in the years that followed, +no wayfarer was ever turned away from those wide doors.</p> + +<p>In the pleasant weather, it was a familiar spectacle to see Meriwether +Clopton sitting on the wide lawn, reading Virgil and Horace, two volumes +of which he never tired. His favourite seat was in the shade of a +silver maple, through the branches of which a grapevine had been +trained. This silver maple, with the vine running through it, and the +seat in the shade, were a realisation, he once told Gabriel and Cephas, +of one of the most beautiful poems in one of the volumes, but whether +Virgil or Horace, the aforesaid Cephas is unable to remember.</p> + +<p>There were days long to be remembered when the Master of Clopton Place +read aloud to the children, translating as he went along, and smacking +his lips over the choice of words as though he were tasting a fine +quality of wine. And the children felt the charm of these ancient +verses; and they soon came to understand why words written down +centuries ago, had power to take possession of the mind. They were +charged with the qualities that brought them home to the modern hour; +and for all that was foreign in them, they might have been composed at +Shady Dale. It is no wonder that the common people in the Middle Ages +clothed Virgil with the gift and power of a prophet or a magician.</p> + +<p>Something of the charm that dwelt all about the place had its origin and +centre in Meriwether Clopton himself. His years sat lightly upon him. He +had led an active and a temperate life, and a hale and hearty old age +was the fruit thereof. He had had his flings, and something more, +perhaps, for there were traditions of some very serious troubles in +which he had been engaged shortly after reaching his majority. But +Gabriel's grandmother, who knew—none better—declared that these +troubles were not of Meriwether Clopton's seeking. They were the results +of a legacy of feuds which Raleigh Clopton, through no desire of his +own, had left to his son. It was said of Raleigh Clopton that his sense +of justice was as strong as his temper, which was a stormy one. He +espoused the cause of young Eli Whitney, who had been despoiled of his +rights in the cotton-gin in Georgia, and this led him into a series of +difficulties without parallel in the history of the State. Raleigh +Clopton's attitude in this contest brought him in conflict with some of +the most powerful men and interests in the commonwealth. It was a +contest in which knavery, fraud and corruption, the courts, and +considerable private capital, were all combined against Whitney, who +appeared to be without a strong friend until Raleigh Clopton became his +champion.</p> + +<p>The collusion of the courts with this high-handed robbery was so +ill-concealed that Raleigh Clopton soon discovered the fact, and his +indignation rose to such a white heat that it drove him to excesses. He +dragged one judge from a buggy, and plied him with a rawhide, he slapped +the face of another in a public house, and posted a dozen prominent men +as thieves and corruptionists, with the result that the State fairly +swarmed with his enemies, men who were able to keep him busy in the way +of troubles and difficulties. It was the day of private feuds, and it +was not surprising that some of these enemies should attack the father +through the son. Thus it fell out that Meriwether Clopton's experience +for half a score of years after he came of age was anything but +peaceful. But he came out of all these difficulties with head erect, +clean hands and a clear conscience. He was neither hardened nor +embittered by the violence with which he had to deal. On the contrary, +his character was strengthened and his temper sweetened; so that when +the lads who listened to his mellifluous translations from the Latin +poets, were old enough to appreciate the qualities that go to make up a +good man and an influential citizen, the fact dawned upon their minds +that Meriwether Clopton was the finest gentleman they had ever seen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + +<h3><i>The Return of Two Warriors</i></h3> + + +<p>When the great contest began, Nan was close to thirteen, and Gabriel was +fourteen. Cephas was younger; he had lived hardly as many months as he +had freckles on his face, otherwise he would have been an aged citizen. +They wandered about together, always accompanied by Tasma Tid, all of +them being children in every sense of the word. Occasionally they were +joined by some of the other boys and girls; but they were always happier +when they were left to themselves.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoons they could always be found in the Bermuda fields, +but at other times, especially on a warm day, their favourite playground +was under the wide-spreading elms in front of the post-office. Amusing +themselves there in the fine weather, they could see the people come and +go, many of them looking for letters that never came. When the conflict +at the front became warm and serious, and when the very newspapers, as +Mrs. Absalom said, smelt of blood, there was always a large crowd of +men, old and young, gathered at the post-office when the mail-coach came +from Malvern. As few of the people subscribed for a daily newspaper, +Judge Odom (he was Judge of the Inferior Court, now called the Court of +Ordinary) took upon himself to mount a chair or a dry-goods box, and +read aloud the despatches printed in the Malvern <i>Recorder</i>. This +enterprising journal had a number of volunteer correspondents at the +front who made it a point to send with their letters the lists of the +killed and wounded in the various Georgia regiments; and these lists +grew ominously long as the days went by.</p> + +<p>And then, in the course of time, came the collapse of the Confederacy, +an event that blew away with a breath, as it were, the hopes and dreams +of those who had undertaken to build a new government in the South; and +this march of time brought about a gradual change in the relations +between Nan and Gabriel. It was almost as imperceptible in its growth as +the movement of the shadow on the sun-dial. Somehow, and to her great +disgust, Nan awoke one morning and was told that she was a young woman, +or dreamt that she was told. Anyhow, she realised, all of a sudden, that +she was now too tall for short dresses, and too old to be playing with +the boys as if she were one of them; and the consciousness of this +change gave her many a bad quarter of an hour, and sometimes made her a +trifle irritable; for, sweet as she was, she had a temper.</p> + +<p>She asked herself a thousand times why she should now begin to feel shy +of Gabriel, and why she should be so self-conscious, she who had never +thought of herself with any degree of seriousness until now. It was all +a puzzle to her. As it was with Nan, so it was with Gabriel. As Nan grew +shy and shyer, so the newly-awakened Gabriel grew more and more and +more timid, and the two soon found themselves very far apart without +knowing why. For a long time Cephas was the only connecting link between +them. He was a sly little rascal, this same Cephas, and he found in the +situation food for both curiosity and amusement. He had not the least +notion why the two friends and comrades were inclined to avoid each +other. He only knew that he was not having as pleasant a time as fell to +his portion when they were all going about together with no serious +notions of life or conduct.</p> + +<p>Cephas got no satisfaction from either Nan or Gabriel when he asked them +what the trouble was. Nan tried to explain matters, but her explanation +was a very lame one. "I am getting old enough to be serious, Cephas; and +I must begin to make myself useful. That's what Miss Polly Gaither says, +and she's old enough to know. Oh, I hate it all!" said Nan.</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Polly Gaither useful?" inquired Cephas.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," replied Nan; "but that's what she told me, and +then she held up her ear-trumpet for me to talk in it; but I just +couldn't, she looked so very much in earnest. It was all I could do to +keep from laughing. Did you ever notice, Cephas, how funny people are +when they are really in earnest?"</p> + +<p>Alas! Cephas had often pinched himself in Sunday-school to keep from +laughing at old Mrs. Crafton, his teacher. She was so dreadfully in +earnest that she kept her face in a pucker the whole time. Outside of +the Sunday-school she was a very pleasant old lady.</p> + +<p>Gabriel had no explanation to make whatever. He simply told Cephas that +Nan was becoming vain. This Cephas denied with great emphasis, but +Gabriel only shook his head and looked wise, as much as to say that he +knew what he knew, and would continue to know it for some time to come. +The truth is, however, that Gabriel was as ignorant of the feminine +nature as it is possible for a young fellow to be; whereas, Nan, by +means of the instinct or intuition which heaven has conferred on her sex +for their protection, knew Gabriel a great deal better than she knew +herself.</p> + +<p>When the war came to a close, Gabriel was nearly eighteen, and Nan was +seventeen, though she appeared to be a year or two younger. She was +still childish in her ways and tastes, and carried with her an +atmosphere of simplicity and sweetness in which very few girls of her +age are fortunate enough to move. Simplicity was a part of her nature, +though some of her young lady friends used to whisper to one another +that it was all assumed. She was even referred to as Miss Prissy, a term +that was probably intended to be an abbreviation of Priscilla.</p> + +<p>Regularly, she used to hunt Cephas up and carry him home with her for +the afternoon; and on the other hand, Gabriel manifested a great +fondness for the little fellow, who enjoyed his enviable popularity with +a clear conscience. It was years and years afterwards before the secret +of his popularity dawned on him. If he had suspected it at the time, his +pride, such as he had, would have had a terrible fall.</p> + +<p>One day, it was the year of Appomattox, and the month was June, Cephas +heard his name called, and answered very promptly, for the voice was the +voice of Gabriel, and it was burdened with an invitation to visit the +woods and fields that surrounded the town. The weather itself was +burdened with the same invitation. The birds sang it, and it rustled in +the leaves of the trees. And Cephas leaped from the house, glad of any +excuse to escape from the domestic task at which he had been set. They +wandered forth, and became a part and parcel of the wild things. The +hermit thrush, with his silver bell, was their brother, and the +cat-bird, distressed for the safety of her young, was their sister. Yea, +and the gray squirrel was their playmate, a shy one, it is true, but +none the less a genuine one for all that. They roamed about the +green-wood, and over the hills and fields, and finally found themselves +in the public highway that leads to Malvern.</p> + +<p>Cephas found a cornstalk, and with hardly an effort of his mind, changed +it into a fine saddle-horse. The contagion seized Gabriel, and though he +was close upon his eighteenth birthday, he secured a cornstalk, which at +once became a saddle-horse at his bidding. The magical powers of youth +are wonderful, and for a little while the cornstalk horses were as real +as any horses could be. The steed that Cephas bestrode was comparatively +gentle, but Gabriel's horse developed a desire to take fright at +everything he saw. A creature more skittish and nervous was never seen, +and his example was soon followed by the steed that Cephas rode. The +two boys were so busily engaged in trying to control their perverse +horses, that they failed to see a big covered waggon that came creeping +up the hill behind them. So, while they were cutting up their queer +capers, the big waggon, drawn by two large mules, was plumb upon them. +As for Cephas, he didn't care, being at an age when such capers are +permissible, but Gabriel blushed when he discovered that his childish +pranks had witnesses; and he turned a shade redder when he saw that the +occupants of the waggon were, of all the persons in the world, Mr. Billy +Sanders and Francis Bethune.</p> + +<p>Both of the boys would have passed on but for the compelling voice of +Mr. Sanders. "Why, it's little Gabe, and he's little Gabe no longer. And +Cephas ain't growed a mite. Hello, Gabe! Hello, Cephas! Howdy, howdy?"</p> + +<p>Francis Bethune's salutation was somewhat constrained, or if that be too +large a word, was lacking in cordiality. "What is the matter with +Gabriel?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It's a thousand pities, Frank," remarked Mr. Sanders, "that Sarah +Clopton wouldn't let you be a boy along with the other boys; but she +coddled you up jest like you was a gal. Be jigged ef I don't believe +you've got on pantalettes right now."</p> + +<p>Bethune blushed hotly, while Gabriel and Cephas fairly yelled with +laughter—and there was a little resentment in Gabriel's mirth. "But I +don't see what could possess Tolliver," Bethune insisted.</p> + +<p>"Shucks, Frank! you wouldn't know ef he was to write it down for you, +an' Nan Dorrin'ton would know wi'out any tellin'. You ain't a bit +brighter about sech matters than you was the day Nan give you a +thumpin'."</p> + +<p>At this Gabriel laughed again, for he had been an eye-witness to the +episode to which Mr. Sanders referred. A boy has his prejudices, as +older persons have theirs. Bethune had always had the appearance of +being too fond of himself; when other boys of his age were playing and +pranking, he would be primping, and in the afternoon, before he went off +to the war, he would strut around town in the uniform of a cadet, and +seemed to think himself better than any one else. These things count +with boys as much as they do with older persons.</p> + +<p>"Climb in the waggin, Gabe an' Cephas, an' tell us about ever'thing an' +ever'body. The Yanks didn't take the town off, did they?"</p> + +<p>The boys accepted the invitation without further pressing, for they were +both fond of Mr. Sanders, and proceeded to give their old friend all the +information he desired. Francis Bethune asked no questions, and Gabriel +was very glad of it. At bottom, Bethune was a very clever fellow, but +the boys are apt to make up their judgments from what is merely +superficial. Francis had a very handsome face, and he could have made +himself attractive to a youngster on the lookout for friends, but he had +chosen a different line of conduct, and as a result, Gabriel had several +scores against the young man. And so had Cephas; for, on one occasion, +the latter had gone to the Clopton Place for some wine for his mother, +who was something of an invalid, and, coming suddenly on Sarah Clopton, +found her in tears. Cephas never had a greater shock than the sight gave +him, for he had never connected this self-contained, gray-haired woman +with any of the tenderer emotions. In the child's mind, she was simply a +sort of superintendent of affairs on the Clopton Place, who, in the +early mornings, stood on the back porch of the big house, and, in a +voice loud enough to be heard a considerable distance, gave orders to +the domestics, and allotted to the field hands their tasks for the day.</p> + +<p>Sarah Clopton must have seen how shocked the child was, for she dried +her eyes and tried to laugh, saying, "You never expected to see me +crying, did you, little boy?" Cephas had no answer for this, but when +she asked if he could guess why she was crying, the child remembered +what he had heard Nan and Gabriel say, and he gave an answer that was +both prompt and blunt. "I reckon Frank Bethune has been making a fool of +himself again," said he.</p> + +<p>"But how did you know, child?" she asked, placing her soft white fingers +under his chin, and lifting his face toward the light. "You are a wise +lad for your years," she said, when he made no reply, "and I am sure you +are sensible enough to do me a favour. Please say nothing about what you +have seen. An old woman's tears amount to very little. And don't be too +hard on Frank. He has simply been playing some college prank, and they +are sending him home."</p> + +<p>The most interesting piece of news that Gabriel had in his budget +related to the hanging of Mr. Absalom Goodlett by some of Sherman's men, +when that commander came marching through Georgia. It seems that a negro +had told the men that Mr. Goodlett knew where the Clopton silver had +been concealed, and they took him in hand and tried to frighten him into +giving them information which he did not possess. Threats failing, they +secured a rope and strung him up to a tree. They strung him up three +times, and the third time, they went off and left him hanging; and but +for the promptness of the negro who was the cause of the trouble, and +who had been an interested spectator of the proceedings, Mr. Goodlett +would never have opened his eyes on the affairs of this world again. The +negro cut him down in the nick of time, and as soon as he recovered, he +sent the darkey with instructions to go after the men, and tell them +where they could find the plate, indicating an isolated spot. Whereupon +Mr. Goodlett took his gun, and went to the point indicated. The negro +carried out his instructions to the letter. He found the men, who had +not gone far, pointed out the spot from a safe distance, and then waited +to see what would happen. If he saw anything unusual, he never told of +it; but the men were never seen again. Some of their companions returned +to search for them, but the search was a futile one. The negro went +about with a frightened face for several days, and then he settled down +to work for Mr. Goodlett, in whom he seemed to have a strange interest. +He showed this in every way.</p> + +<p>"You keep yo' eye on 'im," he used to say to his coloured acquaintances, +in speaking of Mr. Goodlett; "keep yo' eye on 'im, an' when you see his +under-jaw stickin' out, des turn you' back, an' put yo' fingers in yo' +ears."</p> + +<p>"You never know," said Mr. Sanders, in commenting on the story, "what a +man will do ontell he gits rank pizen mad, or starvin' hongry, or in +love."</p> + +<p>"What would you do, Mr. Sanders, if you were in love?" Gabriel asked +innocently enough.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I'd do as Frank does," replied Mr. Sanders, smiling blandly; +"shed scaldin' tears one minnit, an' bite my finger-nails the next; +maybe I would, but I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"Now, I'll swear you ought not to tell these boys such stuff as that!" +exclaimed Francis Bethune angrily. "I don't know about Cephas, but +Tolliver doesn't like me any way."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" inquired Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Because you used to make faces at me," replied Bethune, half laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why, so did Nan," Gabriel rejoined. "Mine must have been terrible ones +for you to remember them so well."</p> + +<p>The reference to Nan struck Bethune, and he began to gnaw at the end of +his thumb, whereupon Mr. Sanders smiled broadly. The young man reflected +a moment and then remarked, his face a trifle redder than usual; "Isn't +the young lady old enough for you to call her Miss Dorrington?"</p> + +<p>"She is," replied Gabriel; "but if she permits me to call her Nan, why +should any one else object?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer to this, but presently Bethune turned to Gabriel and +said: "Why do you dislike me, Tolliver?"</p> + +<p>For a little time the lad was silent; he was trying to formulate his +prejudices into something substantial and sufficient, but the effort was +a futile one. While he was silent, Bethune regarded him with a curious +stare. "Honestly," said Gabriel, "I can give no reason; and I'm not sure +I dislike you. But you always held your head so high that I kept away +from you. I had an idea that you felt yourself above me because my +grandmother is not as rich as the Cloptons."</p> + +<p>The statement seemed to amaze Bethune. "You couldn't have been more than +ten or twelve when I left here for the war," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was more than thirteen," Gabriel replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never thought that a boy so young could have such thoughts," +Bethune declared.</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "a fourteen-year-old boy can have some +mighty deep thoughts, specially ef he' been brung up in a house full of +books, as Gabriel was. I hope, Gabriel," he went on, "that you'll stick +to your cornstalk hoss as long as you want to. You'll live longer for +it, an' your friends will love you jest the same. Frank here has never +been a boy. Out of bib an' hippin, he jumped into long britches an' a +standin' collar, an' the only fun he ever had in his life he got kicked +out of college for, an' served him right, too. I'll bet you a thrip to a +pint of pot-licker that Nan'll ride a stick hoss tomorrer ef she takes a +notion—an' she's seventeen. Don't you forgit, Gabriel, that you'll +never be a boy but once, an' you better make the most on it whilst you +can."</p> + +<p>The waggon came just then to the brow of the hill that overlooked Shady +Dale, and here Mr. Sanders brought his team to a standstill. It had been +many long months since his eyes or Bethune's had gazed on the familiar +scene. "I'll tell you what's the fact, boys," he said, drawing in a long +breath—"the purtiest place this side of Paradise lies right yander +before our eyes. Ef I had some un to give out the lines, I'd cut loose +and sing a hime. Yes, sirs! you'd see me break out an' howl jest like my +old coon dog, Louder, used to do when he struck a hot track. The Lord +has picked us out of the crowd, Frank, an' holp us along at every turn +an' crossin'. But before the week's out, we'll forgit to be thankful. +J'inin' the church wouldn't do us a grain of good. By next Sunday week, +Frank, you'll be struttin' around as proud as a turkey gobbler, an' +you'll git wuss an' wuss less'n Nan takes a notion for to frail you out +ag'in."</p> + +<p>Bethune relished the remark so little that he chirped to the mules, but +Mr. Sanders seized the reins in his own hands. "We've fit an' we've +fout, an' we've got knocked out," he went on, "an' now, here we are +ready for to take a fresh start. The Lord send that it's the right +start." He would have driven on, but at that moment, a shabby looking +vehicle drew up alongside the waggon. Gabriel and Cephas knew at once +that the outfit belonged to Mr. Goodlett. His mismatched team consisted +of a very large horse and a very small mule, both of them veterans of +the war. They had been left by the Federals in a broken-down condition, +and Mr. Goodlett found them grazing about, trying to pick up a living. +He appropriated them, fed them well, and was now utilising them not only +for farm purposes, but for conveying stray travellers to and from +Malvern, earning in this way many a dollar that would have gone +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodlett drew rein when he saw Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune, and +gave them as cordial a greeting as he could, for he was a very +undemonstrative and reticent man. At that time both Gabriel and Cephas +thought he was both sour and surly, but, in the course of events, their +opinions in regard to that and a great many other matters underwent a +considerable change.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Goodlett's Passengers</i></h3> + + +<p>The vehicle that Mr. Goodlett was driving was an old hack that had been +used for long years to ply between Shady Dale and Malvern. On this +occasion, Mr. Goodlett had for his passengers a lady and a young woman +apparently about Nan's age. There was such a contrast between the two +that Gabriel became absorbed in contemplating them; so much so that he +failed to hear the greetings that passed between Mr. Goodlett and Mr. +Sanders, who were old-time friends. The elder of the two women was +emaciated to a degree, and her face was pale to the point of +ghastliness; but in spite of her apparent weakness, there was an ease +and a refinement in her manner, a repose and a self-possession that +reminded Gabriel of his grandmother, when she was receiving the fine +ladies from a distance who sometimes called on her. The younger of the +two women, on the other hand, was the picture of health. The buoyancy of +youth possessed her. She had an eager, impatient way of handling her fan +and handkerchief, and there was a twinkle in her eye that spoke of +humour; but her glance never fell directly on the men in the waggon; all +her attention was for the invalid.</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodlett, his greeting over, was for pushing on, but the voice of +the invalid detained him. "Can you tell me," she said, turning to Mr. +Sanders, "whether the Gaither Place is occupied? Oh, but I forgot; you +are just returning from that horrible, horrible war." She had lifted +herself from a reclining position, but fell back hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ab thar ought to be able to tell you that," responded Mr. Sanders, +his voice full of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I jest ain't," declared Mr. Goodlett, with some show of +impatience. "I tell you, William, I been so worried an' flurried, an' so +disqualified an' mortified, an' so het up wi' fust one thing an' then +another, that I ain't skacely had time for to scratch myself on the +eatchin' places, much less gittin' up all times er night for to see ef +the Gaither Place is got folks or ha'nts in it. When you've been through +what I have, William, you won't come a-axin' me ef the Gaither house is +whar it mought be, or whar it oughter be, or ef it's popylated or +dispopylated."</p> + +<p>The young lady stroked the invalid's hand and smiled. Something in the +frowning face and fractious tone of the old man evidently appealed to +her sense of humour. "Don't you think it is absurd," said the pale lady, +again appealing to Mr. Sanders, "that a person should live in so small a +town, and not know whether one of the largest houses in the place is +occupied—a house that belongs to a family that used to be one of the +most prominent of the county? Why, of course it is absurd. There is +something uncanny about it. I haven't had such a shock in many a day."</p> + +<p>"But, mother," protested the young lady, "why worry about it? A great +many strange things have happened to us, and this is the least important +of all."</p> + +<p>"Why, dearest, this is the strangest of all strange things. The driver +here says he lives at Dorringtons', and the Gaither house is not so very +far from Dorringtons'."</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows," said Gabriel, "that Miss Polly Gaither lives in the +Gaither house." He spoke before he was aware, and began to blush. +Whereupon the young lady gave him a very bright smile.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" grunted Mr. Goodlett, giving the lad a severe look. He started +to climb into his seat, but turned to Gabriel. "Is she got a wen?" he +asked, with something like a scowl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has a wen," replied the lad, blushing again, but this time for +Mr. Goodlett.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, ef she's got a wen, ef Polly Gaithers is got a wen, she's +livin' in that house, bekaze, no longer'n last Sat'day, she come roun' +for to borry some meal; an' whatsomever she use to have, an' whatsomever +she mought have herearter, she's got a wen now, an' I'll tell you so on +a stack of Bibles as high as the court-house."</p> + +<p>The young lady laughed, but immediately controlled herself with a +half-petulant "Oh dear!" Laughter became her well, for it smoothed away +a little frown of perplexity that had established itself between her +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll take the young man's word for it," said the invalid, "and we +are very much obliged to him. What is your name?" When Gabriel had told +her, she repeated the name over again. "I used to know your grandmother +very well," she said. "Tell her Margaret Bridalbin has returned home, +and would be delighted to see her."</p> + +<p>"Then, ma'am, you must be Margaret Gaither," remarked Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was Margaret Gaither," replied the invalid. "I used to know you +very well, Mr. Sanders, and if I had changed as little as you have, I +could still boast of my beauty."</p> + +<p>"Yet nobody hears me braggin' of mine, Margaret," said Mr. Sanders with +a smile that found its reflection in the daughter's face; "but I hope +from my heart that home an' old friends will be a good physic for you, +an' git you to braggin' ag'in. Anyhow, ef you don't brag on yourself, +you can take up a good part of the time braggin' on your daughter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, sir, for the clever joke. My mother has told me long ago +how full of fun you are," said the young lady, blushing sufficiently to +show that she did not regard the compliment as altogether a joke. "You +may drive on now," she remarked to Mr. Goodlett. Whereupon that +surly-looking veteran slapped his mismatched team with the loose ends of +the reins, and the shabby old hack moved off toward Shady Dale. Mr. +Sanders waited for the vehicle to get some distance ahead, and then he +too urged his team forward.</p> + +<p>"The word is Home," he said; "I reckon Margaret has had her sheer of +trouble, an' a few slices more. She made her own bed, as the sayin' is, +an' now she's layin' on it. Well, well, well! when time an' occasions +take arter you, it ain't no use to run; you mought jest as well set +right flat on the ground an' see what they've got ag'in you."</p> + +<p>The remark was not original, nor very deep, but it recurred to Gabriel +when trouble plucked at his own sleeve, or when he saw disaster run +through a family like a contagion.</p> + +<p>In no long time the waggon reached the outskirts of the town, where the +highway became a part of the wide street that ran through the centre of +Shady Dale, flowing around the old court-house in the semblance of a +wide river embracing a small island. Gabriel and Cephas were on the +point of leaving the waggon here, but Mr. Sanders was of another mind.</p> + +<p>"Ride on to Dorrin'tons' wi' us," he said. "I want to swap a joke or two +wi' Mrs. Ab."</p> + +<p>"She's sure to get the best of it," Gabriel warned him.</p> + +<p>"Likely enough, but that won't spile the fun," responded Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom, as she was called, was the wife of Mr. Goodlett, and was +marked off from the great majority of her sex by her keen appreciation +of humour. Her own contributions were spoiled for some, for the reason +that she gave them the tone of quarrelsomeness; whereas, it is to be +doubted whether she ever gave way to real anger more than once or twice +in her life. She was Dr. Randolph Dorrington's housekeeper, and was a +real mother to Nan, who was motherless before she had drawn a dozen +breaths of the poisonous air of this world.</p> + +<p>By the time the waggon reached Dorrington's, Gabriel, acting on the +instructions of Mr. Sanders, had crawled under the cover of the waggon, +and was holding out a pair of old shoes, so that a passer-by would +imagine that some one was lying prone in the waggon with his feet +sticking out.</p> + +<p>When the waggon reached the Dorrington Place, Mr. Sanders drew rein, and +hailed the house, having signed to Cephas to make himself invisible. +Evidently Mrs. Absalom was in the rear, or in the kitchen, which was a +favourite resort of hers, for the "hello" had to be repeated a number of +times before she made her appearance. She came wiping her face on her +ample apron, and brushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busy +housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sanders +in a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thank +you might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, we +picked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' he +keeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place."</p> + +<p>"Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in the +world is the matter wi' old Billy?" she inquired with real solicitude. +"Was he wounded in the war, or is he jest up to some of his old-time +devilment?"</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, he +must 'a' shot hisself in the neck. He complains of cold feet, an' he's +got 'em stuck out from under the kiver."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will never +strike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soap +an' water."</p> + +<p>"An' he talks in his sleep about a Mrs. Absalom," Mr. Sanders went on, +"an' he cries, an' says she used to be his sweetheart, but he had to +jilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit."</p> + +<p>"The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulated +indignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he ever +sobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jest +drive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle of +the road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come to +Cloptons' in a mighty few minutes."</p> + +<p>At this juncture Mr. Sanders was obliged to laugh, whereupon, Mrs. +Absalom, looking narrowly at the travellers, had no difficulty in +recognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her hands +above her head in a gesture of amazement. "Why, that's old Billy, an' +him sober; and Franky Bethune, an' him not a primpin'! Well, well! I'd +'a' never believed it ef I hadn't 'a' seed it. I vow I'm beginnin' to +believe that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' for +some folks. I'm sorry Ab didn't take his gun an' jine in—maybe he'd 'a' +shed his stinginess. But I declare to gracious, I'm glad to see you all; +the sight of you is good for the sore eyes. An' Frank tryin' to raise a +beard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub on +it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returned +warriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tears +in her eyes as she greeted them; for in that region, nearly all had +feelings of kinship for their neighbours and friends, and in that day +and time, people were not ashamed of their emotions.</p> + +<p>"Margaret Gaither has come back," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ab fetched her +in his hack."</p> + +<p>"Well, the poor creetur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom; "they say she's had +trouble piled on her house-high."</p> + +<p>"She won't have much more in this world ef looks is any sign," Mr. +Sanders replied. "She ain't nothin' but a livin' skeleton, but she's got +a mighty lively gal."</p> + +<p>The waggon moved on and left Mrs. Absalom leaning on the gate, a +position that she kept for some little time. Farther down the road, +Gabriel, whose example was followed by Cephas, bade Mr. Sanders +good-bye, nodded lightly to Francis Bethune, and jumped from the waggon.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, Tolliver," said Bethune. "I want you to come to see +me—and bring Cephas with you. I am going to make you like me if I can. +The home folks have been writing great things about you. Oh, you <i>must</i> +come," he insisted, seeing that Gabriel was hesitating. "I want to show +you what a good fellow I can be when I try right hard."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you boys must come," said Mr. Sanders; "an' ef Frank is off +courtin' that new gal—I ketched him cuttin' his eye at her—you can +hunt me up, an' I'll tell you some old-time tales that'll make your hair +stan' on end."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + +<h3><i>The Story of Margaret Gaither</i></h3> + + +<p>Gabriel and Cephas started toward their homes, which lay in the same +direction. Instead of going around by road or street, they cut across +the fields and woods. Before they had gone very far, they heard a +rustling, swishing sound in the pine-thicket through which they were +passing, but gave it little attention, both being used to the noises +common to the forest. In their minds it was either a rabbit or a grey +fox scuttling away; or a poree scratching in the bushes, or a +ground-squirrel running in the underbrush.</p> + +<p>But a moment later, Nan Dorrington, followed by Tasma Tid, burst from +the pine-thicket, crying, "Oh, you walk so fast, you two!" She was +panting and laughing, and as she stood before the lads, one little hand +at her throat, and the other vainly trying to control her flying hair, a +delicious rosiness illuminating her face, Gabriel knew that he had just +been doing her a gross injustice. As he walked along the path, followed +by his faithful Cephas, he had been mentally comparing her to a young +woman he had just seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack; and had been saying to +himself that the new-comer was, if possible, more beautiful than Nan.</p> + +<p>But now here was Nan herself in person, and Gabriel's comparisons +appeared to be shabby indeed. With Nan before his eyes, he could see +what a foolish thing it was to compare her with any one in this world +except herself. There was a flavour of wildness in her beauty that gave +it infinite charm and variety. It was a wildness that is wedded to grace +and vivacity, such as we see embodied in the form and gestures of the +wood-dove, or the partridge, or the flying squirrel, when it is un-awed +by the presence of man. The flash of her dark brown eyes, her tawny hair +blowing free, and her lithe figure, with the dark green pines for a +background, completed the most charming picture it is possible for the +mind to conceive. All that Gabriel was conscious of, beyond a dim +surprise that Nan should be here—the old Nan that he used to know—was +a sort of dawning thrill of ecstasy as he contemplated her. He stood +staring at her with his mouth open.</p> + +<p>"Why do you look at me like that, Gabriel?" she cried; "I am no ghost. +And why do you walk so fast? I have been running after you as hard as I +can. And, wasn't that Francis Bethune in the waggon with Mr. Sanders?"</p> + +<p>"Did you run hard just to ask me that? Mrs. Absalom could have saved you +all this trouble." The mention of Bethune's name had brought Gabriel to +earth, and to commonplace thoughts again. "Yes, that was Master Bethune, +and he has grown to be a very handsome young man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he was always good-looking," said Nan lightly. "Where are you and +Cephas going?"</p> + +<p>"Straight home," replied Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going there, too. I heard Nonny" (this was Mrs. Absalom) "say +that Margaret Gaither has come home again, and then I remembered that +your grandmother promised to tell me a story about her some day. I'm +going to tease her to-day until she tells it."</p> + +<p>"And didn't Mrs. Absalom tell you that Bethune was in the waggon with +Mr. Sanders?" Gabriel inquired, in some astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gabriel! you are so—" Nan paused as if hunting for the right term +or word. Evidently she didn't find it, for she turned to Gabriel with a +winning smile, and asked what Mr. Sanders had had to say. "I'm so glad +he's come I don't know what to do. I wouldn't live in a town that didn't +have its Mr. Sanders," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Well, about the first thing he said was to remind Bethune of the time +when you whacked him over the head with a cudgel."</p> + +<p>"And what did Master Francis say to that?" inquired Nan, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Why, what could he say? He simply turned red. Now, if it had been me, +I——"</p> + +<p>The path was so narrow, that Nan, the two lads, and Tasma Tid were +walking in Indian file. Nan stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that +Gabriel fell against her. As he did so, she turned and seized him by the +arm, and emphasised her words by shaking him gently as each was uttered. +"Now—Gabriel—don't—say—disagreeable—things!"</p> + +<p>What she meant he had not the least idea, and it was not the first nor +the last time that his wit lacked the nimbleness to follow and catch her +meaning.</p> + +<p>"Disagreeable!" he exclaimed. "Why, I was simply going to say that if I +had been in Bethune's shoes to-day, I should have declared that you did +the proper thing."</p> + +<p>Nan dropped a low curtsey, saying, "Oh, thank you, sir—what was the +gentleman's name, Cephas—the gentleman who was such a cavalier?"</p> + +<p>"Was he a Frenchman?" asked Cephas.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cephas! you should be ashamed. You have as little learning as I." +With that she turned and went along the path at such a rapid pace that +it was as much as the lads could do to keep up with her, without +breaking into an undignified trot.</p> + +<p>Nan went home with Gabriel; was there before him indeed, for he paused a +moment to say something to Cephas. She ran along the walk, took the +steps two at a time, and as she ran skipping along the hallway, she +cried out: "Grandmother Lumsden! where are you? Oh, what do you think? +Margaret Gaither has come home!" When Gabriel entered the room, Nan had +fetched a footstool, and was already sitting at Mrs. Lumsden's feet, +holding one of the old lady's frail, but beautiful white hands.</p> + +<p>Here was another picture, the beauty of which dawned on Gabriel +later—youth and innocence sitting at the feet of sweet and wholesome +old age. The lad was always proud of his grandmother, but never more so +than at that moment when her beauty and refinement were brought into +high relief by her attitude toward Nan Dorrington. Gabriel was very +happy to be near those two. Not for a weary time had Nan been so +friendly and familiar as she was now, and he felt a kind of exaltation.</p> + +<p>"Margaret Gaither! Margaret Gaither!" Gabriel's grandmother repeated the +name as if trying to summon up some memory of the past. "Poor girl! Did +you see her, Gabriel? And how did she look?" With a boy's bluntness, he +described her physical condition, exaggerating, perhaps, its worst +features, for these had made a deep impression on him. "Oh, I'm so sorry +for her! and she has a daughter!" said Mrs. Lumsden softly. "I will call +on them as soon as possible. And then if poor Margaret is unable to +return the visit, the daughter will come. And you must be here, Nan; +Gabriel will fetch you. And you, Gabriel—for once you must be polite +and agreeable. Candace shall brush up your best suit, and if it is to be +mended, I will mend it."</p> + +<p>Nan and Gabriel laughed at this. Both knew that this famous best suit +would not reach to the lad's ankles, and that the sleeves of the coat +would end a little way below the elbow.</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine what you are laughing at," said Mrs. Lumsden, with a +faint smile. "I am sure the suit is a very respectable one, especially +when you have none better."</p> + +<p>"No, Grandmother Lumsden; Gabriel will have to take his tea in the +kitchen with Aunt Candace."</p> + +<p>However, the affair never came off. The dear old lady, in whom the +social instinct was so strong, had no opportunity to send the invitation +until long afterward. Nan was compelled to beg very hard for the story +of Margaret Gaither. It was never the habit of Gabriel's grandmother to +indulge in idle gossip; she could always find some excuse for the faults +of those who were unfortunate; but Nan had the art of persuasion at her +tongue's end. Whether it was this fact or the fact that Mrs. Lumsden +believed that the story carried a moral that Nan would do well to +digest, it would be impossible to say. At any rate, the youngsters soon +had their desire. The story will hardly bear retelling; it can be +compressed into a dozen lines, and be made as uninteresting as a +newspaper paragraph; but, as told by Gabriel's grandmother, it had the +charm which sympathy and pity never fail to impart to a narrative. When +it came to an end, Nan was almost in tears, though she could never tell +why.</p> + +<p>"It happened, Nan, before you and Gabriel were born," said Mrs. Lumsden. +"Margaret Gaither was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, +and at that time Pulaski Tomlin was one of the handsomest young men in +all this region. Naturally these two were drawn together. They were in +love with each other from the first, and, finally, a day was set for the +wedding. They were to have been married in November, but one night in +October, the Tomlin Place was found to be on fire. The flames had made +considerable headway before they were discovered, and, to me, it was a +most horrible sight. Yet, horrible as it was, there was a fascination +about it. The sweeping roar of the flames attracted me and held me +spellbound, but I hope I shall never be under such a spell again.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was impossible to save the house, and no one attempted such a +preposterous feat. It was all that the neighbours could do to prevent +the spread of the flames to the nearby houses. Some of the furniture was +saved, but the house was left to burn. All of a sudden, Fanny +Tomlin——"</p> + +<p>"You mean Aunt Fanny?" interrupted Nan.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear. All of a sudden Fanny Tomlin remembered that her mother's +portrait had been left hanging on the wall. Without a word to any one +she ran into the house. How she ever passed through the door safely, I +never could understand, for every instant, it seemed to me, great +tongues and sheets of flame were darting across it and lapping and +licking inward, as if trying to force an entrance. You may be sure that +we who were looking on, helpless, held our breaths when Fanny Tomlin +disappeared through the doorway. Pulaski Tomlin was not a witness to +this performance, but he was quickly informed of it; and then he ran +this way and that, like one distraught. Twice he called her name, and +his voice must have been heard above the roar of the flames, for +presently she appeared at an upper window, and cried out, 'What is it, +brother?' 'Come down! Come out!' he shouted. 'I'm afraid I can't,' she +answered; and then she waved her hand and disappeared, after trying +vainly to close the blinds.</p> + +<p>"But no sooner had Pulaski Tomlin caught a glimpse of his sister, and +heard her voice, than he lowered his head like an angry bull, and rushed +through the flames that now had possession of the door. I, for one, +never expected to see him again; and I stood there frightened, +horrified, fascinated, utterly helpless. Oh, when you go through a trial +like that, my dear," said Mrs. Lumsden, stroking Nan's hair gently, "you +will realise how small and weak and contemptible human beings are when +they are engaged in a contest with the elements. There we stood, +helpless and horror-stricken, with two of our friends in the burning +house, which was now almost completely covered with the roaring flames. +What thoughts I had I could never tell you, but I wondered afterward +that I had not become suddenly grey.</p> + +<p>"We waited an age, it seemed to me. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, +who happened to be here at the time, was walking about wringing his +hands and crying like a child. Up to that moment, I had thought him to +be a hard and cruel man, but we can never judge others, not even our +closest acquaintances, until we see them put to the test. Suddenly, I +heard Major Perdue cry, 'Ah!' and saw him leap forward as a wild animal +leaps.</p> + +<p>"Through the doorway, which was now entirely covered with a roaring +flame, a blurred and smoking figure had rushed—a bulky, shapeless +figure, it seemed—and then it collapsed and fell, and lay in the midst +of the smoke, almost within reach of the flames. But Major Perdue was +there in an instant, and he dragged the shapeless mass away from the +withering heat and stifling smoke. After this, he had more assistance +than was necessary or desirable.</p> + +<p>"'Stand back!' he cried; and his voice had in it the note that men never +fail to obey. 'Stand back there! Where is Dorrington? Why isn't he +here?' Your father, my dear, had gone into the country to see a patient. +He was on his way home when he saw the red reflection of the flames in +the sky, and he hastened as rapidly as his horse could go. He arrived +just in the nick of time. He heard his name called as he drove up, and +was prompt to answer. 'Make way there!' commanded Major Perdue; 'make +way for Dorrington. And you ladies go home! There's nothing you can do +here.' Then I heard Fanny Tomlin call my name, and Major Perdue repeated +in a ringing voice, 'Lucy Lumsden is wanted here!'</p> + +<p>"I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue was +obeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of two +or three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had been +saved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of any +service.</p> + +<p>"Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only the +hem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that was +the first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she had +suffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simply +rolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, and +out through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. Fanny has +not so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's face +and see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy, +his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one whole +side of his face was raw and bleeding.</p> + +<p>"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have +been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' And +when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying, +'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here—it was Fanny's wish—and by +the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn +as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water, +and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fanny +and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his +attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his +tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a +confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were +a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.'</p> + +<p>"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied.</p> + +<p>"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything, +especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that +turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the +consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that +insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and +children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as +the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has +done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get +through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of +my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as +a dog.'</p> + +<p>"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he +laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll +find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true."</p> + +<p>"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that +the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles—as she +judged them to be.</p> + +<p>"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had +almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret +came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and +carried her request to the sick-room.</p> + +<p>"'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall +she come in?'</p> + +<p>"I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered. +'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!'</p> + +<p>"'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed Fanny, covering her +face with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!'</p> + +<p>"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't +want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you +know, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is +for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, +then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a +hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.'</p> + +<p>"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, +but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is +Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue—Tomlin +Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, +except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she +said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be +married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you +prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what—what is the +trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him +now—at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she replied +haughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are not +to see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble and +tender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she exclaimed almost violently. +'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across the +door, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by his +friends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there I +found her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to a +gesture from Major Perdue.</p> + +<p>"Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence, +I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but without +raising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, Miss +Lucy,' she said—she always called me Miss Lucy—'and why can't I, his +future wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold his +hand, and help you and Fanny minister to his wants?' I made her no +answer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edge +of the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way to +demonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, and +finally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sit +in a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until such +time as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' she +said. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I am +his.' I gave a cordial assent to this proposition, carried a comfortable +chair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself.</p> + +<p>"I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to see +Fanny Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to be +relieved. Fanny asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered it +aloud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there until +she can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed, +his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. Major +Perdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to the +window. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand. +'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shall +invite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued our +ministrations in perfect silence.</p> + +<p>"A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a strip +of linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for Margaret +Gaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? I +went from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I have +never laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvern +on a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin, +whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again. +Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her."</p> + +<p>"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired.</p> + +<p>"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as +soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember +on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to +retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; +and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one +of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your +father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the +substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering +has made him strong.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the +highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is +because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no +sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person +in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any +hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case +may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get +out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary +attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the +world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune +we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The +Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was +arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski +Tomlin was its instrument."</p> + +<p>"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands +together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have +dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings +that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently. +"Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked +stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole +matter."</p> + +<p>"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain."</p> + +<p>"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the +idea that you are pretty?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that I +see in the glass. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes we +quarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but my +own, own self."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, but +Nan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," said +Gabriel's grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood well +enough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any one +who was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmother +admitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make a +handsome pair."</p> + +<p>"When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swift +side-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put such +an idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, they +used to call the proper caper."</p> + +<p>"Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card of +invitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the front +door." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye, +everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake."</p> + +<p>This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long that +Gabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked his +grandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan to +marry Bethune.</p> + +<p>"Why, I have an idea that the matter has already been arranged," she +answered with a knowing smile. "It would be so natural and appropriate. +You are too young to appreciate the wisdom of such arrangements, +Gabriel, but you will understand it when you are older. Nan is not +related in any way to the Cloptons, though a great many people think so. +Her grandmother was captured by the Creeks when only a year or two old. +She was the only survivor of a party of seven which had been ambushed by +the Indians. She was too young to give any information about herself. +She could say a few words, and she knew that her name was Rosalind, but +that was all. She was ransomed by General McGillivray, and sent to Shady +Dale. Under the circumstances, there was nothing for Raleigh Clopton to +do but adopt her. Thus she became Rosalind Clopton. She married Benier +Odom when, as well as could be judged, she was more than forty years +old. Randolph Dorrington married her daughter, who died when Nan was +born. Marriage, Gabriel, is not what young people think it is; and I do +hope that when you take a wife, it will be some one you have known all +your life."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, too," Gabriel responded with great heartiness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + +<h3><i>The Passing of Margaret</i></h3> + + +<p>The day after the return of Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune from the +war, Gabriel's grandmother had an early caller in the person of Miss +Fanny Tomlin. For a maiden lady, Miss Fanny was very plump and +good-looking. Her hair was grey, and she still wore it in short curls, +just as she had worn it when a girl. The style became her well. The +short curls gave her an air of jauntiness, which was in perfect keeping +with her disposition, and they made a very pretty frame for her rosy, +smiling face. Socially, she was the most popular person in the town, +with both young and old. A children's party was a dull affair in Shady +Dale without Miss Fanny to give it shape and form, to suggest games, and +to make it certain that the timid ones should have their fair share of +the enjoyment. Indeed, the community would have been a very dull one but +for Miss Fanny; in return for which the young people conferred the +distinction of kinship on her by calling her Aunt Fanny. She had +remained single because her youngest brother, Pulaski, was unmarried, +and needed some one to take care of him, so she said. But she had +another brother, Silas Tomlin, who was twice a widower, and who seemed +to need some one to take care of him, for he presented a very mean and +miserable appearance.</p> + +<p>It chanced that when Miss Fanny called, Gabriel was studying his +lessons, using the dining-room table as a desk, and he was able to hear +the conversation that ensued. Miss Fanny stood on no ceremony in +entering. The front door was open and she entered without knocking, +saying, "If there's nobody at home I'll carry the house away. Where are +you, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"In my room, Fanny; come right in."</p> + +<p>"How are you, and how is the high and mighty Gabriel?" Having received +satisfactory answers to her friendly inquiries, Miss Fanny plunged at +once into the business that had brought her out so early. "What do you +think, Lucy? Margaret Gaither and her daughter have returned. They are +at the Gaither Place, and Miss Polly has just told me that there isn't a +mouthful to eat in the house—and there is Margaret at the point of +death! Why, it is dreadful. Something must be done at once, that's +certain. I wouldn't have bothered you, but you know what the +circumstances are. I don't know what Margaret's feelings are with +respect to me; you know we never were bosom friends. Yet I never really +disliked her, and now, after all that has happened, I couldn't bear to +think that she was suffering for anything. Likely enough she would be +embarrassed if I called and offered assistance. What is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be best for some one to call—some one who was her +friend?" The cool, level voice of Gabriel's grandmother seemed to clear +the atmosphere. "Whatever is to be done should be done sympathetically. +If I could see Polly, there would be no difficulty."</p> + +<p>"Well, I saw Miss Polly," said Miss Fanny, "and she told me the whole +situation, and I was on the point of saying that I'd run back home and +send something over, when an upper window was opened, and Margaret +Gaither's daughter stood there gazing at me—and she's a beauty, Lucy; +there's a chance for Gabriel there. Well, you know how deaf Miss Polly +is; if I had said what I wanted to say, that child would have heard +every word, and there was something in her face that held me dumb. Miss +Polly talked and I nodded my head, and that was all. The old soul must +have thought the cat had my tongue." Miss Fanny laughed uneasily as she +made the last remark.</p> + +<p>"If Margaret is ill, she should have attention. I will go there this +morning." This was Mrs. Lumsden's decision.</p> + +<p>"I'll send the carriage for you as soon as I can run home," said Miss +Fanny. With that she rose to go, and hustled out of the room, but in the +hallway she turned and remarked: "Tell Gabriel that he will have to +lengthen his suspenders, now that Nan has put on long dresses."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" protested Mrs. Lumsden. "We mustn't put any such nonsense in +Gabriel's head. Nan is for Francis Bethune. If it isn't all arranged it +ought to be. Why, the land of Dorrington joins the land that Bethune +will fall heir to some day, and it seems natural that the two estates +should become one." Gabriel's grandmother had old-fashioned ideas about +marriage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" replied Miss Fanny with a laugh; "you are so intent on +joining the two estates in wedlock that you take no account of the +individuals. But brother Pulaski says that for many years to come, the +more land a man has the poorer he will become."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I don't see how that can be," responded Mrs. Lumsden. +This was the first faint whiff of the new order that had come to the +nostrils of the dear old lady.</p> + +<p>Miss Fanny went home, and in no long time Neighbour Tomlin's carriage +came to the door. At the last moment, Mrs. Lumsden decided that Gabriel +should go with her. "It may be necessary for you to go on an errand. I +presume there are servants there, but I don't know whether they are to +be depended on."</p> + +<p>So Gabriel helped his grandmother into the carriage, climbed in after +her, and in a very short time they were at the Gaither Place. The young +woman whom Gabriel had seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack was standing in the +door, and the little frown on her forehead was more pronounced than +ever. She was evidently troubled.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said Mrs. Lumsden. "I have come to see Margaret. Does +she receive visitors?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Margaret, too," said the young woman, after returning Mrs. +Lumsden's salutation, and bowing to Gabriel. "But of course you came to +see my mother. She is upstairs—she would be carried there, though I +begged her to take one of the lower rooms. She is in the room in which +she was born."</p> + +<p>"I know the way very well," said Mrs. Lumsden. She was for starting up +the stairway, but the young woman detained her by a gesture and turned +to Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?" she inquired. "We are old acquaintances, you know. +Your name is Gabriel—wait!—Gabriel Tolliver. Don't you see how well I +know you? Come, we'll help your grandmother up the stairs." This they +did—the girl with the firm and practised hand of an expert, and Gabriel +with the awkwardness common to young fellows of his age. The young woman +led Mrs. Lumsden to her mother's bedside, and presently came back to +Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"We will go down now, if you please," she said. "My mother is very +ill—worse than she has ever been—and you can't imagine how lonely I +am. Mother is at home here, while my home, if I have any, is in +Louisiana. I suppose you never had any trouble?"</p> + +<p>"My mother is dead," he said simply. Margaret reached out her hand and +touched him gently on the arm. It was a gesture of impulsive sympathy.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Gabriel asked, thinking she was calling his attention to +something she saw or heard.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she said softly. Gabriel understood then, and he could have +kicked himself for his stupidity. "Your grandmother is a very beautiful +old lady," she remarked after a period of silence.</p> + +<p>"She is very good to me," Gabriel replied, at a loss what to say, for he +always shrank from praising those near and dear to him. As he sat +there, he marvelled at the self-possession of this young woman in the +midst of strangers, and with her mother critically ill.</p> + +<p>In a little while he heard his grandmother calling him from the head of +the stairs. "Gabriel, jump in the carriage and fetch Dr. Dorrington at +once. He's at home at this hour."</p> + +<p>He did as he was bid, and Nan, who was coming uptown on business of her +own, so she said, must needs get in the carriage with her father. The +combination was more than Gabriel had bargained for. There was a twinkle +in Dr. Dorrington's eye, as he glanced good-humouredly from one to the +other, that Gabriel did not like at all. For some reason or other, which +he was unable to fathom, the young man was inclined to fight shy of +Nan's father; and there was nothing he liked less than to find himself +in Dr. Dorrington's company—more especially when Nan was present, too. +Noting the quizzical glances of the physician, Gabriel, like a great +booby, began to blush, and in another moment, Nan was blushing, too.</p> + +<p>"Now, father"—she only called him father when she was angry, or +dreadfully in earnest—"Now, father! if you begin your teasing, I'll +jump from the carriage. I'll not ride with a grown man who doesn't know +how to behave in his daughter's company."</p> + +<p>Her father laughed gaily. "Teasing? Why, I wasn't thinking of teasing. I +was just going to remark that the weather is very warm for the season, +and then I intended to suggest to Gabriel that, as I proposed to get +you a blue parasol, he would do well to get him a red one."</p> + +<p>"And why should Gabriel get a parasol?" Nan inquired with a show of +indignation.</p> + +<p>"Why, simply to be in the fashion," her father replied. "I remember the +time when you cried for a hat because Gabriel had one; I also remember +that once when you were wearing a sun-bonnet, Gabriel borrowed one and +wore it—and a pretty figure he cut in it."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you can remember it," said Gabriel laughing and +blushing.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't see how in the world I could forget it," Dr. Dorrington +responded in tone so solemn that Nan laughed in spite of her +uncomfortable feelings.</p> + +<p>"You say Margaret Gaither has a daughter, Gabriel?" said Dr. Dorrington, +suddenly growing serious, much to the relief of the others. "And about +Nan's age? Well, you will have to go in with me, daughter, and see her. +If her mother is seriously ill, it will be a great comfort to her to +have near her some one of her own age."</p> + +<p>Nan made a pretty little mouth at this command, to show that she didn't +relish it, but otherwise she made no objection. Indeed, as matters fell +out, it became almost her duty to go in to Margaret Bridalbin; for when +the carriage reached the house, the young girl was standing at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Is this Dr. Dorrington? Well, you are to go up at once. They are +constantly calling to know if you have come. I don't know how my dearest +is—I dread to know. Oh, I am sure you will do what you can." There was +an appeal in the girl's voice that went straight to the heart of the +physician.</p> + +<p>"You may make your mind easy on that score, my dear," said Dr. +Dorrington, laying his hand lightly on her shoulder. There was something +helpful and hopeful in the very tone of his voice. "This is my daughter +Nan," he added.</p> + +<p>Margaret turned to Nan, who was lagging behind somewhat shyly. "Will you +please come in?—you and Gabriel Tolliver. It is very lonely here, and +everything is so still and quiet. My name is Margaret Bridalbin," she +said. She took Nan's hand, and looked into her eyes as if searching for +sympathy. And she must have found it there, for she drew Nan toward her +and kissed her.</p> + +<p>That settled it for Nan. "My name is Nan Dorrington," she said, +swallowing a lump in her throat, "and I hope we shall be very good +friends."</p> + +<p>"We are sure to be," replied the other, with emphasis. "I always know at +once."</p> + +<p>They went into the dim parlour, and Nan and Margaret sat with their arms +entwined around each other. "Gabriel told me yesterday that you were a +young girl," Nan remarked.</p> + +<p>"I am seventeen," replied the other.</p> + +<p>"Only seventeen! Why, I am seventeen, and yet I seem to be a mere child +by the side of you. You talk and act just as a grown woman does."</p> + +<p>"That is because I have never associated with children of my own age. I +have always been thrown with older persons. And then my mother has been +ill a long, long time, and I have been compelled to do a great deal of +thinking. I know of nothing more disagreeable than to have to think. Do +you dislike poor folks?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," replied Nan, snuggling up to Margaret. "Some of my very +bestest friends are poor."</p> + +<p>Margaret smiled at the childish adjective, and placed her cheek against +Nan's for a moment. "I'm glad you don't dislike poverty," she said, "for +we are very poor."</p> + +<p>"When it comes to that," Nan responded, "everybody around here is +poor—everybody except Grandfather Clopton and Mr. Tomlin. They have +money, but I don't know where they get it. Nonny says that some folks +have only to dream of money, and when they wake in the morning they find +it under their pillows."</p> + +<p>Dr. Dorrington came downstairs at this moment. "Your mother is very much +better than she was awhile ago," he said to Margaret. "She never should +have made so long a journey. She has wasted in that way strength enough +to have kept her alive for six months."</p> + +<p>"I begged and implored her not to undertake it," the daughter explained, +"but nothing would move her. Even when she needed nourishing food, she +refused to buy it; she was saving it to bring her home."</p> + +<p>"Well, she is here, now, and we'll do the best we can. Gabriel, will you +run over, and ask Fanny Tomlin to come? And if Neighbour Tomlin is there +tell him I want to see him on some important business."</p> + +<p>It was very clear to Gabriel from all this that there was small hope +for the poor lady above. She might be better than she was when the +doctor arrived, but there was no ray of hope to be gathered from Dr. +Dorrington's countenance.</p> + +<p>Pulaski Tomlin and his sister responded to the summons at once; and with +Gabriel's grandmother holding her hand, the poor lady had an interview +with Pulaski Tomlin. But she never saw his face nor he hers. The large +screen was carried upstairs from the dining-room, and placed in front of +the bed; and near the door a chair was placed for Pulaski Tomlin. It was +the heart's desire of the dying lady that Neighbour Tomlin should become +the guardian of her daughter. He was deeply affected when told of her +wishes, but before consenting to accept the responsibility, asked to see +the daughter, and went to the parlour, where she was sitting with Nan +and Gabriel. When he came in Nan ran and kissed him as she never failed +to do, for, though his face on one side was so scarred and drawn that +the sight of it sometimes shocked strangers, those who knew him well, +found his wounded countenance singularly attractive.</p> + +<p>"This is Margaret," he said, taking the girl's hand. "Come into the +light, my dear, where you may see me as I am. Your mother has expressed +a wish that I should become your guardian. As an old and very dear +friend of mine, she has the right to make the request. I am willing and +more than willing to meet her wishes, but first I must have your +consent."</p> + +<p>They went into the hallway, which was flooded with light. "Are you the +Mr. Tomlin of whom I have heard my mother speak?" Margaret asked, +fixing her clear eyes on his face; and when he had answered in the +affirmative—"I wonder that she asked you, after what she has told me. +She certainly has no claims on you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear, that is where you are wrong," he insisted. "I feel that +every one in this world has claims on me, especially those who were my +friends in old times. It is I who made a mistake, and not your mother; +and I should be glad to rectify that mistake now, as far as I can, by +carrying out her wishes. You know, of course, that she is very ill; will +you go up and speak with her?"</p> + +<p>"No, not now; not when there are so many strangers there," Margaret +replied, and stood looking at him with almost childish wonder.</p> + +<p>At this moment, Nan, who knew by heart all the little tricks of +friendship and affection, left Margaret, and took her stand by Neighbour +Tomlin's side. It was an indorsement that the other could not withstand. +She followed Nan, and said very firmly and earnestly, "It shall be as my +mother wishes."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will never have cause to regret it," remarked Pulaski Tomlin +solemnly.</p> + +<p>"She never will," Nan declared emphatically, as Pulaski Tomlin turned to +go upstairs.</p> + +<p>He went up very slowly, as if lost in thought. He went to the room and +stood leaning against the framework of the door. "Pulaski is here," said +Miss Fanny, who had been waiting to announce his return.</p> + +<p>"You remember, Pulaski," the invalid began, "that once when you were +ill, you would not permit me to see you. I was so ignorant that I was +angry; yes, and bitter; my vanity was wounded. And I was ignorant and +bitter for many years. I never knew until eighteen months ago why I was +not permitted to see you. I knew it one day, after I had been ill a long +time. I looked in the mirror and saw my wasted face and hollow eyes. I +knew then, and if I had known at first, Pulaski, everything would have +been so different. I have come all this terrible journey to ask you to +take my daughter and care for her. It is my last wish that you should be +her guardian and protector. Is she in the room? Can she hear what I am +about to say?"</p> + +<p>"No, Margaret," replied Pulaski Tomlin, in a voice that was tremulous +and husky. "She is downstairs; I have just seen her."</p> + +<p>"Well, she has no father according to my way of thinking," Margaret +Bridalbin went on. "Her father is a deserter from the Confederate army. +She doesn't know that; I tried to tell her, but my heart failed me. +Neither does she know that I have been divorced from him. These things +you can tell her when the occasion arises. If I had told her, it would +have been like accusing myself. I was responsible—I felt it and feel +it—and I simply could not tell her."</p> + +<p>"I shall try to carry out your wishes, Margaret," said Pulaski Tomlin; +"I have seen your daughter, as Fanny suggested, and she has no objection +to the arrangement. I shall do all that you desire. She shall be to me a +most sacred charge."</p> + +<p>"If you knew how happy you are making me, Pulaski—Oh, I am +grateful—grateful!"</p> + +<p>"There should be no talk of gratitude between you and me, Margaret."</p> + +<p>At a signal from Pulaski Tomlin, Judge Odom cleared his throat, and read +the document that he had drawn up, and his strong, business-like voice +went far toward relieving the strain that had been put on those who +heard the conversation between the dying woman and the man who had +formerly been her lover. Everything was arranged as she desired, every +wish she expressed had been carried out; and then, as if there was +nothing else to be done, the poor lady closed her eyes with a sigh, and +opened them no more in this world. It seemed that nothing had sustained +her but the hope of placing her daughter in charge of Pulaski Tomlin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling</i></h3> + + +<p>When the solemn funeral ceremonies were over, it was arranged that Nan +should spend a few days with her new friend, Margaret Gaither—she was +never called by the name of her father after her mother died—and +Gabriel took advantage of Nan's temporary absence to pay a visit to Mrs. +Absalom. He was very fond of that strong-minded woman; but since Nan had +grown to be such a young lady, he had not called as often as he had been +in the habit of doing. He was afraid, indeed, that some one would accuse +him of a sneaking desire to see Nan, and he was also afraid of the +quizzing which Nan's father was always eager to apply. But with Nan +away—her absence being notorious, as you may say—Gabriel felt that he +could afford to call on the genial housekeeper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom had for years been the manager of the Dorrington household, +and she retained her place even after Randolph Dorrington had taken for +his second wife Zepherine Dion, who had been known as Miss Johns, and +who was now called Mrs. Johnny Dorrington. In that household, indeed, +Mrs. Absalom was indispensable, and it was very fortunate that she and +Mrs. Johnny were very fond of each other. Her maiden name was Margaret +Rorick, and she came of a family that had long been attached to the +Dorringtons. In another clime, and under a different system, the Roricks +would have been described as retainers. They were that and much more. +They served without fee or reward. They were retainers in the highest +and best sense; for, in following the bent of their affections, they +retained their independence, their simple dignity and their +self-respect; and in that region, which was then, and is now, the most +democratic in the world, they were as well thought of as the Cloptons or +the Dorringtons.</p> + +<p>It came to pass, in the order of events, that Margaret Rorick married +Mr. Absalom Goodlett, who was the manager of the Dorrington plantation. +Though she was no chicken, as she said herself, Mr. Goodlett was her +senior by several years. She was also, in a sense, the victim of the +humour that used to run riot in Middle Georgia; for, in spite of her +individuality, which was vigorous and aggressive, she lost her own name +and her husband's too. At Margaret Rorick's wedding, or, rather, at the +infair, which was the feast after the wedding, Mr. Uriah Lazenby, whose +memory is kept green by his feats at tippling, and who combined fiddling +with farming, furnished the music for the occasion. Being something of a +privileged character, and having taken a thimbleful too much dram, as +fiddlers will do, the world over, Mr. Lazenby rose in his place, when +the company had been summoned to the feast, and remarked:</p> + +<p>"Margaret Rorick, now that the thing's been gone and done, and can't be +holp, I nominate you Mrs. Absalom, an' Mrs. Absalom it shall be +herearter. Ab Goodlett, you ought to be mighty proud when you can fling +your bridle on a filly like that, an' lead her home jest for the bar' +sesso."</p> + +<p>The loud laughter that followed placed the bride at a temporary +disadvantage. She joined in, however, and then exclaimed: "My goodness! +Old Uriah's drunk ag'in; you can't pull a stopper out'n a jug in the +same house wi' him but what he'll dribble at the mouth an' git shaky in +the legs."</p> + +<p>But drunk or sober, Uriah had "nominated" Mrs. Absalom for good and all. +One reason why this "nomination" was seized on so eagerly was the sudden +change that had taken place in Miss Rorick's views in regard to +matrimony. She was more than thirty years old when she consented to +become Mrs. Absalom. Up to that time she had declared over and over +again that there wasn't a man in the world she'd look at, much less +marry.</p> + +<p>Now, many a woman has said the same thing and changed her mind without +attracting attention; but Mrs. Absalom's views on matrimony, and her +pithy criticisms of the male sex in general, had flown about on the +wings of her humour, and, in that way, had come to have wide +advertisement. But her "nomination" interfered neither with her +individuality, nor with her ability to indulge in pithy comments on +matters and things in general. Of Mr. Lazenby, she said later: "What's +the use of choosin' betwixt a fool an' a fiddler, when you can git both +in the same package?"</p> + +<p>She made no bad bargain when she married Mr. Goodlett. His irritability +was all on the surface. At bottom, he was the best-natured and most +patient of men—a philosopher who was so thoroughly contented with the +ways of the world and the order of Providence, that he had no desire to +change either—and so comfortable in his own views and opinions that he +was not anxious to convert others to his way of thinking. If anything +went wrong, it was like a garment turned inside out; it would "come out +all right in the washin'."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom's explanation of her change of views in the subject of +matrimony was very simple and reasonable. "Why, a single 'oman," she +said, "can't cut no caper at all; she can't hardly turn around wi'out +bein' plumb tore to pieces by folks's tongues. But now—you see Ab over +there? Well, he ain't purty enough for a centre-piece, nor light enough +for to be set on the mantel-shelf, but it's a comfort to see him in that +cheer there, knowin' all the time that you can do as you please, and +nobody dastin to say anything out of the way. Why, I could put on Ab's +old boots an' take his old buggy umbrell, an' go an' jine the muster. +The men might snicker behind the'r han's, but all they could say would +be, 'Well, ef that kind of a dido suits Ab Goodlett, it ain't nobody +else's business.'"</p> + +<p>It happened that Mr. Sanders was the person to whom Mrs. Absalom was +addressing her remarks, and he inquired if such an unheard of proceeding +would be likely to suit Mr. Goodlett.</p> + +<p>"To a t!" she exclaimed. "Why, he wouldn't bat his eye. He mought grunt +an' groan a little jest to let you know that he's alive, but that'd be +all. An' that's the trouble: ef Ab has any fault in the world that you +can put your finger on, it's in bein' too good. You know, +William—anyhow, you'd know it ef you belonged to my seck—that there's +lots of times and occasions when it'd make the wimmen folks feel lots +better ef they had somethin' or other to rip and rare about. My old cat +goes about purrin', the very spit and image of innocence; but she'd die +ef she didn't show her claws sometimes. Once in awhile I try my level +best for to pick a quarrel wi' Ab, but before I say a dozen words, I +look at him an' have to laugh. Why the way that man sets there an' says +nothin' is enough to make a saint ashamed of hisself."</p> + +<p>It was the general opinion that Mr. Goodlett, who was shrewd and +far-seeing beyond the average, had an eye to strengthening his relations +with Dr. Dorrington, when he "popped the question" to Margaret Rorick. +But such was not the case. His relations needed no strengthening. He +managed Dorrington's agricultural interests with uncommon ability, and +brought rare prosperity to the plantation. Unlettered, and, to all +appearances, taking no interest in public affairs, he not only foresaw +the end of the Civil War, but looked forward to the time when the +Confederate Government, pressed for supplies, would urge upon the States +the necessity of limiting the raising of cotton.</p> + +<p>He gave both Meriwether Clopton and Neighbour Tomlin the benefit of +these views; and then, when the rumours of Sherman's march through +Georgia grew rifer he made a shrewd guess as to the route, and succeeded +in hiding out and saving, not only all the cotton the three plantations +had grown, but also all the livestock. Having an ingrained suspicion of +the negroes, and entertaining against them the prejudices of his class, +Mr. Goodlett employed a number of white boys from the country districts +to aid him with his refugee train. And he left them in charge of the +camp he had selected, knowing full well that they would be glad to +remain in hiding as long as the Federal soldiers were about.</p> + +<p>The window of the dining-room at Dorringtons' commanded a view of the +street for a considerable distance toward town, and it was at this +window that Mrs. Absalom had her favourite seat. She explained her +preference for it by saying that she wanted to know what was going on in +the world. She looked out from this window one day while she was talking +to Gabriel Tolliver, whose visits to Dorringtons' had come to be +coincident with Nan's absence, and suddenly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, my gracious! Ef yonder ain't old Picayune Pauper! I wonder what +we have done out this way that old Picayune should be sneakin' around +here? I'll tell you what—ef Ab has borried arry thrip from old Silas +Tomlin, I'll quit him; I won't live wi' a man that'll have anything to +do wi' that old scamp. As I'm a livin' human, he's comin' here!"</p> + +<p>Now, Silas Tomlin was Neighbour Tomlin's elder brother, but the two men +were as different in character and disposition as a warm bright day is +different from a bitter black night. Pulaski Tomlin gave his services +freely to all who needed them, and he was happy and prosperous; whereas +Silas was a miserly money-lender and note-shaver, and always appeared to +be in the clutches of adversity. To parsimony he added the sting—yes, +and the stain—of a peevish and an irritable temper. It was as Mrs. +Absalom had said—"a picayunish man is a pauper, I don't care how much +money he's got."</p> + +<p>"I'll go see ef Johnny is in the house," said Mrs. Absalom. "Johnny" was +Mrs. Dorrington, who, in turn, called Mrs. Absalom "Nonny," which was +Nan's pet name for the woman who had raised her—"I'll go see, but I +lay she's gone to see Nan; I never before seed a step-mammy so wropped +up in her husband's daughter." Nan, as has been said, was spending a few +days with poor Margaret Bridalbin, whose mother had just been buried.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom called Mrs. Dorrington, and then looked for her, but she +was not to be found at the moment. "I reckon you'll have to go to the +door, Gabe," said Mrs. Absalom, as the knocker sounded. "Sence freedom, +we ain't got as many niggers lazyin' around an' doin' nothin' as we use +to have."</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Goodlett in?" asked Silas Tomlin, when Gabriel opened the door.</p> + +<p>"I think he's in Malvern," Gabriel answered, as politely as he could.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, with a terrible frown; "you don't +know a thing about it, not a thing in the world. He got back right after +dinner."</p> + +<p>"Well, ef he did," said Mrs. Absalom, coming forward, "he didn't come +here. He ain't cast a shadow in this house sence day before yistiddy, +when he went to Malvern."</p> + +<p>"How are you, Mrs. Absalom?—how are you?" said Silas, with a tremendous +effort at politeness. "I hope you are well; you are certainly looking +well. You say your husband is not in? Well, I'm sorry; I wanted to see +him on business; I wanted to get some information."</p> + +<p>"Ab don't owe you anything, I hope," remarked Mrs. Absalom, ignoring the +salutation.</p> + +<p>"Not a thing—not a thing in the world. But why do you ask? Many people +have the idea that I'm rolling in money—that's what I hear—and they +think that I go about loaning it to Tom, Dick and Harry. But it is not +so—it is not so; I have no money."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom laughed ironically, saying, "I reckon if your son Paul was +to scratch about under the house, he'd find small change about in +places."</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin looked hard at Mrs. Absalom, his little black eyes +glistening under his coarse, heavy eyebrows like those of some wild +animal. He was not a prepossessing man. He was so bald that he was +compelled to wear a skull-cap, and the edge of this showed beneath the +brim of his chimney-pot hat. His face needed a razor; and the grey beard +coming through the cuticle, gave a ghastly, bluish tint to the pallor of +his countenance. His broadcloth coat—Mrs. Absalom called it a +"shadbelly"—was greasy at the collar, and worn at the seams, and his +waistcoat was stained with ambeer. His trousers, which were much too +large for him, bagged at the knees, and his boots were run down at the +heels. Though he was temperate to the last degree, he had the appearance +of a man who is the victim of some artificial stimulant.</p> + +<p>"What put that idea in your head, Mrs. Goodlett?" he asked, after +looking long and searchingly at Mrs. Absalom.</p> + +<p>"Well, I allowed that when you was countin' out your cash, a thrip or +two mought have slipped through the cracks in the floor," she replied; +"sech things have happened before now."</p> + +<p>He wiped his thin lips with his lean forefinger, and stood hesitating, +whereupon Mrs. Absalom remarked: "It sha'n't cost you a cent ef you'll +come in. Ab'll be here purty soon ef somebody ain't been fool enough to +give him his dinner. His health'll fail him long before his appetite +does. Show Mr. Tomlin in the parlour, Gabriel, an' I'll see about Ab's +dinner; I don't want it to burn to a cracklin' before he gits it."</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin went into the parlour and sat down, while Gabriel stood +hesitating, not knowing what to do or say. He was embarrassed, and Silas +Tomlin saw it. "Oh, take a seat," he said, with a show of impatience. +"What are you doing for yourself, Tolliver? You're a big boy now, and +you ought to be making good money. We'll all have to work now: we'll +have to buckle right down to it. The way I look at it, the man who is +doing nothing is throwing money away; yes, sir, throwing it away. What +does Adam Smith say? Why, he says——"</p> + +<p>Gabriel never found out what particular statement of Adam Smith was to +be thrown at his head, for at that moment, Mr. Goodlett called out from +the dining-room: "Si Tomlin in there, Gabriel? Well, fetch him out here +whar I live at. I ain't got no parlours for company." By the time that +Gabriel had led Mr. Silas Tomlin into the dining-room, Mr. Goodlett had +a plate of victuals carrying it to the kitchen; and he remarked as he +went along, "I got nuther parlours nor dinin'-rooms: fetch him out here +to the kitchen whar we both b'long at."</p> + +<p>If Silas Tomlin objected to this arrangement, he gave no sign; he +followed without a word, Mr. Goodlett placed his plate on the table +where the dishes were washed, and dropped his hat on the floor beside +him, and began to attack his dinner most vigorously. Believing, +evidently, that ordinary politeness would be wasted here, Silas entered +at once on the business that had brought him to Dorringtons'.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to trouble you, Goodlett," he said by way of making a beginning.</p> + +<p>"I notice you ain't cryin' none to hurt," remarked Mr. Goodlett +placidly. "An' ef you was, you'd be cryin' for nothin'. You ain't +troublin' me a mite. Forty an' four like you can't trouble me."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to excuse Ab," said Mrs. Goodlett, who had preceded Gabriel +and Silas to the kitchen. "He's lost his cud, an' he won't be right well +till he finds it ag'in." She placed her hand over her mouth to hide her +smiles.</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin paid no attention to this by-play. He stood like a man who +is waiting an opportunity to get in a word.</p> + +<p>"Goodlett, who were the ladies you brought from Malvern to-day?" His +face was very serious.</p> + +<p>"You know 'em lots better'n I do. The oldest seed you out in the field, +an' she axed me who you mought be. I told her, bekaze I ain't got no +secrets from my passengers, specially when they're good-lookin' an' +plank down the'r money before they start. Arter I told 'em who you was, +the oldest made you a mighty purty bow, but you wer'n't polite enough +for to take off your hat. I dunno as I blame you much, all things +considered. Then the youngest, she's the daughter, she says, says she, +'Is that reely him, ma?' an' t'other one, says she, 'Ef it's him, honey, +he's swunk turrible.' She said them very words."</p> + +<p>"I wonder who in the world they can be?" said Silas Tomlin, as if +talking to himself.</p> + +<p>"You'll think of the'r names arter awhile," Mr. Goodlett remarked by way +of consolation, but his tone was so suspicious that Silas turned on his +heel—he had started out—and asked Mr. Goodlett what he meant.</p> + +<p>"Adzackly what I said, nuther more nor less."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom was so curious to find out something more that Silas was +hardly out of the house before she began to ply her husband with +questions. But they were all futile. Mr. Goodlett knew no more than +that he had brought the women from Malvern; that they had chanced to +spy old Silas Tomlin in a field by the side of the road, and that when +the elder of the two women found out what his name was, she made him a +bow, which Silas wasn't polite enough to return.</p> + +<p>"That's all I know," remarked Mr. Goodlett. "Dog take the wimmen +anyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly; "ef they'd stay at home they'd be all +right; but here they go, a-trapesin' an' a-trollopin' all over creation, +an' a-givin' trouble wherever they go. They git me so muddled an' +befuddled wi' ther whickerin' an' snickerin' that I dunner which een' +I'm a-stannin' on half the time. Nex' time they want to ride wi' me, +I'll say, 'Walk!' By jacks! I won't haul 'em."</p> + +<p>This episode, if it may be called such, made small impression on +Gabriel's mind, but it tickled Mrs. Goodlett's mind into activity, and +the lad heard more of Silas Tomlin during the next hour than he had ever +known before. In a manner, Silas was a very important factor in the +community, as money-lenders always are, but according to Gabriel's idea, +he was always one of the poorest creatures in the world.</p> + +<p>When he was a young man, Silas joined the tide of emigration that was +flowing westward. He went to Mississippi, where he married his first +wife. In a year's time, he returned to his old home. When asked about +his wife—for he returned alone—he curtly answered that she was well +enough off. Mrs. Absalom was among those who made the inquiry, and her +prompt comment was, "She's well off ef she's dead; I'll say that much."</p> + +<p>But there was a persistent rumour, coming from no one knew where, that +when a child was born to Silas, the wife was seized with such a horror +of the father that the bare sight of him would cause her to scream, and +she constantly implored her people to send him away. It is curious how +rumours will travel far and wide, from State to State, creeping through +swamps, flying over deserts and waste places, and coming home at last as +the carrier-pigeon does, especially if there happens to be a grain of +truth in them.</p> + +<p>It turned out that the lady, in regard to whom Silas Tomlin expressed +such curiosity, was a Mrs. Claiborne, of Kentucky, who, with her +daughter, had refugeed from point to point in advance of the Federal +army. Finally, when peace came, the lady concluded to make her home in +Georgia, where she had relatives, and she selected Shady Dale as her +place of abode on account of its beauty. These facts became known later.</p> + +<p>Evidently the new-comers had resources, for they arranged to occupy the +Gaither house, taking it as it stood, with Miss Polly Gaither, furniture +and all. This arrangement must have been satisfactory to Miss Polly in +the first place, or it would never have been made; and it certainly +relieved her of the necessity of living on the charity of her +neighbours, under pretence of borrowing from them. But so strange a +bundle of contradictions is human nature, that no sooner had Miss Polly +begun to enjoy the abundance that was now showered upon her in the shape +of victuals and drink than she took her ear-trumpet in one hand and her +work-bag in the other, and went abroad, gossiping about her tenants, +telling what she thought they said, and commenting on their +actions—not maliciously, but simply with a desire to feed the curiosity +of the neighbours.</p> + +<p>In order to do this more effectually, Miss Polly returned visits that +had been made to her before the war. There was nothing in her talk to +discredit the Claibornes or to injure their characters. They were +strangers to the community, and there was a natural and perfectly +legitimate curiosity on the part of the town to learn something of their +history. Miss Polly could not satisfy this curiosity, but she could whet +it by leaving at each one's door choice selections from her catalogue of +the sayings and doings of the new-comers—wearing all the time a dress +that Miss Eugenia, the daughter, had made over for her. Miss Polly was a +dumpy little woman, and, with her wen, her ear-trumpet, and her +work-bag, she cut a queer figure as she waddled along.</p> + +<p>There was one piece of information she gave out that puzzled the +community no little. According to Miss Polly, the Claibornes had hardly +settled themselves in their new home before Silas Tomlin called on them. +"I can't hear as well as I used to," said Miss Polly—she was deaf as a +door-post—"but I can see as well as anybody; yes indeed, as well as +anybody in the world. And I tell you, Lucy Lumsden"—she was talking to +Gabriel's grandmother—"as soon as old Silas darkened the door, I knew +he was worried. I never saw a grown person so fidgety and nervous, +unless it was Micajah Clemmons, and he's got the rickets, poor man. So I +says to myself, 'I'll watch you,' and watch I did. Well, when Mrs. +Claiborne came into the parlour, she bowed very politely to old Silas, +but I could see that she could hardly keep from laughing in his face; +and I don't blame her, for the way old Silas went on was perfectly +ridiculous. He spit and he spluttered, and sawed the air with his arms, +and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jerked at the bottom of his +wescut till I really thought he'd pull the front out. I wish you could +have seen him, Lucy Lumsden, I do indeed. And when the door was shut on +him, Mrs. Claiborne flung herself down on a sofa, and laughed until she +frightened her daughter. I don't complain about my afflictions as a +general thing, Lucy, but I would have given anything that day if my +hearing had been as good as it used to be."</p> + +<p>And though Gabriel's grandmother was a woman of the highest principles, +holding eavesdropping in the greatest contempt, it is possible that she +would have owned to a mild regret that Miss Polly Gaither was too deaf +to hear what Silas Tomlin's troubles were. This was natural, too, for, +on account of the persistent rumours that had followed Silas home from +Mississippi, there was always something of a mystery in regard to his +first matrimonial venture. There was none about his second. A year or +two after he returned home he married Susan Pritchard, whose father was +a prosperous farmer, living several miles from town. Susan bore Silas a +son and died. She was a pious woman, and with her last breath named the +child Paul, on account of the conjunction of the names of Paul and Silas +in the New Testament. Paul grew up to be one of the most popular young +men in the community.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + +<h3><i>The Political Machine Begins its Work</i></h3> + + +<p>All that has been set down thus far, you will say, is trifling, +unimportant and wearisome. Your decision is not to be disputed; but if, +by an effort of the mind, you could throw yourself back to those dread +days, you would understand what a diversion these trifling events and +episodes created for the heart-stricken and soul-weary people of that +region. The death of Margaret Bridalbin moved them to pity, and awoke in +their minds pleasing memories of happier days, when peace and prosperity +held undisputed sway in all directions. The arrival of the Claibornes +had much the same effect. It gave the community something to talk about, +and, in a small measure, took them out of themselves. Moreover, the +Claibornes, mother and daughter, proved to be very attractive additions +to the town's society. They were both bright and good-humoured, and the +daughter was very beautiful.</p> + +<p>To a people overwhelmed with despair, the most trifling episode becomes +curiously magnified. The case of Mr. Goodlett is very much to the point. +He was merely an individual, it is true, but in some respects an +individual represents the mass. When Sherman's men hanged him to a +limb, under the mistaken notion that he was the custodian of the Clopton +plate, the last thing he remembered as he lost consciousness, was the +ticking of his watch. It sounded in his ears, he said, as loud as the +blows of a sledge-hammer falling on an anvil. From that day until he +died, he never could bear to hear the ticking of a watch. He gave his +time-piece to his wife, who put it away with her other relics and +treasures.</p> + +<p>How it was with other communities it is not for this chronicler to say, +but the collapse of the Confederacy, coming when it did, was an event +that Shady Dale least expected. The last trump will cause no greater +surprise and consternation the world over, than the news of Lee's +surrender caused in that region. The public mind had not been prepared +for such an event, especially in those districts remote from the centres +of information. Almost every piece of news printed in the journals of +the day was coloured with the prospect of ultimate victory: and when the +curtain suddenly came down and the lights went out, no language can +describe the grief, the despair, and the feeling of abject humiliation +that fell upon the white population in the small towns and village +communities. How it was in the cities has not been recorded, but it is +to be presumed that then, as now, the demands and necessities of trade +and business were powerful enough to overcome and destroy the worst +effects of a calamity that attacked the sentiments and emotions.</p> + +<p>It has been demonstrated recently on some very wide fields of action +that the atmosphere of commercialism is unfavourable to the growth of +sentiments of an ideal character. That is why wise men who believe in +the finer issues of life are inclined to be suspicious of what is +loosely called civilisation and progress, and doubtful of the theories +of those who clothe themselves in the mantle of science.</p> + +<p>Whatever the feeling in the cities may have been when news of the +surrender came, it caused the most poignant grief and despair in the +country places: and there, as elsewhere in this world, whenever +suffering is to be borne, the most of the burden falls on the shoulders +of the women. It is at once the strength and weakness of the sex that +woman suffers more than man and is more capable of enduring the pangs of +suffering.</p> + +<p>As for the men they soon recovered from the shock. They were startled +and stunned, but when they opened their eyes to the situation they found +themselves confronted by conditions that had no precedent or parallel in +the history of the world. It is small fault if their minds failed at +first to grasp the significance and the import of these conditions, so +new were they and so amazing.</p> + +<p>A few years later, Gabriel Tolliver, who, when the surrender came, was a +lad just beyond seventeen, took himself severely to task before a public +assemblage for his blindness in 1865, and the years immediately +following; and his criticisms must have gone home to others, for the +older men who sat in the audience rose to their feet and shook the house +with their applause. They, too, had been as blind as the boy.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps well for Shady Dale that Mr. Sanders came home when he +did. He had been in the field, if not on the forum. He had mingled with +public men, and, as he himself contended, had been "closeted" with one +of the greatest men the country ever produced—the reference being to +Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Sanders had to tell over and over again the story of +how he and Frank Bethune didn't kidnap the President; and he brought +home hundreds of rich and racy anecdotes that he had picked up in the +camp. In those awful days when there was little ready money to be had, +and business was at a standstill, and the courts demoralised, and the +whole social fabric threatening to fall to pieces, it was Mr. Billy +Sanders who went around scattering cheerfulness and good-humour as +carelessly as the children scatter the flowers they have gathered in the +fields.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune had formed a part of the escort that +went with Mr. Davis as far as Washington in Wilkes County. On this +account, Mr. Sanders boasted that at the last meeting of the Confederate +Cabinet held in that town, he had elected himself a member, and was duly +installed. "It was the same," he used to say, "as j'inin' the +Free-masons. The doorkeeper gi' me the grip an' the password, the head +man of the war department knocked me on the forrerd, an' the thing was +done. When Mr. Davis was ready to go, he took me by the hand, an' says, +'William,' says he, 'keep house for the boys till I git back, an' be +shore that you cheer 'em up.'"</p> + +<p>This sort of nonsense served its purpose, as Mr. Sanders intended that +it should. Wherever he appeared on the streets a crowd gathered around +him—as large a crowd as the town could furnish. To a spectator standing +a little distance away and out of hearing, the attitude and movements of +these groups presented a singular appearance. The individuals would move +about and swap places, trying to get closer to Mr. Sanders. There would +be a period of silence, and then, suddenly, loud shouts of laughter +would rend the air. Such a spectator, if a stranger, might easily have +imagined that these men and boys, standing close together, and shouting +with laughter at intervals, were engaged in practising a part to be +presented in a rural comedy—or that they were a parcel of simpletons.</p> + +<p>One peculiarity of Mr. Sanders's humour was that it could not be +imitated with any degree of success. His raciest anecdote lost a large +part of its flavour when repeated by some one else. It was the way he +told it, a cut of the eye, a lift of the eyebrow, a movement of the +hand, a sudden air of solemnity—these were the accessories that gave +point and charm to the humour.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders had cut out a very large piece of work for himself. He kept +it up for some time, but he gradually allowed himself longer and longer +intervals of seriousness. The multitude of problems growing out of the +new and strange conditions were of a thought-compelling nature; and they +grew larger and more ominous as the days went by. Gabriel Tolliver might +take to the woods, as the saying is, and so escape from the prevailing +depression. But Mr. Sanders and the rest of the men had no such +resource; responsibility sat on their shoulders, and they were compelled +to face the conditions and study them. Gabriel could sit on the fence by +the roadside, and see neither portent nor peril in the groups and gangs +of negroes passing and repassing, and moving restlessly to and fro, some +with bundles and some with none. He watched them, as he afterward +complained, with a curiosity as idle as that which moves a little child +to watch a swarm of ants. He noticed, however, that the negroes were no +longer cheerful. Their child-like gaiety had vanished. In place of their +loud laughter, their boisterous play, and their songs welling forth and +filling the twilight places with sweet melodies, there was silence. +Gabriel had no reason to regard this silence as ominous, but it was so +regarded by his elders.</p> + +<p>He thought that the restless and uneasy movements of the negroes were +perfectly natural. They had suddenly come to the knowledge that they +were free, and they were testing the nature and limits of their freedom. +They desired to find out its length and its breadth. So much was clear +to Gabriel, but it was not clear to his elders. And what a pity that it +was not! How many mistakes would have been avoided! What a dreadful +tangle and turmoil would have been prevented if these grown children +could have been judged from Gabriel's point of view! For the boy's +interpretation of the restlessness and uneasiness of the blacks was the +correct one. Your historians will tell you that the situation was +extraordinary and full of peril. Well, extraordinary, if you will, but +not perilous. Gabriel could never be brought to believe that there was +anything to be dreaded in the attitude of the blacks. What he scored +himself for in the days to come was that his interest in the matter +never rose above the idle curiosity of a boy.</p> + +<p>And yet there were some developments calculated to pique curiosity. A +few years before the war, one of Madame Awtry's nephews from +Massachusetts came in to the neighbourhood preaching freedom to the +negroes. As a result, a large body of the Clopton negroes gathered +around the house one morning with many breathings and mutterings. Uncle +Plato, the carriage-driver, went to his master with a very grave face, +and announced that the hands, instead of going to work, had come in a +body to the house.</p> + +<p>"Well, go and see what they want, Plato," said the master of the Clopton +Place.</p> + +<p>"I done ax um dat, suh," replied Uncle Plato, "an' dey say p'intedly dat +dey want ter see you."</p> + +<p>"Very well; where is Mr. Sanders?"</p> + +<p>"He out dar, suh, makin' fun un um."</p> + +<p>When Meriwether Clopton went out, he was told by old man Isaiah, the +foreman of the field-hands, that the boys didn't want to be "Bledserd." +It was some time before the master could understand what the old man +meant, but Mr. Sanders finally made it clear, and Meriwether Clopton +sent the negroes about their business with a promise that none of them +should ever be "Bledserd" by his consent.</p> + +<p>A year or two before this "rising" occurred, General Jesse Bledsoe had +died leaving a will, by the terms of which all his negroes were given +their freedom, and provision was made for their transportation to a free +State. But the General had relatives, who put in their claims, and +succeeded in breaking the will, with the result that many of the negroes +were carried to the West and Southwest, bringing about a wholesale +separation of families, the first that had ever occurred in that +section. The impression it made on both whites and negroes was a lasting +one. In the minds of the blacks, freedom was only another name for +"Bledserin'."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when, after the collapse of the Confederacy and the advent +of Sherman's army, the Clopton negroes were told that they were free, a +large number of them joined the restless, migratory throng that passed +to and fro along the public highway, some coming, some going, but all +moved by the same irresistible impulse to test their freedom—to see if +they really could come hither and go yonder without let or hinderance. +Uncle Plato and his family, with a dozen others who were sagacious +enough to follow the old man's example, remained in their places and +fared better than the rest.</p> + +<p>For a time Shady Dale rested peacefully in its seclusion, watching the +course of events with apparent tranquillity. But behind this appearance +of repose there was a good deal of restlessness and uneasiness. +Sometimes its bosom (so to speak) was inflamed with anger, and sometimes +it would be sunk in despair. One of the events that brought Shady Dale +closer to the troubles that the newspapers were full of, was a circular +letter issued by Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale. Major Perdue had +returned home thoroughly reconstructed. He was full of admiration for +General Grant's attitude toward General Lee, and he endorsed with all +his heart the tone and spirit of Lee's address to his old soldiers; but +when he saw the unexpected turn that the politicians had been able to +give to events, he found it hard to hold his peace. Finally, when he +could restrain himself no longer, he incited his friends to hold a +meeting and propose his name as a candidate for Congress. This was done, +and the Major seized the opportunity to issue a circular letter +declining the nomination, and giving his reasons therefor. This letter +remains to this day the most scathing arraignment of carpet-baggery, +bayonet rule, and the Republican Party generally that has ever been put +in print. It contained some decidedly picturesque references to the +personality of the commander of the Georgia district, who happened to be +General Pope, the famous soldier who had his head-quarters in the saddle +at a very interesting period of the Civil War.</p> + +<p>Major Perdue did not intend it so, but his letter was a piece of pure +recklessness. The effect of this scorching document was to bring a +company of Federal troops to Halcyondale, and in the course of a few +weeks a detachment was stationed at Shady Dale. In each case they +brought their tents with them, and went into camp. This was taken as a +signal by the carpet-baggers that the region round-about was to be +cultivated for political purposes, and forthwith they began operations, +receiving occasional accessions in the person of a number of scalawags, +the most respectable and conscientious of these being Mr. Mahlon Butts, +who had been a vigorous and consistent Union man all through the war. He +could be neither convinced nor intimidated, and his consistency won for +him the respect of his neighbours. But when the carpet-baggers made +their appearance, and Mahlon Butts began to fraternise with them, he was +ostracised along with the rest.</p> + +<p>It soon became necessary for the whites to take counsel together, and +Shady Dale became, as it had been before the war, the Mecca of the +various leaders. Before the war, the politicians of both parties were in +the habit of meeting at Shady Dale, enjoying the barbecues for which the +town was famous, and taking advantage of the occasion to lay out the +programme of the campaign. And now, when it was necessary to organise a +white man's party, the leaders turned their eyes and their steps to +Shady Dale.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Gabriel had an opportunity to see Toombs, and Stephens, +and Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson—he who was on the national ticket +with Douglas in 1860—and other men who were to become prominent later. +There were some differences of opinion to be settled. A few of the +leaders had advised the white voters to take no part in the political +farce which Congress had arranged, but to leave it all to the negroes +and the aliens, especially as so many of the white voters had been +disfranchised, or were labouring under political disabilities. Others, +on the contrary, advised the white voters to qualify as rapidly as +possible. It was this difference of opinion that remained to be settled, +so far as Georgia was concerned.</p> + +<p>It was Gabriel's acquaintance with Mr. Stephens that first fired his +ambition. Here was a frail, weak man, hardly able to stand alone, who +had been an invalid all his life, and yet had won renown, and by his +wisdom and conservatism had gained the confidence and esteem of men of +all parties and of all shades of opinion. His willpower and his energy +lifted him above his bodily weakness and ills, and carried him through +some of the most arduous campaigns that ever occurred in Georgia, where +heated canvasses were the rule and not the exception. Watching him +closely, and noting his wonderful vivacity and cheerfulness, Gabriel +Tolliver came to the conclusion that if an invalid could win fame a +strong healthy lad should be able to make his mark.</p> + +<p>It fell out that Gabriel attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens, who +was always partial to young men. He made the lad sit near him, drew him +out, and gave him some sound advice in regard to his studies. At the +suggestion of Mr. Stephens, the lad was permitted to attend the +conferences, which were all informal, and the kindly statesman took +pains to introduce the awkward, blushing youngster to all the prominent +men who came.</p> + +<p>It was curious, Gabriel thought, how easily and naturally the invalid +led the conversation into the channel he desired. He was smoking a clay +pipe, which his faithful body-servant replenished from time to time. +"Mr. Sanders," he began, "I have heard a good deal about your attempt +to kidnap Lincoln. What did you think of Lincoln anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I thought, an' still think that he was the best all-'round +man I ever laid eyes on."</p> + +<p>"He certainly was a very great man," remarked Mr. Stephens. "I knew him +well before the war. We were in Congress together. It is odd that he +showed no remarkable traits at that time."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "arter the Dimmycrats elected him +President, he found hisself in a corner, an' he jest had to be a big +man."</p> + +<p>"You mean after the Republicans elected him," some one suggested.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it,—not a bit of it!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Why the +Republicans didn't have enough votes to elect three governors, much less +a President. But the Dimmycrats, bein' perlite by natur' an' not +troubled wi' any surplus common sense, divided up the'r votes, an' the +Republicans walked in an' took the cake. If you ever hear of me votin' +the Dimmycrat ticket—an' I reckon I'll have to do it—you may jest put +it down that it ain't bekase I want to, but bekase I'm ableege to. The +party ain't hardly got life left in it, an' yit here you big men are +wranglin' an' jowerin' as to whether you'll set down an' let a drove of +mules run over you, or whether you'll stan' up to the rack, fodder or no +fodder."</p> + +<p>"This brings us to the very point we are to discuss," said Mr. Stephens, +laughing. "I may say in the beginning that I am much of Mr. Sanders's +opinion. Some very able men insist that if we take no part in this +reconstruction business, we'll not be responsible for it. That is true, +but we will have to endure the consequences just the same. Radicalism +has majorities at present, but these will disappear after a time."</p> + +<p>"I reckon some of us can be trusted to wear away a few majorities," said +Mr. Sanders, dryly, and it was his last contribution to the discussion. +As might be supposed, no definite policy was hit upon. The conditions +were so new to those who had to deal with them, that, after an +interchange of views, the company separated, feeling that the policy +proper to be pursued would arise naturally out of the immediate +necessities of the occasion, or the special character of the situation. +This was the view of Mr. Stephens, who, as he was still suffering from +his confinement in prison, accepted the invitation of Meriwether Clopton +to remain at Shady Dale for a week or more.</p> + +<p>During that week, there was hardly a day that Gabriel did not go to the +Clopton Place. He went because he could see that his presence was +agreeable to Mr. Stephens, as well as to Meriwether Clopton. He was led +along to join in the conversation which the older men were carrying on, +and in that way he gained more substantial information about political +principles and policies than he could have found in the books and the +newspapers.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Gabriel came in closer contact with Francis Bethune. That +young gentleman seized the opportunity to invite Gabriel to his room, +where they had several familiar and pleasant talks. Bethune told Gabriel +much that was interesting about the war, and about the men he had met +in Richmond and Washington. He also related many interesting incidents +and stories of adventure, in which he had taken part. But he never once +put himself forward as the hero of an exploit. On the contrary, he was +always in the background; invariably, it was some one else to whom he +gave the credit of success, taking upon himself the responsibility of +the failures.</p> + +<p>Gabriel had never suspected this proud-looking young man of modesty, and +he at once began to admire and like Bethune, who was not only genial, +but congenial. He seemed to take a real interest in Gabriel, and gave +him a good deal of sober advice which he should have taken himself.</p> + +<p>"I'll never be anything but plain Bethune," he said to Gabriel. "I'd +like to do something or be something for the sake of those who have had +the care of me; but it isn't in me. I don't know why, but the other +fellow gets there first when there's something to be won. And when I am +first it leads to trouble. Take my college scrape; you've heard about +it, no doubt. Well, the boys there have been playing poker ever since +there was a college, and they'll play it as long as the college remains; +but the first game I was inveigled into, the Chancellor walked in upon +us while I was shuffling the cards, and stood at my back and heard me +cursing the others because they had suddenly turned to their books. +'That will do, Mr. Bethune,' said the Chancellor; 'we have had enough +profanity for to-night.' Well, that has been the way all through. I +wanted to win rank in the army—and I did; I ranked everybody as the +king-bee of insubordination. That isn't all. Take my gait—the way I +walk; everybody thinks I hold my head up and swagger because I am vain. +But look at the matter with clear eyes, Tolliver; I walk that way +because it is natural to me. As for vanity, what on earth have I to be +vain of?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you are young, you know," said Gabriel—"almost as young as I am; +and though you have been unlucky, that is no sign that it will always be +so."</p> + +<p>"No, Tolliver, I am several years older than you. All your opportunities +are still to come; and if I can do nothing myself, I should like to see +you succeed. I have heard my grandfather say some fine things about +you."</p> + +<p>Now, such talk as that, when it carries the evidence of sincerity along +with it, is bound to win a young fellow over; youth cannot resist it. +Bethune won Gabriel, and won him completely. It was so pleasing to +Gabriel to be able to have a cordial liking for Bethune that he had the +feelings of those who gain a moral victory over themselves in the matter +of some evil habit or passion. His grandmother smiled fondly on his +enthusiasm, remarking:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Gabriel; he is certainly a fine young gentleman, and I am glad of +it for Nan's sake. He will be sure to make her happy, and she deserves +happiness as much as any human being I ever knew."</p> + +<p>Gabriel also thought that Nan deserved to be very happy, but he could +imagine several forms of happiness that did not include marriage with +Bethune, however much he might admire his friend. And his enthusiastic +praises of Bethune ceased so suddenly that his grandmother looked at him +curiously. The truth is, her remarks about Nan and Bethune always gave +Gabriel a cold chill. His grandmother was to him the fountain-head of +wisdom, the embodiment of experience. When he was a bit of a lad, she +used to untie all the hard knots, and untangle all the tangles that +persisted in invading his large collection of string, cords and twines, +and the ease with which she did this—for the knots seemed to come +untied of their own accord, and the tangles to vanish as soon as her +fingers touched them—gave Gabriel an impression of her ability that he +never lost. Her word was law with him, though he had frequently broken +the law, and her judgment was infallible.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + +<h3><i>Nan and Gabriel</i></h3> + + +<p>Gabriel renewed his enthusiasm for Bethune as soon as he had an +opportunity to see Nan. These opportunities became rarer and rarer as +the days went by. Sometimes she was friendly and familiar, as on the day +when she went home with him to hear the story of poor Margaret Gaither; +but oftener she was cool and dignified, and appeared to be inclined to +patronise her old friend and comrade. This was certainly her attitude +when Gabriel began to sing the praises of Francis Bethune when, on one +occasion, he met her on the street.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is very good of you, Gabriel, to speak so kindly of Mr. +Bethune," she said. "No doubt he deserves it all. He also says some very +nice things about you, so I've heard. Nonny says there's some sort of an +agreement between you—'you tickle me and I'll tickle you.' Oh, there's +nothing for you to blush about, Gabriel," she went on very seriously. +"Nonny may laugh at it, but I think it speaks well for both you and Mr. +Bethune."</p> + +<p>Gabriel made no reply, and as he stood there looking at Nan, and +realising for the first time what he had only dimly suspected before, +that they could no longer be comrades and chums, he presented a very +uncomfortable spectacle. He was the picture of awkwardness. His hands +and his feet were all in his way, and for the first time in his life he +felt cheap. Nan had suddenly loomed up as a woman grown. It is true that +she resolutely refused to follow the prevailing fashion and wear +hoop-skirts, but this fact and her long dress simply gave emphasis to +the fact that she was grown.</p> + +<p>"Well, Nan, I'm very sorry," said Gabriel, by way of saying something. +He spoke the truth without knowing why.</p> + +<p>"Sorry! Why should you be sorry?" cried Nan. "I think you have +everything to make you glad. You have your Mr. Bethune, and no longer +than yesterday I heard Eugenia Claiborne say that you are the handsomest +man she ever saw—yes, she called you a man. She declared that she never +knew before that curly hair could be so becoming to a man. And Margaret +says that you and Eugenia would just suit each other, she a blonde and +you a brunette."</p> + +<p>Gabriel blushed again in spite of himself, and laughed, too—laughed at +the incongruity of the situation. This Nan, with her long gingham frock, +and her serious ways, was no more like the Nan he had known than if she +had come from another world. It was laughable, of course, and pathetic, +too, for Gabriel could laugh and feel sorry at the same moment.</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me why you are sorry," said Nan, when the lad's +silence had become embarrassing to her.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am just sorry," Gabriel replied.</p> + +<p>"You are angry," she declared.</p> + +<p>"No," he insisted, "I am just sorry. I don't know why, unless it's +because you are not the same. You have been changing all the time, I +reckon, but I never noticed it so much until to-day." His tone was one +of complaint.</p> + +<p>As Nan stood there regarding Gabriel with an expression of perplexity in +her countenance, and tapping the ground impatiently with one foot, the +two young people got their first whiff of the troubles that had been +slowly gathering over that region. Around the corner near which they +stood, two men had paused to finish an earnest conversation. Evidently +they had been walking along, but their talk had become so interesting, +apparently, that they paused involuntarily. They were hid from Nan and +Gabriel by the high brick wall that enclosed Madame Awtry's back yard.</p> + +<p>"As president of this league," said a voice which neither Nan nor +Gabriel could recognise, "you will have great responsibility. I hope you +realise it."</p> + +<p>"I'm in hopes I does, suh," replied the other, whose voice there was no +difficulty in recognising as that of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"As you so aptly put it last night at your church, the bottom rail is +now on top, and it will stay there if the coloured people know their own +interests. Every dollar that has been made in the South during the parst +two hundred years was made by the niggeroes and belongs to them."</p> + +<p>"Dat is so, suh; dat is de Lord's trufe. I realise dat, suh; an' I'll +try fer ter make my people reelize it," responded the Rev. Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>"What you lack in experience," continued the first speaker, "you make up +in numbers. It is important to remember that. Organise your race, get +them together, impress upon them the necessity of acting as one man. +Once organised, you will find leaders. All the arrangements have been +made for that."</p> + +<p>"I hears you, suh; an' b'lieves you," replied the Rev. Jeremiah with +great ceremony.</p> + +<p>"You have seen white men from a distance coming and going. Where did +they go?"</p> + +<p>"Dey went ter Clopton's, suh; right dar an' nowhars else. I seed um, +suh, wid my own eyes."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what they came for. Well, I will tell you: they came +here to devise some plan by which they can deprive the niggeroes of the +right to vote. Now, what do you suppose would be the simplest way to do +this?" The Rev. Jeremiah made no reply. He was evidently waiting in awe +to hear what the plan was. "You don't know," the first speaker went on +to say; "well, I will tell you. They propose to re-enslave the coloured +people. They propose to take the ballots out of their hands and put in +their place, the hoe and the plough-handles. They propose to deprive you +of the freedom bestowed upon you by the martyr President."</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me, suh! Well, well!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is their object, and they will undoubtedly succeed if your +people do not organise, and stand together, and give their support to +the Republican Party."</p> + +<p>"I has b'longed ter de Erpublican Party, suh, sense fust I heard de +name."</p> + +<p>"We meet to-night in the school-house. Bring only a few—men whom you +can trust, and the older they are the better."</p> + +<p>"I ain't so right down suttin and sho' 'bout dat, suh. Some er de ol' +ones is mighty sot in der ways; dey ain't got de l'arnin', suh, an' dey +dunner what's good fer 'm. But I'll pick out some, suh; I'll try fer ter +fetch de ones what'll do us de mos' good."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. Tommerlin; the old school-house is the place, and +there'll be no lights that can be seen from the outside. Rap three times +slowly, and twice quickly—so. The password is——"</p> + +<p>He must have whispered it, for no sound came to the ears of Nan and +Gabriel. The latter motioned his head to Nan, and the two walked around +the corner. As they turned Nan was saying, "You must go with me some +day, and call on Eugenia Claiborne; she'll be delighted to see you—and +she's just lovely."</p> + +<p>What answer Gabriel made he never knew, so intently was he engaged in +trying to digest what he had heard. The Rev. Jeremiah took off his hat +and smiled broadly, as he gave Nan and Gabriel a ceremonious bow. They +responded to his salute and passed on. The white man who had been +talking to the negro was a stranger to both of them, though both came to +know him very well—too well, in fact—a few months later. He had about +him the air of a preacher, his coat being of the cut and colour of the +garments worn by clergymen. His countenance was pale, but all his +features, except his eyes, stood for energy and determination. The eyes +were restless and shifty, giving him an appearance of uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" inquired Nan, when they were out of hearing.</p> + +<p>"He means a good deal," replied Gabriel, who as an interested listener +at the conferences of the white leaders, had heard several prominent men +express fears that just such statements would be made to the negroes by +the carpet-bag element; and now here was a man pouring the most alarming +and exciting tidings into the ears of a negro on the public streets. +True, he had no idea that any one but the Rev. Jeremiah was in hearing, +but the tone of his voice was not moderated. What he said, he said right +out.</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean by a good deal?" Nan asked.</p> + +<p>"You heard what he said," Gabriel answered, "and you must see what he is +trying to do. Suppose he should convince the negroes that the whites are +trying to put them back in slavery, and they should rise and kill the +whites and burn all the houses?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Gabriel, you know that is all nonsense," replied Nan, trying to +laugh. In spite of her effort to smile at Gabriel's explanation, her +face was very serious indeed.</p> + +<p>"Yonder comes Miss Claiborne," said Gabriel. "Good-bye, Nan; I'm still +sorry you are not as you used to be. I must go and see Mr. Sanders." +With that, he turned out of the main street, and went running across the +square.</p> + +<p>"That child worries me," said Nan, uttering her thought aloud, and +unconsciously using an expression she had often heard on Mrs. Absalom's +tongue. "Did you see that great gawk of a boy?" she went on, as Eugenia +Claiborne came up. "He hasn't the least dignity."</p> + +<p>"Well, you should be glad of that, Nan," Eugenia suggested.</p> + +<p>"I? Well, please excuse me. If there is anything I admire in other +people, it is dignity." She straightened herself up and assumed such a +serious attitude that Eugenia became convulsed with laughter.</p> + +<p>"What did you do to Gabriel, Nan, that he should be running away from +you at such a rate? Or did he run because he saw me coming?" Before Nan +could make any reply, Eugenia seized her by both elbows—"And, oh, Nan! +you know the Yankee captain who is in command of the Yankee soldiers +here? Well, his name is Falconer, and mother says he is our cousin. And +would you believe it, she wanted to ask him to tea. I cried when she +told me; I never was so angry in my life. Why, I wouldn't stay in the +same house nor eat at the same table with one who is an enemy of my +country."</p> + +<p>"Nor I either," said Nan with emphasis. "But he's very handsome."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if he is," cried the other impulsively. "He has been +killing our gallant young men, and depriving us of our liberties, and +he's here now to help the negroes lord it over us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now I know what Gabriel intends to do!" exclaimed Nan, but she +refused to satisfy Eugenia's curiosity, much to that young lady's +discomfort. "I must go," said Nan, kissing her friend good-bye. Eugenia +stood watching her until she was out of sight, and wondered why she was +in such a hurry.</p> + +<p>Nan had changed greatly in the course of two years, and, in some +directions, not for the better, as some of the older ones thought and +said. They remembered how charming she was in the days when she threw +all conventions to the winds, and was simply a wild, sweet little +rascal, engaged in performing the most unheard-of pranks, and cutting up +the most impossible capers. Until Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne +came to Shady Dale, Nan had no girl-friends. All the others were either +ages too old or ages too young, or disagreeable, and Nan had to find her +amusements the best way she could.</p> + +<p>Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne had a very subduing effect upon +Nan. They had been brought up with the greatest respect for all the +small formalities and conventions, and the attention they paid to these +really awed Nan. The young ladies were free and unconventional enough +when there was no other eye to mark their movements, but at table, or in +company, they held their heads in a certain way, and they had rules by +which to seat themselves in a chair, or to rise therefrom; they had been +taught how to enter a room, how to bow, and how to walk gracefully, as +was supposed, from one side of a room to the other. Nan tried hard to +learn a few of these conventions, but she never succeeded; she never +could conform to the rules; she always failed to remember them at the +proper time; and it was very fortunate that this was so. The native +grace with which she moved about could never have been imparted by rule; +but there were long moments when her failure to conform weighed upon her +mind, and subdued her.</p> + +<p>This was a part of the change that Gabriel found in her. She could no +longer, in justice to the rules of etiquette, seize Gabriel by the +lapels of his coat and give him a good shaking when he happened to +displease her, and she could no longer switch him across the face with +her braided hair—that wonderful tawny hair, so fine, so abundant, so +soft, and so warm-looking. No, indeed! the day for that was over, and +very sorry she was for herself and for Gabriel, too.</p> + +<p>And while she was going home, following in the footsteps of that young +man (for Dorringtons' was on the way to Cloptons'), a thought struck +her, and it seemed to be so important that she stopped still and clapped +the palms of her hands together with an energy unusual to young ladies. +Then she gathered her skirt firmly, drew it up a little, and went +running along the road as rapidly as Gabriel had run. Fortunately, a +knowledge of the rules of etiquette had not had the effect of paralysing +Nan's legs. She ran so fast that she was wellnigh breathless when she +reached home. She rushed into the house, and fell in a chair, crying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nonny!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + +<h3><i>The Troubles of Nan</i></h3> + + +<p>"Why, what on earth ails the child?" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom. Nan was +leaning back in the chair, her face very red, making an effort to fan +herself with one little hand, and panting wildly. "Malindy!" Mrs. +Absalom yelled to the cook, "run here an' fetch the camphire as you +come! Ain't you comin'? The laws a massy on us! the child'll be cold and +stiff before you start! Honey, what on earth ails you? Tell your Nonny. +Has anybody pestered you? Ef they have, jest tell me the'r name, an' +I'll foller 'em to the jumpin'-off place but what I'll frail 'em out. +You Malindy! whyn't you come on? You'll go faster'n that to your own +funeral."</p> + +<p>But when Malindy came with the camphor, and a dose of salts in a +tumbler, Nan waved her away. "I don't want any physic, Nonny," she said, +still panting, for her run had been a long one; "I'm just tired from +running. And, oh, Nonny! I have something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom indignantly, withdrawing her +arms from around Nan, and rising to her feet. "A little more, an' you'd +'a' had me ready for my coolin'-board. I ain't had such a turn—not +sence the day a nigger boy run in the gate an' tol' me the Yankees was +a-hangin' Ab. An' all bekaze you've hatched out some rigamarole that +nobody on the green earth would 'a' thought of but you."</p> + +<p>She fussed around a little, and was for going about the various +unnecessary duties she imposed on herself; but Nan protested. "Please, +Nonny, wait until I tell you." Thereupon Nan told as well as she could +of the conversation she and Gabriel had overheard in town, and the +recital gave Mrs. Absalom a more serious feeling than she had had in +many a day. Her muscular arms, bare to the elbow, were folded across her +ample bosom, and she seemed to be glaring at Nan with a frown on her +face, but she was thinking.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said with a sigh, "I knowed there was gwine to be trouble of +some kind—old Billy Sanders went by here this mornin' as drunk as a +lord."</p> + +<p>"Drunk!" cried Nan with blanched face.</p> + +<p>"Well, sorter tollerbul how-come-you-so. The last time old Billy was +drunk, was when sesaytion was fetched on. Ev'ry time he runs a straw in +a jimmy-john, he fishes up trouble. An' my dream's out. I dremp last +night that a wooden-leg man come to the door, an' ast me for a pair of +shoes. I ast him what on earth he wanted wi' a pair, bein's he had but +one foot. He said that the foot he didn't have was constant a-feelin' +like it was cold, an' he allowed maybe it'd feel better ef it know'd +that he had a shoe ready for it ag'in colder weather."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hate him! I just naturally despise him!" cried Nan. When she was +angry her face was pale, and it was very pale now.</p> + +<p>"Why do you hate the wooden-leg man, honey? It was all in a dream," said +Mrs. Absalom, soothingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know what you are talking about, Nonny!" exclaimed Nan, +ready to cry. "I mean old Billy Sanders. And if I don't give him a piece +of my mind when I see him. Now Gabriel will go to that place to-night, +and he's nothing but a boy."</p> + +<p>"A boy! well, I dunner where you'll find your men ef Gabriel ain't +nothin' but a boy. Where's anybody in these diggin's that's any bigger +or stouter? I wish you'd show 'em to me," remarked Mrs. Absalom.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," Nan persisted; "I know just what Gabriel will do. He'll +go to that place to-night, and—and—I'd rather go there myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with lifted eyebrows.</p> + +<p>The pallor of Nan's face was gradually replaced by a warmer glow. "Now, +Nonny! don't say a word—don't tease—don't tease me about Gabriel. If +you do, I'll never tell you anything more for ever and ever."</p> + +<p>"All this is bran new to me," Mrs. Absalom declared. "You make me feel, +Nan, like I was in some strange place, talkin' wi' some un I never seed +before. You ain't no more like yourself—you ain't no more like you used +to be—than day is like night, an' I'm jest as sorry as I can be."</p> + +<p>"That's what Gabriel says," sighed Nan. "He said he was sorry, and now +you say you are sorry. Oh, Nonny, I don't want any one to be sorry for +me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, behave yourself, an' be like you use to be, an' stop +trollopin' aroun' wi' them highfalutin' gals downtown. They look like +they know too much. All they talk about is boys, boys, boys, from +mornin' till night; an' I noticed when they was spendin' a part of the'r +time here that you was just as bad. It was six of one an' twice three of +the rest. Now you know that ain't a sign of good health for gals to be +eternally talkin' about boys, 'specially sech ganglin', lop-sided +creeturs as we've got aroun' here."</p> + +<p>"Where's Johnny?" asked Nan, who evidently had no notion of getting in a +controversy with Mrs. Absalom on the subject of boys. "Johnny" was her +name for her step-mother, whose surname of Dion had been changed to +"Johns" the day after she arrived at Shady Dale. The story of little +Miss Johns has been told in another place and all that is necessary to +add to the record is the fact that she had managed to endear herself to +the critical, officious, and somewhat jealous Mrs. Absalom. Mrs. +Dorrington had the tact and the charm of the best of her race. She was +Nan's dearest friend and only confidante, and though she was not many +years the girl's senior, she had an influence over her that saved Nan +from many a bad quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dorrington was in her own room when Nan found her, sewing and +singing softly to herself, the picture of happiness and content. Nan +dropped on her knees beside her chair, and threw her arms impulsively +around the little woman's neck.</p> + +<p>"Tell me ever what it is, Nan, before you smother-cate me," said Mrs. +Dorrington, smoothing the girl's hair. The two had a language of their +own, which the elder had learned from the younger.</p> + +<p>"It is the most miserable misery, Johnny. Do you remember what I told +you about those people?"</p> + +<p>"How could I forget, Nan?"</p> + +<p>"Well, those people are going head foremost into trouble, and whatever +happens, I want to be there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that so? Well, it is too bad," said the little woman +sympathetically. "Perhaps if you would say something about it—not too +much, but just enough for me to get it through my thick numskull——"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Nan told of all the fears by which she was beset, and of all +the troubles that racked her mind, and the two had quite a consultation.</p> + +<p>"You are not afraid for yourself; why should you be afraid for those +people?" inquired Mrs. Dorrington, laying great stress on "those +people," the name that Gabriel went by when Nan and Johnny were +referring to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," replied Nan, helplessly. "It isn't because of what +you would guess if you knew no better. I have a very great friendship +for those people; but it isn't the other feeling—the kind that you were +telling me about. If it is—oh, if it is—I shall never forgive myself."</p> + +<p>"In time—yes. It is quite easy to forgive yourself on account of those +people. I found it so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't! You make me feel as if I ought never to speak to myself."</p> + +<p>"Then don't," said Mrs. Dorrington, calmly. "You can speak to me instead +of to that ignorant girl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you sweetest!" cried Nan, hugging her step-mother; "I am going to +have you for my doll."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," said Mrs. Dorrington, shrugging her shoulders; "but +you will have some trouble on your hands—yes, more than those people +give you."</p> + +<p>"Johnny, you are my little mother, and you never gave me any trouble in +your life. I am the one that is troublesome; I am troubling you now."</p> + +<p>"Silly thing! will you be good?" cried Mrs. Dorrington, tapping Nan +lightly on the cheek. "How can you trouble me when I don't know what you +mean? You haven't told me."</p> + +<p>"I thought you could guess as well as I can," replied Nan.</p> + +<p>"About some things—yes; but not about this terrible danger that is to +overcome those people."</p> + +<p>Whereupon, Nan told Mrs. Dorrington of the conversation she and Gabriel +had overheard. To this information she added her suspicions that Gabriel +intended to do something desperate; and then she gave a very vivid +description of the strange white man, of his pale and eager countenance, +his glittering, shifty eyes, and his thin, cruel lips.</p> + +<p>Instead of shuddering, as she should have done, Mrs. Dorrington laughed. +"But I don't see what the trouble is," she declared. "That boy is ever +so large; he can take care of himself. But if you think not, then ask +him to tea."</p> + +<p>Nan frowned heavily. "But, Johnny, tea is so tame. Think of rescuing a +friend from danger by means of a cup of tea! Doesn't it seem +ridiculous?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," responded Mrs. Dorrington. "But it isn't half so +ridiculous as your make-believe. Oh, Nan! Nan! when will you come down +from your clouds?"</p> + +<p>Now, Nan's world of make-believe was as natural to her as the persons +and things all about her. No sooner had she guessed that it was +Gabriel's intention to find out what the Union League was for, and, in a +way, expose himself to some possible danger of discovery, than she +carried the whole matter into her land of make-believe as naturally as a +mocking-bird carries a flake of thistle-down to its nest. Once there, +nothing could be more reasonable or more logical than the terrible +danger to which Gabriel would be exposed. While it lasted, Nan's feeling +of anxiety and alarm was both real and sincere. Mrs. Absalom could never +enter into this world of Nan's; she was too practical and downright. And +yet she had a ready sympathy for the girl's troubles and humoured her +without stint, though she sometimes declared that Nan was queer and +flighty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dorrington, on the other hand, inheriting the sensitive and +artistic temperament of Flavian Dion, her father, was able to enter +heartily into the most of Nan's vagaries. Sometimes she humoured them, +but more frequently she laughed at them as the girl grew older. +Occasionally, in her twilight conversations with her father, whose +gentleness and shyness kept him in the background, Mrs. Dorrington +would deplore Nan's tendency to exploit her imagination.</p> + +<p>"But she was born thus, my dear," Flavian Dion would reply, speaking the +picturesque patois of New France. "It will either be her great misery, +or her great happiness. How was it with me? Once it was my great misery, +but now—you see how it is. Come! we will have some music, if +Mademoiselle the Dreamer is willing."</p> + +<p>And then they would go into the parlour, where, with Mrs. Dorrington at +the piano, Flavian Dion with his violin, and Nan with her voice, which +was rich and strong, they would render the beautiful folk-songs of +France. Moreover, Flavian Dion had caught many of the plantation +melodies, of which Nan knew the words, and when the French songs were +exhausted, they would fall back on these. It frequently happened that +Mademoiselle the Dreamer would add feet as well as voice to the negro +melodies, especially if Tasma Tid were there to incite her, and the way +that Nan reproduced steps and poses was both wonderful and inimitable.</p> + +<p>The reader who takes the trouble to make inferences as he goes along, +will perceive that Nan's solicitude for Gabriel was no compliment to +him; it was not flattering to the heroism of a young man who was +threatening to grow a moustache, for a young lady to believe, or even +pretend to believe, that he needed to be rescued from some imaginary +danger. Gabriel was strong enough to take a man's place at a +log-rolling, and he would have had small relish for the information if +he had been told that Nan Dorrington was planning to rescue him.</p> + +<p>Let the simple truth be told. Gabriel was no hero in Nan's eyes. He was +merely a friend and former comrade, who now was in sad need of some one +to take care of him. That was her belief, and she would have shrunk from +the idea that Gabriel would one day be her lover. She had quite other +views. Yes, indeed! Her lover must be a man who had passed through some +desperate experiences. He must be a hero with sword and plume, a cutter +and slasher, a man who had a relish for bloodshed, such as she had read +about in the romances she had appropriated from her father's library.</p> + +<p>Nan had brought over from her childhood many queer dreams and fancies. +Once upon a time, she had heard her elders talking of John A. Murrell, +the notorious land-pirate and highwayman. The man was one of the +coarsest and cruellest of modern ruffians, but about his name the common +people had placed a halo of romance. It was said of him that he rescued +beautiful maidens from their abductors, and restored them to their +friends, and that he robbed the rich only to give to the poor. Sad to +say, this ruffian was Nan's ideal hero.</p> + +<p>And now, when she was racking her brains to invent some bold and simple +plan for the rescue of Gabriel, her mind reverted to this ideal hero of +her childhood.</p> + +<p>"If you insist, Johnny, I'll ask Gabriel to tea," Nan remarked for the +second time; "but, as you say, it is perfectly ridiculous. Whoever heard +of rescuing persons by inviting them to supper?" She paused a moment, +and then went on with a sigh that would have sounded very real in Mrs. +Absalom's ears, but which simply brought a smile to Mrs. Dorrington's +face—"Heigh-ho! What a pity John A. Murrell isn't alive to-day!"</p> + +<p>"And who is this Mr. Murrell?" Mrs. Dorrington asked.</p> + +<p>"He was a fierce robber-chief," replied Nan, placidly. "He wore a big +black beard, and a hat with a red feather in it. Over his left shoulder +was a red sash, and he rode a big white horse. He carried two big +pistols and a bowie-knife—Nonny can tell you all about him."</p> + +<p>Whereupon, Mrs. Dorrington jumped from her chair, and made an effort to +catch the young romancer; and in a moment, the laughter of the pursuer, +and the shrieks of the pursued, when she thought she was in danger of +being caught, roused the echoes in the old house. Mrs. Absalom, who was +in the kitchen, laughed and shook her head. "I believe them two scamps +will be children when they are sixty year old!"</p> + +<p>But after awhile, when their romp was over, Nan suddenly discovered that +she had been in very high spirits, and this, according to the +constitution and by-laws of the land of make-believe, was an +unpardonable offence, especially when, as now, a very dear friend was in +danger. So she went out upon the veranda, and half-way down the steps, +where she seated herself in an attitude of extreme dejection.</p> + +<p>While sitting there, Nan suddenly remembered that she did have a +grievance and a very real one. Tasma Tid was in a state of insurrection. +She had not been permitted to accompany her young mistress when the +latter visited her girl-friends, and for a long time she had been +sulking and pouting. An effort had been made to induce Tasma Tid to make +herself useful, but even the strong will of Mrs. Absalom collapsed when +it found itself in conflict with the bright-eyed African.</p> + +<p>Tasma Tid had been wounded in her tenderest part—her affections. Her +sentiments and emotions, being primitive, were genuine. Her grief, when +separated from Nan, was very keen. She refused to eat, and for the most +part kept herself in seclusion, and no one was able to find her +hiding-place. Now, when Nan threw herself upon the steps in an attitude +of dejection, with her head on her arm, it happened that Tasma Tid was +prowling about with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. The African, +slipping around the house, suddenly came plump upon the object of her +search. She stood still, and drew a long breath. Here was Honey Nan +apparently in deep trouble. Tasma Tid crept up the steps as silently as +a ghost, and sat beside the prostrate form. If Nan knew, she made no +sign; nor did she move when the African laid a caressing hand on her +hair. It was only when Tasma Tid leaned over and kissed Nan on the hand +that she stirred. She raised her head, saying,</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't do that, Tasma Tid; I'm too mean."</p> + +<p>"How come you dis away, Honey Nan?" inquired the African in a low tone. +"Who been-a hu't you?"</p> + +<p>"No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean."</p> + +<p>"'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma +Tid—dee ain't hu't you no mo'."</p> + +<p>"Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an' +walk, walk, walk in de graveyard—walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an' +den we go home way off yander in de woods."</p> + +<p>"Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan, +touched by the forlorn look in Tasma Tid's eyes, and the despairing +expression in her voice.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Honey Nan; 'tis-a no home fer we when you drive we 'way fum +foller you, when you shak-a yo' haid ef we come trot, trot 'hind you. We +no want home lak dat. No, no, Honey Nan. We make home in de woods."</p> + +<p>"Where is your home?" Nan inquired, full of curiosity.</p> + +<p>"We take-a you dey when dem sun go 'way."</p> + +<p>"Well, you must stay here," said Nan, emphatically. "You shall follow me +wherever I go."</p> + +<p>"You talk-a so dis time, Honey Nan; nex' time—" Tasma Tid ran down the +steps, and went along the walk mimicking Nan's movements, shaking her +frock first on one side and then on the other. Then she looked over her +shoulder, turned around with a frown, stamped her foot and made menacing +gestures with her hands. "Dat how 'twill be nex' time, Honey Nan."</p> + +<p>Hearing Mrs. Absalom laughing, Nan conjectured that she had witnessed +Tasma Tid's performance. "Nonny," she cried, "do I really walk that way, +and finger my skirt so?"</p> + +<p>"To a t," said Mrs. Absalom, laughing louder. "Ef she was a foot an' a +half higher, I'd 'a' made shore it was you practisin' ag'in the time +when you'll mince by the store where old Silas Tomlin's yearlin' is +clerkin', or by the tavern peazzer, where Frank Bethune an' the rest of +the loafers set at. It's among the merikels that Gabe Tolliver don't mix +wi' that crowd. I reckon maybe it's bekaze he jest natchally too +wuthless."</p> + +<p>"Now, Nonny! I don't think you ought to make fun of me," protested Nan. +"I am perfectly certain that I don't mince when I walk, and you are +always complaining that I don't care how my clothes look."</p> + +<p>"Go roun' to the kitchen, you black slink," exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, +addressing Tasma Tid, "an' git your dinner! You've traipsed and +trolloped until I bet you can gulp down all the vittles on the place."</p> + +<p>"And when you have finished your dinner, come to my room," said Nan.</p> + +<p>It was not often that Nan was to be found in her own room during the +day, but now she remembered that she had promised to spend the night +with Eugenia Claiborne; and how was she to invite Gabriel to tea, as +Mrs. Dorrington had suggested? There was but one thing to do, and that +was to break her engagement with Eugenia. She was of half a dozen minds +what to say to her friend. She wrote note after note, only to destroy +each one. She pulled her nose, stuck out her tongue, looked at the +ceiling, and bit her thumb, but all to no purpose.</p> + +<p>Tasma Tid, who had finished her dinner, sat on the floor eying Nan as an +intelligent dog eyes its master, ready to respond to look, word or +gesture. Finally, the African, seeing Nan's perplexity, made a +suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Make dem cuss-words come," she said. Tasma Tid had heard men use +profane language when fretted or irritated, and she supposed that it was +a remedy for troubles both small and large.</p> + +<p>"Be jigged if I haven't a mind to," cried Nan, laughing at the African's +earnestness.</p> + +<p>But at last she flung her pen down, seized her hat, and, with an +unspoken invitation to Tasma Tid, went out into the street, determined +to go to the Gaither Place, where Eugenia lived, and present her excuses +in person.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Sanders in His Cups</i></h3> + + +<p>When Nan came in sight of the court-house she saw a crowd of men and +boys gazing at some spectacle on the side opposite her. Some were +laughing, while others had serious faces. Among them she noticed Francis +Bethune, and she also saw Gabriel, who was standing apart from the rest +with a very gloomy countenance. Arriving near the crowd, she paused to +discover what had excited their curiosity; and there before her eyes, +seated on the court-house steps, was Mr. Billy Sanders, relating to an +imaginary audience some choice incidents in his family history. His hat +was off, and his face was very red.</p> + +<p>As Nan listened, he was telling how his "pa" and "ma" had married in +South Carolina, and had subsequently moved to Jasper County in Georgia. +In coming away (according to Mr. Sanders's version), they had fetched a +half dozen hogs too many, and maybe a cow or two that didn't belong to +them. By-and-by the owners of the stock appeared in the neighbourhood +where Mr. Sanders, Sr., had settled, found the missing property, and +carried him away with them. They had, or claimed to have, a warrant, and +they hustled the pioneer off to South Carolina, and put him in jail.</p> + +<p>"Now, Sally Hart was Nancy's own gal," said Mr. Sanders, pausing to take +a nip from a bottle he carried in his pocket. "She was a chip off'n the +old block ef they ever was a block that had a chip. So Sally (that was +ma) she went polin' off to Sou' Ca'liny. The night she got to whar she +was agwine, she tore a hole in the side of the jail that you could 'a' +driv a buggy through. Then she took poor pa by one ear, an' fetched him +home. An' that ain't all. Arter she got him home, she took a rawhide an' +liter'ly wore pa out. She said arterwards that she didn't larrup him for +fetchin' the stock off, but for layin' up there in jail an' lettin' his +crap spile. Well, that frailin' made a good Christian of pa. He j'ined +the church, an' would 'a' been a preacher, but ma wouldn't let him. She +allowed they'd be too much gaddin' about, an' maybe a little too much +honeyin' up wi' the sisterin'. 'No,' says she, 'ef you want to do good +prayin', pray whilst you're ploughin'. I'll look arter the hoein' +myself,' says she."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders was not regarded as a dangerous man in his cups, but on one +well-remembered occasion he had fired into a crowd of men who were +inclined to be too familiar, and since that day he had been given a wide +berth when he took a seat on the court-house steps and began to recite +his family history. While Nan stood there, Mr. Sanders drew a pistol +from his pocket, and, smiling blandly, began to flourish it around. As +he did so, Gabriel Tolliver sprang into the street and ran rapidly +toward him. Some one in the crowd uttered a cry of warning. Seized by +some blind impulse Nan ran after Gabriel. Francis Bethune caught her +arm as she ran by him, but she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ran +faster than ever.</p> + +<p>"Stand back there!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders in an angry voice, raising his +pistol. For one brief moment, the spectators thought that Gabriel was +doomed, for he went on without wavering. But he was really in no danger. +Mr. Sanders had mistaken him for some of the young men who had been +taunting him as they stood at a safe distance. But when he saw who it +was, he replaced the pistol in his pocket, remarking, "You ought to hang +out your sign, Gabe. Ef I hadn't 'a' had on my furseein' specks, I'm +afear'd I'd a plugged you."</p> + +<p>At that moment Nan arrived on the scene, her anger at white heat. She +caught her breath, and then stood looking at Mr. Sanders, with eyes that +fairly blazed with scorn and anger. "Ef looks'd burn, honey, they +wouldn't be a cinder left of me," said Mr. Sanders, moving uneasily. +"Arter she's through wi' me, Gabriel, plant me in a shady place, an' +make old Tar-Baby thar," indicating Tasma Tid, who had followed +Nan—"make old Tar-Baby thar set on my grave, an' warm it up once in +awhile. I leave you my Sunday shirts wi' the frills on 'em, Gabriel, an' +my Sunday boots wi' the red tops; an' have a piece put in the Malvern +paper, statin' that I was one of the most populous and public-sperreted +citizens of the county. An' tell how I went about killin' jimson weeds +an' curkle-burrs for my neighbours by blowin' my breath on 'em."</p> + +<p>What Nan had intended to say, she left unsaid. Her feelings reacted +while Mr. Sanders was talking, and she turned her back on him and began +to cry. Under the circumstances, it was the very thing to do. Mr. +Sanders's face fell. "I'll tell you the honest truth, Gabriel—I never +know'd that anybody in the roun' world keer'd a continental whether I +was drunk or sober, alive or dead; an' I'd lots ruther some un 'd stick +a knife through my gizzard than to see that child cryin'."</p> + +<p>He rose and went to Nan—he was not too tipsy to walk—and tried to lay +his hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said, +"what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say."</p> + +<p>"Go home and try to be decent," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for to +keep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, you +be the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"—he held out both elbows, so that +each could take him by an arm—"an' when you're ready to start, give the +word."</p> + +<p>Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consent +to go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask of +apple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house.</p> + +<p>"Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in a +quarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" He +paused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty good +thing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' jury +an' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wall +there. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart, +too?" he asked again, turning to Nan.</p> + +<p>"I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red and +swollen, Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>"They are somewhat red, but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused.</p> + +<p>"They are just as pretty as ever."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life."</p> + +<p>"You'll remember it longer on that account," said Mr. Sanders. "Gabriel +is lazy-minded, but he'll brighten up arter awhile. Speakin' of fust an' +last, an' things of that kind," he went on, "I reckon this is the fust +time I ever come betwixt you children. I hope no harm's done."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Nan, addressing Gabriel with a pretty formality, +"since you are kind enough to pay me a compliment, I'll be bold enough +to ask you to take tea with me this evening; and I'll have no refusal."</p> + +<p>Gabriel found himself in an awkward predicament. He felt bound to +discover what part the Union League was playing. He had read of its +sinister influence in other parts of the South, and he judged that the +hour of its organisation at Shady Dale was the aptest time for such a +discovery. He couldn't tell Nan what his plans were—he had no idea that +she had already guessed them—and he hardly knew what to say. He was +thoroughly uncomfortable. He was silent so long that Mr. Sanders had an +opportunity to ask Nan if she hadn't made a remark to Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I asked him to tea," she replied in a low voice; "he has forgotten +it by this time." But Nan well knew why Gabriel was silent; she was +neither vexed nor surprised at his hesitation. Nevertheless, she must +play her part.</p> + +<p>"Give him time, Nan; give him time," said Mr. Sanders, consolingly. +"Gabriel comes of a stuttering family. They say it took his grandma e'en +about seven year to tell Dick Lumsden she'd have him. I lay Gabriel is +composin' in his mind a flowery piece sorter like, 'Here's my heart, an' +here's my hand; ef you ax me to tea, I'm your'n to command.'"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, but I can't; and it's just my luck that +you should invite me to-day," said Gabriel, finally.</p> + +<p>"You have another engagement?" asked Nan.</p> + +<p>"No, not an engagement," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are going to do something very unnecessary and improper," +said Nan, with the air and tone of a mature woman. "You are sure to get +into trouble. Why don't you ask your Mr. Bethune to take your place, or +at least go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you talk as if you knew what I am going to do," remarked Gabriel; +"but you couldn't guess in a week."</p> + +<p>At this point Mr. Sanders tried to stop in order to deliver an address. +"I bet you—I bet you a seven-pence ag'in a speckled hen that Nan knows +precisely what you're up to."</p> + +<p>But Nan and Gabriel pulled him along in spite of his frequently +expressed desire to "lay down in the road an' take a nap." "It's a +shame," he said, "for a great big gal an' a great big boy to be harryin' +a man as old as me. Why don't you ketch hands an' run to play? No, +nothin' will do, but you must worry William H. Sanders, late of said +county." He received no reply to this, and continued: "I'm glad I took +too much, Gabriel, ef only for one thing. You know what I told you about +Nan's temper—well, you've seed it for yourself. She's frailed Frank, +she'd 'a' frailed me jest now ef you hadn't 'a' been on hand, an' she'll +frail you out before long. She's jest turrible."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders kept up his good-humour all the way home, and when he had +been placed in charge of Uncle Plato, who knew how to deal with him, he +said: "Now, fellers, I had a mighty good reason for restin' my mind. You +cried bekase old Billy Sanders was drunk, didn't you, Nan? Well, I'm +mighty glad you did. I never know'd before that a sob or two would make +a Son of Temperance of a man; but that's what they'll do for me. Nobody +in this world will ever see me drunk ag'in. So long!"</p> + +<p>It may be said here that Mr. Sanders kept his promise. The events which +followed required clear heads and steady hands for their shaping, but +each crisis, as it arose, found Mr. Sanders, and a few others who acted +with him, fully prepared to meet it, though there were times and +occasions when he, as well as the rest, was overtaken by a profound +sense of his helplessness. Some fell into melancholy, and some were +overtaken by dejection, but Mr. Sanders never for a moment forgot to be +cheerful.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there is another girl in the country who would make +such a spectacle of herself as I made to-day," said Nan, as she and +Gabriel walked slowly in the direction of town.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" inquired Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"You know well enough," replied Nan. "Why, think of a young woman +rushing across the public square in the face of a crowd, and doing as I +did! I'll be the talk of the town. What is your opinion?"</p> + +<p>"Well, considering who the man was, and everything, I think it was very +becoming in you," replied Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Nan. "Under the circumstances, you could say no +less. You have changed greatly, Gabriel, since Eugenia Claiborne began +to make eyes at you. You seem to think it is a mark of politeness to pay +compliments right and left, and to agree with everybody. No doubt, if an +invitation to tea had come from further up the street, you would have +found some excuse for accepting."</p> + +<p>Nan's logic was quite feminine, but Gabriel took no advantage of that +fact. "I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, and I hope you'll not be angry."</p> + +<p>"Angry! why should I be angry?" Nan exclaimed. "An invitation to tea is +not so important."</p> + +<p>"But this one is important to me," said Gabriel. "It is the first time +you have asked me, and I hope it won't be the last."</p> + +<p>Nan said nothing more until she bade Gabriel good-bye at her father's +gate. He thought she was angry, while she was wondering if he considered +her bold.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + +<h3><i>Caught in a Corner</i></h3> + + +<p>It was no difficult matter for Nan Dorrington to infer what course of +action Gabriel intended to pursue. The Union Leagues established in the +South under the auspices of the political department of the Freedman's +Bureau had already excited the suspicion of the whites. The reputation +they instantly achieved was extremely sinister, and they had become the +source of much uneasiness. There was an air of mystery about them which, +however pleasing it might be to the negroes, was not at all relished by +those who had been made the victims of radical legislation. There were +wild rumours to the effect that the object of these leagues was to +organise the negroes and prepare them for an armed attack on the whites.</p> + +<p>These rumours were to be seen spread out in the newspapers, and were to +be heard wherever people gathered together. Nan was familiar with them, +and, while both she and Gabriel were possibly too young to harbour all +the anxieties entertained by their elders, they nevertheless took a very +keen interest in the situation; and it was not less keen because it had +curiosity for its basis.</p> + +<p>Gabriel had no sooner digested the purport of the conversation to which +he had listened than he made up his mind to unravel, if he could, the +mystery of the Union League, and to discover what part the new-comer, +the companion of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin, proposed to play. It was +characteristic of the lad that he should act promptly. When he left Nan +so unceremoniously, he ran to the Clopton Place to report what he had +heard to Mr. Sanders, but he found that worthy citizen in no condition +to give him aid, or even advice. Meriwether Clopton chanced to be in +consultation with some gentleman from Atlanta, and could not be seen, +while Francis Bethune was said to be in town somewhere.</p> + +<p>It was then that Gabriel made up his mind that he would act alone. He +knew the old school-house in which the league was to be organised, as +well as he knew his own home. It had formerly been called the Shady Dale +Male Academy, and its reputation, before the war, had gone far and wide. +Gabriel had spent many a happy hour there, and some that were memorably +unpleasant, especially during the term that a school-master by the name +of McManus wielded the rod. Among the things that Gabriel remembered was +the fact that the space under the stairway—the building had two +stories—was boarded up so as to form a large closet, where the pupils +deposited their extra coats and wraps, as well as their lunches. The +closet had also been used as a reformatory for refractory pupils, and +this was one reason why Gabriel remembered it so well; he had spent +numerous uncomfortable hours there at a time when darkness and isolation +had real terrors for him.</p> + +<p>The building had been abandoned by the whites during the war, and was +for a time used as a hospital. At the close of the war it was turned +over to the negroes, who established there a flourishing school, which +was presided over by a native Southerner, an old gentleman whom the war +had stripped of this world's goods.</p> + +<p>Gabriel thought it best to begin operations before the sun went down. He +made a detour wide enough to place the school-house between him and +Shady Dale, so that if by any chance his movements should attract +attention he would have the appearance of approaching the building quite +by accident. Under the circumstances, it was perhaps fortunate that he +took this precaution, for when he drew near the school-house, the Rev. +Jeremiah Tomlin was standing in the back door flourishing a broom.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jeremiah!" said Gabriel by way of salutation. "What's up now?"</p> + +<p>"Good-evenin', Mister Gabe," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. "Dey been +havin' some plasterin' done in my chu'ch, suh, an' we 'lowd we'd hol' +pra'r-meetin' here ter-night. An' I'll tell you why, suh: You know +mighty well how we coloured folks does—we ain't got nothin' fer ter +hide, an' we couldn't hide it ef we did had sump'n. Well, suh, dem +mongst us what got any erligion is bleeze ter show it; when de sperret +move um, dey bleeze ter let one an'er know it; an' in dat way, suh, dey +do a heap er movin' 'bout. Dey rastles wid Satan, ez you may say, when +dey gits in a weavin' way; an' I wuz fear'd, suh, dat dey mought shake +de damp plasterin' down."</p> + +<p>"But you have no pulpit here," suggested Gabriel, who associated a +pulpit with all religious gatherings.</p> + +<p>"So much de better, suh," replied the Rev. Jeremiah. "Ef you wuz ter +come ter my chu'ch, you'd allers see me come down when I gits warmed up. +Dey ain't no pulpit big nuff for me long about dat time. No, suh; I'm +bleeze ter have elbow-room, an' I'm mighty glad dey ain't no pulpit in +here. But whar you been, Mr. Gabe?" inquired the Rev. Jeremiah, craftily +changing the subject.</p> + +<p>"Just walking about in the woods and fields," answered Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"'Twant no use fer ter ax you, suh; you been doin' dat sence you wuz big +nuff ter clime a fence. Ef you wan't wid Miss Nan, you wuz by yo'se'f. I +uv seed you many a day, suh, when you didn't see me. You wuz wid Miss +Nan dis ve'y day." The Rev. Jeremiah dropped his head to one side, and +smiled a knowing smile. "Oh, you needn't be shame un it, suh," the negro +went on as the colour slowly mounted to Gabriel's face. "I uv said it +befo' an' I'll say it ag'in, an' I don't keer who hears me—Miss Nan is +boun' ter make de finest 'oman in de lan'. An' dat ain't all, suh: when +I hear folks hintin' dat she's gwine ter make a match wid Mr. Frank +Bethune, sez I, 'Des keep yo' eye on Mr. Gabe'; dat zackly what I sez."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the dickens and Tom Walker!" exclaimed Gabriel impatiently; "who's +been talking of the affairs of Miss Dorrington in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Why, purty nigh eve'ybody, suh," remarked the Rev. Jeremiah, smacking +his lips. "What white folks say in de parlour, you kin allers hear in de +kitchen."</p> + +<p>After firing this homely truth at Gabriel, the Rev. Jeremiah went to +work with his broom and made a great pretence of sweeping and moving the +benches about. The lad followed him in, and looked about him with +interest. It was the first time he had revisited the old school-house +since he was a boy of ten, and he was pleased to find that there had +been few changes. The desk at which he had sat was intact. His initials, +rudely carved, stared him in the face, and there, too, was the hole he +had cut in the seat. He remembered that this was a dungeon in which he +had imprisoned many a fly. These mute evidences of his idleness seemed +to be as solid as the hills. Between those times and the present, the +wild and furious perspective of war lay spread out, and Gabriel could +imagine that the idler who had hacked the desk belonged to another +generation altogether.</p> + +<p>He went to the blackboard, found a piece of chalk, and wrote in a large, +bold hand: "Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin will lecture here to-night, beginning +at early candle-light."</p> + +<p>The Rev. Jeremiah, witnessing the performance, had his curiosity +aroused: "What is de word you uv writ, suh?" he inquired, and when +Gabriel had read it off, the negro exclaimed, "Well, suh! You put all +dat down, an' it didn't take you no time; no, suh, not no time. But I +might uv speckted it, bekase I hear lots er talk about how smart you is +on all sides—dey all sesso."</p> + +<p>"Does Tasma Tid belong to your church?" Gabriel inquired with a most +innocent air.</p> + +<p>"Do which, suh?" exclaimed Rev. Jeremiah, pausing with his broom +suspended in the air. When Gabriel repeated his inquiry, the Rev. +Jeremiah drew a deep breath, his nostrils dilated, and he seemed to grow +several inches taller. "No, suh, she do not; no, suh, she do not belong +ter my chu'ch. You kin look at her, suh, an' see de mark er de Ol' Boy +on her. She got de hoodoo eye, suh; an' de blue gums dat go long wid it, +an' ef she wuz ter jine my chu'ch, she'd be de only member."</p> + +<p>It was very clear to Gabriel that nothing was to be gained by remaining, +so he bade the Rev. Jeremiah good-bye, and went toward Shady Dale. When +he was well out of sight, the negro approached the blackboard, and, with +the most patient curiosity, examined the inscription or announcement +that Gabriel had written. With his forefinger, he traced over the lines, +as if in that way he might absorb the knowledge that was behind the +writing. Then, stepping back a few paces, he viewed the writing +critically. Finally he shook his head doubtfully, exclaiming aloud: +"Dat's whar dey'll git us—yes, suh, dat's whar dey sho' will git us."</p> + +<p>After which, he carefully closed the doors of the school-house and +followed the path leading to Shady Dale—the path that Gabriel had +taken. The Rev. Jeremiah mumbled as he walked along, giving oral +utterance to his thoughts, but in a tone too low to reveal their import. +He had taken a step which it was now too late to retrace. He was not a +vicious negro. In common with the great majority of his race—in +common, perhaps with the men of all races—he was eaten up by a desire +to become prominent, to make himself conspicuous. Generations of +civilisation (as it is called) have gone far to tone down this desire in +the whites, and they manage to control it to some extent, though now and +then we see it crop out in individuals. But there had been no toning +down of the Rev. Jeremiah's egotism; on the contrary, it had been fed by +the flattery of his congregation until it was gross and rank.</p> + +<p>It was natural, therefore, under all the circumstances, that the Rev. +Jeremiah should become the willing tool of the politicians and +adventurers who had accepted the implied invitation of the radical +leaders of the Republican Party to assist in the spoliation of the +South. The Rev. Jeremiah, once he had been patted on the back, and +addressed as Mr. Tomlin by a white man, and that man a representative of +the Government, was quite ready to believe anything he was told by his +new friends, and quite as ready to aid them in carrying out any scheme +that their hatred of the South and their natural rapacity could suggest +or invent.</p> + +<p>Therefore, let it not be supposed that the Rev. Jeremiah, as he went +along the path, mumbling out his thoughts, was expressing any doubt of +the wisdom or expediency of the part he was expected to play in arraying +the negroes against the whites. No; he was simply putting together as +many sonorous phrases as he could remember, and storing them away in +view of the contingency that he would be called on to address those of +his race who might be present at the organisation of the Union League. +He had been very busy since his conference with the agent of the +Freedman's Bureau, and, in one way and another, had managed to convey +information of the proposed meeting to quite a number of the negroes; +and in performing this service he was careful that a majority of those +notified should be members of his church—negroes with whom his +influence was all-powerful. But he had also invited Uncle Plato, +Clopton's carriage-driver, Wiley Millirons, and Walthall's Jake, three +of the worthiest and most sensible negroes to be found anywhere.</p> + +<p>While the Rev. Jeremiah, full of his own importance, and swelling with +childish vanity, was making his way toward Neighbour Tomlin's, on whose +lot he had a house, rent free, there were other plotters at work. In +addition to Gabriel Tolliver, Nan Dorrington was a plotter to be +reckoned with, especially when she had as her copartner Tasma Tid, who +was as cunning as some wild thing.</p> + +<p>When the day was far spent, or, as Mrs. Absalom would say, "along to'rds +the shank of the evenin'," Nan and Tasma Tid went wandering out of town +in the direction of the school-house. The excuse Nan had given at home +was that she wanted to see Tasma Tid's hiding-place. As they passed +Tomlin's, they saw the Rev. Jeremiah splitting wood for his wife, who +was the cook. At sight of Jeremiah, Tasma Tid began to laugh, and she +laughed so long and so loud that the parson paused in his labours and +looked at her. He took off his hat and bowed to Nan, whereupon Tasma Tid +raised her hand above her head, and indulged in a series of wild +gesticulations, which, to the Rev. Jeremiah, were very mysterious and +puzzling. He shook his head dubiously, and mopped his face with a large +red handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to do to Jeremiah?" inquired Nan, as they went +along.</p> + +<p>"Him fool nigger. We make him dream bad dream," responded Tasma Tid +curtly.</p> + +<p>The two were in no hurry. They sauntered along leisurely, and, although +the sun had not set, by the time they had entered the woods in which the +school-house stood, the deep shadows of the trees gave the effect of +twilight to the scene. Tasma Tid led Nan to the old building, and told +her to wait a moment. The African crawled under the house, and then +suddenly reappeared at the back door, near which Nan stood waiting. +Tasma Tid had crawled under the house, and lifted a loose plank in the +floor of the closet, making her entrance in that way. The front door was +locked and the key was safe in the pocket of the Rev. Jeremiah, but the +back door was fastened on the inside, and Tasma Tid had no trouble in +getting it open.</p> + +<p>It is fair to say that Nan hesitated before entering. Some instinct or +presentiment held her a moment. She was not afraid; her sense of fear +had never developed itself; it was one of the attributes of human nature +that was foreign to her experience; and this was why some of her +actions, when she was younger, and likewise when she was older, were +inexplicable to the rest of her sex, and made her the object of +criticism which seemed to have good ground to go upon. Nan hesitated +with her foot on the step, but it was not her way to draw back, and she +went in. Tasma Tid refastened the door very carefully, and then turned +and led the way toward the closet. The room was not wholly dark; one or +two of the shutters had fallen off, and in this way a little light +filtered in. Nan followed Tasma Tid to the closet, the door of which was +open.</p> + +<p>"Dis-a we house," said Tasma Tid; "dis-a de place wey we live at."</p> + +<p>"Why did you come here?" Nan asked.</p> + +<p>"We had no nurrer place; all-a we frien' gone; da's why."</p> + +<p>What further comment Nan may have made cannot even be guessed, for at +that moment there was a noise at one of the windows; some one was trying +to raise the sash. Nan and Tasma Tid held their breath while they +listened, and then, when they were sure that some one was preparing to +enter the building, the African closed the closet door noiselessly, and +pulled Nan after her to the narrowest and most uncomfortable part of the +musty and dusty place—the space next the stairway, where it was so low +that they were compelled to sit flat on the floor.</p> + +<p>The intruder, whoever he might be, crawled cautiously through the +window—they could hear the buttons of his coat strike against the +sill—and leaped lightly to the floor. He lowered the window again, and +then, after tiptoeing about among the benches, came straight to the +closet. As Tasma Tid had not taken time to fasten it on the inside, the +door was easily opened. Dark as it was, Nan and the African could see +that the intruder was a man, but, beyond this, they could distinguish +nothing. Nan and her companion would have breathed freer if recognition +had been possible, for the new-comer was Gabriel, who had determined to +take this method of discovering the aim and object of the Union League.</p> + +<p>Once in the closet, Gabriel took pains to make the inside fastenings +secure. It was one of the whims of Mr. McManus, the school-master, who +had so often caused Gabriel's head and the blackboard to meet, that the +fastenings of this closet should be upon the inside. It tickled his +humour to feel that a refractory boy should be his own jailer, able, and +yet not daring, to release himself until the master should rap sharply +on the door.</p> + +<p>Gabriel was less familiar with these fastenings than he had formerly +been, and he fumbled about in the dark for some moments before he could +adjust them to his satisfaction. He made no effort to explore the +closet, taking for granted that it could have no other occupant. This +was fortunate for Nan, for if he had moved about to any extent, he would +inevitably have stumbled over the African and her young mistress, who +were crouched and huddled as far under the stairway as they could get.</p> + +<p>Gabriel stood still a moment, as if listening, and then he sat flat on +the floor, and stretched out his legs with a sigh of relief. After that +there was a long period of silence, during which Nan had a fine +opportunity to be very sorry that she had ever ventured out on such a +fool's errand. "If I get out of this scrape," she thought over and over +again, "I'll never be a tomboy; I'll never be a harum-scarum girl any +more." She had no physical fear, but she realised that she was placed in +a very awkward position.</p> + +<p>She was devoured with curiosity to know whether the intruder really was +Gabriel. She hoped it was, and the hope caused her to blush in the dark. +She knew she was blushing; she felt her ears burn—for what would +Gabriel think if he knew that she was crouching on the floor, not more +than an arm's length from him? Why, naturally, he would have no respect +for her. How could he? she asked herself.</p> + +<p>As for Gabriel, he was sublimely unconscious of the fact that he was not +alone. Once or twice he fancied he heard some one breathing, but he was +a lad who was very close to nature, and he knew how many strange and +varied sounds rise mysteriously out of the most profound silence; and +so, instead of becoming suspicious, he became drowsy. He made himself as +comfortable as he could, and leaned against the wall, pitting his +patience against the loneliness of the place and the slow passage of +time.</p> + +<p>Being a healthy lad, Gabriel would have gone to sleep then and there, +but for a mysterious splutter and explosion, so to speak, which went off +right at his elbow, as he supposed. He was in that neutral territory +between sleeping and waking and he was unable to recognise the sound +that had startled him; and it would have remained a mystery but for the +fact that a sneeze is usually accompanied by its twin. Nan had for some +time felt an inclination to sneeze, and the more she tried to resist it +the greater the inclination grew, until finally, it culminated in the +spluttering explosion that had aroused Gabriel. This was followed by a +sneeze which he had no difficulty in recognising.</p> + +<p>The fact that some unknown person was a joint occupant of the closet +upset him so little that he was surprised at himself. He remained +perfectly quiet for awhile, endeavouring to map out a course of action, +little knowing that Nan Dorrington was chewing her nails with anger a +few feet from where he sat.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked finally. He spoke in a firm low tone.</p> + +<p>In another moment Nan's impulsiveness would have betrayed her, but Tasma +Tid came to her rescue.</p> + +<p>"Huccum you in we house? Whaffer you come dey? How you call you' name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shucks! Is that you, Tiddy Me Tas?"—this was the way Gabriel +sometimes twisted her name. "I thought you were the booger-man. You'd +better run along home to your Miss Nan. She says she wants to see you. +What are you hiding out here for anyway?"</p> + +<p>"We no hide, Misser Gable. 'Tis-a we house, dis. Honey Nan no want we; +she no want nobody. She talkin' by dat Misser Frank what live-a down dey +at Clopton. Dee got cake, dee got wine, dee got all de bittle dee want."</p> + +<p>Tasma Tid told this whopper in spite of the fact that Nan was giving her +warning nudges and pinches.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I reckon they are having a good time," said Gabriel gloomily. +"Miss Nan gave me an invitation, but I couldn't go." It was something +new in Nan's experience to hear Gabriel call her Miss Nan, and she +rather relished the sensation it gave her. She was now ready to believe +that she was really and truly a young lady.</p> + +<p>"Whaffer you ain't gone down dey?" inquired Tasma Tid. "Ef you kin come +dis-a way, you kin go down dey."</p> + +<p>"I was obliged to come here," responded Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Shoo! dem fib roll out lak dey been had grease on top um," exclaimed +Tasma Tid derisively. "Who been ax you fer come by dis way? 'Tis-a we +house, dis. You better go, Misser Gable; go by dat place wey Honey Nan +live, an' look in de blin' wey you see dat Misser Frank, and dat Misser +Paul Tomlin, an' watch um how dee kin make love. Maybe you kin fin' out +how fer make love you'se'f."</p> + +<p>Gabriel laughed uneasily. "No, Tiddy Me Tas—no love-making for me. I'm +either too old or too young, I forget which."</p> + +<p>They ceased talking, for they heard footsteps outside, and the sound of +voices. Presently some one opened the door, and it seemed from the noise +that was made, the shuffling of feet, and the repressed tones of +conversation, that a considerable number of negroes had responded to the +Rev. Jeremiah's invitation.</p> + +<p>The first-comers evidently lit a candle, for a phantom-like shadow of +light trickled through a small crack in the closet door, and a faint, +but unmistakable, odour of a sulphur match readied Gabriel's nostrils. +There were whispered consultations, and a good deal of muffled and +subdued conversation, but every word that was distinctly enunciated was +clearly heard in the sound-box of a closet. But suddenly all +conversation ceased, and complete silence took possession of those +present.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>The Union League Organises</i></h3> + + +<p>The silence was presently broken by a very clear and distinct voice, +which both Nan and Gabriel recognised as that of the stranger whom they +had overheard talking to the Rev. Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>"Before we proceed to the business that has called us together," said +the voice, "it is best that we should come to some clear understanding. +I am not here in my own behalf. I have nothing to lose except my life, +and nothing to gain but the betterment of those who have been released +from the horrors of slavery. Very few of you know even my name, but the +very fact that I am here with you to-night should go far to reassure +you. It is sufficient to say that I represent the great party that has +given you your freedom. That fact constitutes my credentials."</p> + +<p>"Bless God!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah, piously. He rolled the word +"credentials" under his tongue, and resolved to remember it and bring it +out in one of his sermons. The stranger had a very smooth and pleasing +delivery. There was a sort of Sunday-school cadence to his voice well +calculated to impress his audience. The language he employed was far +above the heads of those to whom he spoke, but his persuasive tone, and +his engaging manner carried conviction. The great majority of the +negroes present were ready to believe what he said whether they +understood it or not.</p> + +<p>"My name," he went on, "is Gilbert Hotchkiss, and I belong to a family +that has been striving for more than a generation to bring about the +emancipation of the negroes. My father worked until the day of his death +for the abolition of slavery; and now that slavery has been abolished, +I, with thousands of devoted women and men whom you have never seen and +doubtless never will see, have begun the work of uplifting the coloured +people in order that they may be placed in a position to appreciate the +benefits that have been conferred on them, and enable them to enjoy the +fruits of freedom. It is a great work, a grand work, and all we ask is +the active co-operation and assistance of the coloured people +themselves."</p> + +<p>These were the words of Mr. Hotchkiss, the philanthropist; but now Mr. +Hotchkiss, the politician, took his place, and there was an indefinable +change in the tone of his voice.</p> + +<p>"There is no need to ask," he said, "why we do not, in this great work +of uplifting the coloured race, ask the assistance of those who were +lately in rebellion against the best and the greatest Government on +which the sun ever shone. It would be foolish and unreasonable to expect +their assistance. They fought to destroy the Union, and they were +defeated; they fought to perpetuate slavery, and they failed. More than +that, there is every reason to believe that they will refuse to abide +by the results of the war. They are very quiet now, but they are merely +waiting their opportunity. With our troops withdrawn, and with the +Republican Party weakened by opposition, what is to prevent your late +masters from placing you back in slavery? Could we expect anything less +from those who have been brought up to believe that slavery is a divine +institution?"</p> + +<p>"You hear dat, people?" cried the Rev. Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>"You cannot help believing," continued Mr. Hotchkiss, "that your former +masters would force the chains of slavery on you if they could; all they +lack is the opportunity; and if you are not careful, they will find an +opportunity, or make one. Slavery was profitable to them once, and it +would be profitable again. There is one fact you should never forget," +said the speaker, warming up a little. "It is a most stupendous fact, +namely: that every dollar's worth of property in all this Southern land +has been earned by the labour of your hands and by the sweat of your +brows. It has been earned by you, not once, but many times over. You +have earned every dollar that has ever circulated here. The lands, the +houses, the stock, and all the farm improvements are a part of the +fruits of negro labour; and when right and justice prevail, this +property, or a very large part of it, will be yours."</p> + +<p>This statement was received with demonstrations of approval, one of the +audience exclaiming: "You sho' is talkin' now, boss!"</p> + +<p>"But how are right and justice to prevail? Only by the constant and +continued success of the party of which the martyred Lincoln was the +leader. The mission of that party has not yet been fulfilled. First, it +made you freemen. Then it went a step further, and made you citizens and +voters. Should you sustain it by your votes, it will take still another +step, and give you an opportunity to reap some of the fruits of your +toil, as well as the toil of the unfortunates who pined away and died or +who were starved under the infamous system of slavery."</p> + +<p>"Ain't it de trufe!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah fervently.</p> + +<p>"We have met here to-night to organise a Union League," continued Mr. +Hotchkiss. "The object of this league is to bring about a unity of +purpose and action among its members, to give them opportunities to +confer together, and to secure a clear understanding. No one knows what +will happen. Your former masters are jealous of your rights; they will +try by every means in their power to take these rights away from you. +They will employ both force and fraud, and the only way for you to meet +and overcome this danger is to organise. Ten men who understand one +another and act together are more powerful than a hundred who act as +individuals. You must be as wise as serpents, but not as harmless as +doves. Your rights have been bought for you by the blood of thousands of +martyrs, and you must defend them. If necessary arm yourselves. Yea! if +necessary apply the torch."</p> + +<p>There was a certain air of plausibility about this harangue, a degree +of earnestness, that impressed Gabriel, and he does not know to this day +whether this ill-informed emissary of race hatred and sectional +prejudice really believed all that he said. Who shall judge? Certainly +not those who remember the temper of those times, the revengeful +attitude of the radical leaders at the North, and the distorted fears of +those who suddenly found themselves surrounded by a horde of ignorant +voters, pliant tools in the hands of unscrupulous carpet-baggers.</p> + +<p>Hotchkiss brought his remarks to a close, and then proceeded to read the +constitution and by-laws of the proposed Union League, under which, he +explained, hundreds of leagues had been organised. Each one who desired +to become a member was to make oath separately and individually that he +would not betray the secrets of the league, nor disclose the signs and +passwords, nor tolerate any opposition to the Republican Party, nor have +any unnecessary dealings with rebels and former slave-holders. He was to +keep eyes and ears open, and report all important developments to the +league.</p> + +<p>"We are now ready, I presume, for the ceremonies to begin," remarked Mr. +Hotchkiss. "First we will elect officers of the league, and I suggest +that the Honourable Jeremiah Tomlin be made President."</p> + +<p>"Dat's right!" "He sho is de man!" "No needs fer ter put dat ter de +question!" were some of the indorsements that came from various parts of +the room.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Jeremiah was immensely tickled by the title of Honourable that +had been so unexpectedly bestowed on him. He hung his head with as much +modesty as he could summon, and, bearing in mind his calling, one might +have been pardoned for suspecting that he was offering up a brief prayer +of thanksgiving. He rose in his place, however, passed the back of his +hand across his mouth, paused a moment, and then began:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cheer, I thank you an' deze friends might'ly fer de renomination er +my name, an' de gener'l endossments er de balance er deze gentermen. So +fur, so good. But, Mr. Cheer, 'fo' we gits right spang down ter +business, I moves dat some er de br'ers be ax'd fer ter give der idee er +dis plan which have been laid befo' us by our hon'bul frien'. I moves +dot we hear fum Br'er Plato Clopton, ef so be de sperret is on him fer +ter gi' us his sesso."</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato, taken somewhat by surprise, was slow in responding, but +when he rose, he presented a striking figure. He was taller than the +average negro, and there was a simple dignity—an air of gentility and +serene affability—in his attitude and bearing that attracted the +attention of Mr. Hotchkiss. The Rev. Jeremiah was still standing, and +Uncle Plato, after bowing gracefully to Mr. Hotchkiss, turned with a +smile to the negro who had called on him.</p> + +<p>"You know mighty well, Br'er Jerry, dat I ain't sech a talker ez ter git +up an' say my say des dry so, an' let it go at dat. Howsomever, I laid +off ter say sump'n, an' I ain't sorry you called my name. In what's been +said dey's a heap dat I 'gree wid. I b'lieve dat de cullud folks oughter +work tergedder, an' stan tergedder fer ter he'p an' be holped. But when +you call on me fer ter turn my back on my marster, an' go to hatin' 'im, +you'll hatter skuzen me. You sho will."</p> + +<p>"He ain't yo' marster now, Br'er Plato, an' you know it," said the Rev. +Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>"I know dat mighty well," replied Uncle Plato, "but ef it don't hurt my +feelin's fer ter call him dat it oughtn't ter pester yuther people. How +it may be wid you all, I dunno; but me an' my marster wus boys +tergedder. We useter play wid one an'er, an' fall out an' fight, an' +I've whipped him des ez many times ez he ever whipped me—an' he'll tell +you de same."</p> + +<p>"But all this," suggested Mr. Hotchkiss coldly, "has nothing to do with +the matter in hand. The coloured race is facing conditions that amount +to a crisis—a crisis that has no parallel in the world's history."</p> + +<p>"Dat is suttinly so!" the Rev. Jeremiah ejaculated, though he had but a +dim notion of what Hotchkiss was talking about.</p> + +<p>"They have been made citizens," pursued the organiser, "and it is their +duty to demand all their rights and to be satisfied with nothing less. +The best men of our party believe that the rebels are still rebellious, +and that they will seize the first opportunity to re-enslave the +coloured people."</p> + +<p>"Ah-yi!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Does you reely b'lieve, Br'er Jerry, dat Pulaski Tomlin will ever try +ter put you back in slav'ry?" asked Uncle Plato.</p> + +<p>The inquiry was a poser, and the Rev. Jeremiah was unable to make any +satisfactory reply. Perceiving this, Mr. Hotchkiss came to the rescue. +"You must bear in mind," he blandly remarked, "that this is not a +question of one person here and another person there. It concerns a +whole race. Should all the former slave-owners of the South succeed in +reclaiming their slaves, Mr. Tomlin and Mr. Clopton would be compelled +by public sentiment to reclaim theirs. If they refused to do so, their +former slaves would fall into the hands of new masters. It is not a +question of individuals at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, suh, we'll fin' out atter awhile dat we'll hatter do like de +white folks. Eve'y tub'll hatter stan' on its own bottom. I'm des ez +free now ez I wuz twenty year ago——"</p> + +<p>"I can well believe that, after what you have said," Mr. Hotchkiss +interrupted.</p> + +<p>The tone of his voice was as smooth as velvet, but his words carried the +sting of an imputation, and Uncle Plato felt it and resented it. "Yes, +suh,—an' I wuz des ez free twenty year ago ez you all will ever be. My +marster has been good ter me fum de work go. I ain't stayin' wid 'im +bekaze he got money. Ef him an' Miss Sa'ah di'n'a have a dollar in de +worl', an no way ter git it, I'd work my arms off fer 'm. An' ef I +'fused ter do it, my wife'd quit me, an' my chillun wouldn't look at me. +But I'll tell you what I'll do: when my marster tu'ns his back on me +I'll tu'n my back on him."</p> + +<p>"I'm really sorry that you persist in making this question a personal +one when it affects all the negroes now living and millions yet to be +born," said Mr. Hotchkiss.</p> + +<p>"Well, suh, le's look at it dat away," Uncle Plato insisted. "Spoz'n you +ban' tergedder like dis, an' try ter tu'n de white folks ag'in you, an' +dey see what you up ter, an' tu'n der backs, den what you gwine ter do? +You got ter live here an' you got ter make yo' livin' here. Is you gwine +ter cripple de cow dat gives de cream?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato paused and looked around. He saw at once that he was in a +hopeless minority, and so he reached for his hat. "I'm mighty glad ter +know you, suh," he said to Mr. Hotchkiss, with a bow that Chesterfield +might have envied, "but I'll hatter bid you good-night." With that, he +went out, followed by Wiley Millirons and Walthall's Jake, much to the +relief of the Rev. Jeremiah, who proceeded to denounce "white folks' +niggers," and to utter some very violent threats.</p> + +<p>Then, in no long time, the Union League was organised. Those in the +closet failed to hear the words that constituted the ceremony of +initiation. Only low mutterings came to their ears. But the ceremony +consisted of a lot of mummery well calculated to impress the +simple-minded negroes. After a time the meeting adjourned, the solitary +candle was blown out, and the last negro departed.</p> + +<p>Gabriel waited until all sounds had died away, and then, with a brief +good-night to Tasma Tid, he opened the closet door, slipped out, and was +soon on his way home. But before he was out of the dark grove, some one +went flitting by him—in fact, he thought he saw two figures dimly +outlined in the darkness; yet he was not sure—and presently he thought +he heard a mocking laugh, which sounded very much as if it had issued +from the lips of Nan Dorrington. But he was not sure that he heard the +laugh, and how, he asked himself, could he imagine that it was Nan +Dorrington's even if he had heard it? He told himself confidentially, +the news to go no further, that he was a drivelling idiot.</p> + +<p>As Gabriel went along he soon forgot his momentary impressions as to the +two figures in the dark and the laugh that had seemed to come floating +back to him. The suave and well-modulated voice of Mr. Hotchkiss rang in +his ears. He had but one fault to find with the delivery: Mr. Hotchkiss +dwelt on his r's until they were as long as a fishing-pole, and as sharp +as a shoemaker's awl. Though these magnified r's made Gabriel's flesh +crawl, he had been very much impressed by the address, only part of +which has been reported here. Boylike, he never paused to consider the +motives or the ulterior purpose of the speaker. Gabriel knew of course +that there was no intention on the part of the whites to re-enslave the +negroes; he knew that there was not even a desire to do so. He knew, +too, that there were many incendiary hints in the address—hints that +were illuminated and emphasised more by the inflections of the speaker's +voice than by the words in which they were conveyed. In spite of the +fact that he resented these hints as keenly as possible, he could see +the plausibility of the speaker's argument in so far as it appealed to +the childish fears and doubts and uneasiness of the negroes. If anything +could be depended on, he thought, to promote a spirit of incendiarism +among the negroes such an address would be that thing.</p> + +<p>If Gabriel had attended some of the later meetings of the league, he +would have discovered that the address he had heard was a milk-and-water +affair, compared with some of the harangues that were made to the +negroes in the old school-house.</p> + +<p>All that Gabriel had heard was duly reported to Meriwether Clopton, and +to Mr. Sanders, and in a very short time all the whites in the community +became aware of the fact that the negroes were taking lessons in +race-hatred and incendiarism, and as a natural result, Hotchkiss became +a marked man. His comings and goings were all noted, so much so that he +soon found it convenient as well as comfortable to make his +head-quarters in the country, at the home of Judge Mahlon Butts, whose +Union principles had carried him into the Republican Party. The Judge +lived a mile and a half from the corporation line, and Mr. Hotchkiss's +explanation for moving there was that the exercise to be found in +walking back and forth was necessary to his health.</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato was very much surprised the next day to be called into the +house where Mr. Sanders was sitting with Meriwether Clopton and Miss +Sarah in order that they might shake hands with him.</p> + +<p>"I want to shake your hand, Plato," said his old master. "I've always +thought a great deal of you, but I think more of you to-day than ever +before."</p> + +<p>"And you must shake hands with me, Plato," remarked Sarah Clopton.</p> + +<p>"Well, sence shakin' han's is comin' more into fashion these days, I +reckon you'll have to shake wi' me," declared Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"I declar' ter gracious I dunner whedder you all is makin' fun er me or +not!" exclaimed Uncle Plato. "But sump'n sholy must 'a' happened, kaze +des now when I wuz downtown Mr. Alford call me in his sto' an' 'low, +'Plato, when you wanter buy anything, des come right in, money er no +money, kaze yo' credit des ez good in here ez de best man in town.' I +dunner what done come over eve'ybody." He went away laughing.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Uncle Plato was more seriously affected by the schemes of +Mr. Hotchkiss than any other inhabitant of Shady Dale. He had been a +leader in the Rev. Jeremiah's church, and up to the day of the +organisation of the Union League, had wielded an influence among the +negroes second only to that of the Rev. Jeremiah himself. But now all +was changed. He soon found that he would have to resign his deaconship, +for those whom he had regarded as his spiritual brethren were now his +enemies—at any rate they were no longer his friends.</p> + +<p>But Uncle Plato had one consolation in his troubles, and that was the +strong indorsement and support of Aunt Charity, his wife, who was the +cook at Clopton's, famous from one end of the State to the other for her +biscuits and waffles. Uncle Plato had been somewhat dubious about her +attitude, for the negro women had developed the most intense +partisanship, and some of them were loud in their threats, going much +further than the men. No doubt Aunt Charity would have taken a different +course had she been in her husband's place, if only for the sake of her +colour, as she called her race. She was very fond of her own white +folks, but she had her prejudices against the rest.</p> + +<p>When Uncle Plato reached home and told his wife what he had said and +done, she drew a long breath and looked at him hard for some time. Then +she took up her pipe from the chimney-corner, remarking, "Well, what you +done, you done; dar's yo' supper."</p> + +<p>Uncle Plato had a remarkably good appetite, and while he ate, Aunt +Charity sat near a window and looked out at the stars. She was getting +together in her mind a supply of personal reminiscences, of which she +had a goodly store. Presently, she began to shake with laughter, which +she tried to suppress. Uncle Plato mistook the sound he heard for an +evidence of grief, and he spoke up promptly:</p> + +<p>"I declar' ef I'd 'a' know'd I wuz gwine ter hurt yo' feelings, I'd 'a' +j'ined in wid um den an' dar. An' 'taint too late yit. I kin go ter +Br'er Jerry an' tell him whilst I ain't change my own min' I'll j'ine in +wid um druther dan be offish an' mule-headed."</p> + +<p>"No you won't! no you won't! no you won't!" exclaimed Aunt Charity. "I +mought 'a' done diffunt, an' I mought 'a' done wrong. We'll hatter git +out'n de church, ef you kin call it a church, but dat ain't so mighty +hard ter do. Yit, 'fo' we does git out I'm gwine ter preach ol' Jerry's +funer'l one time—des one time. Dat what make me laugh des now; I was +runnin' over in my min' how I kin raise his hide. Some folks got de +idee dat kaze I'm fat I'm bleeze ter be long-sufferin'; but you know +better'n dat, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I know dis," said Uncle Plato, wiping his mouth with the back of +his hand, "when you git yo' dander up you kin talk loud an' long."</p> + +<p>"Miss Sa'ah done tol' me dat when I git mad, I kin keep up a +conversation ez long ez de nex' one," remarked Aunt Charity, with real +pride. "An' den dar's dat hat Miss Sa'ah gi' me; I laid off ter w'ar it +ter church nex' Sunday, but now—well, I speck I better des w'ar my +head-hankcher, kaze dey's sho gwine ter be trouble ef any un um look at +me cross-eyed."</p> + +<p>"You gwine, is you?" Uncle Plato asked.</p> + +<p>"Ef I live," replied Aunt Charity, "I'm des ez good ez dar right now. +An' mo' dan dat, you'll go too. 'Tain't gwineter be said dat de Clopton +niggers hung der heads bekaze dey stood by der own white folks. Ef it's +said, it'll hatter be said 'bout some er de yuthers."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Uncle Plato, "but I hope I won't hatter frail Br'er +Jerry out."</p> + +<p>"Now, dat's right whar we gits crossways," Aunt Charity declared. "I +hope you'll hatter frail 'im out."</p> + +<p>Fortunately, Uncle Plato had no excuse for using his walking-cane on the +Rev. Jeremiah, when Sunday came. None of the church-members made any +active show of animosity. They simply held themselves aloof. Aunt +Charity had her innings, however. When services were over, and the +congregation was slowly filing out of the building, followed by the Rev. +Jeremiah, she remarked loud enough for all to hear her:</p> + +<p>"Br'er Jerry, de nex' time you want me ter cook pullets fer dat ar +Lizzie Gaither, des fetch um 'long. I'll be glad ter 'blige you."</p> + +<p>As the Rev. Jeremiah's wife was close at hand, the closing scenes can be +better imagined than described. In this chronicle the veil of silence +must be thrown over them.</p> + +<p>It may be said, nevertheless, that Uncle Plato and his wife felt very +keenly the awkward position in which they were placed by the increasing +prejudice of the rest of the negroes. They were both sociable in their +natures, but now they were practically cut off from all association with +those who had been their very good friends. It was a real sacrifice they +had to make. On the other hand, who shall say that their firmness in +this matter was not the means of preventing, at least in Shady Dale, +many of the misfortunes that fell to the lot of the negroes elsewhere? +There can hardly be a doubt that their attitude, firm and yet modest, +had a restraining influence on some of the more reckless negroes, who, +under the earnest but dangerous teachings of Hotchkiss and his +fellow-workers, would otherwise have been led into excesses which would +have called for bloody reprisals.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Nan and Her Young Lady Friends</i></h3> + + +<p>Nan Dorrington found a pretty howdy-do at her house when she reached +home the night the Union League was organised. The members of the +household were all panic-stricken when the hours passed and Nan failed +to return. Ordinarily, there would have been no alarm whatever, but a +little after dark, Eugenia Claiborne, accompanied by a little negro +girl, came to Dorrington's to find out why Nan had failed to keep her +engagement. She had promised to take supper with Eugenia, and to spend +the night.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that Nan was on her way to present her excuses to +Eugenia when the spectacle of Mr. Sanders, tipsy and talkative, had +attracted her attention. She thought no more of her engagement, and for +the time being Eugenia was to Nan as if she had never existed. +Meanwhile, the members of the Dorrington household, if they thought of +Nan at all, concluded that she had gone to the Gaither Place, where +Eugenia lived. But when Miss Claiborne came seeking her, why that put +another face on affairs. Eugenia decided to wait for her; but when the +long minutes, and the half hours and the hours passed, and Nan failed to +make her appearance, Mrs. Absalom began to grow nervous, and Mrs. +Dorrington went from room to room with a very long face. She could have +made a very shrewd guess as to Nan's whereabouts, but she didn't dare to +admit, even to herself, that the girl had been so indiscreet as to go in +person to the rescue of Gabriel.</p> + +<p>They waited and waited, until at last Mrs. Dorrington suggested that +something should be done. "I don't know what," she said, "but something; +that would be better than sitting here waiting."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom insisted on keeping up an air of bravado. "The child's safe +wherever she is. She's been a rippittin' 'round all day tryin' to git +old Billy Sanders sober, an' more'n likely she's sot down some'rs an' +fell asleep. Ef folks could sleep off the'r sins, Nan'd be a saint."</p> + +<p>"But wherever she is, she isn't here," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, +tearfully; "and here is where she should be. I wonder what her father +will say when he comes?" Dr. Dorrington had gone to visit a patient in +the country.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she went with him," Eugenia suggested.</p> + +<p>"No fear of that," said Mrs. Absalom. "Ridin' in a gig is too much like +work for Nan to be fond of it. No; she's some'rs she's got no business, +an' ef I could lay my hand on her, I'd jerk her home so quick, her head +would swim worse than old Billy Sanders's does when he's full up to the +chin."</p> + +<p>After awhile, Eugenia said she had waited long enough, but Mrs. +Dorrington looked at her with such imploring eyes that she hesitated. +"If you go," said the lady, "I will feel that Nan is not coming, but as +long as you stay, I have hope that she will run in any moment. She is +with that Tasma Tid, and I think it is terrible that we can't get rid of +that negro. I have never been able to like negroes."</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't be too hard on the niggers," declared Mrs. Absalom. +"Everything they know, everything they do, everything they +say—everything—they have larnt from the white folks. Study a nigger +right close, an' you'll ketch a glimpse of how white folks would look +an' do wi'out the'r trimmin's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, perhaps so," assented Mrs. Dorrington, with a little shrug of the +shoulders which said a good deal plainer than words, "You couldn't make +me believe that."</p> + +<p>Just as Dr. Dorrington drove up, and just as Mrs. Absalom was about to +get her bonnet, for the purpose, as she said, of "scouring the town," +Nan came running in out of breath. "Oh, such a time as I've had!" she +exclaimed. "You'll not be angry with me, Eugenia, when you hear all! +Talk of adventures! Well, I have had one at last, after waiting all +these years! Don't scold me, Nonny, until you know where I've been and +what I've done. And poor Johnny has been crying, and having all sorts of +wild thoughts about poor me. Don't go, Eugenia; I am going with you in a +moment—just as soon as I can gather my wits about me. I am perfectly +wild."</p> + +<p>"Tell us something new," said Mrs. Absalom drily. "Here we've been on +pins and needles, thinkin' maybe some of your John A. Murrells had +rushed into town an' kidnapped you, an' all the time you an' that slink +of a nigger have been gallivantin' over the face of the yeth. I declare +ef Randolph don't do somethin' wi' you they ain't no tellin' what'll +become of you."</p> + +<p>But Dr. Dorrington was not in the humour for scolding; he rarely ever +was; but on that particular night less so than ever. For one brief +moment, Nan thought he was too angry to scold, and this she dreaded +worse than any outbreak; for when he was silent over some of her capers +she took it for granted that his feelings were hurt, and this thought +was sufficient to give her more misery than anything else. But she soon +discovered that his gravity, which was unusual, had its origin +elsewhere. She saw him take a tiny tin waggon, all painted red, from his +pocket and place it on the mantel-piece, and both she and Mrs. +Dorrington went to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, popsy! I'm so sorry about everything! He didn't need it, did he?"</p> + +<p>"No, the little fellow has no more use for toys. He sent you his love, +Nan. He was talking about you with his last breath; he remembered +everything you said and did when you went with me to see him. He said +you must be good."</p> + +<p>Now, if Nan was a heroine, or anything like one, it would never do to +say that she hid her face in her hands and wept a little when she heard +of the death of the little boy who had been her father's patient for +many months. In the present state of literary criticism, one must be +very careful not to permit women and children to display their +sensitive and tender natures. Only the other day, a very good book was +damned because one of the female characters had wept 393 times during +the course of the story. Out upon tears and human nature! Let us go out +and reform some one, and leave tears to the kindergarten, where steps +are taking even now to dry up the fountains of youth.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Nan cried a little, and so did Eugenia Claiborne, when she +heard the story of the little boy who had suffered so long and so +patiently. The news of his death tended to quiet Nan's excitement, but +she told her story, and, though the child's death took the edge off +Nan's excitement, the story of her adventure attracted as much attention +as she thought it would. She said nothing about Gabriel, and it was +supposed that only she and Tasma Tid were in the closet; but the next +morning, when Dr. Dorrington drove over to Clopton's to carry the +information, he was met by the statement that Gabriel had told of it the +night before. A little inquiry developed the fact that Gabriel had +concealed himself in the closet in order to discover the mysteries of +the Union League.</p> + +<p>Dorrington decided that the matter was either very serious or very +amusing, and he took occasion to question Nan about it. "You didn't tell +us that Gabriel was in the closet with you," he said to Nan.</p> + +<p>"Well, popsy, so far as I was concerned he was not there. He certainly +has no idea that I was there, and if he ever finds it out, I'll never +speak to him again. He never will find it out unless he is told by some +one who dislikes me. Outside of this family," Nan went on with dignity, +"not a soul knows that I was there except Eugenia Claiborne, and I'm +perfectly certain she'll never tell any one."</p> + +<p>Dorrington thought his daughter should have a little lecture, and he +gave her one, but not of the conventional kind. He simply drew her to +him and kissed her, saying, "My precious child, you must never forget +the message the little boy sent you. About the last thing he said was, +'Tell my Miss Nan to be dood.' And you know, my dear, that it is neither +proper nor good for my little girl to be wandering about at night. She +is now a young lady, and she must begin to act like one—not too much, +you know, but just enough to be good."</p> + +<p>Now, you may depend upon it, this kind of talk, accompanied by a smile +of affection, went a good deal farther with Nan than the most tremendous +scolding would have gone. It touched her where she was weakest—or, if +you please, strongest—in her affections, and she vowed to herself that +she would put off her hoyden ways, and become a demure young lady, or at +least play the part to the best of her ability.</p> + +<p>Eugenia Claiborne declared that Nan had acted more demurely in the +closet than she could have done, if, instead of Gabriel, Paul Tomlin had +come spying on the radicals where she was. "I don't see how you could +help saying something. If I had been in your place, and Paul had come in +there, I should certainly have said something to him, if only to let him +know that I was as patriotic as he was." Miss Eugenia had grand ideas +about patriotism.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it had been Paul instead of Gabriel I would have made myself +known," said Nan; "but Gabriel——"</p> + +<p>"I don't see what the difference is when it comes to making yourself +known to any one in the dark, especially to a friend," remarked Eugenia. +"For my part, horses couldn't have dragged me in that awful place. I'm +sure you must be very brave, to make up your mind to go there. Weren't +you frightened to death?"</p> + +<p>"Why there was nothing to frighten any one," said Nan; "not even rats."</p> + +<p>"Ooh!" cried Eugenia with a shiver. "Why of course there were rats in +that dark, still place. I wouldn't go in there in broad daylight."</p> + +<p>This conversation occurred while Nan was visiting Eugenia, and in the +course thereof, Nan was given to understand that her friend thought a +good deal of Paul Tomlin. As soon as Nan grasped the idea that Eugenia +was trying to convey—there never was a girl more obtuse in +love-matters—she became profuse in her praises of Paul, who was really +a very clever young man. As Mrs. Absalom had said, it was not likely +that he would ever be brilliant enough to set the creek on fire, but he +was a very agreeable lad, entirely unlike Silas Tomlin, his father.</p> + +<p>If Eugenia thought that Nan would exchange confidences with her, she was +sadly mistaken. Nan had a horror of falling in love, and when the name +of Gabriel was mentioned by her friend, she made many scornful +allusions to that youngster.</p> + +<p>"But you know, Nan, that you think more of Gabriel than you do of any +other young man," said Eugenia. "You may deceive yourself and him, but +you can't deceive me. I knew the moment I saw you together the first +time that you were fond of him; and when I was told by some one that you +were to marry Mr. Bethune, I laughed at them."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you did," replied Nan. "I care no more for Frank Bethune than +for Gabriel. I'll tell you the truth, if I thought I was in love with a +man, I'd hate him; I wouldn't submit to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have been acting as if you hate Gabriel," suggested Eugenia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't like him half as well as I did when we were playfellows. I +think he's changed a great deal. His grandmother says he's timid, but to +me it looks more like conceit. No, child," Nan went on with an +affectation of great gravity; "the man that I marry must be somebody. He +must be able to attract the attention of everybody."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm afraid you'll have to move away from this town, or remain an +old maid," said the other. "Or it may be that Gabriel will make a great +man. He and Paul belong to a debating society here in town, and Paul +says that Gabriel can make as good a speech as any one he ever heard. +They invited some of the older men not long ago, and mother heard Mr. +Tomlin say that Gabriel would make a great orator some day. Paul thinks +there is nobody in the world like Gabriel. So you see he is already +getting to be famous."</p> + +<p>"But will he ever wear a red feather in his hat and a red sash over his +shoulder?" inquired Nan gravely. She was reverting now to the ideal hero +of her girlish dreams.</p> + +<p>"Why, I should hope not," replied Eugenia. "You don't want him to be the +laughing-stock of the people, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not anxious for him to be anything," said Nan, "but you know +I've always said that I never would marry a man unless he wore a red +feather in his hat, and a red sash over his shoulder."</p> + +<p>"When I was a child," remarked Eugenia, "I always said I would like to +marry a pirate—a man with a long black beard, a handkerchief tied +around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, and a shining sword in +one hand and a pistol in the other."</p> + +<p>"Oh, did you?" cried Nan, snuggling closer to her friend. "Let's talk +about it. I am beginning to be very old, and I want to talk about things +that make me feel young again."</p> + +<p>But they were not to talk about their childish ideals that day, for a +knock came on the door, and Margaret Gaither was announced—Margaret, +who seemed to have no ideals, and who had confessed that she never had +had any childhood. She came in dignified and sad. Her face was pale, and +there was a weary look in her eyes, a wistful expression, as if she +desired very much to be able to be happy along with the rest of the +people around her.</p> + +<p>The two girls greeted her very cordially. Both were fond of her, and +though they could not understand her troubles, she had traits that +appealed to both. She could be lively enough on occasion, and there was +a certain refinement of manner about her that they both tried to +emulate—whenever they could remember to do so.</p> + +<p>"I heard Nan was here," she said, with a beautiful smile, "and I thought +I would run over and see you both together."</p> + +<p>"That is a fine compliment for me," Eugenia declared.</p> + +<p>"Miss Jealousy!" retorted Margaret, "you know I am over here two or +three times a week—every time I can catch you at home. But I wish you +were jealous," she added with a sigh. "I think I should be perfectly +happy if some one loved me well enough to be jealous."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be very happy without all that," said Nan.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know I should be; but suppose you were in my shoes, would you be +happy?" She turned to the girls with the gravity of fate itself. As +neither one made any reply, she went on: "See what I am—absolutely +dependent on those who, not so very long ago, were entire strangers. I +have no claims on them whatever. Oh, don't think I am ungrateful," she +cried in answer to a gesture of protest from Nan. "I would make any +sacrifice for them—I would do anything—but you see how it is. I can do +nothing; I am perfectly helpless. I—but really, I ought not to talk so +before you two children."</p> + +<p>"Children! well, I thank you!" exclaimed Eugenia, rising and making a +mock curtsey. "Nan is nearly as old as you are, and I am two days +older."</p> + +<p>"No matter; I have no business to be bringing my troubles into this +giddy company; but as I was coming across the street, I happened to +think of the difference in our positions. Talk about jealousy! I am +jealous and envious. Yes, and mean; I have terrible thoughts sometimes. +I wouldn't dare to tell you what they are."</p> + +<p>"I know better," said Nan; "you never had a mean thought in your life. +Aunt Fanny says you are the sweetest creature in the world."</p> + +<p>"Don't! don't tell me such things as that, Nan. You will run me wild. +There never was another woman like Aunt Fanny. And, oh, I love her! But +if I could get away and become independent, and in some way pay them +back for all they have done for me, and for all they hope to do, I'd be +the happiest girl in the world."</p> + +<p>"I think I know how you feel," said Nan, with a quick apprehension of +the situation; "but if I were in your place, and couldn't help myself, I +wouldn't let it trouble me much."</p> + +<p>"Very well said," Mrs. Claiborne remarked, as she entered the room. +"Nan, you are becoming quite a philosopher. And how is Margaret?" she +inquired, kissing that blushing maiden on the check.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well, I thank you, but I'd be a great deal better if I +thought you hadn't heard my foolish talk."</p> + +<p>"I heard a part of it, and it wasn't foolish at all. The feeling does +you credit, provided you don't carry it too far. You are alone too +much; you take your feelings too seriously. You must remember that you +are nothing but a child; you are just beginning life. You should +cultivate bright thoughts. My dear, let me tell you one thing—if +Pulaski Tomlin had any idea that you had such feelings as you have +expressed here, he would be miserable; he would be miserable, and you +would never know it. You said something about gratitude; well if you +want to show any gratitude and make those two people happy, be happy +yourself—and if you can't really be happy, pretend that you are happy. +And the first thing you know, it will be a reality. Now, I have had +worse troubles than ever fell to your portion and if I had brooded over +them, I should have been miserable. Your lot is a very fortunate one, as +you will discover when you are older."</p> + +<p>This advice was very good, though it may have a familiar sound to the +reader, and Margaret tried hard for the time being to follow it. She +succeeded so well that her laughter became as loud and as joyous as that +of her companions, and when she returned home, her countenance was so +free from care and worry that both Neighbour Tomlin and his sister +remarked it, and they were the happier for it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble</i></h3> + + +<p>One day—it was a warm Saturday, giving promise of a long hot Sunday to +follow—Mr. Sanders was on his way home, feeling very blue indeed. He +had been to town on no particular business—the day was a half-holiday +with the field-hands—and he had wandered about aimlessly, making +several unsuccessful efforts to crack a joke or two with such +acquaintances as he chanced to meet. He had concluded that his liver was +out of order, and he wondered, as he went along, if he would create much +public comment and dissatisfaction if he should break his promise to Nan +Dorrington by purchasing a jug of liquor and crawling into the nearest +shuck-pen. It was on this warm Saturday, the least promising of all +days, as he thought, that he stumbled upon an adventure which, for a +season, proved to be both interesting and amusing.</p> + +<p>He was walking along, as has been said, feeling very blue and +uncomfortable, when he heard his name called, and, turning around, saw a +negro girl running after him. She came up panting and grinning.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ritta say she wish you'd come dar right now," said the girl. "I +been runnin' an' hollin atter you tell I wuz fear'd de dogs 'd take +atter me. Miss Ritta say she want to see you right now."</p> + +<p>The girl was small and very slim, bare-legged and good-humoured. Mr. +Sanders looked at her hard, but failed to recognise her; nor had he the +faintest idea as to the identity of "Miss Ritta." The girl bore his +scrutiny very well, betraying a tendency to dance. As Mr. Sanders tried +in vain to place her in his memory, she slapped her hands together, and +whirled quickly on her heel more than once.</p> + +<p>"You're a way yander ahead of me," he remarked, after reflecting awhile. +"I reckon I've slipped a cog some'rs in my machinery. What is your +name?"</p> + +<p>"I'm name Larceeny. Don't you know me, Marse Billy? I use ter b'long ter +de Clopton Cadets, when Miss Nan was de Captain; but I wan't ez big den +ez I is now. I been knowin' you most sence I was born."</p> + +<p>"What is your mammy's name?"</p> + +<p>"My mammy name Creecy," replied the girl, grinning broadly. "She cookin' +fer Miss Ritta."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders remembered Creecy very well. She had belonged to the Gaither +family before the war. "Where do you stay?" he inquired. He was not +disposed to admit, even indirectly, that he didn't know every human +being in the town.</p> + +<p>"I stays dar wid Miss Ritta," replied Larceeny. "I goes ter de do', an' +waits on Miss Nugeeny."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, with a smile of satisfaction. Here was a +clew. Miss Nugeeny must be Eugenia Claiborne, and Miss Ritta was +probably her mother.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ritta say she wanter see you right now," insisted Larceeny. "When +she seed you on de street, you wuz so fur, she couldn't holla at you, +an' time she call me outer de gyarden, you wuz done gone. I wuz at de +fur een' er de gyarden, pickin' rasbe'ies, an' I had ter drap +ever'thing."</p> + +<p>"Do you pick raspberries with your mouth?" inquired Mr. Sanders, with a +very solemn air.</p> + +<p>"Is my mouf dat red?" inquired Larceeny, with an alarmed expression on +her face. She seized her gingham apron by the hem, and, using the +underside, proceeded to remove the incriminating stains, remarking, "I'm +mighty glad you tol' me, kaze ef ol' Miss Polly had seed dat—well, she +done preach my funer'l once, an' I don't want ter hear it no mo'."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders, following Larceeny, proceeded to the Gaither Place, and was +ushered into the parlour, where, to his surprise, he found Judge +Vardeman, of Rockville, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the +State. Mr. Sanders knew the Judge very well, and admired him not only on +account of his great ability as a lawyer, but because of the genial +simplicity of his character. They greeted each other very cordially, and +were beginning to discuss the situation—it was the one topic that never +grew stale during that sad time—when Mrs. Claiborne came in; she had +evidently been out to attend to some household affairs.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Sanders," she said. "I have sent for you +at the suggestion of Judge Vardeman, who is a kinsman of mine by +marriage. He is surprised that you and I are not well acquainted; but I +tell him that in such sad times as these, it is a wonder that one knows +one's next-door neighbours."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders made some fitting response, and as soon as he could do so +without rudeness, closely studied the countenance of the lady. There was +a vivacity, a gaiety, an archness in her manner that he found very +charming. Her features were not regular, but when she laughed or smiled, +her face was beautiful. If she had ever experienced any serious trouble, +Mr. Sanders thought, she had been able to bear it bravely, for no marks +of it were left on her speaking countenance. "Give me a firm faith and a +light heart," says an ancient writer, "and the world may have everything +else."</p> + +<p>"I have sent for you, Mr. Sanders," said the lady, laughing lightly, "to +ask if you will undertake to be my drummer."</p> + +<p>"Your drummer!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, I've been told that I have +a way of blowin' my own horn, when the weather is fine and the spring +sap is runnin', but as for drummin', I reely hain't got the knack on +it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I only want you to do a little talking here and there, and give out +various hints and intimations—you know what I mean. I am anxious to +even up matters with a friend of yours, who, I am afraid, isn't any +better than he should be."</p> + +<p>While the lady was talking, Mr. Sanders was staring at a couple of +crayon portraits on the wall. He rose from his seat, walked across the +room, and attentively studied one of the portraits. It depicted a man +between twenty-five and thirty-five.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be jigged!" he exclaimed as he resumed his seat. "Ef that +ain't Silas Tomlin I'm a Dutchman!"</p> + +<p>"Why, I shouldn't think you would recognise him after all these years," +the lady said, smiling brightly. "Don't you think the portrait flatters +him?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a considerbul," replied Mr. Sanders; "but Silas has got p'ints +about his countenance that a coat of tar wouldn't hide. Trim his +eyebrows, an' give him a clean, close shave, an' he's e'en about the +same as he was then. An' ef I ain't mighty much mistaken, the pictur' by +his side was intended to be took for you. The feller that took it forgot +to put the right kind of a sparkle in the eye, an' he didn't ketch the +laugh that oughter be hov'rin' round the mouth, like a butterfly tryin' +to light on a pink rose; but all in all, it's a mighty good likeness."</p> + +<p>"Now, don't you think I should thank Mr. Sanders?" said the lady, +turning to Judge Vardeman. "It has been many a day since I have had such +a compliment. Actually, I believe I am blushing!" and she was.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't much of a compliment to the artist," the Judge suggested.</p> + +<p>"Well, when it comes to paintin' a purty 'oman," remarked Mr. Sanders, +"it's powerful hard for to git in all the p'ints. A feller could paint +our picturs in short order, Judge. A couple of kags of pink paint, a +whitewash brush, an' two or three strokes, bold an' free, would do the +business."</p> + +<p>The Judge's eye twinkled merrily, and Mrs. Claiborne laughingly +exclaimed, "Why, you'd make quite an artist. You certainly have an eye +for colour."</p> + +<p>Thereupon Judge Vardeman suggested to Mrs. Claiborne that she begin at +the beginning, and place Mr. Sanders in possession of all the facts +necessary to the successful carrying out of the plan she had in view. It +was a plan, the Judge went on to say, that he did not wholly indorse, +bordering, as it did, on frivolity, but as the lady was determined on +it, he would not advise against it, as the results bade fair to be +harmless.</p> + +<p>It must have been quite a story the lady had to tell Mr. Sanders, for +the sun was nearly down when he came from the house; and it must have +been somewhat amusing, too, for he came down the steps laughing +heartily. When he reached the sidewalk, he paused, looked back at the +closed door, shook his head, and threw up his hands, exclaiming to +himself, "Bless Katy! I'm powerful glad I ain't got no 'oman on my +trail. 'Specially one like her. Be jigged ef she don't shake this old +town up!"</p> + +<p>He heard voices behind him, and turned to see Eugenia Claiborne and Paul +Tomlin walking slowly along, engaged in a very engrossing conversation. +Mr. Sanders looked at the couple long enough to make sure that he was +not mistaken as to their identity, and then he went on his way.</p> + +<p>He had intended to go straight home, but, yielding to a sudden whim or +impulse, he went to the tavern instead. This old tavern, at a certain +hour of the day, was the resort of all the men, old and young, who +desired to indulge in idle gossip, or hear the latest news that might be +brought by some stray traveller, or commercial agent, or cotton-buyer +from Malvern. For years, Mr. Woodruff, the proprietor—he had come from +Vermont in the forties, as a school-teacher—complained that the +hospitality of the citizens was enough to ruin any public-house that had +no gold mine to draw upon. But, after the war, the tide, such as it was, +turned in his favour, and by the early part of 1868, he was beginning to +profit by what he called "a pretty good line of custom," and there were +days in the busy season when he was hard put to it to accommodate his +guests in the way he desired.</p> + +<p>During the spring and summer months, there was no pleasanter place than +the long, low veranda of Mr. Woodruff's tavern, and it was very popular +with those who had an idle hour at their disposal. This veranda was much +patronised by Mr. Silas Tomlin, who, after the death of his wife, had no +home-life worthy of the name. Silas was not socially inclined; he took +no part in the gossip and tittle-tattle that flowed up and down the +veranda. The most interesting bit of news never caused him to turn his +head, and the raciest anecdote failed to bring a smile to his face. +Nevertheless, nothing seemed to please him better than to draw a chair +some distance away from the group of loungers, yet not out of ear-shot, +lean back against one of the supporting pillars, close his eyes and +listen to all that was said, or dream his own dreams, such as they might +be.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders was well aware of Silas Tomlin's tavern habits, and this +was what induced him to turn his feet in that direction. He expected to +find Silas there at this particular hour and he was not disappointed. +Silas was sitting aloof from the crowd, his chair leaning against one of +the columns, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, and his hands folded in +his lap. But for an occasional nervous movement of his thin lips, and +the twitching of his thumbs, he might have served as a model for a +statue of Repose. As a matter of fact, all his faculties were alert.</p> + +<p>The crowd of loungers was somewhat larger than usual, having been +augmented during the day by three commercial agents and a couple of +cotton-buyers. Lawyer Tidwell was taking advantage of the occasion to +expound and explain several very delicate and intricate constitutional +problems. Mr. Tidwell was a very able man in some respects, and he was a +very good talker, although he wanted to do all the talking himself. He +lowered his voice slightly, as he saw Mr. Sanders, but kept on with his +exposition of our organic law.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Mr. Sanders!" said one of the cotton-buyers, taking advantage of +a momentary pause in Mr. Tidwell's monologue; "how are you getting on +these days?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was gittin' on right peart tell to-day, but this mornin' I +struck a job that's made me weak an' w'ary."</p> + +<p>"You're looking mighty well, anyhow. What has been the trouble to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'll tell you," responded Mr. Sanders, with a show of animation. +"I've been gwine round all day tryin' to git up subscriptions for to +build a flatform for Gus Tidwell. Gus needs a place whar he can stand +an' explutterate on the Constitution all day, and not be in nobody's +way."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course you succeeded," remarked Mr. Tidwell, good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Middlin' well—middlin' well. A coloured lady flung a dime in the box, +an' I put in a quarter. In all, I reckon I've raised a dollar an' a +half. But I reely believe I could 'a' raised a hunderd dollars ef I'd +'a' told 'em whar the flatform was to be built."</p> + +<p>"Where is that?" some one inquired.</p> + +<p>"In the pine-thicket behind the graveyard," responded Mr. Sanders, so +earnestly and promptly that the crowd shouted with laughter. Even Mr. +Tidwell, who was "case-hardened," as Mrs. Absalom would say, to Mr. +Sanders's jokes, joined in with the rest.</p> + +<p>"Gus is a purty good lawyer," said Mr. Sanders, lifting his voice a +little to make sure that Silas Tomlin would hear every syllable of what +he intended to say; "but he'll never be at his best till he finds out +that the Constitution, like the Bible, can be translated to suit the +idees of any party or any crank. But I allers brag on Gus because I +believe in paternizin' home industries. Howsomever, between us boys an' +gals, an' not aimin' for it to go any furder, there's a lawyer in town +to-day—an' maybe he'll be here to-morrow—who knows more about the law +in one minnit than Gus could tell you in a day and a half. An' when it +comes to explutterations on p'ints of constitutional law, Gus wouldn't +be in it."</p> + +<p>"Is that so? What is the gentleman's name?" asked Mr. Tidwell.</p> + +<p>"Judge Albert Vardeman," replied Mr. Sanders. "Now, when you come to +talk about lawyers, you'll be doin' yourself injustice ef you leave out +the name of Albert Vardeman. He ain't got much of a figure—he's shaped +somethin' like a gourdful of water—but I tell you he's got a head on +him."</p> + +<p>"Is the Judge really here?" Mr. Tidwell asked. "I'd like very much to +have a talk with him."</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you, Gus," remarked Mr. Sanders, "you can git more +straight p'ints from Albert Vardeman than you'll find in the books. He's +been at Mrs. Claiborne's all day; I reckon she's gittin' him to ten' to +some law business for her. They's some kinder kinnery betwixt 'em. His +mammy's cat ketched a rat in her gran'mammy's smokehouse, I reckon. +We've got more kinfolks in these diggin's, than they has been sence the +first generation arter Adam."</p> + +<p>At the mention of Mrs. Claiborne's name Silas Tomlin opened his eyes and +uncrossed his legs. This movement caused him to lose his balance, and +his chair fell from a leaning position with a sharp bang.</p> + +<p>"What sort of a dream did you have, Silas?" Mr. Sanders inquired with +affected solicitude. "You'd better watch out; Dock Dorrin'ton says that +when a man gits bald-headed, it's a sign that his bones is as brittle as +glass. He found that out on one of his furrin trips."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about me, Sanders," replied Silas. He tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't reckon you could call it worry, Silas, bekaze when I +ketch a case of the worries, it allers sends me to bed wi' the jimmyjon. +I can be neighbourly wi'out worryin', I hope."</p> + +<p>"For a woman with a grown daughter," remarked Mr. Tidwell, speaking his +thoughts aloud, as was his habit, "Mrs. Claiborne is well +preserved—very well preserved." Mr. Tidwell was a widower, of several +years' standing.</p> + +<p>"Why, she's not only preserved, she's the preserves an' the preserver," +Mr. Sanders declared. "To look in her eye an' watch her thoughts +sparklin' like fire, to watch her movements, an' hear her laugh, not +only makes a feller young agin, but makes him glad he's a-livin'. An' +that gal of her'n—well, she's a thoroughbred. Did you ever notice the +way she holds her head? I never see her an' Nan Dorrington together but +what I'm sorry I never got married. I'd put up wi' all the tribulation +for to have a gal like arry one on 'em."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders paused a moment, and then turned to Silas Tomlin. "Silas, I +think Paul is fixin' for to do you proud. As I come along jest now, him +an' Jinny Claiborne was walkin' mighty close together. They must 'a' +been swappin' some mighty sweet secrets, bekaze they hardly spoke above +a whisper. An' they didn't look like they was in much of a hurry."</p> + +<p>While Mr. Sanders was describing the scene he had witnessed, +exaggerating the facts to suit his whimsical humour, Silas Tomlin sat +bold upright in his chair, his eyes half-shut, and his thin lips working +nervously. "Paul knows which side his bread is buttered on," he snapped +out.</p> + +<p>"Bread!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, pretending to become tremendously +excited; "bread! shorely you must mean poun'-cake, Silas. And whoever +heard of putting butter on poun'-cake?"</p> + +<p>When the loungers began to disperse, some of them going home, and others +going in to supper in response to the tavern bell, Mr. Silas Tomlin +called to Lawyer Tidwell, and the two walked along together, their homes +lying in the same direction.</p> + +<p>"Gus," said Silas, somewhat nervously, "I want to put a case to you. +It's purely imaginary, and has probably never happened in the history of +the world."</p> + +<p>"You mean what we lawyers call a hypothetical case," remarked Mr. +Tidwell, in a tone that suggested a spacious and a tolerant mind.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," replied Mr. Silas Tomlin, with some eagerness. "I was +readin' a tale in an old copy of <i>Blackwood's Magazine</i> the other day, +an' the whole business turned on just such a case. The sum and substance +of it was about this: A man marries a woman and they get along together +all right for awhile. Then, all of a sudden she takes a mortal dislike +to the man, screams like mad when he goes about her, and kicks up +generally when his name is mentioned. He, being a man of some spirit, +and rather touchy at best, finally leaves her in disgust. Finally her +folks send him word that she is dead. On the strength of that +information, he marries again, after so long a time. All goes well for +eighteen or twenty years, and then suddenly the first wife turns up. +Now what, in law, is the man's status? Where does he stand? Is this +woman really his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Tidwell. "His second marriage is no +marriage at all. The issue of such a marriage is illegitimate."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I thought," commented Silas Tomlin. "But in the tale, +when the woman comes back, and puts in her claim, the judge flings her +case out of court."</p> + +<p>"That was in England," Mr. Tidwell suggested.</p> + +<p>"Or Scotland—I forget which," Silas Tomlin replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't the law over here," Mr. Tidwell declared confidently. +They walked on a little way, when the lawyer suddenly turned to Silas +and said: "Mr. Tomlin, will you fetch that magazine in to-morrow? I want +to see the ground on which the woman's case was thrown out. It's +interesting, even if it is all fiction. Perhaps there was some +technicality."</p> + +<p>"All right, Gus; I'll fetch it in to-morrow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble</i></h3> + + +<p>When Silas Tomlin reached home, he found his son reading a book. No word +of salutation passed between them; Paul simply changed his position in +the chair, and Silas grunted. They had no confidences, and they seemed +to have nothing in common. As a matter of fact, however, Silas was very +fond of this son, proud of his appearance—the lad was as neat as a pin, +and fairly well-favoured,—and proud of his love for books. Unhappily, +Silas was never able to show his affection and his fair-haired son never +knew to his dying day how large a place he occupied in his father's +heart. Miserly Silas was with money, but his love for his son was +boundless. It destroyed or excluded every other sentiment or emotion +that was in conflict with it. His miserliness was for his son's sake, +and he never put away a dollar without a feeling of exultation; he +rejoiced in the fact that it would enable his son to live more +comfortably than his father had cared to live. Silas loved money, not +for its own sake, but for the sake of his son.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Absalom would have laughed at such a statement. The social +structure of the Southern people, and the habits and traditions based +thereon, were of such a character that a great majority could not be +brought to believe that it was possible for parsimony to exist side by +side with any of the finer feelings. All the conditions and +circumstances, the ability to command leisure, the very climate itself, +promoted hospitality, generosity, open-handedness, and that fine spirit +of lavishness that seeks at any cost to give pleasure to others. Popular +opinion, therefore, looked with a cold and suspicious eye on all +manifestations of selfishness.</p> + +<p>But Silas Tomlin's parsimony, his stinginess, had no selfish basis. He +was saving not for himself, but for his son, in whom all his affections +and all his ambitions were centered. He had reared Paul tenderly without +displaying any tenderness, and if the son had speculated at all in +regard to the various liberties he had been allowed, or the indulgent +methods that had been employed in his bringing up, he would have traced +them to the carelessness and indifference of his father, rather than to +the ardent affection that burned unseen and unmarked in Silas's bosom.</p> + +<p>He had never, by word or act, intentionally wounded the feelings of his +son; he had never thrown himself in the path of Paul's wishes. There was +a feeling in Shady Dale that Silas was permitting his son to go to the +dogs; whereas, as a matter of fact, no detective was ever more alert. +Without seeming to do so, he had kept an eye on all Paul's comings and +goings. When the lad's desires were reasonable, they were promptly +gratified; when they were unreasonable, their gratification was +postponed until they were forgotten. Books Paul had in abundance. Half +of the large library of Meredith Tomlin had fallen to Silas, and the +other half to Pulaski Tomlin, and the lad had free access to all.</p> + +<p>Paul was very fond of his Uncle Pulaski and his Aunt Fanny, and he was +far more familiar with these two than he was with his father. His +association with his uncle and aunt was in the nature of a liberal +education. It was Pulaski Tomlin who really formed Paul's character, who +gathered together all the elements of good that are native to the mind +of a sensitive lad, and moulded them until they were strong enough to +outweigh and overwhelm the impulses of evil that are also native to the +growing mind. Thus it fell out that Paul was a young man to be admired +and loved by all who find modest merit pleasing.</p> + +<p>When his father arrived at home on that particular evening, as has been +noted, Paul was reading a book. He changed his position, but said +nothing. After awhile, however, he felt something was wrong. His father, +instead of seating himself at the table, and consulting his note-book, +walked up and down the floor.</p> + +<p>"What is wrong? Are you ill?" Paul asked after awhile.</p> + +<p>"No, son; I am as well in body as ever I was; but I'm greatly troubled. +I wish to heaven I could go back to the beginning, and tell you all +about it; but I can't—I just can't."</p> + +<p>Paul also had his troubles, and he regarded his father gloomily enough. +"Why can't you tell me?" he asked, somewhat impatiently. "But I needn't +ask you that; you never tell me anything. I heard something to-day that +made me ashamed."</p> + +<p>"Ashamed, Paul?" gasped his father.</p> + +<p>"Yes—ashamed. And if it is true, I am going away from here and never +show my face again."</p> + +<p>Silas fell, rather than leaned, against the mantel-piece, his face +ghastly white. He tried to say, "What did you hear, Paul?" His lips +moved, but no sound issued from his throat.</p> + +<p>"Two or three persons told me to-day," Paul went on, "that they had +heard of your intention to join the radicals, and run for the +legislature. I told each and every one of them that it was an infernal +lie; but I don't know whether it is a lie or not. If it isn't I'll leave +here."</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin's heart had been in his throat, as the saying is, but he +gulped it down again and smiled faintly. If this was all Paul had heard, +well and good. Compared with some other things, it was a mere matter of +moonshine. Paul took up his book again, but he turned the leaves +rapidly, and it was plain that he was impatiently waiting for further +information.</p> + +<p>At last Silas spoke: "All the truth in that report, Paul, is this—It +has been suggested to me that it would be better for the whites here if +some one who sympathises with their plans, and understands their +interests, should pretend to become a Republican, and make the race for +the legislature. This is what some of our best men think."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by our best men, father?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I don't know that I am at liberty to mention names even to you, +Paul," said Silas, who had no notion of being driven into a corner. "And +then, on the other hand, the white Republicans are not as fond of the +negroes as they pretend to be. And if they can't get some native-born +white man to run, who do you reckon they'll have to put up as a +candidate? Why, old Jerry, Pulaski's man of all work."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" Paul asked with rising indignation. "Jerry is a +great deal better than any white man who puts himself on an equality +with him."</p> + +<p>"Have you met Mr. Hotchkiss?" asked Silas. "He seems to be a very clever +man."</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't met him and I don't want to meet him." Paul rose from his +seat, and stood facing his father. He was a likely-looking young man, +tall and slim, but broad-shouldered. He had the delicate pink complexion +that belongs to fair-haired persons. "This is a question, father, that +can't be discussed between us. You beat about the bush in such a way as +to compel me to believe the reports I have heard are true. Well, you can +do as you like; I'll not presume to dictate to you. You may disgrace +yourself, but you sha'n't disgrace me."</p> + +<p>With that, the high-strung young fellow seized his hat, and flung out of +the house, carrying his book with him. He shut the door after him with a +bang, as he went out, demonstrating that he was full of the heroic +indignation that only young blood can kindle.</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin sank into a chair, as he heard the street-door slammed. +"Disgrace him! My God! I've already disgraced him, and when he finds it +out he'll hate me. Oh, Lord!" If the man's fountain of tears had not +been dried up years before, he would have wept scalding ones.</p> + +<p>An inner door opened and a negro woman peeped in. Seeing no one but +Silas, she cried out indignantly, "Who dat slammin' dat front do'? +You'll break eve'y glass in de house, an' half de crock'ry-ware in de +dinin'-room, an' den you'll say I done it."</p> + +<p>"It was Paul, Rhody; he was angry about something."</p> + +<p>The negro woman gave an indignant snort. "I don't blame 'im—I don't +blame 'im; not one bit. Ain't I been tellin' you how 'twould be? Ain't I +been tellin' you dat you'd run 'im off wid yo' scrimpin' an' pinchin'? +But 'tain't dat dat run'd 'im off. It's sump'n wuss'n dat. He ain't +never done dat away befo'. Ef dat boy ain't had de patience er Job, he'd +'a' been gone fum here long ago."</p> + +<p>Rhody came into the room where she could look Silas in the eyes. He +regarded her with curiosity, which appeared to be the only emotion left +him. Certainly he had never seen his cook and aforetime slave in such a +tantrum. What would she say and do next?</p> + +<p>"Home!" she exclaimed in a loud voice. Then she turned around and +deliberately inspected the room as if she had never seen it before. "An' +so dis is what you call Home—you, wid all yo' money hid away in holes +in de groun'! Dis de kinder place you fix up fer dat boy, an' him de +onliest one you got! Well!" Rhody's indignation could only be accounted +for on the ground that she had overheard the whole conversation between +father and son.</p> + +<p>"Why, you never said anything about it before," remarked Silas Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't, an' I wouldn't say it now, ef dat boy hadn't 'a' foun' +out fer hisse'f what kinder daddy he got."</p> + +<p>"Blast your black hide! I'll knock your brains out if you talk that way +to me!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, white with anger.</p> + +<p>"Well, I bet you nobody don't knock yo' brains out," remarked Rhody +undismayed. "An' while I'm 'bout it, I'll tell you dis: Yo' supper's in +dar in de pots an' pans; ef you want it you go git it an' put on de +table, er set flat on de h'ath an' eat it. Dat chile's gone, an' I'm +gwine."</p> + +<p>"You dratted fool!" Silas exclaimed, "you know Paul hasn't gone for +good. He'll come back when he gets hungry, and be glad to come."</p> + +<p>"Is you ever seed him do dis away befo' sence he been born?" Rhody +paused and waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. "No, you ain't! +no, you ain't! You don't know no mo' 'bout dat chile dan ef he want +yone. But I—me—ol' Rhody—I know 'im. I kin look at 'im sideways an' +tell ef he feelin' good er bad er diffunt. What you done done ter dat +chile? Tell me dat."</p> + +<p>But Silas Tomlin answered never a word. He sat glowering at Rhody in a +way that would have subdued and frightened a negro unused to his ways. +Rhody started toward the kitchen, but at the door leading to the +dining-room she paused and turned around. "Oh, you got a heap ter answer +fer—a mighty heap; an' de day will come when you'll bar in mind eve'y +word I been tellin' you 'bout dat chile fum de time he could wobble +'roun' an' call me mammy."</p> + +<p>With that she went out. Silas heard her moving about in the back part of +the house, but after awhile all was silence. He sat for some time +communing with himself, and trying in vain to map out some consistent +course of action. What a blessing it would be, he thought, if Paul would +make good his threat, and go away! It would be like tearing his father's +heart-strings out, but better that than that he should remain and be a +witness to his own disgrace, and to the bitter humiliation of his +father.</p> + +<p>Silas had intended to warn his son that he was throwing away his time by +going with Eugenia Claiborne—that marriage with her was utterly +impossible. But it was a very delicate subject, and, once embarked in +it, he would have been unable to give his son any adequate or +satisfactory reason for the interdiction. Many wild and whirling +thoughts passed through the mind of Silas Tomlin, but at the end, he +asked himself why he should cross the creek before he came to it?</p> + +<p>The reflection was soothing enough to bring home to his mind the fact +that he had had no supper. Unconsciously, and through force of habit, he +had been waiting for Rhody to set the small bell to tinkling, as a +signal that the meal was ready, but no sound had come to his ears. He +rose to investigate. A solitary candle was flaring on the dining-table. +He went to the door leading to the kitchen and called Rhody, but he +received no answer.</p> + +<p>"Blast your impudent hide!" he exclaimed, "what are you doing out there? +Why don't you put supper on the table?"</p> + +<p>He would have had silence for an answer, but for the barking of a nearby +neighbour's dog. He went into the kitchen, and found the fire nearly +out, whereupon he made dire threats against his cook, but, in the end, +he was compelled to fish his supper from the pans as best he could.</p> + +<p>When he had finished he looked at the clock, and was surprised to find +that it was only a little after eight. During the course of an hour and +a half, he seemed to have lived and suffered a year and a half. The +early hour gave him an opportunity to display one of his characteristic +traits. It had never been his way to run from trouble. When a small boy, +if his nurse told him the booger-man was behind a bush, he always +insisted on investigating. The same impulse seized him now. If this Mrs. +Claiborne proposed to make any move against him—as he inferred from the +hints which the jovial Mr. Sanders had flung at his head—he would beard +the lioness in her den, and find out what she meant, and what she +wanted.</p> + +<p>Silas was prompt to act on the impulse, and as soon as he could make the +house secure, he proceeded to the Gaither Place. His knock, after some +delay, was answered by Eugenia. The girl involuntarily drew back when +she saw who the visitor was. "What is it you wish?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"If your mother is at home, please ask her if she will see Silas Tomlin +on a matter of business."</p> + +<p>Eugenia left the door open, and in a moment, from one of the rear rooms +came the sound of merry, unrestrained laughter, which only ceased when +some one uttered a warning "Sh-h!"</p> + +<p>Eugenia returned almost immediately, and invited the visitor into the +parlour, saying, "It is rather late for business, mamma says, but she +will see you."</p> + +<p>Silas seated himself on a sofa, and had time to look about him before +the lady of the house came in. It was his second visit to Mrs. +Claiborne, and he observed many changes had taken place in the +disposition of the furniture and the draperies. He noted, too, with a +feeling of helpless exasperation, that his own portrait hung on the wall +in close proximity to that of Rita Claiborne. He clenched his hands with +inward rage. "What does this she-devil mean?" he asked himself, and at +that moment, the object of his anger swept into the room. There was +something gracious, as well as graceful, in her movements. She had the +air of a victor who is willing to be magnanimous.</p> + +<p>"What is your business with me?" she asked with lifted eyebrows. There +was just the shadow of a smile hovering around her mouth. Silas caught +it, and looking into a swinging mirror opposite, he saw how impossible +it was for a man with a weazened face and a skull-cap to cope with such +a woman as this. However, he had his indignation, his sense of +persecution, to fall back upon.</p> + +<p>"I want to know what you intend to do," said Silas. There was a note of +weakness and helplessness in his voice. "I want to know what to expect. +I'm tired of leading a dog's life. I hear you have been colloguing with +lawyers."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember your first visit here?" inquired Mrs. Claiborne very +sweetly. If she was an enemy, she certainly knew how to conceal her +feelings. "Do you remember how wildly you talked—how insulting you +were?"</p> + +<p>"I declare to you on my honour that I never intended to insult you," +Silas exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why, all your insinuations were insulting. You gave me to understand +that my coming here was an outrage—as if you had anything to do with my +movements. But you insisted that my coming here was an attack on you and +your son. When and where and how did I ever do you a wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you—didn't—" Silas tried hard to formulate his wrongs, but +they were either so many or so few that words failed him.</p> + +<p>"Did I desert you when you were ill and delirious? Did I put faith in an +anonymous letter and believe you to be dead?" The lady spoke with a +calmness that seemed to be unnatural and unreal.</p> + +<p>For a little while, Silas made no reply, but sat like one dazed, his +eyes fixed on the crayon portrait of himself. "Did you hang that thing +up there for Paul to see it and ask questions about it?" he asked, +after awhile.</p> + +<p>"I hung it there because I chose to," she replied. "Judge Vardeman +thinks it is a very good likeness of you, but I don't agree with him. Do +you think it does you justice?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"And then there's Paul," said Silas, ignoring her question. "Do you +propose to let him go ahead and fall in love with the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Paul is not my son," the lady calmly answered.</p> + +<p>"But the girl is your daughter," Silas insisted.</p> + +<p>"I shall look after her welfare, never fear," said the lady.</p> + +<p>"But suppose they should take a notion to marry; what would you do to +stop 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, that is a question for the future," replied the lady, +serenely. "It will be time enough to discuss that matter when the +necessity arises."</p> + +<p>Her composure, her indifference, caused Silas to writhe and squirm in +his chair, and she, seeing the torture she was inflicting, appeared to +be very well content.</p> + +<p>"I didn't come to argue," said Silas presently. "I came for information; +I want to know what you intend to do. I don't ask any favours and I +don't want any; I'm getting my deserts, I reckon. What I sowed that I'm +reaping."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" the lady exclaimed softly, and with an air of satisfaction. "Do +you really feel so?" She leaned forward a little, and there was that in +her eyes that denoted something else besides satisfaction; compassion +shone there. Her mood had not been a serious one up to this point, but +she was serious now, and Silas could but observe how beautiful she was. +"Do you really feel that I would be justified if I confirmed the +suspicions you have expressed?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I am concerned, you'd be doing exactly right," said Silas +bluntly. "But what about Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what about Paul?" Mrs. Claiborne asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, for one thing, he's never done you any harm. And there's another +thing," said Silas rising from his seat: "I'd be willing to have my body +pulled to pieces, inch by inch, and my bones broken, piece by piece, to +save that boy one single pang."</p> + +<p>He stood towering over the lady. For once he had been taken clean out of +himself, and he seemed to be transfigured. Mrs. Claiborne rose also.</p> + +<p>"Paul is a very good young man," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is!" exclaimed Silas. "He never had a mean thought, and he has +never been guilty of a mean action. But that would make no difference in +my feelings. It would be all the same to me if he was a thief and a +scoundrel or if he was deformed, or if he was everything that he is not. +No matter what he was or might be, I would be willing to live in eternal +torment if I could know that he is happy."</p> + +<p>His face was not weazened now. It was illuminated with his love for his +son, the one passion of his life, and he was no longer a contemptible +figure. The lady refixed her eyes upon him, and wondered how he could +have changed himself right before her eyes, for certainly, as it seemed +to her, this was not the mean and shabby figure she had found in the +parlour when she first came in. She sighed as she turned her eyes away.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what I told you on the occasion of your first visit?" +she inquired very seriously. "You were both rude and disagreeable, but I +said that I'd not trouble you again, so long as you left me alone."</p> + +<p>"Well, haven't I left you alone?" asked Silas.</p> + +<p>"What do you call this?" There was just the shadow of a smile on her +face.</p> + +<p>"That's a fact," said Silas after a pause. "But I just couldn't help +myself. Honestly I'm sorry I came. I'm no match for you. I must bid you +good-night. I hardly know what's come over me. If I've worried you, I'm +truly sorry."</p> + +<p>"One of these days," she said very kindly, as she accompanied him to the +door, "I'll send for you. At the proper time I'll give you some +interesting news."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope it will be good news; if so, it will be the first I have +heard in many a long day. Good-night."</p> + +<p>The lady closed the door, and returned to the parlour and sat down. +"Why, I thought he was a cold-blooded, heartless creature," she said to +herself. Then, after some reflection she uttered an exclamation and +clasped her hands together. Suppose he were to make way with himself! +The bare thought was enough to keep the smiles away from the face of +this merry-hearted lady for many long minutes. Finally, she caught a +glimpse of herself in the swinging mirror. She snapped her fingers at +her reflection, saying, "Pooh! I wouldn't give that for your firmness of +purpose!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Rhody Has Something to Say</i></h3> + + +<p>Now, all this time, while the mother was engaged with Silas, Eugenia, +the daughter, was having an experience of her own. When Rhody, Silas +Tomlin's cook and housekeeper, discovered that Paul had left the house +in a fit of anger, she knew at once that something unusual had occurred, +and her indignation against Silas Tomlin rose high. She was familiar +with every peculiarity of Paul's character, and she was well aware of +the fact that behind his calm and cool bearing, which nothing ever +seemed to ruffle, was a heart as sensitive and as tender as that of a +woman, and a temper hot, obstinate and unreasonable when aroused.</p> + +<p>So, without taking time to serve Silas's supper, she went in search of +Paul. She went to the store where he was the chief clerk, but the doors +were closed; she went to the tavern, but he was not to be seen; and she +walked along the principal streets, where sometimes the young men +strolled after tea. There she met a negro woman, who suggested that he +might be at the Gaither Place. "Humph!" snorted Rhody, "how come dat +ain't cross my mind? But ef he's dar dis night, ef he run ter dat gal +when he in trouble, I better be layin' off ter cook some weddin' +doin's."</p> + +<p>There wasn't a backyard in the town that Rhody didn't know as well as +she knew her own, and she stood on no ceremony in entering any of them. +She went to the Gaither Place, swung back the gate, shutting it after +her with a bang, and stalked into the kitchen as though it belonged to +her. At the moment there was no one in sight but Mandy, the house-girl, +a bright and good-looking mulatto.</p> + +<p>"Why, howdy, Miss Rhody!" she exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like a +flute. "What wind blowed you in here?"</p> + +<p>"Put down dem dishes an' wipe yo' han's," said Rhody, by way of reply. +The girl silently complied, expressing no surprise and betraying no +curiosity. "Now, den, go in de house, an' ax ef Paul Tomlin is in dar," +commanded Rhody. "Ef he is des tell 'im dat Mammy Rhody want ter see +'im."</p> + +<p>"I hope dey ain't nobody dead," suggested Mandy with a musical laugh. +"I'm lookin' out for all sorts er trouble, because I've had mighty funny +dreams for three nights han'-runnin'. Look like I can see blood. I wake +up, I do, cryin' an' feelin' tired out like de witches been ridin' me. +Then I drop off to sleep, an' there's the blood, plain as my han'."</p> + +<p>She went on in the house and Rhody followed close at her heels. She was +determined to see Paul if she could. She was very willing for Silas +Tomlin to be drawn through a hackle; she was willing to see murder done +if the whites were to be the victims; but Paul—well, according to her +view, Paul was one of a thousand. She had given him suck; she had +fretted and worried about him for twenty years; and she couldn't break +off her old habits all at once. She had listened to and indorsed the +incendiary doctrines of the radical emissary who pretended to be +representing the government; she had wept and shouted over the strenuous +pleadings of the Rev. Jeremiah; but all these things were wholly apart +from Paul. And if she had had the remotest idea that they affected his +interests or his future, she would have risen in the church and +denounced the carpet-bagger and his scalawag associates, and likewise +the Rev. Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>When Mandy, closely followed by Rhody, went into the house, she heard +voices in the parlour, but Eugenia was in the sitting-room reading by +the light of a lamp.</p> + +<p>"Miss Genia," said the girl, "is Mr. Paul here?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?" inquired Eugenia.</p> + +<p>"They-all cook wanter speak with him." At this moment, Eugenia saw the +somewhat grim face of Rhody peering over the girl's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Paul isn't here," said the young lady, rising with a vague feeling of +alarm. "What is the matter?" And then, feeling that if there was any +trouble, Rhody would feel freer to speak when they were alone together, +Eugenia dismissed Mandy, and followed to see that the girl went out. +"Now, what <i>is</i> the trouble, Rhody? Mr. Silas Tomlin is in the parlour +talking to mother."</p> + +<p>Rhody opened her eyes wide at this. "<i>He</i> in dar? What de name er +goodness he doin' here?" Eugenia didn't know, of course, and said so. +"Well, he ain't atter no good," Rhody went on; "you kin put dat down in +black an' white. Dat man is sho' ter leave a smutty track wharsomever he +walk at. You better watch 'im; you better keep yo' eye on 'im. Is he +yever loant yo' ma any money?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," replied Eugenia, laughing at the absurdity of the question. +"What put that idea in your head?"</p> + +<p>"Bekaze dat's his business—loanin' out a little dab er money here an' a +little dab dar, an' gittin' back double de dab he loant," said Rhody. +"Deyer folks in dis county, which he loant um money, an' now he got all +de prop'ty dey yever had; an' deyer folks right here in dis town, which +he loant um dat ar Conferick money when it want wuff much mo dan +shavin's, an' now dey got ter pay 'im back sho nuff money. I hear 'im +sesso. Oh, dat's him! dat's Silas Tomlin up an' down. You kin take a +thrip an' squeeze it in yo' han' tell it leave a print, an' hol' it up +whar folks kin see it, an' dar you got his pictur'; all it'll need will +be a frame. He done druv Paul 'way fum home."</p> + +<p>She spoke with some heat, and really went further than she intended, but +she was swept away by her indignation. She was certain, knowing Paul as +well as she did, that he had left the house in a fit of anger at +something his father had said or done and she was equally as certain +that he would have to be coaxed back.</p> + +<p>"Surely you are mistaken," said Eugenia. "It is too ridiculous. Why, +Paul—Mr. Paul is——" She paused and stood there blushing.</p> + +<p>"Go on, chile: say it out; don't be shame er me. Nobody can't say +nothin' good 'bout dat boy but what I kin put a lots mo' on what dey er +tellin'. Silas Tomlin done tol' me out'n his own mouf dat Paul went fum +de house vowin' he'd never come back."</p> + +<p>Eugenia was so sure that Rhody (after her kind and colour) was +exaggerating, that she refused to be disturbed by the statement. "Why +did you come here hunting for Paul?" the young lady asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go away, Miss Genia!" exclaimed Rhody, laughing. "'Tain't no needs +er my answerin' dat, kaze you know lots better'n I does."</p> + +<p>"Are you very fond of him?" Eugenia inquired.</p> + +<p>"Who—<i>me</i>? Why, honey, I raised 'im. Sick er well, I nussed 'im fer +long years. I helt 'im in deze arms nights an' nights, when all he had +ter do fer ter leave dis vale wuz ter fetch one gasp an' go. Ef his +daddy had done all dat, he wouldn't 'a' druv de boy fum home."</p> + +<p>Alas! how could Rhody, in her ignorance and blindness, probe the +recesses of a soul as reticent as that of Silas Tomlin?</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say he was driven from home!" cried Eugenia, rising and +placing a hand on Rhody's arm. "If you talk that way, other people will +take it up, and it won't be pleasant for Paul."</p> + +<p>"Dat sho is a mighty purty han'," exclaimed Rhody enthusiastically, +ignoring the grave advice of the young woman. "I'm gwine ter show +somebody de place whar you laid it, an' I bet you he'll wanter cut de +cloff out an' put it in his alvum."</p> + +<p>Eugenia made a pretence of pushing Rhody out of the room, but she was +blushing and smiling. "Well'm, he ain't here, sho, an' here's whar he +oughter be; but I'll fin' 'im dis night an' ef he ain't gwine back home, +I ain't gwine back—you kin put dat down." With that, she bade the young +lady good-night, and went out.</p> + +<p>As Rhody passed through the back gate, she chanced to glance toward +Pulaski Tomlin's house, and saw a light shining from the library window. +"Ah-yi!" she exclaimed, "he's dar, an' dey ain't no better place fer +'im. Dey's mo' home fer 'im right dar den dey yever wus er yever will be +whar he live at."</p> + +<p>So saying, she turned her steps in the direction of Neighbour Tomlin's. +In the kitchen, she asked if Paul was in the house. The cook didn't +know, but when the house-girl came out, she said that Mr. Paul was +there, and had been for some time. "Deyer holdin' a reg'lar expeunce +meetin' in dar," she said. "Miss Fanny sho is a plum sight!"</p> + +<p>The house-girl went in again to say that Rhody would like to speak with +him, and Rhody, as was her custom, followed at her heels.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Rhody," said Miss Fanny. "I know you are there. You always +send a message, and then go along with it to see if it is delivered +correctly. 'Twould save a great deal of trouble if the rest of us were +to adopt your plan."</p> + +<p>"I hope you all is well," remarked Rhody, as she made her appearance. +"I declar', Miss Fanny, you look good enough to eat."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do eat," responded Miss Fanny, teasingly.</p> + +<p>"I mean you look good enough ter be etted," said Rhody, correcting +herself.</p> + +<p>"Now, that is what I call a nice compliment," Miss Fanny observed +complacently. "Brother Pulaski, if I am ever 'etted' you won't have to +raise a monument to my memory."</p> + +<p>"No wonder you look young," laughed Rhody. "Anybody what kin git fun +out'n a graveyard is bleeze ter look young."</p> + +<p>Paul was lying on the wide lounge that was one of the features of the +library. His eyes were closed, and his Aunt Fanny was gently stroking +his hair. Pulaski Tomlin leaned back in an easy chair, lazily enjoying a +cigar, the delicate flavour of which filled the room. There was +something serene and restful in the group, in the furniture, in all the +accessories and surroundings. The negro woman turned around and looked +at everything in the room, as if trying to discover what produced the +effect of perfect repose.</p> + +<p>It is the rule that everything beautiful and precious in this world +should have mystery attached to it. There is the enduring mystery of +art, the mystery that endows plain flesh and blood with genius. A little +child draws you by its beauty; there is mystery unfathomable in its +eyes. You enter a home, no matter how fine, no matter how humble; it may +be built of logs, and its furnishings may be of the poorest; but if it +is a home, a real home, you will know it unmistakably the moment you +step across the threshold. Some subtle essence, as mysterious as thought +itself, will find its way to your mind and enlighten your instinct. You +will know, however fine the dwelling, whether the spirit of home dwells +there.</p> + +<p>Rhody, as she looked around in the vain effort to get a clew to the +secret, wondered why she always felt so comfortable in this house. She +sighed as she seated herself on the floor at the foot of the lounge on +which Paul lay. This was her privilege. If Miss Fanny could sit at his +head, Rhody could sit at his feet.</p> + +<p>"You wanted to speak to Paul," suggested Miss Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm; he lef' de house in a huff, an' I wanter know ef he gwine +back—kaze ef he ain't, I'm gwineter move way fum dar. He ain't take +time fer ter git his supper."</p> + +<p>"Why, Paul!" exclaimed Miss Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't eat a mouthful to save my life," said Paul.</p> + +<p>"Whar Miss Margaret?" Rhody inquired; and she seemed pleased to hear +that the young lady was spending the night with Nan Dorrington. "Honey," +she said to Paul, "how come yo' pa went ter de Gaither Place ter-night? +What business he got dar?"</p> + +<p>This was news to Paul, and he could make no reply to Rhody's question. +He reflected over the matter a little while. "Was he really there?" he +asked finally.</p> + +<p>"I hear 'im talkin' in de parlour, an' Miss Genia say it's him."</p> + +<p>"What were <i>you</i> doing there?" inquired Miss Fanny, pushing her jaunty +grey curls behind her ears.</p> + +<p>"A coloured 'oman recommen' me ter go dar ef I wan' ter fin' dat chile."</p> + +<p>"Why, Paul! And is the wind really blowing in that quarter?" cried Miss +Fanny, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mammy Rhody, why did you do that?" Paul asked with considerable +irritation. "What will Miss Eugenia and her mother think?" He sat bolt +upright on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Well, her ma ain't see me, an' Miss Genia look like she wuz sorry I +couldn't fin' you dar."</p> + +<p>Miss Fanny laughed, but Rhody was perfectly serious. "Miss Fanny," she +said, turning to the lady, "how come dat chile lef' home?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell her, Paul? I may as well." Whereupon she told the negro +woman the cause of Paul's anger, and ended by saying that she didn't +blame him for showing the spirit of a Southern gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Well, he'll never j'ine de 'Publican Party in dis county," Rhody +declared emphatically.</p> + +<p>"He will if he has made up his mind to do so. You don't know Silas," +said Miss Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Who—me? Me not know dat man? Huh! I know 'im better'n he know hisse'f; +an' I know some yuther folks, too. I tell you right now, he'll never +j'ine; an' ef you don't believe me, you wait an' see. Time I git thoo +wid his kaycter, de 'Publicans won't tetch 'im wid a ten-foot pole."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are right," said Pulaski Tomlin, speaking for the first +time. "There's enough trouble in the land without having a scalawag in +the Tomlin family."</p> + +<p>"Well, you nee'nter worry 'bout dat, kaze I'll sho put a stop ter dem +kinder doin's. Honey," Rhody went on, addressing Paul, "you come on home +when you git sleepy; I'm gwineter set up fer you, an' ef you don't come, +yo' pa'll hatter cook his own vittles ter-morrer mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Rhody, and pleasant dreams," said Miss Fanny, as the negro +woman started out.</p> + +<p>"I dunner how anybody kin have pleasin' drams ef dey sleep in de same +lot wid Marse Silas," replied Rhody. "Good-night all."</p> + +<p>Now, the cook at the Tomlin Place was the wife of the Rev. Jeremiah. She +was a tall, thin woman, some years older than her husband, and she ruled +him with a rod of iron. The new conditions, combined with the insidious +flattery of the white radicals, had made her vicious against the whites. +Rhody knew this, and from the "big house," she went into the kitchen, +where Mrs. Jeremiah was cleaning up for the night. Her name was Patsy.</p> + +<p>"You gittin' mighty thick wid de white folks, Sis' Rhody," said Patsy, +pausing in her work, as the other entered the door.</p> + +<p>For answer, Rhody fell into a chair, held both hands high above her +head, and then let them drop in her lap. The gesture was effective for a +dozen interpretations. "Well!" she exclaimed, and then paused, Patsy +watching her narrowly the while. "I dunner how 'tis wid you, Sis' Patsy, +but wid me, it's live an' l'arn—live an' l'arn. An' I'm a-larnin', +mon, spite er de fack dat de white folks think niggers ain't got no +sense."</p> + +<p>"Dey does! Dey does!" exclaimed Patsy. "Dey got de idee dat we all ain't +got no mo' sense dan a passel er fryin'-size chickens. But dey'll fin' +out better, an' den—Ah-h-h!" This last exclamation was a hoarse +gutteral cry of triumph.</p> + +<p>"You sho is talkin' now!" cried Rhody, with an admiring smile. "I knows +it ter-night, ef I never is know'd it befo'."</p> + +<p>Patsy knew that some disclosure was coming, and she invited it by +putting Rhody on the defensive. "It's de trufe," she declared. "Dat what +make me feel so quare, Sis' Rhody, when I see you so ready fer ter +collogue wid de white folks. I wuz talkin' wid Jerry 'bout it no +longer'n las' night. Yes'm, I wuz. I say, 'Jerry, what de matter wid +Sis' Rhody?' He say, 'Which away, Pidgin?'—desso; he allers call me +Pidgin," explained Patsy, with a smile of pride. "I say, 'By de way she +colloguin' wid de white folks.'"</p> + +<p>"What Br'er Jerry say ter dat?" inquired Rhody.</p> + +<p>"He des shuck his head an' groan," was the reply.</p> + +<p>Rhody leaned forward with a frown that was almost tragic in its +heaviness, and spoke in a deep, unnatural tone that added immensely to +the emphasis of her words. "'Oman, lemme tell you: I done it, an' I'm +glad I done it; an' you'll be glad I done it; an' he'll be glad I done +it." Patsy was drying the dish-pan with a towel, but suspended +operations the better to hear what Rhody had to say. "Dey done got it +fixt up fer ol' Silas ter j'ine in wid de 'Publican Party. He gwineter +j'ine so he kin fin' out all der doin's, an' all der comin's an' der +gwines, so he kin tell de yuthers."</p> + +<p>"Huh! Oh, yes—yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes! We er fools; we ain't got no +sense!" cackled Patsy viciously.</p> + +<p>"He des gwineter make out he's a 'Publican," Rhody went on; "dey got it +all planned. He gwineter j'ine de Nunion League, an' git all de names. +Dey talk 'bout it, Sis' Patsy, right befo' my face an' eyes. Dey mus' +take me fer a start-natchel fool."</p> + +<p>"Dey does—dey does!" cried Patsy; "dey takes us all fer fools. But +won't dey be a wakin' up when de time come?"</p> + +<p>Then and there was given the death-blow to Silas Tomlin's ambition to +become a Republican politician. The Rev. Jeremiah was apprised of the +plan, which so far as Rhody was concerned, was a pure invention. Word +went round, and when Silas put in his application to become a member of +the Union League, he was informed that orders had come from Atlanta that +no more members were to be enrolled.</p> + +<p>When Rhody went out into the street, after her talk with Patsy, a +passer-by would have said that her actions were very queer. She leaned +against the fence and went into convulsions of silent laughter. "Oh, I +wish I wuz some'rs whar I could holler," she said aloud between gasps. +"He calls her 'Pidgin!' Pidgin! Ef she's a pidgin, I'd like ter know +what gone wid de cranes!"</p> + +<p>She recurred to this name some weeks afterward, when the Rev. Jeremiah +informed her confidentially that his wife had discovered Silas Tomlin's +plan to unearth the secrets of the Union League. Rhody's comment +somewhat surprised the Rev. Jeremiah. "I allers thought," she said with +a laugh, "dat Pidgin had sump'n else in her craw 'sides corn."</p> + +<p>Rhody waited in the kitchen that night until Paul returned, and then she +went to bed. Silas and his son were up earlier than usual the next +morning, but they found breakfast ready and waiting. The attitude of +father and son toward each other was constrained and reserved. Silas +felt that he must certainly say something to Paul about Eugenia +Claiborne. He hardly knew how to begin, but at last he plunged into the +subject with the same shivering sense of fear displayed by a small boy +who is about to jump into a pond of cold water—dreading it, and yet +determined to take a header.</p> + +<p>"I hear, Paul," he began, "that you are very attentive to Eugenia +Claiborne."</p> + +<p>"I call on her occasionally," said Paul. "She is a very agreeable young +lady." He spoke coolly, but the blood mounted to his face.</p> + +<p>"So I hear—so I hear," remarked Silas in a business-like way. "Still, I +hope you won't carry matters too far."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Paul inquired.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could go into particulars; I wish I could tell you exactly +what I mean, but I can't," said Silas. "All I can say is that it would +be impossible for you to marry the young woman. My Lord!" he exclaimed, +as he saw Paul close his jaws together. "Ain't there no other woman in +the world?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything against the young lady's character?" the son +asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the response.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Paul, "I hadn't considered the question of marriage at all, +but since you've brought the subject up, we may as well discuss it. You +say it will be impossible for me to marry this young lady, and you +refuse to tell me why. Don't you think I am old enough to be trusted?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, Paul—of course; but there are some things—" Silas +paused, and caught his breath, and then went on. "Honestly, Paul, if I +could tell you, I would; I'd be glad to tell you; but this is a matter +in which you will have to depend on my judgment. Can't you trust me?"</p> + +<p>"Just as far as you can trust me, but no farther," was the reply. "I'm +not a child. In a few months I'll be of age. But if I were only ten +years old, and knew the young lady as well as I know her now, you +couldn't turn me against her by insinuations." He rose, shook himself, +walked the length of the room and back again, and stood close to his +father. "You've already settled the question of marriage. I asked you +last night about the report that you intended to act with the radicals, +and you refused to give me a direct answer. That means that the report +is true. Do you suppose that Eugenia Claiborne, or any other decent +woman would marry the son of a scalawag?" he asked with a voice full of +passion. "Why, she'd spit in his face, and I wouldn't blame her."</p> + +<p>The young man went out, leaving Silas sitting at the table. "Lord! I +hate to hurt him, but he'd better be dead than to marry that girl."</p> + +<p>Rhody, who was standing in the entryway leading from the dining-room to +the kitchen, and who had overheard every word that passed between father +and son, entered the room at this moment, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Well, you des ez well call 'im dead den, kaze marry her he will, an' I +don't blame 'im; an' mo'n dat I'll he'p 'im all I can."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you are talking about," said Silas, wiping his +lips, which were as dry as a bone.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I does, an' maybe I don't," replied Rhody. "But what I does know, +I knows des ez good ez anybody. You say dat boy sha'n't marry de gal; +but how come you courtin' de mammy?"</p> + +<p>"Doing what?" cried Silas, pushing his chair back from the table.</p> + +<p>"Courtin' de mammy," answered Rhody, in a loud voice. "You wuz dar las' +night, an' fer all I know you wuz dar de night befo', an' de night 'fo' +dat. You may fool some folks, but you can't fool me."</p> + +<p>"Courting! Why you blasted idiot! I went to see her on business."</p> + +<p>Rhody laughed so heartily that few would have detected the mockery in +it. "Business! Yasser; it's business, an' mighty funny business. Well, +ef you kin git her, you take her. Ef she don't lead you a dance, I ain't +name Rhody."</p> + +<p>"I believe you've lost what little sense you used to have," said Silas +with angry contempt.</p> + +<p>"I notice dat nobody roun' here ain't foun' it," remarked Rhody, +retiring to the kitchen with a waiter full of dishes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>The Knights of the White Camellia</i></h3> + + +<p>Matters have changed greatly since those days, and all for the better. +The people of the whole country understand one another, and there is no +longer any sectional prejudice for the politicians to feed and grow fat +upon. But in the days of reconstruction everything was at white heat, +and every episode and every development appeared to be calculated to add +to the excitement. In all this, Shady Dale had as large a share as any +other community. The whites had witnessed many political outrages that +seemed to have for their object the renewal of armed resistance. And it +is impossible, even at this late day, for any impartial person to read +the debates in the Federal Congress during the years of 1867-68 without +realising the awful fact that the prime movers in the reconstruction +scheme (if not the men who acted as their instruments and tools) were +intent on stirring up a new revolution in the hope that the negroes +might be prevailed upon to sack cities and towns, and destroy the white +population. This is the only reasonable inference; no other conceivable +conclusion can explain the wild and whirling words that were uttered in +these debates: unless, indeed, some charitable investigator shall +establish the fact that the radical leaders were suffering from a sort +of contagious dementia.</p> + +<p>It is all over and gone, but it is necessary to recall the facts in +order to explain the passionate and blind resistance of the whites of +the South and their hatred of everything that bore the name or earmarks +of Republicanism. Shady Dale, in common with other communities, had +witnessed the assembling of a convention to frame a new constitution for +the State. This body was well named the mongrel convention. It was made +up of political adventurers from Maine, Vermont, and other Northern +States, and boasted of a majority composed of ignorant negroes and +criminals. One of the most prominent members had served a term in a +Northern penitentiary. The real leaders, the men in whose wisdom and +conservatism the whites had confidence, were disqualified from holding +office by the terms of the reconstruction acts, and the convention +emphasised and adopted the policy of the radical leaders in +Washington—a policy that was deliberately conceived for the purpose of +placing the governments of the Southern States in the hands of ignorant +negroes controlled by men who had no interest whatever in the welfare of +the people.</p> + +<p>But this was not all, nor half. When the military commandant who had +charge of affairs in Georgia, found that the State government +established under the terms of Mr. Lincoln's plan of reconstruction, had +no idea of paying the expenses of the mongrel convention out of the +State's funds, he issued an order removing the Governor and Treasurer, +and "detailed for duty as Governor of Georgia," one of the members of +his staff.</p> + +<p>The mongrel convention, which would have been run out of any Northern +State in twenty-four hours, had provided for an election to be held in +April, 1868, for the ratification or rejection of the new constitution +that had been framed, and for the election of Governor and members of +the General Assembly. Beginning on the 20th, the election was to +continue for three days, a provision that was intended to enable the +negroes to vote at as many precincts as they could conveniently reach in +eighty-three hours. No safeguard whatever was thrown around the +ballot-box, and it was the remembrance of this initial and overwhelming +combination of fraud and corruption that induced the whites, at a later +day, to stuff the ballot-boxes and suppress the votes of the ignorant.</p> + +<p>These things, with the hundreds of irritating incidents and episodes +belonging to the unprecedented conditions, gradually worked up the +feelings of the whites to a very high pitch of exasperation. The worst +fears of the most timid bade fair to be realised, for the negroes, +certain of their political supremacy, sure of the sympathy and support +of Congress and the War Department, and filled with the conceit produced +by the flattery and cajolery of the carpet-bag sycophants, were +beginning to assume an attitude which would have been threatening and +offensive if their skins had been white as snow.</p> + +<p>Gabriel was now old enough to appreciate the situation as it existed, +though he never could bring himself to believe that there were elements +of danger in it. He knew the negroes too well; he was too familiar with +their habits of thought, and with their various methods of accomplishing +a desired end. But he was familiar with the apprehensions of the +community, and made no effort to put forward his own views, except in +occasional conversations with Meriwether Clopton. After a time, however, +it became clear, even to Gabriel, that something must be done to +convince the misguided negroes that the whites were not asleep.</p> + +<p>He conformed himself to all the new conditions with the ready +versatility of youth. He studied hard both night and day, but he spent +the greater part of his time in the open air. It was perhaps fortunate +for him at this time that there was a lack of formality in his methods +of acquiring knowledge. He had no tutor, but his line of study was +mapped out for him by Meriwether Clopton, who was astonished at the +growing appetite of the lad for knowledge—an appetite that seemed to be +insatiable.</p> + +<p>What he most desired to know, however, he made no inquiries about. He +ached, as Mrs. Absalom would have said, to know why he had suddenly come +to be afraid of Nan Dorrington. He had been somewhat shy of her before, +but now, in these latter days, he was absolutely afraid of her. He liked +her as well as ever, but somehow he became panic-stricken whenever he +found himself in her company, which was not often.</p> + +<p>It was impossible that his desire to avoid her should fail to be +observed by Nan, and she found a reason for it in the belief that +Gabriel had discovered in some way that she was in the closet with Tasma +Tid the night the Union League had been organised. Nan would never have +known what a crime—this was the name she gave the escapade—what a +crime she had committed but for the shock it gave her step-mother. This +lady had been trained and educated in a convent, where every rule of +propriety was emphasised and magnified, and most rigidly insisted upon.</p> + +<p>One day, when Nan was returning home from the village, she saw Gabriel +coming directly toward her. She studied the ground at her feet for a +considerable distance, and when she looked up again Gabriel was gone; he +had disappeared. This episode, insignificant though it was, was the +cause of considerable worry to Nan. She gave Mrs. Dorrington the +particulars, and then asked her what it all meant.</p> + +<p>"Why should it mean anything?" that lady asked with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it must mean something, Johnny. Gabriel has avoided me before, +and I have avoided him, but we have each had some sort of an excuse for +it. But this time it is too plain."</p> + +<p>"What silly children!" exclaimed Mrs. Dorrington, with her cute French +accent.</p> + +<p>Nan went to a window and looked out, drumming on a pane. Outside +everything seemed to be in disorder. The flowers were weeds, and the +trees were not beautiful any more. Even the few birds in sight were all +dressed in drab. What a small thing can change the world for us!</p> + +<p>"I know why he hid himself," Nan declared from the window. "He has found +out that I was in the closet with Tasma Tid." How sad it was to be +compelled to realise the awful responsibilities that rest as a burden +upon Girls who are Grown!</p> + +<p>"Well, you were there," replied Mrs. Dorrington, "and since that is so, +why not make a joke of it? Gabriel has no squeamishness about such +things."</p> + +<p>"Then why should he act as he does?" Nan was about to break down.</p> + +<p>"Well, he has his own reasons, perhaps, but they are not what you think. +Oh, far from it. Gabriel knows as well as I do that it would be +impossible for you to do anything <i>very</i> wrong."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it isn't impossible," Nan insisted. "I feel wicked, and I know +I am wicked. If Gabriel Tolliver ever dares to find out that I was in +that closet, I'll tell him what I think of him, and then I'll—" Her +threat was never completed. Mrs. Dorrington rose from her chair just in +time to place her hand over Nan's mouth.</p> + +<p>"If you were to tell Gabriel what you really think of him," said the +lady, "he would have great astonishment."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he wouldn't, Johnny. You don't know how conceited Gabriel is. +I'm just ready to hate him."</p> + +<p>"Well, it may be good for your health to dislike him a little +occasionally," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Now, what <i>do</i> you mean by that, Johnny?" cried Nan. But the only +reply she received was an eloquent shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>Gabriel was as much mystified by his own dread of meeting Nan, as he was +by her coolness toward him. He could not recall any incident which she +had resented; but still she was angry with him. Well, if it was so, so +be it; and though he thought it was cruel in his old comrade to harbour +hard thoughts against him, he never sought for an explanation. He had +his own world to fall back upon—a world of books, the woods and the +fields. And he was far from unhappiness; for no human being who loves +Nature well enough to understand and interpret its meaning and its +myriad messages to his own satisfaction, can be unhappy for any length +of time. Whatever his losses or his disappointments, he can make them +all good by going into the woods and fields and taking Nature, the great +comforter, by the hand.</p> + +<p>So Gabriel confined his communications for the most part to his old and +ever-faithful friends, the woods and the velvety Bermuda fields. He +walked about among these old friends with a lively sense of their +vitality and their fruitfulness. He was certain that the fields knew him +as well as he knew them—and as for the trees, he had a feeling that +they knew his name as well as he knew theirs. He was so familiar with +some of them, and they with him, that the katydids in the branches +continued their cries even while he was leaning against the trunks of +the friends of his childhood: whereas, if a stranger or an alien to the +woods had so much as laid the tip of his little finger on the rugged +bark of one of them, a shuddering signal would have been sent aloft, and +the cries would have ceased instantly.</p> + +<p>Gabriel's grandmother went to bed early and rose early—a habit that +belongs to old age. But it was only after the darkness and silence of +night had descended upon the world that all of Gabriel's faculties were +alert. It was his favourite time for studying and reading, and for +walking about in the woods and fields, especially when the weather was +too warm for study. Every Sunday night found him in the Bermuda fields, +long since deserted by Nan and Tasma Tid. To think of the old days +sometimes brought a lump in his throat; but the skies, and the +constellations (in their season) remained, and were as fresh and as +beautiful as when they looked down in pity on the sufferings of Job.</p> + +<p>Gabriel's favourite Bermuda field was crowned by a hill, which, +gradually sloping upward, commanded a fine view of the surrounding +country; and though it was close to Shady Dale, it was a lonely place. +Here the killdees ran, and bobbed their heads, and uttered their +plaintive cries unmolested; here the partridge could raise her brood in +peace; and here the whippoorwill was free to play upon his flute.</p> + +<p>Many and many a time, while sitting on this hill, Gabriel had watched +the village-lights go out one by one till all was dark; and the silence +seemed to float heaven-ward, and fall again, and shift and move in vast +undulations, keeping time to a grand melody which the soul could feel +and respond to, but which the ear could not hear. And at such time, +Gabriel believed that in the slow-moving constellations, with their +glittering trains, could be read the great secrets that philosophers and +scientists are searching for.</p> + +<p>Beyond the valley, still farther away from the town, was the negro +church, of which the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin was the admired pastor. +Ordinarily, there were services in this church three times a week, +unless one of the constantly recurring revivals was in progress, and +then there were services every night in the week, and sometimes all +night long. The Rev. Jeremiah was a preacher who had lung-power to +spare, and his voice was well calculated to shatter our old friend the +welkin, so dear to poets and romancers. But if there was no revival in +progress, the nights devoted to prayer-meetings were mainly musical, and +the songs, subdued by the distance, floated across the valley to Gabriel +with entrancing sweetness.</p> + +<p>One Wednesday night, when the political conditions were at their worst, +Gabriel observed that while the lights were lit in the church, there was +less singing than usual. This attracted his attention and then excited +his curiosity. Listening more intently, he failed to hear the sound of a +single voice lifted in prayer, in song or in preaching. The time was +after nine o'clock, and this silence was so unusual that Gabriel +concluded to investigate.</p> + +<p>He made his way across the valley, and was soon within ear-shot of the +church. The pulpit was unoccupied, but Gabriel could see that a white +man was standing in front of it. The inference to be drawn from his +movements and gestures was that he was delivering an address to the +negroes. Hotchkiss was standing near the speaker, leaning in a familiar +way on one of the side projections of the pulpit. Gabriel knew +Hotchkiss, but the man who was speaking was a stranger. He was flushed +as with wine, and appeared to have no control of his hands, for he flung +them about wildly.</p> + +<p>Gabriel crept closer, and climbed a small tree, in the hope that he +might hear what the stranger was saying, but listen as he might, no +sound of the stranger's voice came to Gabriel. The church was full of +negroes, and a strange silence had fallen on them. He marvelled somewhat +at this, for the night was pleasant, and every window was open. The +impression made upon the young fellow was very peculiar. Here was a man +flinging his arms about in the heat and ardour of argument or +exhortation, and yet not a sound came through the windows.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, while Gabriel was leaning forward trying in vain to hear the +words of the speaker, a tall, white figure, mounted on a tall white +horse, emerged from the copse at the rear of the church. At the first +glance, Gabriel found it difficult to discover what the figures were, +but as horse and rider swerved in the direction of the church, he saw +that both were clad in white and flowing raiment. While he was gazing +with all his eyes, another figure emerged from the copse, then another, +and another, until thirteen white riders, including the leader, had come +into view. Following one another at intervals, they marched around the +church, observing the most profound silence. The hoofs of their horses +made no sound. Three times this ghostly procession marched around the +church. Finally they paused, each horseman at a window, save the leader, +who, being taller than the rest, had stationed himself at the door.</p> + +<p>He was the first to break the silence. "Brothers, is all well with you?" +his voice was strong and sonorous.</p> + +<p>"All is not well," replied twelve voices in chorus.</p> + +<p>"What do you see?" the impressive voice of the leader asked.</p> + +<p>"Trouble, misery, blood!" came the answering chorus.</p> + +<p>"Blood?" cried the leader.</p> + +<p>"Yes, blood!" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Then all is well!"</p> + +<p>"So mote it be! All is well!" answered twelve voices in chorus.</p> + +<p>Once more the ghostly procession rode round and round the church, and +then suddenly disappeared in the darkness. Gabriel rubbed his eyes. For +an instant he believed that he had been dreaming. If ever there were +goblins, these were they. The figures on horseback were so closely +draped in white that they had no shape but height, and their heads and +hands were not in view.</p> + +<p>It may well be believed that the sudden appearance and disappearance of +these apparitions produced consternation in the Rev. Jeremiah's +congregation. The stranger who had been addressing them was left in a +state of collapse. The only person in the building who appeared to be +cool and sane was the man Hotchkiss. The negroes sat paralysed for an +instant after the white riders had disappeared—but only for an instant, +for, before you could breathe twice, those in the rear seats made a +rush for the door. This movement precipitated a panic, and the entire +congregation joined in a mad effort to escape from the building. The +Rev. Jeremiah forgot the dignity of his position, and, umbrella in hand, +emerged from a window, bringing the upper sash with him. Benches were +overturned, and wild shrieks came from the women. The climax came when +five pistol-shots rang out on the air.</p> + +<p>Gabriel, in his tree, could hear the negroes running, their feet +sounding on the hard clay like the furious scamper of a drove of wild +horses. Years afterward, he could afford to laugh at the events of that +night, but, at the moment, the terror of the negroes was contagious, and +he had a mild attack of it.</p> + +<p>The pistol-shots occurred as the Rev. Jeremiah emerged from the window, +and were evidently in the nature of a signal, for before the echoes of +the reports had died away, the white horsemen came into view again, and +rode after the fleeing negroes. Gabriel did not witness the effect of +this movement, but it came near driving the fleeing negroes into a +frenzy. The white riders paid little attention to the mob itself, but +selected the Rev. Jeremiah as the object of their solicitude.</p> + +<p>He had bethought him of his dignity when he had gone a few hundred +steps, and found he was not pursued, and, instead of taking to the +woods, as most of his congregation did, he kept to the public road. +Before he knew it, or at least before he could leave the road, he found +himself escorted by the entire band. Six rode on each side, and the +leader rode behind him. Once he started to run, but the white riders +easily kept pace with him, their horses going in a comfortable canter. +When he found that escape was impossible, he ceased to run. He would +have stopped, but when he tried to do so he felt the hot breath of the +leader's horse on the back of his neck, and the sensation was so +unexpected and so peculiar, that the frightened negro actually thought +that a chunk of fire, as he described it afterward, had been applied to +his head. So vivid was the impression made on his mind that he declared +that he had actually seen the flame, as it circled around his head; and +he maintained that the back of his head would have been burned off if +"de fier had been our kind er fier."</p> + +<p>Finding that he could not escape by running, he began to walk, and as he +was a man of great fluency of speech, he made an effort to open a +conversation with his ghostly escort. He was perspiring at every pore, +and this fact called for a frequent use of his red pocket-handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Blood!" cried the leader, and twelve voices repeated the word.</p> + +<p>"Bosses—Marsters! What is I ever done to you?" To this there was no +reply. "I ain't never hurted none er you-all; I ain't never had de idee +er harmin' you. All I been doin' for dis long time, is ter try ter fetch +sinners ter de mercy-seat. Dat's all I been doin', an' dat's all I +wanter do—I tell you dat right now." Still there was no response, and +the Rev. Jeremiah made bold to take a closer look at the riders who were +within range of his vision. He nearly sunk in his tracks when he saw +that each one appeared to be carrying his head under his arm. "Name er +de Lord!" he cried; "who is you-all anyhow? an' what you gwineter do wid +me?"</p> + +<p>Silence was the only answer he received, and the silence of the riders +was more terrifying than their talk would have been. "Ef you wanter know +who been tryin' fer ter 'casion trouble, I kin tell you, an' dat mighty +quick." But apparently the white riders were not seeking for +information. They asked no questions, and the perspiration flowed more +freely than ever from the Rev. Jeremiah's pores. Again his red +handkerchief came out of his pocket, and again the rider behind him +cried out "Blood!" and the others repeated the word.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Jeremiah, in despair, caught at what he thought was the last +straw. "Ef you-all think dey's blood on dat hankcher, you mighty much +mistooken. 'Twuz red in de sto', long 'fo' I bought it, an' ef dey's any +blood on it, I ain't put it dar—I'll tell you dat right now."</p> + +<p>But there was no answer to his protest, and the ghostly cortčge +continued to escort him along the road. The white riders went with him +through town and to the Tomlin Place. Once there, each one filed between +him and the gate he was about to enter, and the last word of each was +"Beware!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEEN" id="CHAPTER_NINETEEN"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives</i></h3> + + +<p>Gabriel was struck by the fact that Hotchkiss seemed to be undisturbed +by the events that had startled and stampeded the negroes and the white +stranger. He remained in the church for some time after the others were +gone, and he showed no uneasiness whatever. He had seated himself on one +of the deacons' chairs near the pulpit, and, with his head leaning on +his hand, appeared to be lost in thought. After awhile—it seemed to be +a very long time to Gabriel—he rose, put on his hat, blew out one by +one the lamps that rested in sconces along the wall, and went out into +the darkness.</p> + +<p>Gabriel had remained in the tree, and with good reason. He knew that +whoever fired the pistol, the reports of which added so largely to the +panic among the negroes, was very close to the tree where he had hid +himself, and so he waited, not patiently, perhaps, but with a very good +grace. When Hotchkiss was out of sight, and presumably out of hearing, +Gabriel heard some one calling his name. He made no answer at first, but +the call was repeated in a tone sufficiently loud to leave no room for +mistake.</p> + +<p>"Tolliver, where are you? If you're asleep, wake up and show me a +near-cut to town."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" Gabriel asked.</p> + +<p>"One," replied the other.</p> + +<p>"I don't know your voice," said Gabriel; "how did you know me?"</p> + +<p>"That is a secret that belongs to the Knights of the White Camellia," +answered the unknown. "If you don't come down, I'm afraid I'll have to +shake you out of that tree. Can't you slide down without hurting your +feelings?"</p> + +<p>Gabriel slid down the trunk of the small tree as quickly as he could, +and found that the owner of the voice was no other than Major Tomlin +Perdue, of Halcyondale.</p> + +<p>"You didn't expect to find me roosting around out here, did you?" the +irrepressible Major asked, as he shook Gabriel warmly by the hand. +"Well, I fully expected to find you. Your grandmother told me an hour +ago that I'd find you mooning about on the hills back there. I didn't +find you because I didn't care to go about bawling your name; so I came +around by the road. I was loafing around here when you came up, and I +knew it was you, as soon as I heard you slipping up that tree. But that +hill business, and the mooning—how about them? You're in love, I +reckon. Well, I don't blame you. She's a fine gal, ain't she?"</p> + +<p>"Who?" inquired Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Who!" cried Major Perdue, mockingly. "Why, there's but one gal in the +Dale. You know that as well as I do. She never has had her match, and +she'll never have one. And it's funny, too; no matter which way you +spell her first name, backwards or forwards, it spells the same. Did you +ever think of that, Tolliver? But for Vallic—you know my daughter, +don't you?—I never would have found it out in the world."</p> + +<p>Gabriel laughed somewhat sheepishly, wondering all the time how Major +Perdue could think and talk of such trivial matters, in the face of the +spectacle they had just witnessed.</p> + +<p>"Well, you deserve good luck, my boy," the Major went on. "Everybody +that knows you is singing your praises—some for your book-learning, +some for your modesty, and some for the way you ferreted out the designs +of that fellow who was last to leave the church."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't deserve any praise," protested Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Continue to feel that way, and you'll get all the more," observed the +Major, sententiously. "But for you these dirty thieves might have got +the best of us. Why, we didn't know, even at Halcyondale, what was up +till we got word of your discovery. Well, sir, as soon as we found out +what was going on, we got together, and wiped 'em up. Why, you've got +the pokiest crowd over here I ever heard of. They just sit and sun +themselves, and let these white devils do as they please. When they do +wake up, the white rascals will be gone, and then they'll take their +spite out of the niggers—and the niggers ain't no more to blame for all +this trouble than a parcel of two-year-old children. You mark my words: +the niggers will suffer, and these white rascals will go scot-free. Why +don't the folks here wake up? They can't be afraid of the Yankee +soldiers, can they? Why the Captain here is a rank Democrat in politics, +and a right down clever fellow."</p> + +<p>"He is a clever gentleman," Gabriel assented. "I have met him walking +about in the woods, and I like him very much. He is a Kentuckian, and +he's not fond of these carpet-baggers and scalawags at all. But I never +told anybody before that he is a good friend of mine. You know how they +are, especially the women—they hate everything that's clothed in blue."</p> + +<p>"Well, by George! you are the only person in the place that keeps his +eyes open, and finds out things. You saw that rascal talking to the +niggers awhile ago, didn't you? Well, he's the worst of the lot. He has +been preaching his social equality doctrine over in our town, but I +happened to run across him t'other day, and I laid the law down to him. +I told him I'd give him twenty-four hours to get out of town. He stayed +the limit; but when he saw me walk downtown with my shot-gun, he took a +notion that I really meant business, and he lit out. Minervy Ann found +out where he was headed for, and I've followed him over here. He's the +worst of the lot, and they're all rank poison."</p> + +<p>Major Perdue paused a moment in his talk, as if reflecting. "Can you +keep a secret, Tolliver?" he asked after awhile.</p> + +<p>"Well, I haven't had much practice, Major, but if it is important, I'll +do my best to keep it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is not so important. That fellow you saw talking to the negroes +awhile ago is named Bridalbin."</p> + +<p>"Bridalbin!" exclaimed Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he goes by some other name, I've forgotten what. He used to hang +around Malvern some years before the war, and a friend of mine who lived +there knew him the minute he saw him. He's the fellow that married +Margaret Gaither; you remember her; she came home to die not so very +long ago. Pulaski Tomlin adopted her daughter, or became the girl's +guardian. Now, Tolliver, whatever you do, don't breathe a word about +this Bridalbin—don't mention his name to a soul, not even to your +grandmother. There's no need of worrying that poor girl; she has already +had trouble enough in this world. I'm telling you about him because I +want you to keep your eye on him. He's up to some kind of devilment +besides exciting the niggers."</p> + +<p>Gabriel promptly gave his word that he would never mention anything +about Bridalbin's name, and then he said—"But this parade—what does it +mean?"</p> + +<p>The Major laughed. "Oh, that was just some of the boys from our +settlement. They are simply out for practice. They want to get their +hands in, as the saying is. They heard I was coming over, and so they +followed along. They don't belong to the Kuklux that you've read so much +about. A chap from North Carolina came along t'other day, and told about +the Knights of the White Camellia, and the boys thought it would be a +good idea to have a bouquet of their own. They have no signs or +passwords, but simply a general agreement. You'll have to organise +something of that kind here, Tolliver. Oh, you-all are so infernally +slow out here in the country! Why, even in Atlanta, they have a Young +Men's Democratic Club. You've got to get a move on you. There's no way +out of it. The only way to fight the devil is to use his own weapons. +The trouble is that some of the hot-headed youngsters want to hold the +poor niggers responsible, as I said just now, and the niggers are no +more to blame than the chicken in a new-laid egg. Don't forget that, +Tolliver. I wouldn't give my old Minervy Ann for a hundred and +seventy-five thousand of these white thieves and rascals; and Jerry +Tomlin, fool as he is, is more of a gentleman than any of the men who +have misled him."</p> + +<p>They walked back to the village the way Gabriel had come. On top of the +Bermuda hill, Major Perdue paused and looked toward Shady Dale. Lights +were still twinkling in some of the houses, but for the most part the +town was in darkness.</p> + +<p>The Major waved his hand in that direction, remarking, "That's what +makes the situation so dangerous, Tolliver—the women and the children. +Here, and in hundreds of communities, and in the country places all +about, the women and children are in bed asleep, or they are laughing +and talking, with only dim ideas of what is going on. It looks to me, my +son, as if we were between the devil and the deep blue sea. I, for one, +don't believe that there's any danger of a nigger-rising. But look at +the other side. I may be wrong; I may be a crazy old fool too fond of +the niggers to believe they're really mean at heart. Suppose that such +men as this—ah, now I remember!—this Boring—that is what Bridalbin +calls himself now—suppose that such men as he were to succeed in what +they are trying to do? I don't believe they will, even if we took no +steps to prevent it; but then there's the possibility—and we can't +afford to take any chances."</p> + +<p>Gabriel agreed with all this very heartily. He was glad to feel that his +own views were also those of this keen, practical, hard-headed man of +the world.</p> + +<p>"But men of my sort will be misjudged, Tolliver," pursued the Major; +"violent men will get in the saddle, and outrages will be committed, and +injustice will be done. Public opinion to the north of us will say that +the old fire-eaters, who won't permit even a respectable white man to +insult them with impunity—the old slave-drivers—are trying to destroy +the coloured race. But you will live, my son, to see some of these same +radicals admit that all the injustice and all the wrong is due to the +radical policy."</p> + +<p>This prophecy came true. Time has abundantly vindicated the Major and +those who acted with him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," Major Perdue went on musingly, "injustice will be done. The +fact is, it has already begun in some quarters. Be switched if it +doesn't look like you can't do right without doing wrong somewhere on +the road."</p> + +<p>Gabriel turned this paradox over in his mind, as they walked along; but +it was not until he was a man grown that it straightened itself out in +his mind something after this fashion: When a wrong is done the +innocent suffer along with the guilty; and the innocent also suffer in +its undoing.</p> + +<p>Shady Dale woke up the next morning to find the walls and the fences in +all public places plastered with placards, or handbills, printed in red +ink. The most prominent feature of the typography, however, was not its +colour, but the image of a grinning skull and cross-bones. The handbill +was in the nature of a proclamation. It was dated "Den No. Ten, Second +Moon. Year 21,000 of the Dynasty." It read as follows:</p> + +<p>"To all Lovers of Peace and Good Order—Greeting: Whereas, it has come +to the knowledge of the Grand Cyclops that evil-minded white men, and +deluded freedmen, are engaged in stirring up strife; and whereas it is +known that corruption is conspiring with ignorance—</p> + +<p>"Therefore, this is to warn all and singular the persons who have made +or are now making incendiary propositions and threats, and all who are +banded together in secret political associations to forthwith cease +their activity. And let this warning be regarded as an order, the +violation of which will be followed by vengeance swift and sure. The +White Riders are abroad.</p> + +<p>"Thrice endorsed by the Venerable, the Grand Cyclops, in behalf of the +all-powerful Klan. (. (. (. K. K. K. .) .) .)"</p> + +<p>Now, if this document had been in writing, it might have passed for a +joke, but it was printed, and this fact, together with its grave and +formal style, gave it the dignity and importance of a genuine +proclamation from a real but an unseen and unknown authority. It had +the advantage of mystery, and there are few minds on which the +mysterious fails to have a real influence. In addition to this, the +spectacular performance at the Rev. Jeremiah's church the night before +gave substance to the proclamation. That event was well calculated to +awe the superstitious and frighten the timid.</p> + +<p>The White Riders had disappeared as mysteriously as they came. Only one +person was known to have seen them after they had left the church—it +was several days before the Rev. Jeremiah could be induced to relate his +experience—and that person was Mr. Sanders. What he claimed to have +witnessed was even more alarming than the brief episode that occurred at +the Rev. Jeremiah's church. Mr. Sanders was called on to repeat the +story many times during the next few weeks, but it was observed by a few +of the more thoughtful that he described what he had seen with greater +freedom and vividness when there was a negro within hearing. His +narrative was something like this:</p> + +<p>"Gus Tidwell sent arter me to go look at his sick hoss, an' I went an' +doctored him the best I know'd how, an' then started home ag'in. I had +but one thought on my mind; Gus had offered to pay me for my trouble +sech as it was, an' I was tryin' for to figger out in my mind what in +the name of goodness had come over Gus. I come mighty nigh whirlin' +roun' in my tracks, an' walkin' all the way back jest to see ef he +didn't need a little physic. He was cold sober at the time, an' all of a +sudden, when he seed that I had fetched his hoss through a mighty bad +case of the mollygrubs, he says to me, 'Mr. Sanders,' says he, 'you've +saved me a mighty fine hoss, an' I want to pay you for it. You've had +mighty hard work; what is it all wuth?' 'Gus,' says I, 'jest gi' me a +drink of cold water for to keep me from faintin', an' we'll say no more +about it.'</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't turn back, though I was much of a mind to. I mosied +along wondering what had come over Gus. I had got as fur on my way home +as the big 'simmon tree—you-all know whar that is—when all of a +sudden, I felt the wind a-risin'. It puffed in my face, an' felt warm, +sorter like when the wind blows down the chimbley in the winter time. +Then I heard a purrin' sound, an' I looked up, an' right at me was a +gang of white hosses an' riders. They was right on me before I seed 'em, +an' I couldn't 'a' got out'n the'r way ef I'd 'a' had the wings of a +hummin'-bird. So I jest ketched my breath, an' bowed my head, an' tried +to say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep.' I couldn't think of the rest, an' +it wouldn't 'a' done no good nohow. I cast my eye aroun', findin' that I +wasn't trompled, an' the whole caboodle was gone. I didn't feel nothin' +but the wind they raised, as they went over me an' up into the elements. +Did you ever pass along by a pastur' at night, an' hear a cow fetch a +long sigh? Well, that's jest the kind of fuss they made as they passed +out'n sight."</p> + +<p>This story made a striking climax to the performances that the negroes +themselves had witnessed, and for a time they were subdued in their +demeanour. They even betrayed a tendency to renew their old familiar +relations with the whites. The situation was not without its pathetic +side, and if Mr. Sanders professed to find it simply humourous, it was +only because of the effort which men make—an effort that is only too +successful—to hide the tenderer side of their natures. But the episode +of the White Riders soon became a piece of history; the alarm that it +had engendered grew cold; and Hotchkiss, aided by Bridalbin, who called +himself Boring, soon had the breach between the two races wider than +ever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2> + +<h3><i>Gabriel at the Big Poplar</i></h3> + + +<p>Late one afternoon, at a date when the tension between the two races was +at its worst, Gabriel chanced to be sitting under the great poplar which +was for years, and no doubt is yet, one of the natural curiosities of +Shady Dale, on account of its size and height. He had been reading, but +the light had grown dim as the sun dipped behind the hills, and he now +sat with his eyes closed. His seat at the foot of the tree was not far +from the public highway, though that fact did not add to its attractions +from Gabriel's point of view. He preferred the seat for sentimental +reasons. He had played there when a little lad, and likewise Nan had +played there; and they had both played there together. The old poplar +was hollow, and on one side the bark and a part of the trunk had +sloughed away. Here Gabriel and Nan had played housekeeping, many and +many a day before the girl had grown tired of her dolls. The hollow +formed a comfortable playhouse, and the youngsters, in addition to +housekeeping, had enjoyed little make-believe parties and picnics there.</p> + +<p>As Gabriel sat leaning against the old poplar, his back to the road and +his eyes closed, he heard the sound of men's voices. The conversation +was evidently between country folk who had been spending a part of the +day in town. Turning his head, Gabriel saw that there were three +persons, one riding and two walking. Directly opposite the tree where +Gabriel sat, they met an acquaintance who was apparently making a +belated visit to town.</p> + +<p>"Hello, boys!" said the belated one by way of salutation. "I 'low'd I'd +find you in town, an' have company on my way home."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Sam?" asked one of the others. "This ain't no time +of day to be gwine away from home."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm jest obliged to git some ammunition," replied Sam. "I've been +off to mill mighty nigh all day, an' this evenin', about four o'clock, +whilst my wife was out in the yard, a big buck nigger stopped at the +gate, an' looked at her. She took no notice of him one way or another, +an' presently, he ups an' says, 'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a feller +howdy?'"</p> + +<p>"<i>He did?</i>" cried the others. Gabriel could hear their gasps of +astonishment and indignation from where he sat.</p> + +<p>"He said them very words," replied Sam; "'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a +feller howdy?'"</p> + +<p>"Did you leave anybody at home?" inquired one of the others.</p> + +<p>"You bet your sweet life!" replied Sam in the slang of the day. "Johnny +Bivins is there, an' he ain't no slouch, Johnny ain't. I says to Molly, +says I, 'Johnny will camp here till I can run to town, an' git me some +powder an' buckshot.'"</p> + +<p>"We have some," one of the others suggested.</p> + +<p>"Better let 'im go on an' git it," said another; "we can't have too much +in our neck of the woods when things look like they do now. We'll wait +for you, Sam, if you'll hurry up."</p> + +<p>"Good as wheat!" responded Sam, who went rapidly toward town.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, boys, we didn't make up our minds about this business +a single minute too soon," remarked one of the three who were waiting +for the return of their neighbour. "Somethin's got to be done, an' the +sooner it's done, the sooner it'll be over with."</p> + +<p>"You're talkin' now with both hands and tongue!" declared one of the +others, in a tone of admiration.</p> + +<p>"You'll see," remarked the one who had proposed to wait, "that Sam is +jest as ripe as we are. We know what we know, an' Sam knows what he +knows. I don't know as I blame the niggers much. Look at it from their +side of the fence. They see these d—d white hellians goin' roun', +snortin' an' preachin' ag'in the whites, an' they see us settin' down, +hands folded and eyes shet, and they jest natchally think we're whipped +and cowed. Can you blame 'em? I hate 'em all right enough, but I don't +blame 'em."</p> + +<p>Gabriel knew that the man who was speaking was George Rivers, a small +farmer living a short distance in the country. His companions were Tom +Alford and Britt Hanson, and the man who had gone to town for the +ammunition was Sam Hathaway.</p> + +<p>"Are you right certain an' shore that this man Hotchkiss is stayin' wi' +Mahlon Butts?" George Rivers inquired.</p> + +<p>"He lopes out from there every mornin'," replied Tom Alford.</p> + +<p>"Mahlon allers was the biggest skunk in the woods," remarked Hanson. +"He's runnin' for ordinary. I happened to hear him talkin' to a lot of +niggers t'other day, and I went up and cussed him out. I wanted the +niggers to see how chicken-hearted he is. Well, sirs, he never turned a +feather. I never seed a more lamblike man in my life. I started to spit +in his face, and then I happened to think about his wife. Yes, sirs, it +seemed to me for about the space of a second or two that I was lookin' +right spang in Becky's big eyes, an' I couldn't 'a' said a word or done +a thing to save my life. I jest whirled in my tracks and went on about +my business. You-all know Becky Butts—well, there's a woman that comes +mighty nigh bein' a saint. Why she married sech a rapscallion as Mahlon, +I'll never tell you, an' I don't believe she knows herself. But she's +all that's saved Mahlon."</p> + +<p>"That's the Lord's truth," responded Tom Alford.</p> + +<p>"Why, when he first j'ined the stinkin' radicals," continued Britt +Hanson, "a passel of the boys, me among 'em, laid off to pay him a party +call, an' string him up. Well, the very day we'd fixed on, here comes +Becky over to my house; an' she fetched the baby, too. I knowed, time I +laid eyes on her, that she had done got wind of what we was up to. Says +she to me, 'Britt, I hear it whispered around that you are fixin' up to +do me next to the worst harm a man can do to a woman.' 'Why, Becky,' +says I, 'I wouldn't harm you for the world, and I wouldn't let anybody +else do it.' 'Oh, yes, you would, Britt,' says she. She laughed as she +said it, but when I looked in her big eyes, I could see trouble and pain +in 'em. I says to her, says I, 'What put that idee in your head, Becky?' +And says she, 'No matter how it got there, Britt, so long as it's there. +You're fixin' up to hurt me an' my baby.'</p> + +<p>"Well, sirs, you can see where she had me. I says, says I, 'Becky, +what's to hender you from takin' supper here to-night?' This kinder took +her by surprise. She says, 'I'd like it the best in the world, Britt; +but don't you think I'd better be at home—to-night?' 'No,' says I, 'a +passel of the boys'll be here d'reckly after supper, and I reckon maybe +they'd like to see you. You know yourself that they're all mighty fond +of you, Becky,' says I. She sorter studied awhile, an' then she says, +'I'll tell you what I'll do, Britt—I'll come over after supper an' set +awhile.' 'You ain't afeard to come?' says I. 'No, Britt,' says she; 'I +ain't afeard of nothin' in this world except my friends.' She was +laughin', but they ain't much diff'ence betwixt that kind of laughin' +an' cryin'.</p> + +<p>"About that time, mother come in. Says she, 'An' be shore an' fetch the +baby, Becky.' The minnit mother said that, I know'd that she was the one +that told Becky what we had laid off to do. You-all know what happened +after that."</p> + +<p>"We do that away," said George Rivers. "When I walked in on you, and +seen Becky an' the baby, I know'd purty well that the jig was up, but I +thought I'd set it out and see what'd happen."</p> + +<p>"I never seen a baby do like that'n done that night," remarked Tom +Alford. "It laughed an' it crowed, an' helt out its han's to go to ever' +blessed feller in the crowd; an' Becky looked like she was the happiest +creetur in the world. I was the fust feller to cave, an' I didn't feel a +bit sheepish about it, neither. I rose, I did, an' says, 'Well, boys, +it's about my bedtime, an' I reckon I'll toddle along,' an' so I handed +the baby to the next feller, an' mosied off home."</p> + +<p>"You did," said Britt Hanson, "an' by the time the boys got through +passin' the baby to the next feller, there wan't any feller left but me. +An' then the funniest thing happened that you ever seed. You know how +Becky was gwine on, laughin' an' talkin'. Well, the last man hadn't +hardly shet the door behind him, when Becky flopped down and put her +head in mother's lap, and cried like a baby. I'm mighty glad I ain't +married," Britt Hanson went on. "There ain't a man in the world that +knows a woman's mind. Why, Becky was runnin' on and laughin' jest like a +gal at picnic up to the minnit the last man slammed the door, and then, +down she went and began to boohoo. Now, what do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"I know one thing," remarked George Rivers—"the meaner a man is, the +quicker he gits the pick of the flock. The biggest fool in the world +allers gits the best or the purtiest gal."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause, as if the men were listening. "Well," said Tom +Alford, after awhile, "we ain't after the gals now. That Hotchkiss +feller goes out to Mahlon's by fust one road and then the other. You +know where Ike Varner lives; well, Ike's wife is a mighty good-lookin' +yaller gal, an' when Hotchkiss knows that Ike ain't at home, he goes by +that road. I got all that from a nigger that works for me. If Ike ain't +at home, he goes in for a drink of water, an' then he tells the yaller +gal how to convert Ike into bein' a radical—Ike, you know, don't flock +with that crowd. That's what the gal tells my nigger. Well, I put a flea +in Ike's ear t'other day, an' night before last, Ike comes to me to +borry my pistol. You know that short, single-barrel shebang? Well, I +loant it to him on the express understandin' that he wasn't to shoot any +spring doves nor wild pea-fowls."</p> + +<p>The men laughed, and then sat or stood silent, each occupied with his +own reflections, until Sam Hathaway returned. Whereupon, they moved on, +one of them singing, in a surprisingly sweet tenor, the ballad of "Nelly +Gray."</p> + +<p>It was now dark, and ordinarily, Gabriel would have gone to supper. But, +instead of doing that, he went on toward town, and met Hotchkiss and +Boring on the outskirts. They were engaged in a close discussion when +Gabriel met them. It would have been a great deal better for him and his +friends if he had passed on without a word; but Gabriel was Gabriel, and +he was compelled to act according to Gabriel's nature. So, without +hesitation, he walked up to the two men.</p> + +<p>"Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone.</p> + +<p>"Are you going out to Butts's to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause—"a +very queer question. What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Tolliver—Gabriel Tolliver."</p> + +<p>"Gabriel Tolliver—h'm—yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous +of knowing whether I go to Butts's to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Honestly," replied Gabriel, a little nettled at the man's airs, "I +don't want to know at all. I simply wanted to advise you not to go there +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you wanted to <i>advise</i> me not to go. Now, then, let's go a little +further into the matter. <i>Why</i> do you want to advise me?" Hotchkiss was +a man who was not only ripe for a discussion at all times, and upon any +subject, but made it a point to emphasise all the most trifling details. +"Have you any special interest in my welfare?"</p> + +<p>"I think not," replied Gabriel, bluntly. "I simply wanted to drop you a +hint. You can take it or not, just as you choose." With that, he turned +on his heel, and went home to supper, little dreaming that his kindness +of heart, and his sincere efforts to do a stranger a favour would +involve him in a tangled web of circumstances, from which he would find +it almost impossible to escape.</p> + +<p>Gabriel heard Hotchkiss laugh, but he did not hear the remark that +followed.</p> + +<p>"Why, even the children and the young men think I am a coward. They have +the idea that courage exists nowhere but among themselves. It is the +most peculiar mental delusion I ever heard, and it persists in the face +of facts. The probability is that the young man who has just delivered +this awful warning has laid a wager with some of his companions that he +can fill me full of fright and prevent my going to Butts's."</p> + +<p>"Now, I don't think that," replied Boring, or Bridalbin. "I know these +people to the core. I had their ideas and thought their thoughts until I +found that sentiment doesn't pay. That young man has probably heard some +threat made against you, and he thinks he is doing the chivalrous thing +to give you a warning. Chivalry! Why, I reckon that word has done more +harm to this section, first and last, than the war itself."</p> + +<p>"Or, more probable still," suggested Hotchkiss, his voice as smooth and +as flexible as a snake, "he was simply trying to find out whether I +propose to go to Butts's to-night. If I had some one to keep an eye on +him, we might be able to procure some important information, disclosing +a conspiracy against the officers of the Government. A few arrests in +this neighbourhood might have a wholesome and subduing effect."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it," said Bridalbin. "I know these people a great +deal better than you do."</p> + +<p>"I know them a great deal better than I care to," remarked Hotchkiss +drily. "I have not a doubt that this young Tolliver was one of that +marauding band of conspirators that surrounded the church recently, and +endeavoured to intimidate our coloured fellow-citizens. Nor do I doubt +that these same conspirators will make an effort to frighten me. I have +no doubt that they will make a strong effort to run me away. But they +can't do it, my friend. I feel that I have a mission here, and here I +propose to stay until there is no work for me to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can keep an eye on Tolliver if you think it best," Bridalbin +suggested somewhat doubtfully. "I know where he lives."</p> + +<p>"Do that, Boring," exclaimed Hotchkiss with grateful enthusiasm. "Come +to the lodge about nine or half-past, and report." The "lodge" was the +new name for the old school-house, and in that direction Hotchkiss +turned his steps.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h2> + +<h3><i>Bridalbin Follows Gabriel</i></h3> + + +<p>Boring, or Bridalbin—no one ever discovered why he changed his name, +for he changed neither his nature nor his associations—followed along +after Gabriel, and was in time to see him enter the door and close it +behind him. The Lumsden Place was somewhat in the open, but the trees, +where Bridalbin took up his position of watcher, made such dense and +heavy shadows that it was almost impossible to distinguish objects more +than a few feet away. In these heavy shadows Bridalbin stood while +Gabriel was supposed to be eating his supper.</p> + +<p>A dog trotting along the walk shied and growled when he saw the +motionless figure, but after that, there was a long period of silence, +which was finally broken by voices on a veranda not far away. The owners +of the voices had evidently come out for a breath of fresh air, and were +carrying on a conversation which had begun inside. Bridalbin could see +neither the house nor the occupants of the veranda, but he could hear +every word that was said. One of the voices was soft and clear, while +the other was hard, almost harsh, yet it was the voice of a woman. If +Bridalbin had been at all familiar with Shady Dale, he would have known +that one of the speakers was Madame Awtry and the other Miss Puella +Gillum.</p> + +<p>"It was only a few weeks ago that they told the poor child about her +father," said Miss Puella. "Neighbour Tomlin couldn't muster up the +courage to do it, and so it became Fanny's duty. I know it nearly broke +her heart."</p> + +<p>"Why did they tell her at all? Why did they think it was necessary?" +inquired Madame Awtry. Her voice had in it the quality that attracts +attention and compels obedience.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know Margaret is of age now, and Neighbour Tomlin, who is +made up of heart and conscience, felt that it would be wrong to keep her +in ignorance, but he couldn't make up his mind to be the bearer of bad +news; so it fell to Fanny's lot. But it seems that Margaret already +knew, and on that occasion Fanny had to do all the crying that was done. +Margaret had known it all along, and had only feigned ignorance in order +not to worry her mother. 'I have known it from the first,' she said. +'Please don't tell Nan.' But Nan had known it all along, and Fanny told +Margaret so. It is a pity about her father. If he was what he should be, +he'd be very proud of Margaret."</p> + +<p>"His name was Bridlebin, or something of that kind, was it not?" Madame +Awtry asked.</p> + +<p>"Something like that," replied Miss Puella. "The world is full of +trouble," she said after awhile, and her voice was as gentle as the +cooing of a dove—"so very full of trouble. I sometimes think that we +should have as much pity for those who are the cause of it as for those +who are the victims." Alas! Miss Puella was thinking of Waldron Awtry, +whose stormy spirit had passed away.</p> + +<p>"That is the Christian spirit, certainly," said Waldron's mother, in her +firm, clear tones. "Let those live up to it who can!"</p> + +<p>"The girl is in good hands," remarked Miss Puella, after a pause, "and +she should be happy. Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny fairly worship her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's in good hands," responded Madame Awtry, "yet when she comes +here, which she is kind enough to do sometimes, it seems to me that I +can see trouble in her eyes. It is hard to describe, but it's such an +expression as you or I would have if we were dependent, and something +was wrong or going wrong with those on whom we depended. But it may be +merely my imagination."</p> + +<p>"It certainly must be," Miss Puella declared, "for there is nothing +wrong or going wrong with Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny."</p> + +<p>At this point the conversation ceased, and the two women sat silent, +each occupied with her own thoughts. Miss Puella wondered that Madame +Awtry could even imagine trouble at the Tomlin Place, while the Madame +was smiling grimly to herself, and pitying Miss Puella because she could +not perceive what the trouble really was. "What a world it is! what a +world!" Madame Awtry said to herself with a sigh.</p> + +<p>And Bridalbin stood wondering at the freak of chance or circumstance +that had enabled him to hear two persons unknown to him discussing the +dependence of his daughter. "Dependent" was the word that grated on his +ear. He never thought of Providence—how few of us do!—he never dreamed +that his presence at that particular place at that particular moment was +to be the means of providing a sure remedy for the most serious trouble, +short of bereavement, that his daughter would ever be called on to face.</p> + +<p>Bridalbin walked slowly in the direction of the Lumsden Place, which +having fewer trees around it could be dimly seen in the starlight. +Before he emerged from the denser shadows he heard the door open and +close, and then Gabriel came down the steps whistling, and was soon in +the thoroughfare. But, instead of going toward town, he turned and went +toward the fields. Following the road for a hundred yards or more he +soon came to the bars, which formed a sort of gateway to the rich +pastures of Bermuda, and, vaulting lightly over these, he was soon lost +to view, though the stars were shining as brightly as they could. He was +making his way toward his favourite Bermuda hill.</p> + +<p>Now, Bridalbin knew enough about the topography of Shady Dale to know +that the path or roadway, leading from the bars across the Bermuda +fields, was a short cut to one of the highways that led from town past +the door of Mahlon Butts. He paused a moment, and then, more sedate than +Gabriel, climbed the bars and followed the path across the field. He +walked rapidly, for he was anxious to discover what course Gabriel had +taken. He crossed the fields and saw no one; he reached the highway, +and followed it for a quarter of a mile or more, but he could see no +sign of Gabriel.</p> + +<p>And for a very good reason. That young man had followed the field-path +only a short distance. He had turned sharply, to the right, making for +the Bermuda hill, where, with no fear of the dewy dampness to disturb +him, he flung himself at full length on the velvety grass, and gulped +down great draughts of the cool, sweet air. He heard the sound of +Bridalbin's footsteps, as that worthy went rapidly along the path, and +he had a boy's mischievous impulse to hail the passer-by. But he was so +fond of the hill, and so jealous of his possession of the silence, the +night, and the remote stars, that he suppressed the impulse, and +Bridalbin went on his way, firm in the belief that Gabriel had crossed +the field to the public highway, and was now going in the direction of +Mahlon Butts's home. He believed it, and continued to believe it to his +dying day, though the only evidence he had was the hint conveyed in the +surmises of Hotchkiss.</p> + +<p>Bridalbin finally abandoned his wild-goose chase, and returned to the +neighbourhood of Gabriel's home, where he waited and watched until his +engagement with Hotchkiss compelled him to abandon his post. The +business of the Union League was not very pressing that night, or it had +been dispatched with unusual celerity, for when Bridalbin reached the +old school-house, the Rev. Jeremiah, who had taken upon himself the +duties of janitor, was in the act of closing the doors.</p> + +<p>"I been waitin' fer you, Mr. Borin'," said the Rev. Jeremiah, after he +had responded to Bridalbin's salutation. "De Honerbul Mr. Hotchkiss tol' +me ter tell you, in case I seed you, dat he gwine on home; an' he say +p'intedly dat dey's no need fer ter worry 'bout him, kaze eve'ything's +all right. Ez he gun it ter me, so I gin it ter you. You oughter been +here ter-night. Me an' Mr. Hotchkiss took an' put all de business thoo +'fo' you kin bat yo' eye; yes, suh, we did fer a fack."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry he didn't wait for me," said Bridalbin.</p> + +<p>As for Gabriel, he lay out on the Bermuda hill, contemplating himself +and the rest of the world. The stars rode overhead, all moving together +like some vast fleet of far-off ships. In the northwest, while Gabriel +was watching, a huge star seemed to break away from its companions and +rush hurtling toward the west, leaving a trail of white vapour behind +it. The illumination was but momentary. The Night was quick to snuff out +all lights but its own. Whatever might be taking place on the other side +of the world, Night had possession here, and proposed to maintain it as +long as possible. A bird might scream when Brother Fox seized it; a +mouse might squeak when Cousin Screech-Owl swooped down on noiseless +wing and seized it; Uncle Wind might rustle the green grass in search of +Brother Dust: nevertheless, the order of the hour was silence, and Night +was prompt to enforce it.</p> + +<p>It is a fine night, Gabriel thought—and the Silence might have +answered, "Yes, a fine night and a fateful." It was a night that was to +leave its mark on many lives.</p> + +<p>At supper, Gabriel's grandmother had informed him that three of his +friends had come by to invite him to accompany them to a country dance +on the further side of Murder Creek—a dance following a neighbouring +barbecue. These friends, his grandmother said, were Francis Bethune, +Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. They had searched the town over for +Gabriel, and were disappointed at not finding him at home.</p> + +<p>"Where do you hide yourself, Gabriel?" his grandmother had asked him. +"And why do you hide? This is not the first time by a dozen that your +friends have been unable to find you."</p> + +<p>Gabriel shook his curly head and laughed. "Let me see, grandmother: +directly after dinner, I said my Latin and Greek lessons to Mr. Clopton. +Bethune was upstairs in his own room, for I heard him singing. After +that, I went into the library, and read for an hour or more. Then I +selected a book and went over the hill to the big poplar—you know where +it is—and there I stayed until dark."</p> + +<p>"It is all very well to read and study, Gabriel, and I am sure I am glad +to know that you are doing both," said his grandmother, with a smile, +"but you must remember that there are social obligations which cannot be +ignored. You will have to go out into the world after awhile, and you +should begin to get in the habit of it now. You should not avoid your +friends. I don't mean, of course, that you should run after them, or +fling yourself at their heads; I wouldn't have you do that for the +world; but you shouldn't make a hermit of yourself. To be popular, you +should mix and mingle freely with your equals. I know how it was in my +day. I was not fond of society myself, but my mother always insisted +that I should sacrifice my own inclinations for the pleasure of others, +and in this way earn the only kind of popularity that is really +gratifying. And I really believe I was the most popular of all the +girls." The dear old lady tossed her head triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"That's what Mr. Clopton says," remarked Gabriel; "but you know, +grandmother, your time was different from our time"—oh, these +youngsters who persist in reminding us of our fogyism—"and you were a +girl in those days, while I am a boy in these. I am lazy, I know; I can +loaf with a book all day long; but for the life of me, I can't do as +Bethune does. He doesn't read, and he doesn't study; he just dawdles +around, and calls on the girls, and talks with them by the hour. He used +to be in love with Nan (so Mr. Sanders says) and now he's in love with +Margaret Bridalbin; he's just crazy about her. Now, I'm not in love with +anybody"—"oh, Gabriel!" protested a still, small voice in his +bosom—"and if I were, I wouldn't dawdle around, and whittle on +dry-goods boxes, and go and sit for hours at a time with Sally, and +Susy, and Bessy, and Molly." Decidedly, Gabriel was coming out; here he +was with strong views of his own.</p> + +<p>His grandmother laughed aloud at this, saying, "You are very much like +your grandfather, Gabriel. He was a very serious and masterful man. He +detested small-talk and tittle-tattle, and I was the only girl he ever +went with. But Francis Bethune is very foolish not to stick to Nan; she +is such a delightful girl. It would be very unfortunate indeed if those +two were not to marry."</p> + +<p>If the dear old lady had not been so loyal to her sex, she would have +told Gabriel that Nan had visited her that very day, and had asked a +thousand and one questions about her old-time comrade. Indeed, Nan, with +that delightful spirit of unconventionality that became her so well, had +made bold to rummage through Gabriel's books and papers. She found one +sheet on which he had evidently begun a letter. It started out well, and +then stopped suddenly: "Dear Nan: I hardly know——" Then the attempt +was abandoned in despair, and on the lower part of the sheet was +scrawled: "Dearest Nan: I hardly know, in fact I don't know, and you'll +never know till Gabriel blows his horn." This sheet the fair forager +promptly appropriated, saying to herself "Boys are such funny +creatures."</p> + +<p>The conversation between Gabriel and his grandmother, as has been said, +took place while they were eating their supper. The youngster was not +sorry that he was absent when his friends called for him. It was a long +ride to the Samples plantation, where the dance was to be, and a long, +long ride back home, when the fiddles were in their bags, the dancers +fagged out, and the fun and excitement all over and done with. The +Bermuda hill was good enough for Gabriel, unless he could arrange his +own dances, and have one partner—just one—from early candle-light till +the grey dawn of morning.</p> + +<p>It was late when Gabriel returned from the Bermuda hill, later than he +thought, for he had completely lost himself in the solemn imaginings +that overtake and overwhelm a young man who is just waking up to the +serious side of existence, and on whose mind are beginning to dawn the +possibilities and responsibilities of manhood. Ah, these young men! How +lovable they are when they are true to themselves—when they try boldly +to live up to their own ideals!</p> + +<p>Once in his room, Gabriel looked about for the book he had been reading +during the afternoon. It was his habit to read a quarter of an hour at +least—sometimes longer—before going to bed. But the book was not to be +found. This was surprising until he remembered that he had not entered +his bed-room since the dinner-hour; and then it suddenly dawned on his +mind that he had left the book at the foot of the big poplar.</p> + +<p>Well! that was a pretty come-off for a young man who was inclined to be +proud of his careful and systematic methods. And the book was a borrowed +one, and very valuable—one of the early editions of Franklin's +autobiography, bound in leather. What would Meriwether Clopton think, +if, through Gabriel's carelessness, the dampness and the dew had injured +the volume, which, after Horace and Virgil, was one of Mr. Clopton's +favourites?</p> + +<p>There was but one thing to be done, and that Gabriel was prompt to do. +He went softly downstairs, so as not to disturb his grandmother, and +made his way to the big poplar, where he was fortunate enough to find +the book. Thanks to the sheltering arms of the tree, and the +leaf-covered ground, the volume had sustained no damage.</p> + +<p>As Gabriel recovered the book, and while he was examining it, he heard a +chorus of whistlers coming along the road. Mingled with the whistling +chorus were the various sounds made by a waggon drawn by horses. Gabriel +judged that the waggon contained the young men who had been to the dance +at the Samples plantation, and in this his judgment turned out to be +correct. The young men were in a double-seated spring waggon, drawn by +two horses. They drew up in response to Gabriel's holla, and he climbed +into the waggon.</p> + +<p>"Well, what in the name of the seven stars are you doing out here in the +woods at this time of night?" cried Jesse Tidwell, and he laughed with +humourous scorn when Gabriel told him.</p> + +<p>"But the book belongs to Bethune's grandfather," explained Gabriel. "It +might have been ruined by rain, or by the damp night-air, if left out +until morning. If it had been my own book, perhaps I'd have trusted to +luck."</p> + +<p>"You missed it to-night, Tolliver," said Francis Bethune. "Feel +Samples"—his name was Felix—"was considerably put out because you +didn't come. And the girls—Tolliver, when did you get acquainted with +them? They all know you. Nelly Kendrick tossed her head and turned up +her nose, and said that a dance wasn't a dance unless Mr. Tolliver was +present. Tidwell, who was the red-headed girl that raved so about +Tolliver's curls?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, "that was Amy Rowland. If she wasn't +the belle of the ball, I'll never want any more money in this world. +It's no use for Gabriel to blow his horn, when he has all the girls in +that part of the country to blow it for him. My son, when and where did +you come to know all these young ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I used to go out there to church with Mr. Sanders, and sometimes +with Mrs. Absalom. There are some fine people in that settlement."</p> + +<p>"Fine!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, with real enthusiasm; "why, split silk +is as coarse as gunny-bagging by the side of those girls. I told 'em I +was coming back. 'You must!' they declared, 'and be sure and bring Mr. +Tolliver!'" Young Tidwell mimicked a girl's voice with such ridiculous +completeness that his companions shouted with laughter. "There's another +thing you missed, Tolliver," he went on. "Feel Samples has a cow that +gives apple-brandy, and old Burrel Bohannon, the one-legged fiddler, +must have milked her dry, for along about half-past ten he kind of +rolled his eyes, and fetched a gasp, and wobbled out of his chair, and +lay on the floor just as if he was stone dead."</p> + +<p>In a short time the young men had reached the tavern, where the team and +vehicle belonged. As they drew up in front of the door, Jesse Tidwell, +continuing and completing his description of the condition of Burrel +Bohannon, exclaimed: "Yes, sir, he fell and lay there. He may have +kicked a time or two, and I think he mumbled something, but he was as +good as dead."</p> + +<p>Bridalbin, restless and uneasy, had been wandering about the town, and +he came up just in time to hear this last remark. At that moment, a +negro issued from the tavern with a lantern, and Bridalbin was not at +all surprised to see Gabriel Tolliver with the rest; and he wondered +what mischief the young men had been engaged in. Some one had been badly +hurt or killed. That much he could gather from Tidwell's declaration; +but who?</p> + +<p>He went to his lodging and to bed in a very uncomfortable frame of +mind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h2> + +<h3><i>The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss</i></h3> + + +<p>Mr. Hotchkiss, after leaving the Union League, had decided not to wait +for his co-worker, whom he knew as Boring. So far as he was concerned, +he had no fears. He knew, of course, that he was playing with fire, but +what of that? He had the Government behind him, and he had two companies +of troops within call. What more could any man ask? More than that, he +was doing what he conceived to be his duty. He belonged to that large +and pestiferous tribe of reformers, who go through the world without +fixed principles. He had been an abolitionist, but he was not of the +Garrison type. On the contrary, he thought that Garrison was a +time-server and a laggard who needed to be spurred and driven. He was +one of the men who urged John Brown to stir up an insurrection in which +innocent women and children would have been the chief sufferers; and he +would have rejoiced sincerely if John Brown had been successful. He +mistook his opinions for first principles, and went on the theory that +what he thought right could not by any possibility be wrong. He belonged +to the Peace Society, and yet nothing would have pleased him better +than an uprising of the blacks, followed by the shedding of innocent +blood.</p> + +<p>In short, there were never two sides to any question that interested +Hotchkiss. He held the Southern people responsible for American slavery, +and would have refused to listen to any statement of facts calculated to +upset his belief. He was narrow-minded, bigoted, and intensely in +earnest. Some writer, Newman, perhaps, has said that a man will not +become a martyr for the sake of an opinion; but Newman probably never +came in contact with the whipper-snappers of Exeter Hall, or their +prototypes in this country—the men who believe that philanthropy, and +reform, and progress generally are worthless unless it be accompanied by +strife, and hate, and, if possible, by bloodshed. You find the type +everywhere; it clings like a leech to the skirts of every great +movement. The Hotchkisses swarm wherever there is an opening for them, +and they always present the same general aspect. They are as productive +of isms as a fly is of maggots, and they live and die in the belief that +they are promoting the progress of the world; but if their success is to +be measured by their operations in the South during the reconstruction +period, the world would be much better off without them. They succeeded +in dedicating millions of human beings to misery and injustice, and +warped the minds of the whites to such an extent that they thought it +necessary to bring about peace and good order by means of various acute +forms of injustice and lawlessness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hotchkiss was absolutely sincere in believing that the generation +of Southern whites who were his contemporaries were personally +responsible for slavery in this country, and for all the wrongs that he +supposed had been the result of that institution. He felt it in every +fibre of his cultivated but narrow mind, and he went about elated at the +idea that he was able to contribute his mite of information to the +negroes, and breed in their minds hatred of the people among whom they +were compelled to live. If there had been a Booker Washington in that +day, he would have been denounced by the Hotchkisses as a traitor to his +race, and an enemy of the Government, just as they denounced and +despised such negroes as Uncle Plato.</p> + +<p>Hotchkiss went along the road in high spirits. He had delivered a +blistering address to the negroes at the meeting of the league, and he +was feeling happy. His work, he thought, was succeeding. Before he +delivered his address, he had initiated Ike Varner, who was by all odds +the most notorious negro in all that region. Ike was a poet in his way; +if he had lived a few centuries earlier, he would have been called a +minstrel. He could stand up before a crowd of white men, and spin out +rhymes by the yard, embodying in this form of biography the weak points +of every citizen. Some of his rhymes were very apt, and there are men +living to-day who can repeat some of the extemporaneous satires composed +by this negro. He had the reputation among the blacks of being an +uncompromising friend of the whites. In the town, he was a privileged +character; he could do and say what he pleased. He was a fine cook, and +provided possum suppers for those who sat up late at night, and +ice-cream for those who went to bed early. He tidied up the rooms of the +young bachelors, he sold chicken-pies and ginger-cakes on public days, +and Cephas, whose name was mentioned at the beginning of this chronicle, +is willing to pay five dollars to the man or woman who can bake a +ginger-cake that will taste as well as those that Ike Varner made. He +was a happy-go-lucky negro, and spent his money as fast as he made it, +not on himself, but on Edie, his wife, who was young, and bright, and +handsome. She was almost white, and her face reminded you somehow of the +old paintings of the Magdalene, with her large eyes and the melancholy +droop of her mouth. Edie was the one creature in the world that Ike +really cared for, and he had sense enough to know that she cared for him +only when he could supply her with money. Yet he watched her like a +hawk, madly jealous of every glance she gave another man; and she gave +many, in all directions. Ike's jealousy was the talk of the town among +the male population, and was the subject for many a jest at his expense. +His nature was such that he could jest about it too, but far below the +jests, as any one could see, there was desperation.</p> + +<p>In spite of all this, Ike was the most popular negro in the town. His +wit and his good-humour commended him to the whole community. He had +moved his wife and his belongings into the country, two or three miles +from town, on the ground that the country is more conducive to health. +Ike's white friends laughed at him, but the negro couldn't see the joke. +Why should a negro be laughed at for taking precautions of this sort, +when there is a whole nation of whites that keeps its women hid, or +compels them to cover their faces when they go out for a breath of fresh +air? The fact is that Ike didn't know what else to do, and so he sent +his handsome wife into exile, and went along to keep her company. +Nevertheless, all his interests were within the corporate limits of +Shady Dale, and he was compelled by circumstances to leave Edie to pine +alone, sometimes till late at night. Whether Edie pined or not, or +whether she was lonely, is a question that this chronicler is not called +on to discuss.</p> + +<p>Now, the fact of Ike's popularity with the whites had struck Mr. +Hotchkiss as a very unfavourable sign, and he set himself to work to +bring about a change. He sent some of the negro leaders to talk with +Ike, who sent them about their business in short order. Then Mr. +Hotchkiss took the case in hand, and called on Ike at his house. The two +had an argument over the matter, Ike interspersing his remarks with +random rhymes which Hotchkiss thought very coarse and crude. At the +conclusion of the argument, Hotchkiss saw that the negro had been +laughing at him all the way through, and he resented this attitude more +than another would. He went away in a huff, resolved to leave the negro +with his idols.</p> + +<p>This would have been very well, if the matter had stopped there, but +Edie put her finger in the pie. One day when Ike was away, she called to +Hotchkiss as he was passing on his way to town, and invited him into the +house. There was something about the man that had attracted the wild +and untamed passions of the woman. He was not a very handsome man, but +his refinement of manner and speech stood for something, and Edie had +resolved to cultivate his acquaintance. He went in, in response to her +invitation, and found that she desired to ask his advice as to the best +and easiest method of converting Ike into a Union Leaguer. Hotchkiss +gave her such advice as he could in the most matter-of-fact way, and +went on about his business. Otherwise he paid no more attention to her +than if she had been a sign in front of a cigar-store. Edie was not +accustomed to this sort of thing, and it puzzled her. She went to her +looking-glass and studied her features, thinking that perhaps something +was wrong. But her beauty had not even begun to fade. A melancholy +tenderness shone in her lustrous eyes, her rosy lips curved archly, and +the glow of the peach-bloom was in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know the man was a preacher," she said, laughing at herself in +the glass.</p> + +<p>Time and again she called Mr. Hotchkiss in as he went by, and on some +occasions they held long consultations at the little gate in front of +her door. Ike was not at all blind to these things; if he had been, +there was more than one friendly white man to call his attention to +them. The negro was compelled to measure Hotchkiss by the standard of +the most of the white men he knew. He was well aware of Edie's purposes, +and he judged that Hotchkiss would presently find them agreeable.</p> + +<p>Ike listened to Edie's arguments in behalf of the Union League with a +great deal of patience. Prompted by Hotchkiss, she urged that +membership in that body would give him an opportunity to serve his race +politically; he might be able to go to the legislature, and, in that +event, Edie could go to Atlanta with him, where (she said to herself) +she would be able to cut a considerable shine. Moreover, membership in +the league, with his aptitude for making a speech, would give him +standing among the negro leaders all over the State.</p> + +<p>Ike argued a little, but not much, considering his feelings. He pointed +out that all his customers, the people who ate his cakes and his cream, +and so forth and so on, were white, and felt strongly about the +situation. Should they cease their patronage, what would he and Edie do +for victuals to eat and clothes to wear?</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll git along somehow; don't you fret about that," said Edie with +a toss of her head.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you will, but not me," replied Ike.</p> + +<p>At last, however, he had consented to join the league, and appeared to +be very enthusiastic over the matter. As Mr. Hotchkiss went along home +that night—the night on which the young men had gone to the country +dance—he was feeling quite exultant over Ike's conversion, and the +enthusiasm he had displayed over the proceedings. After he had decided +to go home rather than wait for Bridalbin, he hunted about in the crowd +for Ike, but the negro was not to be found. As their roads lay in the +same direction Hotchkiss would have been glad of the negro's company +along the way, and he was somewhat disappointed when he was told that +Ike had started for home as soon as the meeting adjourned. Mr. Hotchkiss +thereupon took the road and went on his way, walking a little more +rapidly than usual, in the hope of overtaking Ike. At last, however, he +came to the conclusion that the negro had remained in town. He was +sorry, for there was nothing he liked better than to drop gall and venom +into the mind of a fairly intelligent negro.</p> + +<p>As for Ike, he had his own plans. He had told Edie that in all +probability he wouldn't come home that night, and advised her to get a +nearby negro woman to stay all night with her. This Edie promised to do. +When the league adjourned, Ike lost no time in taking to the road, and +for fear some one might overtake him he went in a dog-trot for the first +mile, and walked rapidly the rest of the way. Before he came to the +house, he stopped and pulled off his shoes, hiding them in a +fence-corner. He then left the road, and slipped through the woods until +he was close to the rear of the house. Here his wariness was redoubled. +He wormed himself along like a snake, and crept and crawled, until he +was close enough to see Edie sitting on the front step—there was but +one—of their little cabin. He was close enough to see that she had on +her Sunday clothes, and he thought he could smell the faint odour of +cologne; he had brought her a bottle home the night before.</p> + +<p>He lay concealed for some time, but finally he heard footsteps on the +road, and he rose warily to a standing position. Edie heard the +footsteps too, for she rose and shook out her pink frock, and went to +the gate. The lonely pedestrian came leisurely along the road, having no +need for haste. When he found that it was impossible to overtake Ike, +Mr. Hotchkiss ceased to walk rapidly, and regulated his pace by the +serenity of the hour and the deliberate movements of nature. The hour +was rapidly approaching when solitude would be at its meridian on this +side of the world, and a mocking-bird not far away was singing it in.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hotchkiss would have passed Ike's gate without turning his head, but +he heard a voice softly call his name. He paused, and looked around, and +at the gate he saw the figure of Edie. "Is that you, Mr. Hotchkiss? What +you do with Ike?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't he at home? He started before I did."</p> + +<p>"He ain't comin' home to-night, an' I was so lonesome that I had to set +on the step here to keep myse'f company," said Edie. "Won't you come in +an' rest? I know you must be tired; I got some cold water in here, fresh +from the well."</p> + +<p>"No, I'll not stop," replied Mr. Hotchkiss. "It is late, and I must be +up early in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me 'bout Ike," said Edie. "You got 'im in the league all +right, I hope?" She came out of the gate, as she said this, and moved +nearer to Hotchkiss. In her hand she held a flower of some kind, and +with this she toyed in a shamefaced sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Varner is now a member in good standing," replied Hotchkiss, "and I +think he will do good work for his race and for the party."</p> + +<p>Edie moved a step or two nearer to him, toying with her flower. Now, Mr. +Hotchkiss was a genuine reformer of the most approved type, and, as +such, he was entitled to as many personal and private fads as he chose +to have. He was a vegetarian, holding to the theory that meat is a +poison, though he was not averse to pie for breakfast. His pet aversion, +leaving alcohol out of the question, was all forms of commercial +perfumes. As Edie came close to him, he caught a whiff of her +cologne-scented clothes, and his anger rose.</p> + +<p>"Why will you ladies," he said, "persist in putting that sort of stuff +on you?"</p> + +<p>"I dunner what you mean," replied Edie, edging still closer to +Hotchkiss.</p> + +<p>"Why that infernal——"</p> + +<p>He never finished the sentence. A pistol-shot rang out, and Hotchkiss +fell like a log. Edie, fearing a similar fate for herself, ran screaming +down the road, and never paused until she had reached the dwelling of +Mahlon Butts. She fell in the door when it was opened and lay on the +floor, moaning and groaning. When she could be persuaded to talk, her +voice could have been heard a mile.</p> + +<p>"They've killt him!" she screamed; "they've killt him! an' he was sech a +good man! Oh, he was sech a good man!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence</i></h3> + + +<p>The news of the shooting of Hotchkiss spread like wildfire, and startled +the community, giving rise to various emotions. It created consternation +among the negroes, who ran to and fro, and hither and yonder, like wild +creatures. Many of the whites, especially the thoughtless and the +irresponsible, contemplated the tragedy with a certain degree of +satisfaction, feeling that a very dangerous man had been providentially +removed. On the other hand, the older and more conservative citizens +deplored it, knowing well that it would involve the whole community in +trouble, and give it a conspicuous place in the annals which radical +rage was daily preparing, in order still further to inflame the public +mind of the North.</p> + +<p>Bridalbin promptly disappeared from Shady Dale, but returned in a few +days, accompanied by a squad of soldiers. It was the opinion of the +community, when these fresh troops made their appearance, that they were +to be added to the detachment stationed in the town; but this proved to +be a mistake. Two nights after their arrival, when the officer in +charge, who was a member of the military commander's staff, had +investigated the killing, he gave orders for the arrest of Gabriel +Tolliver, Francis Bethune, Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. The arrests +were made at night, and so quietly that when the town awoke to the +facts, and was ready to display its rage at such a high-handed +proceeding, the soldiers and their prisoners were well on their way to +Malvern.</p> + +<p>The people felt that something must be done, but what? One by one the +citizens instinctively assembled at the court-house. No call was issued; +the meeting was not preconcerted; there was no common understanding; but +all felt that there must be a conference, a consultation, and there was +no place more convenient than the old court-house, where for long years +justice had been simply and honestly administered.</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, a trying hour. Meriwether Clopton and his daughter Sarah +were the first to make their appearance at the court-house, and it was +perhaps owing to their initiative that a large part of the community +shortly assembled there. At first, there was some talk of a rescue, and +this would have been feasible, no doubt; but while Lawyer Tidwell was +violently advocating this course, Mr. Sanders mounted the judge's bench, +and rapped loudly for order. When this had been secured, he moved that +Meriwether Clopton be called to the chair. The motion had as many +seconds as there were men in the room, for the son of the First Settler +was as well-beloved and as influential as his father had been.</p> + +<p>"My friends," he said, after thanking the meeting for the honour +conferred upon him, "I feel as if we were all in the midst of a dream, +and therefore I am at a loss what to say to you. As it is all very +real, and far removed from the regions of dreams, the best that I can do +is to counsel moderation and calmness. The blow that has fallen on a few +of us strikes at all, for what has happened to some of our young men may +easily happen to the rest, especially if we meet this usurpation of +civil justice with measures that are violent and retaliatory. We can +only hope that the Hand that has led us into the sea of troubles by +which we have been overwhelmed of late will lead us safely out again. +For myself, I am fully persuaded that what now seems to be a calamity +will, in some shape or other, make us all stronger and better. I am an +old man, and this has been my experience. You need have no fears for the +welfare of the young men. They may be deprived for a time of the +comforts to which they are accustomed, but their safety is assured. They +will probably be tried before a military court, but if there is a spark +of justice in such a tribunal, our young men will shortly be restored to +us. We all know that these lads never dreamed of assassination, and this +is what the killing of this unfortunate man amounts to. We have met here +to-day, not to discuss measures of vengeance and retaliation, but to +consult together as to the best means of securing evidence of the +innocence of the young men. Speaking for myself, I think it would be +well to place the whole matter in the hands of Mr. Sanders, leaving him +to act as he thinks best."</p> + +<p>This was agreed to by the meeting, more than one of the audience +declaring loudly that Mr. Sanders was the very man for the occasion. By +unanimous agreement it was decided that one of the most distinguished +lawyers in the State should be retained to defend the young men and that +he should be authorised to employ such assistant counsel as he might +deem necessary.</p> + +<p>It was the personality of Meriwether Clopton, rather than his remarks, +that soothed and subdued the crowd which had assembled at the +court-house. He was serenity itself; his attitude breathed hope and +courage; and in the tones of his voice, in his very gestures, there was +a certainty that the young men would not be made the victims of +political necessity. In his own mind, however, he was not at all sure +that the radical leaders at Washington would not be driven by their +outrageous rancour to do the worst that could be done.</p> + +<p>As may be supposed, Mr. Sanders did not allow the grass to grow under +his feet. He was the first to leave the court-room, but he was followed +and overtaken by Silas Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"Be jigged, Silas, ef you don't look like you've seed a ghost!" +exclaimed Mr. Sanders, whose good-humour had been restored by the +prospect of prompt action.</p> + +<p>"Worse than that, Sanders; Paul has been carried off. If you'll fetch +him back, you may show me an army of ghosts. But I wanted to see you, +Sanders, about this business. You'll need money, and if you can't get it +anywhere else, come to me; I'll take it as a favour."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders frowned and pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle. +"You mean, Silas, that if I need money, and can't beg, nor borry, nor +steal it, maybe you'll loan me a handful of shinplasters. Why, man, I +wouldn't give you the wroppin's of my little finger for all the money +you eber seed or saved. Do you think that I'm tryin' to make money?"</p> + +<p>"But there'll be expenses, William, and money's none too plentiful among +our people." Silas spoke in a pleading tone, and his lips were trembling +from grief or excitement.</p> + +<p>Noticing this, Mr. Sanders relented a little in his attitude toward the +man. "Well, Silas, when I reely need money, I'll call on you. But don't +lose any sleep on account of that promise, for it'll be many a long day +before I call on you."</p> + +<p>With that, Mr. Sanders mounted his horse—known far and wide as the +Racking Roan—and was soon out of sight. His destination was the +residence of Mahlon Butts, and in no long time his horse had covered the +distance.</p> + +<p>Although the murder of Hotchkiss was more than a week old, a +considerable number of negroes were lounging about the premises of Judge +Butts—he had once been a Justice of the Peace—and in the road near by, +drawn to the spot by that curious fascination which murder or death +exerts on the ignorant. They moved about with something like awe, +talking in low tones or in whispers. Mr. Sanders tied his horse to a +swinging limb and went in. He was met at the door by Mahlon himself.</p> + +<p>"Why, come in, William; come in an' make yourself welcome. You uv heard +of the trouble, I make no doubt, or you wouldn't be here. It's turrible, +William, turrible, for a man to be overcome in this off-hand way, wi' no +time for to say his pra's or even so much as to be sorry for his +misdeeds."</p> + +<p>Judge Butts's dignity was of the heavy and oppressive kind. His +enunciation was slow and deliberate, and he had a way of looking over +his spectacles, and nodding his head to give emphasis to his words. This +dignity, which was fortified in ignorance, had received a considerable +reinforcement from the fact that he was a candidate for a county office +on the Republican ticket.</p> + +<p>Before Mr. Sanders could make any reply to Mahlon's opening remark, Mrs. +Becky Butts came into the room. She was not in a very good humour, and, +at first, she failed to see Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Mahlon, if you don't go and run that gang of niggers off, I'll take the +shot-gun to 'em. They've been hanging around—why, howdye, Mr. Sanders? +I certainly am glad to see you. I hope you'll stay to dinner; it looks +like old times to see you in the house."</p> + +<p>There was something about Mrs. Becky Butts that was eminently satisfying +to the eye. She was younger than her husband, who, at fifty, appeared to +be an old man. Her sympathies were so keen and persistent that they +played boldly in her face, running about over her features as the +sunshine ripples on a pond of clear water.</p> + +<p>"Set down, Becky," said Mr. Sanders, after he had responded to her +salutation. "I've come to find out about the killing of that feller +Hotchkiss."</p> + +<p>"You may well call it killin', William, bekaze Friend Hotchkiss was +stone dead a few hours arter the fatal shot was fired," declared Judge +Butts.</p> + +<p>"Where was the killin' done?" inquired Mr. Sanders. He addressed himself +to Mrs. Butts, but Mahlon made reply.</p> + +<p>"We found him, William, right spang in front of Ike Varner's +cabin—right thar, an' nowhar else. He war doin' his level best for to +git on his feet, an' he tried to talk, but not more than two or three +words did he say."</p> + +<p>"Well, what did he say?" inquired Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"It was the same thing ever' time—'Why, Tolliver, Tolliver'—them was +his very words."</p> + +<p>"Are you right certain about that, Mahlon?" asked Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"As certain an' shore, William, as I am that I'm settin' here. Ef he +said it once, he said it a dozen times."</p> + +<p>"I reckon maybe he had been talking with young Tolliver before he came +from town," remarked Mrs. Butts, noting Mr. Sanders's serious +countenance.</p> + +<p>"Whar was he wounded, Becky?" asked Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Between the left ear and the temple."</p> + +<p>"Becky's right, William," was the solemn comment of Mahlon. "Yes, sir, +he was hit betwixt the year an' the temple."</p> + +<p>"Did you have a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"We sent for one, but if he come, we never saw him," Mrs. Butts replied.</p> + +<p>"Would you uv believed it, William? An' yit it's the plain truth," said +Mahlon.</p> + +<p>"What time was Hotchkiss killed?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout half-past ten; maybe a little sooner."</p> + +<p>This was all the information Mr. Sanders could get, and it was a great +deal more than he wanted in one particular. He knew that Gabriel +Tolliver was innocent of the killing; but the fact that his name was +called by the dying man was almost as damaging as an ante-mortem +accusation would have been.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders rode to Ike Varner's cabin, a few hundred yards away. Tying +his horse to the fence on the opposite side of the road, he entered the +house without ceremony.</p> + +<p>"Who is that? La! Mr. Sanders, you sho did skeer me," exclaimed Edie. +"Why, when did you come? I would as soon have spected to see a ghost!"</p> + +<p>"You'll see 'em here before you're much older," replied Mr. Sanders, +grimly. "They ain't fur off. Wher's Ike?"</p> + +<p>"La! ef you know anything about Ike you know more than I does. I ain't +laid eyes on that nigger man, not sence——" She paused, and looked at +Mr. Sanders with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Not sence the night Hotchkiss was killed," said Mr. Sanders, completing +her sentence for her.</p> + +<p>"La, Mr. Sanders! how'd you know that? But it's the truth: I ain't never +seen Ike sence that night."</p> + +<p>"I know a heap more'n you think I do," Mr. Sanders remarked. "Hotchkiss +was talkin' to you at the gate thar when he was shot. What was he +sayin'?"</p> + +<p>The woman was a bright mulatto, and, remembering her own designs and +desires so far as Hotchkiss was concerned, her face flushed and she +turned her eyes away. "Why, he wan't sayin' a word, hardly; I was doin' +all the talkin'. I was settin' on the step there, an' I seen him +passin', an' hollad at him. I ast him if he wouldn't have a drink of +cold water, an' he said he would, an' I took it out to the gate, an' +while I was talkin', they shot him. They certainly did."</p> + +<p>"Did you ask Ike about it?" Mr. Sanders inquired.</p> + +<p>"La! I ain't seen Ike sence that night," exclaimed Edie, flirting her +apron with a coquettish air that was by no means unbecoming.</p> + +<p>"Now, Edie," said Mr. Sanders, with a frown to match the severity of his +voice, "you know as well as I do, that when you heard the pistol go off, +and saw what had happened, you run in the house an' flung your apern +over your head." It was a wild guess, but it was close to the truth.</p> + +<p>"La, Mr. Sanders! you talk like you was watchin' me. 'Twa'n't my apern, +'twas my han's. I didn't have on no apern that night; I had on my Sunday +frock."</p> + +<p>"An' you know jest as well as I do that Ike come in here an' stood over +you, an' said somethin' to you."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; he didn't stand over me; I was here"—she illustrated his +position by her movements—"an' when Ike come in, he stood over there."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He said," replied Edie, smiling to show her pretty teeth, "'If you want +him, go out there an' git him.' Yes, sir, he said that. La! I never +heard of a nigger killin' a white man on <i>that</i> account; did you, Mr. +Sanders?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know as I ever did," replied Mr. Sanders, regarding her with an +expression akin to pity. "But times has changed."</p> + +<p>"They certainly has," said Edie. "I tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I don't +b'live Mr. Hotchkiss was a man." She looked up at Mr. Sanders, as she +made the remark. Catching his eye, she exclaimed—"I don't; I declare I +don't! I never will believe it." She gave a chirruping laugh, as she +made the remark.</p> + +<p>It is to be doubted if, in the history of the world, a man ever had a +higher compliment paid to his devotion and his singleness of purpose.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Sanders mounted his horse, Edie watched him, and, as she stood +with her arms extended, each hand grasping a side of the doorway, +smiling and showing her white teeth, she presented a picture of wild and +irresponsible beauty that an artist would have admired. Finally, she +turned away with a laugh, saying, "I declare that Mr. Sanders is a +sight!"</p> + +<p>In due time the Racking Roan carried Mr. Sanders across Murder Creek to +the plantation of Felix Samples, where the news of the arrest of the +young men occasioned both grief and indignation. They had arrived at the +dance about nine o'clock, and had started home between eleven and +twelve. Gabriel, Mr. Samples said, was not one of the party. Indeed, he +remembered very well that when some of the young people asked for +Gabriel, Francis Bethune had said that the town had been searched for +Gabriel, and he was not to be found.</p> + +<p>Evidently, there was no case against the three young men who had gone to +the dance. They could prove an alibi by fifty persons. "Be jigged ef I +don't b'lieve Gabriel is in for it," said Mr. Sanders to himself as he +was going back to Shady Dale. "An' that's what comes of moonin' aroun' +an' loafin' about in the woods wi' the wild creeturs."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders went straight to the Lumsden Place to consult with Gabriel's +grandmother. Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny Tomlin were already +there, each having called for the purpose of offering her such comfort +and consolation as they could. This fine old gentlewoman had had the +care of Gabriel almost from the time he was born, for his birth left his +mother an invalid, the victim of one of those mysterious complaints that +sometimes seize on motherhood. It was well known in that community, +whose members knew whatever was to be known about one another, that Lucy +Lumsden's mind and heart were wholly centred on Gabriel and his affairs. +She was a frail, delicate woman, gentle in all her ways, and ever ready +to efface herself, as it were, and give precedence to others. Her +manners were so fine that they seemed to cling to her as the perfume +clings to the rose.</p> + +<p>So these old friends—Meriwether Clopton, and Miss Fanny +Tomlin—considered it to be their duty, as it was their pleasure, to +call on Lucy Lumsden in her trouble. They expected to find her in a +state of collapse, but they found her walking about the house, +apparently as calm as a June morning.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Meriwether," she said pleasantly; "it is a treat indeed, +and a rare one, to see you in this house. And here is Fanny! I am glad +to see you, my dear. It is very good of you to come to an old woman who +is in trouble. I think we are all in trouble together. No, don't sit +here, my dear; the library is cooler, and you must be warm. Come into +the library, Meriwether."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you look twenty years younger," said Miss Fanny Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"Do I, indeed? Then trouble must be good for me. Still, I don't +appreciate it. I am an old woman, my dear, and all the years of my life +I have had a contempt for those who fly into a rage, or lose their +tempers. And now, look at me! Never in all your days have you seen a +woman in such a rage as I have felt all day and still feel!"</p> + +<p>"The idea!" exclaimed Miss Fanny. "Why, you look as cool as a cucumber."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the idea!" echoed Mrs. Lumsden. "If I had those miserable +creatures in my power, do you know what I would do? Do you know, +Meriwether?"</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine, Lucy," he replied gently. He saw that the apparent +calmness of Gabriel's grandmother was simply the result of suppressed +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll not tell you if you don't know." She seated herself, but +rose immediately, and went to the window, where she stood looking out, +and tapping gently on the pane with her fingers. She stood there only a +short time. "You may imagine that I am nervous," she said, turning away +from the window, "but I am not." She held out her hand to illustrate. It +was frail, but firm. "No," she went on, "I am not nervous; I am simply +furious. I know what you came for, my friends, and it is very kind of +you; but it is useless. I love you both well, and I know what you would +say. I have said such things to my friends, and thought I was performing +a duty."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know the old saying, Lucy," said Meriwether Clopton. "Misery +loves company. We are all in the same boat, and it seems to be a leaky +one. I have heard it said that a woman's wit is sometimes better than a +man's wisdom, and, for my part, I have not come to see if you needed to +be consoled, but to find out your views."</p> + +<p>"I have none," she said somewhat curtly. "Show me a piece of blue cloth, +and I'll tear it to pieces. That is the only thought or idea I have."</p> + +<p>"Well, that doesn't help us much," Meriwether Clopton remarked.</p> + +<p>At that moment, Mr. Sanders was announced, and word was sent to him to +come right in. "Howdy, everybody," he said in his informal way, as he +entered the room. He was warm, and instead of leaving his hat on the +hall-rack, he had kept it in his hand, and was using it as a fan. "Miss +Lucy," he said, "I won't take up two minutes of your time——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sanders, you may take up two hours of my time. Time!" Mrs. Lumsden +exclaimed bitterly—"why, time is about all I have left."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it ain't nigh as bad as you think," remarked Mr. Sanders, as +cheerfully as he could. "But I want to settle a p'int or two. Do you +remember what time it was when Gabriel come home the night Hotchkiss was +killed?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lumsden reflected a moment. "Why, he went out directly after +supper, and came in—well, I don't remember when he came in. I must have +been asleep."</p> + +<p>"Um-m," grunted Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Is it important?" Mrs. Lumsden asked.</p> + +<p>"It may turn out to be right down important," replied Mr. Sanders, and +then he said no more, but sat looking at the floor, and wondering how +Gabriel could be released from the tangled web that the spider, +Circumstance, had woven about him.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Sanders went out, he met Nan at the door, and he was amazed at +the change that had come over her. Perplexity and trouble looked forth +from her eyes, and there was that in her face that Mr. Sanders had never +seen there before. "Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "you look like you've +lost your best friend."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I have. Who is in there?" And when Mr. Sanders told her, +she cried out, "Oh, why don't they leave her alone?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they ain't pesterin' her much, honey. Go right in. Lucy Lumsden +has got as much grit as a major gener'l, an' she'll be glad to see +you."</p> + +<p>But Nan stood staring at Mr. Sanders, as if she wanted to ask him a +question, and couldn't find words for it. Her face was pale, and she had +the appearance of one who is utterly forspent.</p> + +<p>"Why, honey, what ails you? I never seed you lookin' like this before."</p> + +<p>"You've never seen me ill before," answered Nan. "I thought the walk +would do me good, but the sun—oh, Mr. Sanders! please don't ask me +anything else."</p> + +<p>With that, she ran up the steps very rapidly for an ill person, and +stood a moment in the hallway.</p> + +<p>"Be jigged ef she ain't wuss hit than any on us!" declared Mr. Sanders, +to himself, as he turned away. "What a pity that she had to go an' git +grown!"</p> + +<p>Following the sound of voices, Nan went into the library. Mrs. Lumsden, +who was still walking about restlessly, paused and tried to smile when +she saw Nan; but it was only a make-believe smile. Nan went directly to +her, and stood looking in the old gentlewoman's eyes. Then she kissed +her quite suddenly and impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Nan, you must be ill," Miss Fanny Tomlin declared.</p> + +<p>"I am, Aunt Fanny; I am not feeling well at all."</p> + +<p>"Lie there on the sofa, child," Mrs. Lumsden insisted. Taking Nan by the +arm, she almost forced her to lie down.</p> + +<p>"If you-all are talking secrets, I'll go away," said Nan.</p> + +<p>"No, child," remarked Mrs. Lumsden; "we are talking about trouble, and +trouble is too common to be much of a secret in this world." She seated +herself on the edge of the sofa, and held Nan's hand, caressing it +softly.</p> + +<p>"This is the way I used to cure Gabriel, when he was ill or weary," she +said in a tone too low for the others to hear.</p> + +<p>"Did you?" whispered Nan, closing her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"This is the second time I have been able to sit down since breakfast," +remarked Mrs. Lumsden.</p> + +<p>"I have walked miles and miles," replied Nan, wearily.</p> + +<p>There was a noise in the hall, and presently Tasma Tid peeped cautiously +into the room. "Wey you done wit Honey Nan?" she asked. "She in dis +house; you ain' kin fool we."</p> + +<p>"Come in, and behave yourself if you know how," said Mrs. Lumsden. "Come +in, Tid."</p> + +<p>"How come we name Tid? How come we ain't name Tasma Tid?"</p> + +<p>No one thought it worth while to make any reply to this, and the African +came into the room, acting as if she were afraid some one would jump at +her. "Sit in the corner there at the foot of the sofa," said Mrs. +Lumsden. Tasma Tid complied very readily with this command, since it +enabled her to be near Nan. The African squatted on the floor, and sat +there motionless.</p> + +<p>Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny went away after awhile, but Mrs. +Lumsden continued to sit by Nan, caressing her hand. Not a word was said +for a long time, but the silence was finally broken by Nan, who spoke to +the African.</p> + +<p>"Tasma Tid, I want you to go home and tell Miss Johnny that I will spend +the rest of the day and the night with Grandmother Lumsden."</p> + +<p>"Don't keer; we comin' back," said Tasma Tid.</p> + +<p>"Yes, come back," said Mrs. Lumsden; whereupon, the African whisked out +of the room as quick as a flash.</p> + +<p>After Tasma Tid had gone, a silence fell on the house—a silence so +profound that Nan could hear the great clock ticking in the front hall, +and the bookshelves cracked just as they do in the middle of the night.</p> + +<p>"If I had known what was going to happen when Gabriel came and kissed me +good-bye," said Mrs. Lumsden, after awhile, "I would have gone out there +where those men were, and—well, I don't know what I wouldn't have +done!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't Gabriel tell you? Why——" Nan paused.</p> + +<p>"Not he! Not Gabriel!" cried Mrs. Lumsden in a voice full of pride. "He +wanted to spare his grandmother one night's worry, and he did."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know when he kissed you good-night that something was +wrong?" Nan inquired.</p> + +<p>"How should I? Why, he sometimes comes and kisses me in the middle of +the night, even after he has gone to bed. He says he sleeps better +afterwards."</p> + +<p>What was there in this simple statement to cause Nan to catch her +breath, and seize the hand that was caressing her. For one thing, it +presented the tender side of Gabriel's nature in a new light; and for +the rest—well, who shall pretend to fathom a young woman's heart?</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was always doing something of that kind," remarked the +grandmother proudly; "and I have often thought that he should have been +a girl."</p> + +<p>"A girl!" cried Nan.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he will marry some woman who doesn't appreciate his finer +qualities—the tenderness and affection that he tries to hide from +everybody but his grandmother; and he will go about with a hungry heart, +and his wife will never suspect it. I am afraid I dislike her already."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that!" Nan implored.</p> + +<p>"But if he was a girl," the grandmother went on, "he would be better +prepared to endure coldness and neglect. This is partly what we were +born for, my dear, as you will find out one day for yourself."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FOUR"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</h2> + +<h3><i>Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions</i></h3> + + +<p>It was not often that Mr. Sanders had a surprise, but he found one +awaiting him when he left the Lumsden Place, and started in the +direction of home. He had not taken twenty steps before he met the young +Captain who had charge of the detachment of Federal troops stationed at +Shady Dale.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Sanders, I believe," he said without ceremony. "My name is +Falconer. I have just been to call on Mr. Clopton, but they tell me +there that he is at Mrs. Lumsden's."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't advise you to go there," said Mr. Sanders, bluntly. +"The lady is in a considerbul state of mind about her gran'son."</p> + +<p>"It is a miserable piece of business all the way through," remarked +Captain Falconer. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, which Mr. +Sanders could not fail to catch, and it interested him.</p> + +<p>"I called upon my cousin, Mrs. Claiborne, for the first time to-day," +the Captain went on. "She has invited me to tea often, but I have +refused the invitation on account of the state of feeling here. I know +how high it is. It is natural, of course, but it is not justifiable. +Take my case, for instance: I am a Democrat, and I come from a family of +Democrats, who have never voted anything else but the Democratic ticket, +except when Henry Clay was a candidate, and when Lincoln was running for +a second term."</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me!" cried Mr. Sanders, with genuine astonishment.</p> + +<p>"It is a fact," said Captain Falconer, with emphasis. "If you think that +I, or any of the men under me, or any of the men who fought at all, +intended to bring about such a condition as now exists in this part of +the country, you are doing us a great wrong. Don't mistake me! I am not +apologising for the part I took. I would do it all over again a hundred +times if necessary. Yet I do not believe in negro suffrage, and I abhor +and detest every exaction that the politicians in Washington have placed +upon the people of the South."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders was too much astonished to make appropriate comment. He +could only stare at the young man. And Captain Falconer was very good to +look upon. He was of the Kentucky type, tall, broad-shouldered and +handsome. His undress uniform became him well, and he had the +distinctive and pleasing marks that West Point leaves on all young men +who graduate at the academy there.</p> + +<p>"Well, as I told you, I called on my cousin to-day for the first time, +and after we had talked of various matters, especially the unfortunate +events that have recently occurred, she insisted that I make it my +business to see you or Mr. Clopton. She told me," the Captain said, +with a pleasant smile, "that you are the man that kidnapped Mr. +Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"She's wrong about that," replied Mr. Sanders; "I'm the man that didn't +kidnap him. But I want to ask you: ain't you some kin to John Barbour +Falconer?"</p> + +<p>"He was my father," the Captain replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've heard Meriwether Clopton talk about him hundreds of times. +They ripped around in Congress together before the war."</p> + +<p>"Now, that is very interesting to me," said the Captain, his face +brightening.</p> + +<p>He was silent for some time, as they walked slowly along, and during +this period of silence, Meriwether Clopton came up behind them. He would +have passed on, with a polite inclination of his head, but Mr. Sanders +drew his attention.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clopton," he said, "here's a gentleman I reckon you'd like to +know—Captain Falconer. He's a son of John Barbour Falconer."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" exclaimed Meriwether Clopton, a wonderful change passing +over his face. "Well, I am glad to see a son of my dear old friend, +anywhere and at any time." He shook hands very cordially with the +Captain. "Let me see—let me see: if I am not mistaken, your first name +is Garnett; you were named after your maternal grandfather."</p> + +<p>"That is true, sir," replied the Captain, with a boyish laugh that was +pleasing to the ear—he was not more than thirty. "But I am surprised +that you should remember these things so well."</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear sir, it is not surprising at all. I have dandled you on my +knee many and many a time; I know the very house, yes, the very room, in +which you were born. Some of the happiest hours of my manhood were spent +with your father and mother in Washington. Your father is dead, I +believe. Well, he was a good man; among the best I ever knew. What of +your mother?"</p> + +<p>"She has broken greatly," responded the Captain. "The war was a great +burden to her. She was a Virginian, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes!" said Meriwether Clopton. "The war has been a dreadful +nightmare to the people on both sides; and it seems to be still going on +disguised as politics. Only last night, as you perhaps know, a posse of +soldiers arrested and carried off four of our worthiest young men."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I know of it and regret it," responded Captain Falconer. "And +I have no doubt that a majority of the people here are incensed at the +soldiers, forgetting that they are the mere instruments of their +superiors, and that their superiors themselves take their orders from +other superiors who are engaged in the game of politics. It is the duty +of a soldier to blindly obey orders. To pause to ask a question would be +charged to a spirit of insubordination. The army is at the beck and call +of what is called the Government, and to-day the Government happens to +be the radical contingent of the Republican Party. A soldier may detest +the service he is called on to perform, but he is bound to obey orders. +I can answer for the officer who was sent to arrest these young men. He +was boiling over with rage because he had been sent here on such an +errand."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that," declared Meriwether Clopton, with great +heartiness.</p> + +<p>"His feelings were perfectly natural, sir," said Captain Falconer. "Take +the army as it stands to-day, and it would be hard, if not impossible, +to find a man in it who does not shrink from doing the dirty work of the +politicians. Can you imagine that my mission here is pleasant to me? I +can assure you, sir, it is the most disagreeable duty that ever fell to +my lot. I am glad you spoke of these arrests. At your convenience, I +should like to have a little conversation with you and Mr. Sanders on +this subject."</p> + +<p>"There is no time like the present," replied Meriwether Clopton. "Will +you come with me to my house?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir; and with the more pleasure because I called on my +cousin Mrs. Claiborne to-day. I have forborne to call on her heretofore +on account of the prejudice against us. But these arrests made it +necessary for me to communicate with some of the influential friends of +the young men. I was afraid my visit to-day would prove to be +embarrassing to her. If I visit you at your invitation, the probability +is she will have no social penalty to pay. I know what the feeling is."</p> + +<p>Indeed, he knew too well. He had passed along the streets apparently +perfectly oblivious to the attitude and movements of those whom he +chanced to meet, but all his faculties had been awake, for he was a man +of the keenest sensibilities. He had seen women and young girls curl +their lips in a sneer, and toss their heads in scorn, as he passed them +by; and some of them pulled their skirts aside, lest his touch should +pollute them. He had observed all this, and he was wounded by it; and +yet he had no resentment. Being a Southerner himself, he knew that the +feelings which prompted such actions were perfectly natural, the fitting +accompaniment of the humiliation which the radical element compelled the +whites to endure.</p> + +<p>In the course of his long and frequent walks in the countryside, Captain +Falconer had made the acquaintance of Gabriel Tolliver, in whose nature +the spirit of a gypsy vagrant seemed to have full sway; and Gabriel was +the only person native to Shady Dale, except the ancient postmaster, +with whom the young officer had held communication. He seemed to be cut +off not only from all social intercourse, but even from +acquaintanceship.</p> + +<p>"You may rest assured," declared Meriwether Clopton, "that if I had +known you were the son of my old friend, I would have sought you out, +much as I detest the motives and purposes of those who have inaugurated +this era of bayonet rule. And you may be sure, too, that in my house you +will be a welcome guest."</p> + +<p>"I appreciate your kindness, sir, and I shall remember it," said Captain +Falconer.</p> + +<p>That portion of Shady Dale which was moving about the streets with its +eyes open was surprised and shocked—nay, wellnigh paralysed—to see the +"Yankee Captain" on parade, as it were, with Meriwether Clopton on one +side of him, and Mr. Sanders on the other. Yes, and the hand of the son +of the First Settler (could their eyes deceive them?) was resting +familiarly on the shoulder of the "Yankee!" Surely, here was food for +thought. Were Meriwether Clopton and Mr. Sanders about to join the +radicals? Well, well, well! At last one of the loungers, a man of middle +age, who had seen service, raised his voice and put an end to comment.</p> + +<p>"You can bet your sweet life," he declared, "that Billy Sanders knows +what he's up to. He may not git the game he's after, but he'll fetch +back a handful of feathers or hair. Mr. Clopton I don't know so well, +but I was in the war wi' Billy Sanders, and I wish you'd wake me up and +let me know when somebody fools him. There ain't a living man on the +continent, nor under it neither, that can git on his blind side."</p> + +<p>"Now you are whistlin'!" exclaimed one of his companions, and this +seemed to settle the matter. If Mr. Sanders didn't know what he was +about, why, then, everybody else in that neighbourhood might as well +give up, "and let natur' cut her caper."</p> + +<p>"I understand now why Mrs. Claiborne referred me to you," said Captain +Falconer, when Mr. Sanders had related the nature and extent of the +information which he had been able to gather during the morning.</p> + +<p>"The lady is kinder partial," remarked Mr. Sanders, "but she's as bright +as a new dollar, somethin' I ain't seed sence I cut my wisdom teeth."</p> + +<p>"You already know what I intended to tell you," said the Captain. But +it turned out, nevertheless, that he was able to give them some very +startling information. It was the general understanding in Shady Dale +that the prisoners were to be sent to Atlanta; but the military +authorities, fearing an attempt at rescue, perhaps, had ordered them to +be sent to Fort Pulaski, below Savannah. There were other reasons, the +Captain explained, for sending the young men there. They would be +isolated from their friends, and, so placed, might be induced to +confess; and if the circumstances surrounding them were not sufficient +to produce such a result then other measures were to be taken.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the circumstantial evidence against Gabriel was very +strong—stronger even than Mr. Sanders had imagined. Bridalbin, whom +Captain Falconer knew as Boring, had informed that officer of his own +supposed discoveries with respect to Gabriel's movements; and the +evidence he was prepared to give, coupled with the fact that Hotchkiss +had pronounced the lad's name with his last breath, made out a case of +exceptional strength. Urged on by the vindictiveness of the radical +leaders in Congress, it was more than probable that the military court +before which the young men were to be tried, would convict any or all of +them on much slighter evidence than that which had accumulated against +Gabriel. It was all circumstantial evidence of course, but even in the +civil courts, and before juries made up of their peers, men accused of +crime have frequently been convicted on circumstantial evidence +alone—that is to say, on probability.</p> + +<p>"Now, this is what I wanted to say," remarked Captain Falconer, as they +sat in the library at the Clopton Place, and after he had gone over the +evidence, item by item: "I was given to understand by the officer who +made the arrests that I would shortly be transferred to Savannah, or, +rather, to Fort Pulaski, and placed in charge of the prisoners, the idea +being that I, knowing something of the young men, would be able to +extract a confession from them by fair means. This failing, there are +others who could be depended on to employ foul. The officer, who is a +very fine soldier, and thoroughly in love with his profession, dropped a +hint that, all other means failing, the young men are to be put through +a course of sprouts in order to extort a confession."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders looked hard at the Captain; he was taking the young man's +measure. What he saw or divined must have been satisfactory, for his +face, which had been in a somewhat puckered condition, as he himself +would have expressed it, suddenly cleared up, and he rose from his chair +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Do you-all know what I've gone an' done?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You do so many clever things, William, that we cannot possibly imagine +what the newest is," said Meriwether Clopton.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, this is the cleverest yit. I've come off from Lucy Lumsden's +an' clean forgot my hoss. It's a wonder I didn't forgit my head. Now, +you might 'a' said, an' said truly, that I'd forgit a man, or a 'oman, +but when William H. Sanders, Esquire, walks off in the broad light of +day, an' forgits his hoss, an' that hoss the Rackin' Roan, you may know +that his thinkin' machine has slipped a cog. Ef you'll excuse me, I'll +go right arter that creetur. I'm mighty glad he can't talk—it's about +the only thing he can't do—bekaze he'd gi' me a long an' warm piece of +his mind."</p> + +<p>Captain Falconer rose also, but Meriwether Clopton protested. "I should +be glad if you would stay to dinner," he said. "I have several things to +show you—some interesting letters from your father, for instance."</p> + +<p>"But the ladies?" suggested the Captain, with a comically doubtful lift +of the eyebrows. He had no notion of bearding any of the Confederate +lionesses in their dens. "You know how they regard us here."</p> + +<p>"Only my daughter Sarah is here. She knew your father well, and has a +very lively remembrance of him. She was fifteen when you were three, and +many a day she was your volunteer nurse."</p> + +<p>So it was arranged that the Captain should remain to dinner, and it may +be said that he spent a very pleasant time, after his long period of +social isolation. "I shall call you Garnett, to begin with," said Sarah +Clopton, as she shook his hand, "but you must not expect me to be very +cordial to-day. It was only last night, you must remember, that some of +the people you associate with arrested and carried off a young man who +is very dear to me."</p> + +<p>"You may be very sure, Miss Clopton, that the officer who did that piece +of work had no relish for it. He simply obeyed orders. He had no +discretion in the matter whatever."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall be very glad to think that, Garnett, for your sake. But +that fact doesn't restore our young men," she said with a sigh. "Oh, I +wonder when we'll all be at peace and happy again?"</p> + +<p>"In God's own time, and not before," declared Meriwether Clopton +solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll try an' help that time to come," said Mr. Sanders, entering +the room at that moment. He was followed by Cephas, who was one of +Gabriel's favourites among the small boys. Cephas was bashful enough, +but he always felt at ease at the Clopton Place, where everything moved +along the lines of simplicity and perfect openness. The small boy had a +sort of chilly feeling when he saw the officer, but he soon got over +that.</p> + +<p>"I went an' got my hoss," said Mr. Sanders, "an' he paid me back for my +forgitfulness by purty nigh bitin' a piece out'n my arm; an' whilst I +was a-rubbin' the place, up comes Cephas for to find out somethin' about +the boys. When I got through makin' a few remarks sech as you don't hear +at church, a kinder blind idee popped in my head, an' so I tuck Cephas +up behind me, an' fetched him here."</p> + +<p>"Sit on the sofa, Cephas. Have a chair, William, and tell us about your +blind idea."</p> + +<p>"Ef you'll promise not to laugh," Mr. Sanders stipulated. "You know Mrs. +Ab's sayin' that ef the old sow knowed she was swallerin' a tree ev'ry +time she crunched an acorn, she'd grunt a heap louder'n she does: well, +I know what I'm fixin' for to swaller, and you won't hear much loud +gruntin' from me."</p> + +<p>"Well, we are ready to hear from you," said Meriwether Clopton. +Whereupon, Mr. Sanders threw his head back and laughed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-FIVE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Sanders's Riddle</i></h3> + + +<p>"I tell you how it is," said Mr. Sanders: "The riddle is how to git a +message to Gabriel; I could git the Captain thar to take it, but the +Captain will have as much as he can attend to, an' for that matter, so +have I. Wi' this riddle I'm overcrapped. Sence I left here, I've gone +over the whole matter in my mind, ef you can call it a mind. I could go +down thar myself, an' I'd be glad to, but could I git to have a private +talk wi' Gabriel? I reckon not."</p> + +<p>The remark was really interrogative, and was addressed to Captain +Falconer, who made a prompt reply—"I hardly think the scheme would +work. My impression is that orders have been issued from Atlanta for +these young men to be isolated. If that is so they can hold +communication with no one but the sentinel on duty, or the officer who +has charge of them. They are to be treated as felons, though nothing has +been proved against them. I am not sure, but I think that is the +programme."</p> + +<p>"That is about what I thought," said Mr. Sanders, "an' that's what I +told Cephas here. When I was fetchin' my horse, Cephas, he comes up, an' +he says, 'Mr. Sanders, have you heard from Gabriel?' an' I says, 'No, +Cephas, we ain't had time for to git a word from 'em.' An' then he went +on to say, Cephas did, that he'd like mighty well to see Gabriel. I told +him that maybe we could fix it up so as he could see Gabriel. You can't +imagine how holp up the little chap was. To see him then, an' see him +now, you'd think it was another boy."</p> + +<p>Captain Falconer looked at Cephas, and could see no guile. On the +contrary, he saw a freckled lad who appeared to be about ten years old; +he was really nearly fourteen. Cephas was so ugly that he was ugly when +he laughed, as he was doing now; but there was something about him that +attracted the attention of those who were older. It was a fact much +talked about that this freckled little boy never went with children of +his own age, but was always to be found with those much older. He was +Gabriel's chum when Gabriel wanted a chum; he went hunting with Francis +Bethune; and he could often be found at the store in which Paul Tomlin +was the chief clerk. He knew all the secrets of these young men, and +kept them, and they frequently advised with him about the young ladies.</p> + +<p>But he was fonder of Gabriel than of all the rest, and he was also fond +of Nan, who had been kind to him in many ways. Cephas was one of those +ill-favoured little creatures, who astonish everybody by never +forgetting a favour. Gratitude ran riot in his small bosom, and he was +ever ready to sacrifice himself for his friends.</p> + +<p>Seeing that Captain Falconer continued to look at him, Cephas hung his +head. He was only too conscious of his ugliness, and was very sensitive +about it. He wanted to be large and strong and handsome like Gabriel, or +dark and romantic-looking like Francis Bethune; and sometimes he was +very miserable because of the unkindness of fate or Providence in this +matter.</p> + +<p>"And so you want to see your friends," said the Captain, very kindly. +Every feature of his face showed that his sympathies were keen. "They +are very far away, or will be when they get to their journey's end—too +far, I should think, for a little boy to travel."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so," said Cephas, "but Gabriel had to go."</p> + +<p>"I see," said the Captain; "wherever Gabriel goes, you are willing to +go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Cephas very simply.</p> + +<p>"I hope Gabriel appreciates it," remarked Sarah Clopton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he does!" exclaimed Cephas. "Gabriel knows. Why, one day——" Then, +remembering the company he was in, he blushed, and refused to go on with +what he intended to say.</p> + +<p>Seeing his embarrassment, Mr. Sanders came to his rescue. "What I want +to know, Captain, is this: if that little chap comes down to Savannah, +will you allow him to see Gabriel and talk to him?"</p> + +<p>Again the Captain looked at the boy, and Cephas, catching a certain +humourous gleam in the gentleman's eye, began to smile. "Now, then," +said Captain Falconer, with an answering smile, "how would you like to +go with me?"</p> + +<p>"I think I would like it," replied Cephas, with a broad grin; "I think +that would be fine."</p> + +<p>"And what does Mr. Sanders think of it?" the Captain asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hadn't looked at it from that p'int of view," said Mr. Sanders. +"I 'lowed maybe that the best an' cheapest plan would be for me to take +the little chap down an' fetch him back."</p> + +<p>"My opinion may not be worth much, Mr. Sanders," said Sarah Clopton, +"but I think it would be a shame to take that child so far away from +home. I don't believe his mother will allow him to go."</p> + +<p>"That is a matter that was jest fixin' for to worry me," remarked Mr. +Sanders. "I could feel it kinder fermentin' in my mind, like molasses +turnin' to vinegar, an' now that you've fetched it to the top, Sarah, +we'll settle it before we go any furder. Come, Cephas; we'll go an' see +your mammy, an' see ef we can't coax her into lettin' you go. You'll +have to do your best, my son; I'll coax, an' you must wheedle."</p> + +<p>As they went out, Cephas was laughing at Mr. Sanders's remark about +wheedling. The youngster was an expert in that business. He was his +mother's only child, and he had learned at a very early age just how to +manage her.</p> + +<p>"What troubles me, Cephas," said Mr. Sanders, "is how you can git a +message to Gabriel wi'out lettin' the cat out'n the bag. He'll be +surrounder'd in sech a way that you can't git a word wi' 'im wi'out +tellin' the whole caboodle."</p> + +<p>At that moment, Mr. Sanders heard a small voice cry out something like +this: "Phazasee! Phazasee! arawa ooya ingagog?"</p> + +<p>To which jabbering Cephas made prompt reply: "Iya ingagog ota annysavvy +ota eesa gibbleable!"</p> + +<p>"Ooya ibfa! Ooya ibfa!" jeered the small voice.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders looked at Cephas in astonishment. "What kinder lingo is +that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It's the way we school-children talk when we don't want anybody to know +what we are saying. Johnny asked me where I was going, and I told him I +was going to Savannah to see Gabriel."</p> + +<p>"Did he know what you said?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he couldn't help but know, but he didn't believe it; he said it +was a fib."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be jigged!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Call that boy over +here."</p> + +<p>Cephas turned around—they had passed the house where the little boy +lived—and called out: "Onnaja! Onnaja! Stermera Andersa antwasa ota +eesa ooya."</p> + +<p>The small boy came running, though there was a doubtful look on his +face. He had frequently been the victim of Cephas's practical jokes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders questioned him closely, and he confirmed the interpretation +of the lingo which Cephas had given to Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me," said Mr. Sanders to Cephas when they had +dismissed the small boy, "that this kinder thing has been goin' on right +under my nose, an' I not knowin' a word about it? How'd you pick up the +lingo?"</p> + +<p>"Gabriel teached it to me," replied Cephas. "He talks it better than any +of the boys, and I come next." This last remark Cephas made with a +blush.</p> + +<p>"Do I look pale, my son?" inquired Mr. Sanders, mopping his red face +with his handkerchief. Cephas gave a negative reply by shaking his head. +"Well, I may not look pale, but I shorely feel pale. You'll have to loan +me your arm, Cephas; I feel like Christopher Columbus did when he +discovered Atlanta, Ga."</p> + +<p>"Why, he didn't discover Atlanta, Mr. Sanders," protested Cephas.</p> + +<p>"He didn't!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, it was his own fault ef he +didn't. All he had to do was to read the country newspapers. But that's +neither here nor thar. Here I've been buttin' my head ag'in trees, an' +walkin' in my sleep tryin' for to study up some plan to git word to +Gabriel, an' here you walk along the street an' make me a present of the +very thing I want, an' I ain't even thanked you for it."</p> + +<p>Cephas couldn't guess what Mr. Sanders was driving at, and he asked no +questions. His mind was too full of his proposed trip. When the +proposition was first broached to Cephas's mother, she scouted the idea +of allowing her boy to make the journey. He was all she had, and should +anything happen to him—well, the world wouldn't be the same world to +her. And it was so far away; why, she had heard some one say that +Savannah was right on the brink of the ocean—that great monster that +swallowed ships and men by the thousand, and was just as hungry +afterward as before. But Cephas began to cry, saying that he wanted to +see Gabriel; and Mr. Sanders told Gabriel's side of the story. Between +the two, the poor woman had no option but to say that she'd consider the +matter, and when a woman begins to consider—well, according to the +ancient philosophers, it's the same as saying yes.</p> + +<p>The truth is, a great deal of pressure was brought to bear on Cephas's +mother, in one way and another. Meriwether Clopton called on her, +bringing Captain Falconer. She was not at all pleased to see the +Captain, and she made no effort to conceal her prejudice. "I never did +think that I'd speak to a man in that uniform," she said with a very red +face. But she was better satisfied when Meriwether Clopton told her that +the Captain was the son of his dearest friend, and that he was utterly +opposed to the radical policy.</p> + +<p>The upshot of the matter was that, with many a sigh and some tears, she +gave her consent for her onliest, her dearest, and her bestest, to go on +the long journey. And then, after consenting, she was angry with herself +because she had consented. In short, she was as miserable and as anxious +as mother-love can make a woman, and poor Cephas never could understand +until he became a grown man, and had children of his own, how his mother +could make such a to-do over the opportunity that Providence had thrown +in his way. To tell the truth, he was almost irritated at the obstacles +and objections that the vivid imagination of his mother kept conjuring +up. She said he must be sure not to fall in the ocean, and he must keep +out of the way of the railroad trains. She cried silently all the time +she was packing his modest supply of clothes in a valise, and put some +tea-cakes in one corner, and a little Testament in the other.</p> + +<p>It is no wonder that children who do not understand such feelings should +be impatient of them, and Cephas is to be excused if he watched the +whole proceeding with something like contempt for woman's weakness. But +he has bitterly regretted, oh, tens of thousands of times, that, instead +of standing aloof from his mother's feelings, he did not throw his arms +around her, and tell how much he appreciated her love, and how every +tear she shed for him was worth to him a hundred times more than a +diamond. But Cephas was a boy, and, being a boy, he could not rise +superior to his boy's nature.</p> + +<p>It was arranged that Cephas was to go to Savannah with Captain Falconer, +and return with Mr. Sanders, who would take advantage of the occasion to +settle up some old business with the firm that had acted as factor for +Meriwether Clopton before the war. The arrangement took place when Mr. +Sanders returned home after his visit to Cephas's mother, and was of +course conditional on her consent, which was not obtained at once.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders was shrewd enough not to dwell too much on the plight of the +young men on his return. By some method of his own, he seemed to sweep +the whole matter from his mind, and both he and Meriwether Clopton +addressed themselves to such topics as they imagined the Federal Captain +would find interesting; and in this they were seconded by Sarah Clopton, +whom Robert Toombs declared to be one of the finest conversationalists +of her time when she chose to exert her powers. But for the softness +and fine harmony of her features, her face would have been called +masculine. Her countenance was entirely responsive to her emotions, and +it was delightful to watch the eloquent play of her features. Captain +Falconer fell quickly under the spell of her conversation, for one of +its chiefest charms was the ease with which she brought out the best +thoughts of his mind—thoughts and views that were a part of his inner +self.</p> + +<p>It was the same at dinner, where, without monopolising the talk, she led +it this way and that, but always in channels that were congenial and +pleasing to the Captain, and that enabled him to appear at his best. In +honour of his guest, Meriwether Clopton brought out some fine old claret +that had lain for many years undisturbed in the cellar.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Sarah," said Mr. Sanders, when the hostess pressed him to +have a glass, "I'll not trouble you for any to-day. I've made the +acquaintance of that claret. It ain't sour enough for vinegar, nor +strong enough for liquor; it's a kind of a cross betwixt a second +drawin' of tea an' the syrup of squills; an' no matter how hard you hit +it it'll never hit you back. It's lots too mild for a Son of Temp'rance +like me. No; gi' me a full jug an' a shuck-pen to crawl into, an' you +may have all the wine, red or yaller."</p> + +<p>But the fine old claret was thoroughly enjoyed by those who could +appreciate the flower of its age and the flavour of its vintage; and +when dinner was over, and Captain Falconer was on his way to camp, he +felt that, outside of his own home, he had never had such a pleasant +experience.</p> + +<p>In the course of a few days orders came from Atlanta for Captain +Falconer to turn over the command of the detachment to the officer next +in rank, and proceed to Malvern, where he would find further +instructions awaiting him. When the time came for Cephas to be off with +the Captain, you may well believe that his mother saw all sorts of +trouble ahead for him. She had dreamed some very queer dreams, she said, +and she was very sure that no good would follow. And at the last moment, +she would have taken Cephas from the barouche which had come for him, if +the driver, following the instructions of Mr. Sanders, had not whipped +up his horses, and left the lady standing in the street.</p> + +<p>As for Cephas, he found that parting from his mother was not such a fine +thing after all. He watched her through a mist of tears, and waved his +handkerchief as long as he could see her; and then after that he was the +loneliest little fellow you have ever seen. He refused to eat the extra +tea-cake that his mother had put in the pocket of his jacket, and made +up his mind to be perfectly miserable until he got back home. But, after +all, boys are boys, and the feeling of loneliness and dejection wore +away after awhile, and before he had gone many miles, what with making +the acquaintance of the driver, who was a private soldier, and getting +on friendly terms with Captain Falconer, he soon arrived at the point +where he relished his tea-cake, and when this had been devoured, he felt +as if travelling was the most delightful thing in the world, especially +if a fellow has been intrusted with a tremendous secret that nobody else +in the world knew besides Mr. Sanders and himself.</p> + +<p>For as soon as Mr. Sanders discovered that the Captain would be willing +to have Cephas go along, he had taken the little chap in hand, and +thoroughly impressed upon his mind everything he wanted him to say to +Gabriel, and he was not satisfied until Cephas had written the message +out in the dog-latin of the school-children, and had learned it by +heart. Mr. Sanders also impressed on the little lad's mind the +probability that the Captain would be curious as to the nature of the +message; and he gave Cephas a plausible answer for every question that +an inquisitive person could put to him, and made him repeat these +answers over and over again. In fact, Cephas was compelled to study as +hard as if he had been in school, but he relished the part he was to +play, and learned it with a zest that was very pleasing to Mr. Sanders. +Only an hour before he was to leave with the Captain, Mr. Sanders went +to Cephas's home, and made him repeat over everything he had been +taught, and the glibness with which the little lad repeated the answers +to the questions was something wonderful in so small a chap.</p> + +<p>"Don't git lonesome, Cephas," was the parting injunction of Mr. Sanders. +"Don't forgit that I'll be on the train when the whistle blows. I'm +gwine to start right off. You may not see me, but I'll not be far off. +Keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't git into no panic. The whole thing is +gwine through like it was on skids, an' the skids greased."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SIX"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</h2> + +<h3><i>Cephas Has His Troubles</i></h3> + + +<p>Usually there is a yawning gulf between youth and old age; but in the +case of Mrs. Lumsden and Nan Dorrington, it was spanned by the +simplicity and tenderness common to both. Whether any of the ancients or +moderns have mentioned the fact, it is hardly worth while to inquire, +but good-humour is a form of tenderness. Those who are easy to laugh are +likewise ready to be sorry, and they have a fund of sympathy to draw on +whenever the necessity arises. Simplicity and tenderness connect the +highest wisdom with the deepest ignorance, and find the elements of +brotherhood where the intellect is unable to discern it. It was +simplicity and tenderness that bridged the gulf of years that lay +between the old gentlewoman and the young girl. Age can find no comfort +for itself unless it can make terms with youth. Where it stands alone, +depending upon the respect that should belong to what is venerable, +there is something gruesome about it. It quenches the high spirits of +children and young people, and chills their enthusiasm. All that it does +for them is to give notorious advertisement to the complexion to which +they must all come at last. "You see these wrinkled and flabby +features, this gray hair, these faded and watery eyes, these shaking +limbs and trembling hands: well, this is what you must come to." And, +indeed, it is an object lesson well calculated to sober and subdue the +giddy.</p> + +<p>Now, age had dealt very gently with Gabriel's grandmother; it became her +well. Her white hair was even more beautiful now than it had been when +she was young, as Meriwether Clopton often declared. Her eyes were +bright, and all her sympathies were as keenly alive as they had been +fifty years before. She had kept in touch with Gabriel and the young +people about her, and none of her faculties had been impaired. She was +the gentlest of gentlewomen.</p> + +<p>Once Nan had asked her—"Grandmother Lumsden, what is the perfume I +smell every time I come here? You have it on your clothes."</p> + +<p>"Life Everlasting, my dear." For one brief and fleeting instant, Nan had +the odd feeling that she could see millions and millions of years into +the future. Life Everlasting! She caught her breath. But the vision or +feeling was swept away by the placid voice of Mrs. Lumsden. "I believe +you and Gabriel call it rabbit tobacco," she explained.</p> + +<p>Nan had a great longing to be with Mrs. Lumsden the moment she heard +that Gabriel had been spirited away by the strong arm of the Government. +She felt that she would be more comfortable there than at home.</p> + +<p>"My dear, what put it into that wise little head of yours to come and +comfort an old woman?" Mrs. Lumsden asked, when Meriwether Clopton and +Miss Fanny Tomlin had taken their departure. She was still sitting close +to Nan, caressing her hand.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be lonely with Gabriel gone, and I just made up my +mind to come. I was afraid until I reached the door, and then I wasn't +afraid any more. If you don't want me, I'll soon find it out."</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you how glad I am, Nan, to have you here; and I can guess +your feelings. No doubt you were shocked to hear that Francis Bethune +had been taken with the rest." The dear old lady had the knack of +clinging to her ideas.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Grandmother Lumsden. I care no +more for Mr. Bethune than I do for the others—perhaps not so much."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Lumsden, "but I have always looked +forward to the day when you and Francis would be married."</p> + +<p>"I've heard you talk that way before, and I've often wondered why you +did it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well! perhaps it is one of my foolish dreams," said Mrs. Lumsden +with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Your father's plantation and that of Francis's grandfather are side by +side, and I have thought it would be romantic for the heirs to join +hands and make the two places one."</p> + +<p>"I can't see anything romantic in that, Grandmother Lumsden. It's like a +sum in arithmetic."</p> + +<p>"Well, you must allow old people to indulge in their dreams, my dear. +When you are as old as I am, and have seen as much of life, you will +have different ideas about romance."</p> + +<p>"I hope, ma'am, that your next dream will be truer," said Nan, almost +playfully.</p> + +<p>That night, Nan lay awake for a long time. At last she slipped out of +bed, felt her way around it, and leaned over and kissed Gabriel's +grandmother. In an instant she felt the motherly arms of the old +gentlewoman around her.</p> + +<p>"Is that the way you do, when Gabriel comes and kisses you in the +night?" whispered Nan wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my dear—many times."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad!" the words exhaled from the girl's lips in a +long-drawn, trembling sigh. Then she went back to her place in bed, and +soon both the comforter and the comforted were sound asleep.</p> + +<p>As has been hinted, the moment Mr. Sanders discovered there was some +slight chance of getting a message to Gabriel, he became one of the +busiest men in Shady Dale, though his industry was not immediately +apparent to his friends and neighbours. Among those whom he took +occasion to see was Mr. Tidwell, whose son Jesse was among the +prisoners.</p> + +<p>"Gus," said Mr. Sanders, without any ceremony, "you remember the row you +come mighty nigh havin' wi' Tomlin Perdue, not so many years ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember something of it," replied Mr. Tidwell. He was a man who +ordinarily went with his head held low, as though engaged in deep +thought. When spoken to he straightened up, and thereby seemed to add +several inches to his height.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's got to be done over ag'in," remarked Mr. Sanders. "It +happened in Malvern, didn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the depot," replied Mr. Tidwell. "We were both on our way to +Atlanta, and the Major misunderstood something I had said."</p> + +<p>"Egzackly! Well, it must be done over ag'in."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tidwell lowered his head and appeared to reflect. Then he +straightened up again, and his face was very serious. "Mr. Sanders, has +Tomlin Perdue been dropping his wing about that fuss? Has he been making +remarks?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I reckon not," replied Mr. Sanders cheerfully. "But I've got a +mighty good reason for axin' you about it. Come in your office, Gus, an' +I'll tell you all I know, an' it won't take me two minnits."</p> + +<p>They went in and closed the door, and remained in consultation for some +time. While they were thus engaged, Silas Tomlin came to the door, tried +the bolt, and finding that it would not yield, walked restlessly up and +down, preyed upon by many strange and conflicting emotions. He had +evidently gone through much mental suffering. His face was drawn and +haggard, and his clothes were shabbier than ever. He took no account of +time, but walked up and down, waiting for Mr. Tidwell to come out, and +as he walked he was the victim both of his fears and his affections. One +moment, he heartily wished that he might never see his son again; the +next he would have given everything he possessed to have the boy back, +and hear once more the familiar, "Hello, father!"</p> + +<p>After awhile, Mr. Sanders and Mr. Tidwell came forth from the lawyer's +office. They appeared to be in fine humour, for both were laughing, as +though some side-splitting joke had just passed between them.</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt about it, Mr. Sanders," Lawyer Tidwell was saying, +"you ought to be a major-general!"</p> + +<p>"I declare, Tidwell!" exclaimed Silas, with something like indignation, +"I don't see how you can go around happy and laughing under the +circumstances. You do like you could fetch your son back with a laugh. I +wish I could fetch Paul back that way."</p> + +<p>"Well, he'd stay whar he is, Silas," said Mr. Sanders, with a benevolent +smile, "ef his comin' back had to be brung about by any hilarity from +you. Why, you ain't laughed but once sence you was a baby, an' when you +heard the sound of it you set up a howl that's lasted ever sence."</p> + +<p>"If you think, Silas, that crying will bring the boys back," said Mr. +Tidwell, "I'll join you in a crying-match, and stand here and boohoo +with you just as long as you want to."</p> + +<p>"I just called by to see if you had heard any news," remarked Silas, +taking no offence at the sarcastic utterances of the two men. "I am just +obliged to get some news. I am on pins: I can't sleep at night; and my +appetite is gone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders looked at the man's haggard face, and immediately became +serious and sympathetic. "Well, I tell you, Silas, you needn't worry +another minnit. The only one amongst 'em that's in real trouble is +Gabriel Tolliver. I've looked into the case from A to Izzard, an' that's +the way it stan's."</p> + +<p>"That is perfectly true," assented Mr. Tidwell. "We can account for the +movements of all the boys on the night of the killing except those of +Tolliver; and he is in considerable danger. By the way, Silas, you said +some time ago—oh, ever so long ago—that you would bring me a copy of +<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>. You remember there was a story in it you wanted +me to read."</p> + +<p>"No, I—well, I tried to find it; I hunted for it high and low; but I +haven't been able to put my hands on it. But I've had so much trouble of +one kind and another, that I clean forgot it. I'm glad you mentioned it; +I'll try to find it again."</p> + +<p>"Well, as a lawyer," said Mr. Tidwell, somewhat significantly—or so it +seemed to Silas—"I don't charge you a cent for telling you that your +case wouldn't stand a minnit."</p> + +<p>"My case—my case! What case? I have no case. Why, I don't know what you +are talking about." He shook his head and waved his hand nervously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I remember now; your case was purely hypothetical," said Mr. +Tidwell. "Well, your <i>Blackwood</i> was wrong about it."</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought," Silas assented with a grunt; and with that, he +turned abruptly away, and went in the direction of his house.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what's the fact," remarked Mr. Sanders, as he watched the +shabby and shrunken figure retreat; "I'm about to change my mind about +Silas. I used to think he was mean all through; but he's got a nice warm +place in his heart for that son of his'n. I declare I feel right sorry +for the man."</p> + +<p>Before Cephas went away, he was not too busy learning the lessons Mr. +Sanders had set for him to forget to hunt up Nan Dorrington and tell her +the wonderful news; to-wit, that he was about to go on a journey, and +that while he was gone he would most likely see Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Nan, drawing herself up a little stiffly, "what is that to +me?" Unfortunately, Cephas had come upon the girl when she was talking +with Eugenia Claiborne, who had sought her out at the Lumsden Place.</p> + +<p>Cephas looked at her hard a moment, and then his freckled face turned +red. He was properly angry. "Well, whatever it may be to you, it's a +heap to me," he said. "I hope it's nothing to you."</p> + +<p>"Cephas, will you see Paul Tomlin?" asked Eugenia. "If you do, tell him +that one of his friends sent him her love."</p> + +<p>"Is it sure enough love?" inquired Cephas.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cephas, it is," replied Eugenia simply and seriously—but her face +was very red. "Tell him that Eugenia Claiborne sent him her love."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Cephas, and turned away without looking at Nan. She +had hurt his feelings.</p> + +<p>This turn of affairs didn't suit Nan at all. She ran after Cephas, and +caught him by the arm. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Cephas, to treat +me so? How could I tell you anything before others? If you see Gabriel, +tell him—oh, I don't know what to say. If I was to tell you what I want +to, you'd say that Nan Dorrington had lost her mind. No, I'll not send +any word, Cephas. It wouldn't be proper in a young lady. If he asks +about me, just tell him that I am well and happy."</p> + +<p>She turned away, in response to a call from Eugenia Claiborne, but she +kept her eyes on Cephas for some time. Evidently she wished to send a +message, but was afraid to. "Don't be angry with me, Cephas," she said, +before the youngster got out of hearing. Cephas made no reply, but +trudged on stolidly. He was at the age when a boy is easily disgusted +with girls and young women. You may call them sweet creatures if you +want to, but a twelve-year-old boy is not to be deceived by fine words. +The sweet creatures are under no restraints when dealing with small +boys, and the small boys are well acquainted with all their worst +traits. What is most strange is that this intimate knowledge is of no +service to them when they grow a little older. They forget all about it +and fall into the first trap that love sets for them.</p> + +<p>Cephas was angry without knowing why. He felt that both Gabriel and +himself had been insulted, though he couldn't have explained the nature +of the insult; and he was all the angrier because he was fond of Nan. +She had been very kind to the little boy—kinder, perhaps, than he +deserved, for he had made the impulsive young lady the victim of many a +practical joke.</p> + +<p>As Cephas went along, it suddenly occurred to him that he had done wrong +to say anything about his proposed journey, and the thought took away +all his resentment. He whirled in his tracks, and ran back to where he +had left the girls. He saw Eugenia Claiborne sauntering along the +street, but Nan was nowhere in sight. He had no trouble in pledging Miss +Claiborne to secrecy, for she was very fond of all sorts of secrets, and +could keep them as well as another girl.</p> + +<p>Nan, she informed Cephas, had expressed a determination to visit him at +his own home, and, in fact, Cephas found her there. She was as sweet as +sugar, and was not at all the same Nan who had drawn herself up proudly +and as good as told Cephas that it was nothing to her that he was going +to see Gabriel. No; this was another Nan, and she had a troubled look in +her eyes that Cephas had never seen there before.</p> + +<p>"I came to see if you were still angry, Cephas," she said by way of +explanation. "I wasn't very nice to you, was I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope you don't mind Cephas," said the lad's mother. "If you do, +he'll keep you guessing. Has he been rude to you, Nan?"</p> + +<p>And it was then that Cephas heard praise poured on his name in a steady +stream. Cephas rude! Cephas saucy! A thousand times no! Why, he was the +best, the kindest, and the brightest child in the town. Nan was so much +in earnest that Cephas had to blush.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," said his mother. "He has been going with those large +boys so much that I was afraid he was getting too big for his breeches." +She loved her son, but she had no illusions about the nature of boys; +she knew them well.</p> + +<p>"Are you still angry, Cephas?" Nan asked. She appeared very anxious to +be sure on that score.</p> + +<p>"N-o-o," replied Cephas, somewhat doubtfully; he hesitated to surrender +the advantage that he saw he had.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are," said Nan, "and I think it is very unkind of you. I am +sorry you misunderstood me; if you only knew how I really feel, and how +much trouble I have, you would be sorry instead of angry."</p> + +<p>"I'm the one to blame," said Cephas penitently. "Gabriel says you +dislike him, and I thought he was only guessing. But he knew better than +I did. I had no business to bother you."</p> + +<p>Nan caught her breath. "Did Gabriel say I disliked him?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't say that word," replied Cephas. "I think he said you detested +him, and I told him he didn't know what he was talking about. But he +did; he knew a great deal better than I did, because I didn't really +know until just now."</p> + +<p>"But, Cephas!" cried Nan; "what could have put such an idea in his +head?" Cephas's mother was now busy about the house.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know then, but I know now," remarked the boy stolidly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be unkind, Cephas. If you knew me better, you'd be sorry for me. +You and Gabriel are terribly mistaken. I'm very fond of both of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> don't count in this game," Cephas declared.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you do," said Nan. "You are one of my dearest friends, and so +is Gabriel."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Cephas. "If you treat all your dearest friends as you +do Gabriel, I'm very sorry for them."</p> + +<p>"Cephas, if you tell Gabriel what I said while Eugenia Claiborne was +standing there, all ears, I'll never forgive you." Nan was at her wit's +end.</p> + +<p>"Tell him that!" cried Cephas; "why, I wouldn't tell him that, not for +all the world. I'll tell him nothing."</p> + +<p>"Please, Cephas," said Nan. "Tell him"—she paused, and threw her hair +away from her pale face—"tell him that if he doesn't come home soon, I +shall die!" Then her face turned from pale to red, and she laughed +loudly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I certainly sha'n't tell him that," said Cephas.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you would," said Nan. "You are a nice little boy, and I +am going to kiss you good-bye. If you don't have something sweet to tell +me when you come back, I'll think you detest me—wasn't that Gabriel's +word? Poor Gabriel! he's in prison, and here we are joking about him."</p> + +<p>"I'm not joking about him!" exclaimed Cephas.</p> + +<p>"Just as much as I am," said Nan; and then she leaned over and kissed +Cephas's freckled face, leaving it very red after the operation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends</i></h3> + + +<p>It will be observed by those who are accustomed to make note of trifles, +that the chronicler, after packing Cephas off in a barouche with the +handsome Captain Falconer, still manages to retain him in Shady Dale. +For the sake of those who may be puzzled over the matter, let us say +that it is a mistake of the reporter. That is the way our public men +dispose of their unimportant inconsistencies—and the reporter, for his +part, can say that the trouble is due to a typographical error. The +truth is, however, that when a cornfield chronicler finds himself +entangled in a rush of events, even if they are minor ones, he feels +compelled to resort to that pattern of the "P. S." which is so +comforting to the lady writers, and so captivating to their readers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders is supposed to be on his way to Savannah on the same train +with Cephas and Captain Falconer, supposing the train to be on time. +Nevertheless, it is necessary to give a further account of his movements +before he started on the journey that was to prove to be such an +important event in Gabriel's career.</p> + +<p>On the third morning after the arrest of the young men, Mrs. Lumsden +expressed a desire to see Mr. Sanders, but he was nowhere to be found. +Many sympathetic persons, including Nan Dorrington, joined in the +search, but it proved to be a fruitless one. As a matter of fact, Mr. +Sanders had gone to bed early the night before, but a little after +midnight he awoke with a start. This was such an unusual experience that +he permitted it to worry him. He had had no dream, he had heard no +noise; yet he had suddenly come out of a sound and refreshing sleep with +every faculty alert. He struck a match, and looked at his watch. It was +a quarter to one.</p> + +<p>"I wish, plague take 'em!" he said with a snort, "that somebody would +whirl in an' make a match that wouldn't smifflicate the whole house an' +lot."</p> + +<p>He lit the candle, and then proceeded to draw on his clothes. In the +course of this proceeding, he lay back on the bed with his hands under +his head. He lay thus for some minutes, and then suddenly jumped to his +feet with an exclamation. He put on his clothes in a hurry, and went out +to the stables, where he gave his horse a good feed—seventeen ears of +corn and two bundles of fodder.</p> + +<p>Then he returned to the house, and rummaged around until he found a +pitcher of buttermilk and a pone of corn-bread, which he disposed of +deliberately, and with great relish. This done, he changed his clothes, +substituting for those he wore every day the suit he wore on Sundays and +holidays. When all these preparations were complete, the hands of his +watch stood at quarter past three. He had delayed and dillydallied in +order to give his horse time to eat. The animal had taken advantage of +the opportunity, for when Mr. Sanders went to the stables, the Racking +Roan was playfully tossing the bare cobs about in the trough with his +flexible upper lip.</p> + +<p>"Be jigged ef your appetite ain't mighty nigh as good as mine," he +remarked, whereupon the roan playfully bit at him. "Don't do that, my +son," protested Mr. Sanders. "Can't you see I've got on my Sunday duds?"</p> + +<p>To bridle and saddle the horse was a matter of a few moments only, and +when Mr. Sanders mounted, the spirited horse was so evidently in for a +frolic that he was going at a three-minute gait by the time the rider +had thrown a leg over the saddle.</p> + +<p>A horseback ride, when the weather is fine and the sun is shining, is a +very pleasing experience, but it is not to be compared to a ride in the +dark, provided you are on good terms with your horse, and are familiar +with the country. You surrender yourself entirely to the creature's +movements, and if he is a horse equipped with courage, common-sense and +energy, you are lifted entirely out of your everyday life into the +regions of romance and derring-do—whatever that may be. There is no +other feeling like it, no other pleasure to be compared to it; all the +rest smell of the earth.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorter glad I lit that match," Mr. Sanders remarked to the horse. +"It's like gittin' a whiff of the Bad Place, an' then breathin' the +fresh air of heav'n." The reply of the roan was a sharp affirmative +snort.</p> + +<p>The sun was just rising when Mr. Sanders rode into Halcyondale. +Coincident with his arrival, the train from Atlanta came in with a +tremendous clatter. There was much creaking and clanking as it slowed up +at the modest station. It paused just long enough for the mail-bag and a +trunk to be thrown off with a bang, and then it went puffing away. Short +as the pause had been, one of the passengers, in the person of Colonel +Bolivar Blasengame, had managed to escape from it. The Colonel, with his +valise in his hand, paused to watch the train out of sight, and then +leisurely made his way toward his home. To reach that point, he was +compelled to cross the public square, and as he emerged from the side +street leading to the station, he met Mr. Sanders, who had also been +watching the train.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Colonel, how are you? We belong apparently to the early bird +society."</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Mr. Sanders," replied the Colonel, with a smile of +friendly welcome. "What wind has blown you over here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I want to see Major Perdue. You know we have had trouble in our +settlement."</p> + +<p>"And you want to see Tomlin because you have had trouble; but why is it, +Mr. Sanders, that your people never think of me when you have trouble? +Am I losing caste in your community?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Colonel, you haven't been over sence the year one; an' +then the Major is kinder kin to one of the chaps that's been took off."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; but did it ever occur to you that whoever is kin to Tomlin is +a little kin to me," remarked the Colonel. "Tomlin is my +brother-in-law—But where are you going now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought I would go to the tavern, have my hoss put up an' fed, +git a snack of somethin' to eat, an' then call on the Major."</p> + +<p>"You hadn't heard, I reckon, that the tavern is closed, and the +livery-stable broke up," said the Colonel, by way of giving the visitor +some useful information.</p> + +<p>At that moment a negro came out on the veranda of the hotel—only the +older people called it a tavern—and rang the bell that meant breakfast +in half an hour.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" inquired Mr. Sanders, though he knew well enough.</p> + +<p>"It's pure habit," replied the Colonel. "That nigger has been ringing +the bell so long that he can't quit it. Anyhow, you can't go to the +tavern, and you can't go to Tomlin's. He's got a mighty big family to +support, Tomlin has. He's fixin' up to have a son-in-law, and he's +already got a daughter, and old Minervy Ann, who brags that she can eat +as much as she can cook. No, you can't impose on Tomlin."</p> + +<p>"Then, what in the world will I do?" Mr. Sanders asked with a laugh. He +was perfectly familiar with the tactics of the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Well, there wasn't any small-pox or measles at my house when I left day +before yesterday. Suppose we go there, and see if there's anything the +matter. If the stable hasn't blown away or burned down, maybe you'll +find a place for your horse, and then we can scuffle around maybe, and +find something to eat. That's a fine animal you're on. He's the one, I +reckon, that walked the stringer, after the bridge had been washed away. +I never could swallow that tale, Mr. Sanders."</p> + +<p>"Nor me nuther," replied Mr. Sanders. "All I know is that he took me +across the river one dark night after a fresh, an' some folks on t'other +side wouldn't believe I had come across. They got to the place whar the +bridge ought to 'a' been long before dark, and they found it all gone +except one stringer. I seed the stringer arterwards, but I never could +make up my mind that my hoss walked it wi' me a-straddle of his back."</p> + +<p>"Still, if he was my horse," Colonel Blasengame remarked, "I wouldn't +take a thousand dollars for him, and I reckon you've heard it rumoured +around that I haven't got any more money than two good steers could +pull."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders turned his horse's head in the direction that Colonel +Blasengame was going, and when they arrived at his home, he stopped at +the gate. "Mr. Sanders," he said, taking out his watch, "I'll bet you +two dollars and a half to a horn button that breakfast will be ready in +ten minutes, and that everything will be fixed as if company was +expected."</p> + +<p>And it was true. By the time the horse had been put in the stable and +fed, breakfast was ready, and when Mr. Sanders was ushered into the +room, Mrs. Blasengame was sitting in her place at the table pouring out +coffee. She was a frail little woman, but her eyes were bright with +energy, and she greeted the unexpected guest as cordially as if he had +come on her express invitation. She had little to say at any time, but +when she spoke her words were always to the purpose.</p> + +<p>"What did you accomplish?" she asked her husband, after Mr. Sanders, as +in duty bound, had praised the coffee and the biscuit, and the meal was +well under way.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, honey; not a thing in the world. I thought the boys had been +carried to Atlanta, but they are at Fort Pulaski."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blasengame said nothing more, and the Colonel was for talking about +something else, but the curiosity of Mr. Sanders was aroused.</p> + +<p>"What boys was you referrin' to, Colonel?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't like to tell you, Mr. Sanders," replied Colonel Blasengame, +"but if you'll take no offence, I'll say that the boys are from a little +one-horse country settlement called Shady Dale, a place where the people +are asleep day and night. A parcel of Yankees went over there the other +night, snatched four boys out of their beds, and walked off with them."</p> + +<p>"That's so," Mr. Sanders assented.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's so," cried the Colonel hotly. "And it's a——" He caught the +eye of his wife and subsided. "Excuse me, honey; I'm rather wrought up +over this thing. What worries me," he went on, "is that the boys were +yerked out of bed, and carried off, and then their own families went to +sleep again. But suppose they didn't turn over and go back to sleep: +doesn't that make matters worse? I can't understand it to save my life. +Why, if it had happened here, the whole town would have been wide awake +in ten minutes, and the boys would never have been carried across the +corporation line. Tomlin is mighty near wild about it. If I hadn't gone +to Atlanta, he would have gone; and you know how he is, honey. Somebody +would have got hurt."</p> + +<p>Yet, strange to say, Major Tomlin Perdue was far cooler and more +deliberate than his brother-in-law, Colonel Blasengame. It was the +peculiarity of each that he was anxious to assume all the dangerous +responsibilities with which the other might be confronted; and the only +serious dispute between the two men was in the shape of a hot +controversy as to which should call to account the writer of a card in +which Major Perdue was criticised somewhat more freely than politeness +warranted.</p> + +<p>"You are correct in your statement about the four boys bein' took away," +said Mr. Sanders, "but you'll have to remember that the woods ain't so +full of Blasengames an' Perdues as they used to be; an' you ain't got in +this town a big, heavy balance-wheel the size an' shape of Meriwether +Clopton."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, you were about to be too hasty in your remarks," suggested +Mrs. Blasengame. Her soft voice had a strangely soothing effect on her +husband. "If some of our young men had been seized, all of us, including +you, my dear, would have been in a state of paralysis, just as our +friends in Shady Dale were."</p> + +<p>"The only man in town that know'd it," Mr. Sanders explained, "was Silas +Tomlin. He was sleepin' in the same room wi' Paul, an' they rousted him +out, an' took him along. They carried him four or five mile. He had to +walk back, an' by the time he got home, the sun was up."</p> + +<p>"That puts a new light on it," said the Colonel, "and Tomlin will be as +glad to hear it as I am. But I wonder what the rest of the State will +think of us."</p> + +<p>"My dear, didn't these young men, and the Yankees who arrested them, +take the train here?" inquired Mrs. Blasengame. She nodded to Mr. +Sanders, and a peculiar smile began to play over that worthy's features.</p> + +<p>"By George! I believe they did, honey!" exclaimed the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"And in broad daylight?" persisted the lady.</p> + +<p>To this the Colonel made no reply, and Mr. Sanders became the +complainant. "I dunner what we're comin' to," he declared, "when a +passel of Yankees can yerk four of our best young men on a train in this +town in broad daylight, an' all the folks a-stanin' aroun' gapin' at +'em, an' wonderin' what they're gwine to do next."</p> + +<p>"Say no more, Mr. Sanders; say no more—the mule is yours." This in the +slang of the day meant that the point at issue had been surrendered.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Lucy Lumsden is utterly crushed on Gabriel's account," +remarked Mrs. Blasengame.</p> + +<p>"Crushed!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "no, ma'am! not much, if any. She's +fightin' mad."</p> + +<p>"I know well how she feels," said the pale, bright-eyed little woman. +"It is a pity the men can't have the same feeling."</p> + +<p>"Why, honey, what good would it do?" the Colonel asked, somewhat +querulously.</p> + +<p>"It would do no good; it would do harm—to some people."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said the Colonel, turning to Mr. Sanders with a protesting +frown on his face, "when I want to show some fellow that I'm still on +top of the ground, or when Tomlin takes down his gun and goes after some +rascal, she makes such a racket that you'd think the world was coming to +an end."</p> + +<p>"A racket! I make a racket? Why, Mr. Blasengame, I'm ashamed of you! the +idea!"</p> + +<p>"Well, racket ain't the word, I reckon; but you look so sorry, honey, +that to me it's the same as making a racket. It takes all the grit out +of me when I know that you are sitting here, wondering what minute I'll +be brought home cut into jiblets, or shot full of holes."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blasengame laughed, as she rose from the table. She stood tiptoe to +pin a flower in her husband's button-hole.</p> + +<p>"You've missed a good deal, Mr. Sanders," said the Colonel, stooping to +kiss his wife. "You don't know what a comfort it is to have a little bit +of a woman to boss you, and cuss you out with her eyes when you git on +the wrong track."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Sanders, "I allers feel like a widower when I see a man +reely in love wi' his wife. It's a sight that ain't as common as it used +to be. We'll go now, if you're ready, an' see the Major. I ain't got +much time to tarry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you want me to go too?" said the Colonel eagerly. "Well, I'm your +man; you can just count on me, no matter what scheme you've got on +hand."</p> + +<p>They went to Major Perdue's, and were ushered in by Minervy Ann. "I'm +mighty glad you come," said she; "kaze 'taint been ten minnits sence +Marse Tomlin wuz talkin' 'bout gwine over dar whar you live at; an' he +ain't got no mo' business in de hot sun dan a rabbit is got in a blazin' +brushpile. Miss Vallie done tole 'im so, an' I done tole 'im so. He went +ter bed wid de headache, an' he got up wid it; an' what you call dat, ef +'taint bein' sick? But, sick er well, he'll be mighty glad ter see you."</p> + +<p>Aunt Minervy Ann made haste to inform the Major that he had visitors. "I +tuck 'em in de settin'-room," she said, "kaze dat parlour look ez cold +ez a funer'l. It give me de shivers eve'y time I go in dar. De cheers +set dar like dey waitin' fer ter make somebody feel like dey ain't +welcome, an' dat ar sofy look like a coolin'-board."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders was very much at home in the Major's house; he had dandled +Vallie on his knee when she was a baby; and he had made the Major's +troubles his own as far as he could. Consequently the greeting he +received was as cordial as he could have desired. "Major," he said, when +he found opportunity to state the nature of his business, "do you know +young Gabe Tolliver?"</p> + +<p>"Mighty well—mighty well," responded Major Perdue, "and a fine boy he +is. He'll make his mark some day."</p> + +<p>"Not onless we do somethin' to help him out. They ain't no way in the +world he can prove that he didn't kill that feller Hotchkiss. Ike Varner +done the killin', but he's gone, an' I think his wife is fixin' to go to +Atlanta. They've got the dead wood on Gabriel. They ain't no case at all +ag'in the rest; but you know how Gabriel is—he goes moonin' about in +the fields both day an' night, an' it's mighty hard for to put your +finger on him when you want him. An' to make it wuss, Hotchkiss called +his name more'n once before he died. It looks black for Gabriel, an' we +must do somethin' for him."</p> + +<p>Major Perdue leaned forward a little, a frown on his face, and stretched +forth his left hand, in the palm of which he placed the forefinger of +his right. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I'm just as much obliged to +you for coming to me as if you had saved me from drowning. I have come +to the point where I can't hold in much longer, and maybe you'll keep me +from making a fool of myself. I'll say beforehand, I don't care what +your plan is; I don't care to know it—just count on me."</p> + +<p>"And where do I come in?" Colonel Blasengame inquired.</p> + +<p>"Right by my side," responded Major Perdue.</p> + +<p>Without further preliminaries, Mr. Sanders set forth the details of the +programme that had arranged itself in his mind, and when he was through, +Major Perdue leaned back in his chair, and gazed with admiration at the +bland and child-like countenance of this Georgia cracker. The innocence +of childhood shone in Mr. Sanders's blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"I swear, Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of serving +with you in Virginia. If there is anything in this world that I like +it's a man with a head on him, and that's what you've got. You can count +on us if we are alive. I don't know how Bolivar feels about it, but I +feel that you have done me a great favour in thinking of me in +connection with this business. You couldn't pay either of us a higher +compliment."</p> + +<p>"Tomlin expresses my views exactly," said Colonel Blasengame; "yet I +feel that one of us will be enough. It may be that your scheme will +fail, and that those who are engaged in it will have to take the +consequence. Now, I'd rather take 'em alone than to have Tumlin mixed up +with it."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks, Bolivar! you couldn't keep me out of it unless you had a +bench-warrant served on me five minutes before the train left, and if +you try that, I'll have one served on you. Now, don't forget to tell +Tidwell that I'll be glad to renew that dispute. I bear no malice, but +when it comes to a row, I don't need malice to keep my mind and my gun +in working order. I'm going down to Malvern to-morrow, and before I come +away, I'll have everything fixed. There are some details, you know, that +never occurred to you: the police, for instance. Well, the chief of +police is a very good friend of mine, and the major was Bolivar's +adjutant."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thank the Lord for all his mercies!" cried Mr. Sanders; and he +meant what he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</h2> + +<h3><i>Nan and Margaret</i></h3> + + +<p>It was hinted in some of the early chapters of this chronicle that none +of the characters would turn out to be very heroic, but this was a +mistake. The chronicler had forgotten a few episodes that grew out of +the expedition of Cephas to Fort Pulaski—episodes that should have +stood out clear in his memory from the first. Cephas was very meek and +humble when he started on his expedition, so much so that there were +long moments when he would have given a large fortune, if he had +possessed it, to be safe at home with his mother. A hundred times he +asked himself why he had been foolish enough to come away from home, and +trust himself to the cold mercy of the world; and he promised himself +faithfully that if he ever got back home alive, he would never leave +there again.</p> + +<p>Captain Falconer was very kind and attentive to the lad, but he was also +very inquisitive. He asked Cephas a great many artful questions, all +leading up to the message he was to deliver to Gabriel; but the +instructions he had received from Mr. Sanders made Cephas more than a +match for the Captain. When the lad came to the years of maturity, he +often wondered how a plain and comparatively ignorant countryman could +foresee the questions that were to be asked, and provide simple and +satisfactory answers to them; and the matter is still a mystery.</p> + +<p>Well, Cephas was not a hero when he started, and if the truth is to be +told, he developed none of the symptoms until he had returned home +safely, accompanied by Mr. Sanders. Then he became the lion of the +village, and was sought after by old and young. All wanted to hear the +story of his wonderful adventures. He speedily became a celebrated +Cephas, and when he found that he was really regarded as a hero by his +schoolmates, and by some of the young women, he was quick to appropriate +the character. He became reticent; he went about with a sort of weary +and travel-worn look, as if he had seen everything that was worth +seeing, and heard everything that was worth hearing.</p> + +<p>Now, what Cephas had seen and heard was bad enough. He could hardly be +brought to believe that the haggard and wild-eyed young fellow who +answered to Gabriel's name at the fort was the Gabriel that he had +known, and when he made up his mind that it really was Gabriel, he +couldn't hold the tears back. "Brace up, old man," said Gabriel. It was +then in a choking voice that Cephas delivered Mr. Sanders's message, +using the dog-latin which they both knew so well. And in that tongue +Gabriel told Cephas of the tortures to which he and his fellow-prisoners +had been subjected, of the horrors of the sweat-boxes, and the terrors +of the wrist-rack. So effective was the narrative that Gabriel rattled +off in the school tongue, that when he was ordered back to his solitary +cell, Cephas turned away weeping. He was no hero then; he was simply a +small boy with a tender heart.</p> + +<p>There were grave faces at Shady Dale when Cephas told what he had seen +and heard. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, became almost savage +when he heard of the indignities to which the unfortunate young men had +been subjected. He wrote a card and published it in the <i>Malvern +Recorder</i>, and the card was so much to the purpose, and created such +indignation in the State, that the authorities at Washington took +cognisance thereof, and issued orders that there was to be no more +torture of the prisoners. This fact, however, was not known until months +afterward, and, meanwhile, the newspapers of Georgia were giving a wide +publicity to the cruelties which had been practised on the young men, +and radicalism became the synonym of everything that was loathsome and +detestable. Reprisals were made in all parts of the State, and as was to +be expected, the negroes were compelled to bear the brunt of all the +excitement and indignation.</p> + +<p>The tale that Cephas told to Mr. Sanders was modest when compared to the +inventions that occurred to his mind after he found how easy it was to +be a hero. Though he pretended to be heartily tired of the whole +subject, there was nothing that tickled him more than to be cornered by +a crowd of his schoolmates and comrades, all intent on hearing anew the +awful recital which Cephas had prepared after his return.</p> + +<p>One of the first to seek Cephas out was Nan Dorrington, and this was +precisely what the young hero wanted. He was very cold and indifferent +when Nan besought him to tell her all about his trip. How did he enjoy +himself? and didn't he wish he was back at home many a time? And what +did Paul and Jesse have to say? Ah, Cephas had his innings now!</p> + +<p>"I didn't see Paul and Jesse," replied Cephas, "and I didn't see Francis +Bethune."</p> + +<p>"Did they have them hid?" asked Nan.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. The one I saw was in a black dungeon. I couldn't hardly +see his face, and when I did see it, I was sorry I saw it." Cephas +leaned back against the fence with the air of a fellow who has seen too +much. Nan was dying to ask a hundred questions about the one Cephas had +seen, but she resented his indifferent and placid attitude. All heroes +are placid and indifferent when they discuss their deeds, but they +wouldn't be if the public in general felt toward them as Nan felt toward +Cephas. The only reason she didn't seize the little fellow and give him +a good shaking was the fact that she was dying to hear all he had to say +about his visit, and all about Gabriel.</p> + +<p>Gradually Cephas thawed out. One or the other had to surrender, and the +small boy had no such incentive to silence as Nan had. His pride was not +involved, whereas Nan would have gone to the rack and suffered herself +to be pulled to pieces before she would have asked any direct questions +about Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"I'm mighty sorry I went," said Cephas finally, and then he stopped +short.</p> + +<p>"Why?" inquired Nan.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—I don't know exactly. I thought I would find everybody just +like they were before they went away, but the one I saw looked like a +drove of mules had trompled on him. He didn't have on any coat, and his +shirt was torn and dirty, and his face looked like he had been sick a +month. His eyes were hollow, and had black circles around them."</p> + +<p>"Did he say anything?" asked Nan in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he said, 'Brace up, old man.'"</p> + +<p>"Was that all?"</p> + +<p>"And then he asked if anybody had sent him any word, and I said, 'Nobody +but Mr. Sanders'; and then he said, 'I might have known that he wouldn't +forget me.'" Cephas could see Nan crushing her handkerchief in her hand, +and he enjoyed it immensely.</p> + +<p>"Was he angry with any one?" Nan asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, when did anybody ever hear of his being angry with any one he +thought was a friend?" exclaimed Cephas scornfully. Nan writhed at this, +and Cephas went on. "He had been tied up by the wrists, and then he had +been put in a sweat-box, and nearly roasted—yes, by grabs! pretty nigh +cooked."</p> + +<p>"Why, you didn't tell his grandmother that," said Nan.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Cephas. "What do you take me for? Do +you reckon I'd tell that to anybody that cared anything for him? Why, I +wouldn't tell his grandmother that for anything in the world, and if she +was to ask me about it, I'd deny it."</p> + +<p>This arrow went home. Cephas had the unmixed pleasure of seeing Nan turn +pale. "I think you are simply awful," she gasped. "You are cruel, and +you are unkind. You know very well that I care something for Gabriel. +Haven't we been friends since we were children together? Do you suppose +I have no feelings?"</p> + +<p>"I know what you said when I told you I was going to see Gabriel."</p> + +<p>"What was that?" inquired Nan.</p> + +<p>"Why, you said, 'Well, what is that to me?'" exclaimed Cephas. He +twisted his face awry, and mimicked Nan's voice with considerable +success, only he made it more spiteful than that charming young woman +could have done.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did say that, but didn't I go to your house, and tell you what +to say to Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>Cephas laughed scornfully. "Did you think I was going to swallow the +joke that you and that Claiborne girl hatched up between you? Do you +reckon I'm fool enough to tell Gabriel that you'll die if he don't come +home soon?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell him, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't," replied Cephas. "I would cut off one of my fingers +before I'd let him know that there were people here at home making fun +of him."</p> + +<p>Nan gazed at Cephas as if she suspected him of a joke. But she saw that +he was very much in earnest. "I'm glad you didn't tell him," she said +finally. Then she laughed, saying, "Cephas, I really did think you had a +little sense."</p> + +<p>"I have sense enough not to hurt the feelings of them that like me," the +boy replied. And he went on his way, trying to reconcile the Nan +Dorrington who used to be so kind to him with the Nan Dorrington who was +flirting and flitting around with long skirts on. He failed, as older +and more experienced persons have failed.</p> + +<p>But you may be sure that he felt himself no less a hero because Nan +Dorrington had hinted that he had no sense. He knew where the lack of +sense was. After awhile, when interested persons ceased to run after him +to get all the particulars of his visit to Fort Pulaski, he threw +himself in their way, and when the details of his journey began to pall +on the appetite of his friends, he invented new ones, and in this way +managed to keep the centre of the stage for some time. When he could no +longer interest the older folk, he had the school-children to fall back +upon, and you may believe that he caused the youngsters to sit with +open-mouthed wonder at the tales he told. The fact that he stammered a +little, and sometimes hesitated for a word, made not the slightest +difference with his audience of young people.</p> + +<p>There was one fact that bothered Cephas. He had been told that Francis +Bethune was in love with Margaret Gaither, and he knew that the young +man was a constant caller at Neighbour Tomlin's, where Margaret lived. +Indeed, he had carried notes to her from the young man, and had +faithfully delivered the replies. He judged, therefore, as well as a +small boy can judge, that there was some sort of an understanding +between the two, and he itched for the opportunity to pour the tale of +his adventures into Margaret's ears. He loitered around the house, and +threw himself in Margaret's way when she went out visiting or shopping. +She greeted him very kindly on each particular occasion, but not once +did she betray any interest in Francis Bethune or his fellow-prisoners.</p> + +<p>When Nan met Cephas, on the occasion of the interview which has just +been reported, she was on her way to Neighbour Tomlin's to pay a visit +to Margaret, and thither she went, after giving Cephas the benefit of +her views as to his mental capacity. Margaret happened to be out at the +moment, but Miss Fanny insisted that Nan should come in anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Margaret will be back directly," Miss Fanny said; "she has only gone to +the stores to match a piece of ribbon. Besides, I want to talk to you a +little while. But good gracious! what is the matter with you? I expected +cheerfulness from you at least, but what do I find? Well, you and +Margaret should live in the same house; they say misery loves company. +Here I was about to ask you why Margaret is unhappy, and I find you +looking out of Margaret's eyes. Are you unhappy, too?"</p> + +<p>"No, Aunt Fanny, I'm not unhappy; I'm angry. I don't see why girls +should become grown. Why, I was always in a good humour until I put on +long skirts, and then my troubles began. I can neither run nor play; I +must be on my dignity all the time for fear some one will raise her +hands and say, 'Do look at that Nan Dorrington! Isn't she a bold piece?' +I never was so tired of anything in my life as I am of being grown. I +never will get used to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll get in the habit of it after awhile, child," said Miss +Fanny. "But I never would have believed that Nan Dorrington would care +very much for what people said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't on my account that I care," remarked Nan, with a toss of +her head, "but I don't want my friends to have their feelings hurt by +what other people say. If there is anything in this world I detest it is +dignity—I don't mean Margaret's kind, because she was born so and can't +help it—but the kind that is put on and taken off like a summer bonnet. +If I can't be myself, I'll do like Leese Clopton did, I'll go into a +convent."</p> + +<p>"Well, you certainly would astonish the nuns when you began to cut some +of your capers," Miss Fanny declared.</p> + +<p>"Am I as bad as all that? Tell me honestly, Aunt Fanny, now while I am +in the humour to hear it, what do I do that is so terrible?"</p> + +<p>"Honestly, Nan, you do nothing terrible at all. Not even Miss Puella +Gillum could criticise you."</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Puella never criticises any one. She's just as sweet as she +can be."</p> + +<p>"Well, she's an old maid, you know, and old maids are supposed to be +critical," said Miss Fanny. "I'll tell you where all the trouble is, +Nan: you are sensitive, and you have an idea that you must behave as +some of the other girls do—that you must hold your hands and your head +just so. If you would be yourself, and forget all about etiquette and +manners, you'd satisfy everybody, especially yourself."</p> + +<p>"Why, that is what worries me now; I do forget all about those things, +and then, all of a sudden, I realise that I am acting like a child, and +a very noisy child at that, and then I'm afraid some one will make +remarks. It is all very miserable and disagreeable, and I wish there +wasn't a long skirt in the world."</p> + +<p>"Well, when you get as old as I am," sighed Miss Fanny, "you won't mind +little things like that. Margaret is coming now. I'll leave you with +her. Try to find out why she is unhappy. Pulaski is nearly worried to +death about it, and so am I."</p> + +<p>Margaret Gaither came in as sedately as an old woman. She was very fond +of Nan, and greeted her accordingly. Whatever her trouble was, it had +made no attack on her health. She had a fine color, and her eyes were +bright; but there was the little frown between her eyebrows that had +attracted the attention of Gabriel, and it gave her a troubled look.</p> + +<p>"If you'll tell me something nice and pleasant," she said to Nan, "I'll +be under many obligations to you. Tell me something funny, or if you +don't know anything funny, tell me something horrible—anything for a +change. I saw Cephas downtown; that child has been trying for days to +tell me of his adventures, and I have been dying to hear them. But I +keep out of his way; I am so perverse that I refuse to give myself that +much pleasure. Oh, if you only knew how mean I am, you wouldn't sit +there smiling. I hear that the dear boys are having a good deal of +trouble. Well, it serves them right; they had no business to be boys. +They should have been girls; then they would have been perfectly happy +all the time. Don't you think so, sweet child?"</p> + +<p>Nan regarded her friend with astonishment. She had never heard her talk +in such a strain before. "Why, what is the matter with you, Margaret? +You know that girls can be as unhappy as boys; yes, and a thousand times +more so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll never believe it! never!" cried Margaret. "Why, do you mean to +tell me that any girl can be unhappy? You'll have to prove it, Nan; +you'll have to give the name, and furnish dates, and then you'll have to +give the reason. Do you mean to insinuate that you intend to offer +yourself as the horrible example? Fie on you, Nan! You're in love, and +you mistake that state for unhappiness. Why, that is the height of +bliss. Look at me! I'm in love, and see how happy I am!"</p> + +<p>"I know one thing," said Nan, and her voice was low and subdued, "if you +go on like that, you'll frighten me away. Do you want to make your best +friends miserable?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," replied Margaret. "What are friends for? I should +dislike very much to have a friend that I couldn't make miserable. But +if you think you are going to run away, come up to my room and we'll +lock ourselves in, and then I know you can't get away."</p> + +<p>"Now, what is the matter?" Nan insisted, when they had gone upstairs, +and were safe in Margaret's room. She had seized her friend in her arms, +and her tone was imploring.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I can tell you, Nan; you would consider me a fool, and I +want to keep your good opinion. But I can tell you a part of my +troubles. He wants me to marry Francis Bethune! Think of that!" She +paused and looked at Nan. "Well, why don't you congratulate me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll never believe that," said Nan, decisively. "Did he say that he +wanted you to marry Frank Bethune?" The "he" in this case was Pulaski +Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"Well, he didn't insist on it; he's too kind for that. But Francis has +been coming here very often, until our friends in blue gave him a +much-needed rest, and I suppose I must have been going around looking +somewhat gloomy; you know how I am—I can't be gay; and then he asked me +what the trouble was, and finally said that Francis would make me a good +husband. Why, I could have killed myself! Think of me, in this house, +and occupying the position I do!"</p> + +<p>Such heat and fury Nan had never seen her friend display before. "Why, +Margaret!" she cried, "you don't know what you are saying. Why, if he or +Aunt Fanny could hear you, they would be perfectly miserable. I don't +see how you can feel that way."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't, and I hope you never will!" exclaimed Margaret. "Nobody +knows how I feel. If I could, I would tell you—but I can't, I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Margaret," said Nan, in a most serious tone, "has he or Aunt Fanny +ever treated you unkindly?" Nan was prepared to hear the worst.</p> + +<p>"Unkindly!" cried Margaret, bursting into tears; "oh, I wish they would! +I wish they would treat me as I deserve to be treated. Oh, if he would +treat me cruelly, or do something to wound my feelings, I would bless +him."</p> + +<p>Margaret had led Nan into a strange country, so to speak, and she knew +not which way to turn or what to say. Something was wrong, but what? Of +all Nan's acquaintances, Margaret was the most self-contained, the most +evenly balanced. Many and many a time Nan had envied Margaret's +serenity, and now here she was in tears, after talking as wildly as some +hysterical person.</p> + +<p>"Come home with me, Margaret," cried Nan. "Maybe the change would do you +good."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Nan. You are as good as you can be; you are almost as good +as the people here; but I can't go. I can't leave this house for any +length of time until I leave it for good. I'd be wild to get back; my +misery fascinates me; I hate it and hug it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that I don't understand you at all," said Nan, in a tone of +despair.</p> + +<p>"No, and you never will," Margaret affirmed. "To understand you would +have to feel as I do, and I hope you may be spared that experience all +the days of your life."</p> + +<p>After awhile Nan decided that Margaret would be more comfortable if she +were alone, and so she bade her friend good-bye, and went downstairs, +where she found Miss Fanny awaiting her somewhat impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is the trouble, child?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Nan shook her head. "I don't know, Aunt Fanny, and I don't believe she +knows herself."</p> + +<p>"But didn't she give you some hint—some intimation? I don't want to be +inquisitive, child; but if she's in trouble, I want to find some remedy +for it. Pulaski is in a terrible state of mind about her, and I am +considerably worried myself. We love her just as much as if she were our +own, and yet we can't go to her and make a serious effort to discover +what is worrying her. She is proud and sensitive, and we have to be very +careful. Oh, I hope we have done nothing to wound that child's +feelings."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," replied Nan. "I asked her, and she said that you +treated her too kindly."</p> + +<p>"Well," sighed Miss Fanny, "if she won't confide in us, she'll have to +bear her troubles alone. It is a pity, but sometimes it is best."</p> + +<p>And then there came a knock on the door, and it was so sudden and +unexpected that Nan gave a jump.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY-NINE"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</h2> + +<h3><i>Bridalbin Finds His Daughter</i></h3> + + +<p>"They's a gentleman out there what says he wanter see Miss Bridalbin," +said the house-girl who had gone to the door. "I tol' him they wan't no +sech lady here, but he say they is. It's that there Mr. Borin'," the +girl went on, "an' I didn't know if you'd let him go in the parlour."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ask him in the parlour," said Miss Fanny, "and then go upstairs +and tell Miss Margaret that some one wants to see her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yessum!" said the house-girl with a laugh; "it's Miss Marg'ret; I +clean forgot her yuther name."</p> + +<p>"The rascal certainly has impudence," remarked Miss Fanny. "Pulaski +should know about this." Whereupon, she promptly called Neighbour Tomlin +out of the library, and he came into the room just as Margaret came +downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Wait one moment, Margaret," he said. "It may be well for me to see what +this man wants—unless——" He paused. "Do you know this Boring?"</p> + +<p>"No; I have heard of him. I have never even seen him that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll see him first," said Neighbour Tomlin. He went into the +parlour, and those who were listening heard a subdued murmur of voices.</p> + +<p>"What is your business with Miss Bridalbin?" Neighbour Tomlin asked, +ignoring the proffered hand of the visitor.</p> + +<p>"I am her father."</p> + +<p>Neighbour Tomlin stood staring at the man as if he were dazed. +Bridalbin's face bore the unmistakable marks of alcoholism, and he had +evidently prepared himself for this interview by touching the bottle, +for he held himself with a swagger.</p> + +<p>Neighbour Tomlin said not a word in reply to the man's declaration. He +stared at him, and turned and went back into the sitting-room where he +had left the others.</p> + +<p>"Why, Pulaski, what on earth is the matter?" cried Miss Fanny, as he +entered the room. "You look as if you had seen a ghost." And indeed his +face was white, and there was an expression in his eyes that Nan thought +was most piteous.</p> + +<p>"Go in, my dear," he said to Margaret. "The man has business with you." +And then, when Margaret had gone out, he turned to Miss Fanny. "It is +her father," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wonder what's he up to?" remarked Miss Fanny. There was a touch +of anger in her voice. "She shan't go a step away from here with such a +creature as that."</p> + +<p>"She is her own mistress, sister. She is twenty years old," replied +Neighbour Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be very ungrateful if she leaves us," said Miss Fanny, +with some emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Don't, sister; never use that word again; to me it has an ugly sound. +We have had no thought of gratitude in the matter. If there is any debt +in the matter, we are the debtors. We have not been at all happy in the +way we have managed things. I have seen for some time that Margaret is +unhappy; and we have no business to permit unhappiness to creep into +this house." So said Neighbour Tomlin, and the tones of his voice seemed +to issue from the fountains of grief.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am sure I have done all I could to make the poor child happy," +Miss Fanny declared.</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that," said Neighbour Tomlin. "If any mistake has been +made it is mine. And yet I have never had any other thought than to make +Margaret happy."</p> + +<p>"I know that well enough, Pulaski," Miss Fanny assented, "and I have +sometimes had an idea that you thought too much about her for your own +good."</p> + +<p>"That is true," he replied. He was a merciless critic of himself in +matters both great and small, and he had no concealments to make. He was +open as the day, except where openness might render others unhappy or +uncomfortable. "Yes, you are right," he insisted; "I have thought too +much about her happiness for my own good, and now I see myself on the +verge of great trouble."</p> + +<p>"If Margaret understood the situation," said Miss Fanny, "I think she +would feel differently."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I think she understands the situation perfectly well; +that is the only explanation of her troubles which she has not sought to +conceal."</p> + +<p>At that moment Margaret came to the door. Her face was very pale, almost +ghastly, indeed, but whatever trouble may have looked from her eyes +before, they were clear now. She came into the room with a little smile +hovering around her mouth. She had no eyes for any one but Pulaski +Tomlin, and to him she spoke.</p> + +<p>"My father has come," she said. "He is not such a father as I would have +selected; still, he is my father. I knew him the moment I opened the +door. He wants me to go with him; he says he is able to provide for me. +He has claims on me."</p> + +<p>"Have we none?" Miss Fanny asked.</p> + +<p>"More than anybody in the world," replied Margaret, turning to her; +"more than all the rest of the world put together. But I have always +said to myself," she addressed Neighbour Tomlin again, "that if it +should ever happen that I found myself unable to carry out your wishes, +sir, it would be best for me to leave your roof, where all my happiness +has come to me." She was very humble, both in speech and demeanour.</p> + +<p>Neighbour Tomlin looked at her with a puzzled and a grieved expression. +"Why, I don't understand you, Margaret," said Neighbour Tomlin. "What +wish of mine have you found yourself unable to carry out?"</p> + +<p>"Only one, sir; but that was a very important one; you desired me to +marry Mr. Bethune."</p> + +<p>"I? Why, you were never more mistaken in your life," replied Neighbour +Tomlin, with what Miss Fanny thought was unnecessary energy. "I may have +suggested it; I saw you gloomy and unhappy, and I had observed the +devotion of the young man. What more natural than for me to suggest +that—Margaret! you are giving me a terrible wound!" He turned and went +into the library, and Margaret ran after him.</p> + +<p>It is probable that Nan knows better than any outsider what occurred +then. It seems that Margaret, in her excitement, forgot to close the +door after her, and Nan was sitting where she could see pretty much +everything that happened; and she had a delicious little tale to tell +her dear Johnny when she went home, a tale so impossible and romantic +that she forgot her own troubles, and fairly glowed with happiness. But +it is best not to depend too much on what Nan saw, though her sight was +fairly good where her interests were enlisted.</p> + +<p>Margaret ran after Neighbour Tomlin and seized him by the arm. "Oh, I +never meant to wound you," she cried—"you who have been so kind, and so +good! Oh, if you could only read my heart, you would forgive me, +instantly and forever."</p> + +<p>"I can read my own heart," said Neighbour Tomlin, "and it has but one +feeling for you."</p> + +<p>"Then kiss me good-bye," she said. "I am going with my father."</p> + +<p>"If I kiss you," he replied, "you'll not go."</p> + +<p>She looked at him, and he at her, and she found herself in the focus of +a light that enabled her to see everything more clearly. She caught his +secret and he hers, and there was no longer any room for +misunderstanding. Her father, weak as he was, had been strong enough to +provide his daughter with a remedy for the only serious trouble, short +of bereavement, that his daughter was ever to know. She refused to +return to the parlour, where he awaited her.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go?" said Neighbour Tomlin.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir," said Margaret, with a faint smile. She could +hardly realise the change that had so suddenly taken place in her hopes +and her plans, so swift and unexpected had it been.</p> + +<p>Neighbour Tomlin went into the parlour, and made Bridalbin acquainted +with the facts.</p> + +<p>"Margaret has changed her mind," said Neighbour Tomlin. "She thinks it +is best to remain under the care and protection of those whom she knows +better than she knows her father."</p> + +<p>"Why, she seemed eager to go a moment ago," said Bridalbin; "and you +must remember that she is my daughter."</p> + +<p>"Her friends couldn't forget that under all the circumstances," +Neighbour Tomlin remarked drily.</p> + +<p>"I believe her mind has been poisoned against me," Bridalbin declared.</p> + +<p>"That is quite possible," replied Neighbour Tomlin; "and I think you +could easily guess the name of the poisoner."</p> + +<p>"May I see my daughter?"</p> + +<p>"That rests entirely with her," said Neighbor Tomlin.</p> + +<p>But Margaret refused to see him again. Since her own troubles had been +so completely swept away, her memory reverted to all the troubles her +mother had to endure, as the result of Bridalbin's lack of fixed +principles, and she sent him word that she would prefer not to see him +then or ever afterward; and so the man went away, more bent on doing +mischief than ever, though he was compelled to change his field of +operations.</p> + +<p>And then, after he was gone, a silence fell on the company. Nan appeared +to be in a dazed condition, while Miss Fanny sat looking out of the +window. Margaret, very much subdued, was clinging to Nan, and Neighbour +Tomlin was pacing up and down in the library in a glow of happiness. All +his early dreams had come back to him, and they were true. The romance +of his youth had been changed into a reality.</p> + +<p>Margaret was the first to break the silence. She left Nan, and went +slowly to Miss Fanny, and stood by her chair. "What do you think of me?" +she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>For answer, Miss Fanny rose and placed her arms around the girl, and +held her tightly for a moment, and then kissed her.</p> + +<p>"But I do think, my dear," she said with an effort to laugh, "that the +matter might have been arranged without frightening us to death."</p> + +<p>"I had no thought of frightening you. Oh, I am afraid I had no thought +for anything but my own troubles. Did you know? Did you guess?"</p> + +<p>"I knew about Pulaski, but I had to go away from home to learn the news +about you. Madame Awtry called my attention to it, and then with my +eyes upon, I could see a great many things that were not visible +before."</p> + +<p>"Why, how could she know?" cried Margaret. "I have talked with her not +more than a half dozen times."</p> + +<p>"She is a very wise woman," Miss Fanny remarked, by way of explanation.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I get in love, I'll not visit Madame Awtry," said Nan.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you have been there once too often," Miss Fanny declared.</p> + +<p>"Why, what has she been telling you?" inquired Nan, blushing very red.</p> + +<p>"I'll not disclose your secrets, Nan," answered Miss Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I would thank you kindly, if I had any," said Nan.</p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, while Margaret was standing with her arms around +Miss Fanny, she began to blush and show signs of embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Nan," she said, "will you take a boarder for—for—for I don't know how +long?"</p> + +<p>"Not for long, Nan. Say a couple of weeks." It was Neighbour Tomlin who +spoke, as he came out of the library.</p> + +<p>"Oh, for longer than that," protested Margaret.</p> + +<p>"You must remember that I am getting old, child," he said very solemnly.</p> + +<p>"So am I, sir," she said archly. "I am quite as old as you are, I +think."</p> + +<p>"This is the first quarrel," Nan declared, "and who knows how it will +all end? You are to come and stay as long as you please, and then after +that, you are to stay as long as I please."</p> + +<p>"I declare, Nan, you talk like an old woman!" exclaimed Miss Fanny; +whereupon Nan laughed and said she had to be serious sometimes.</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged that Margaret was to stay with Nan for an +indefinite period. "I hope you will come to see me occasionally, Mr. +Tomlin, and you too, Aunt Fanny," she said with mock formality. "We +shall have days for receiving company, just as the fine ladies do in the +cities; and you'll have to send in your cards."</p> + +<p>The two young women refused to go in the carriage.</p> + +<p>"It is so small and stuffy," said Margaret to Neighbour Tomlin, "and +to-day I want to be in the fresh air. If you please, sir, don't look at +me like that, or I can never go." She went close to him. "Oh, is it all +true? Is it really and truly true, or is it a dream?"</p> + +<p>"It is true," he said, kissing her. "It is a dream, but it is my dream +come true."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think," she said, as she went along with Nan, "that the world +was as beautiful as it seems to be to-day."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sanders says," replied Nan, "that it is the most comfortable world +he has ever found; but somehow—well, you know we can't all be happy the +same way at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Your day is still to come," said Margaret, "and when it does, I want to +be there."</p> + +<p>"You say that," remarked Nan, "but you know you would have felt better +if you hadn't had so much company. For a wonder Tasma Tid wouldn't go in +the house with me. She said something was happening in there. Now, how +did she know?" Tasma Tid had joined them as they came through the gate, +and now Nan turned to her with the question.</p> + +<p>"Huh! we know dem trouble w'en we see um. Dee ain't no trouble now. She +done gone—dem trouble. But yan' come mo'." She pointed to Miss Polly +Gaither, who came toddling along with her work-bag and her turkey-tail +fan.</p> + +<p>"Howdy, girls? I'm truly glad to see you. You are looking well both of +you, and health is a great blessing. I have just been to Lucy Lumsden's, +Nan, and she thinks a great deal of you. I could tell you things that +would turn your head. But I'm really sorry for Lucy; she's almost as +lonely as I am. They say Gabriel is sure to be dealt with; I'm told +there is no other way out of it. Have you two heard anything?" Margaret +and Nan shook their heads, but gestures of that kind were not at all +satisfactory to Miss Polly. "They say that little Cephas was sent down +to prepare Gabriel for the worst. But I didn't say a word about that to +Lucy, and if you two girls go there, you must be very careful not to +drop a word about it. Lucy is getting old, and she can't bear up under +trouble as she used to could. She has aged wonderfully in the past few +weeks. Don't you think so, Nan?"</p> + +<p>She held up her ear-trumpet as she spoke, and Nan made a great pretence +of yelling into it, though not a sound issued from her lips. Miss Polly +frowned. "Don't talk so loud, my dear; you will make people think I'm a +great deal deafer than I am. But you always would yell at me, though I +have asked you a dozen times to speak only in ordinary tones. Well, I +don't agree with you about Lucy. She has broken terribly since Gabriel +was carried off; she is not the same woman, she takes no interest in +affairs at all. I told her a piece of astonishing news, and she paid no +more attention to it than if she hadn't heard it; and she didn't use to +be that way. Well, we all have our troubles, and you two will have yours +when you grow a little older. That is one thing of which there is always +enough left to go around. The supply is never exhausted."</p> + +<p>After delivering this truism, Miss Polly waved her turkey-tail fan as +majestically as she knew how, and went toddling along home. Miss Polly +was a kind-hearted woman, but she couldn't resist the inclination to +gossip and tattle. Her tattle did no harm, for her weakness was well +advertised in that community; but, unfortunately, her deafness had made +her both suspicious and irritable. When in company, for instance, she +insisted on feeling that people were talking about her when the +conversation was not carried on loud enough for her to hear the sound of +the voices, if not the substance of what was said, and she had a way of +turning to the one closest at hand, with the remark, "They should have +better manners than to talk of the afflictions of an old woman, for it +is not at all certain that they will escape." Naturally this would call +out a protest on the part of all present, whereupon Miss Polly would +shake her head, and remark that she was not as deaf as many people +supposed; that, in fact, there were days when she could hear almost as +well as she heard before the affliction overtook her.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Nan, whose curiosity was always ready to be aroused, +"what piece of astonishing news Miss Polly has been telling Grandmother +Lumsden. Perhaps she has told her of the events of the morning at Mr. +Tomlin's."</p> + +<p>"That is absurd, Nan," Margaret declared. "Still, it would make no +difference to me. He was the only person that I ever wanted to hide my +feelings from. I never so much as dreamed that he could care for +me—and, oh, Nan! suppose that he should be pretending simply to please +me!"</p> + +<p>"You goose!" cried Nan. "Whoever heard of that man pretending, or trying +to deceive any one? If he was a young man, now, it would be different."</p> + +<p>"Not with all young men," Margaret asserted. "There is Gabriel +Tolliver—I don't believe he would deceive any one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gabriel—but why do you mention Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>"Because his eyes are so beautiful and honest," answered Margaret.</p> + +<p>But Nan tossed her head; she would never believe anything good about +Gabriel unless she said it herself—or thought it, for she could think +hundreds, yes, thousands, of things about Gabriel that she wouldn't dare +to breathe aloud, even though there was no living soul within a hundred +miles. And that fact needn't make Gabriel feel so awfully proud, for +there were other persons and things she could think about.</p> + +<p>Ah, well! love is such a restless, suspicious thing, such an irritating, +foolish, freakish, solemn affair, that it is not surprising the two +young women were somewhat afraid of it when they found themselves in its +clutches.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY</h2> + +<h3><i>Miss Polly Has Some News</i></h3> + + +<p>The news which Miss Polly had laid as a social offering at Mrs. Lucy +Lumsden's feet, and which she boasted was very astonishing, had the +appearance of absurdity on the face of it. Miss Polly, with her work-bag +and her turkey-tail fan, had paid a very early visit to the Lumsden +Place. She went in very quietly, greeted her old friend in a subdued +manner, and then sat staring at her with an expression that Mrs. Lumsden +failed to understand. It might have been the result of special and +unmitigated woe, or of physical pain, or of severe fatigue. Whatever the +cause, it was unnatural, and so Gabriel's grandmother made haste to +inquire about it.</p> + +<p>"Why, what in the world is the matter, Polly? Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>At this Miss Polly acted as if she had been aroused from a dream or a +revery. Her work-bag slid from her lap, and her turkey-tail fan would +have fallen had it not been attached to her wrist by a piece of faded +ribbon. "I declare, Lucy, I don't know that I ought to tell you; and I +wouldn't if I thought you would repeat it to a living soul. It is more +than marvellous; it is, indeed, Lucy"—leaning a little nearer, and +lowering her voice, which was never very loud—"I honestly believe that +Ritta Claiborne is in love with old Silas Tomlin! I certainly do."</p> + +<p>"You must have some reason for believing that," said Mrs. Lumsden, with +a benevolent smile, the cause of which the ear-trumpet could not +interpret.</p> + +<p>"Reasons! I have any number, Lucy. I'm certain you won't believe me, but +it has come to that pass that old Silas calls on her every night, and +they sit in the parlour there and talk by the hour, sometimes with +Eugenia, and sometimes without her. It would be no exaggeration at all +if I were to tell you that they are talking together in that parlour +five nights out of the seven. Now, what do they mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, there's nothing in that, Polly. I have heard that they are old +acquaintances. Surely old acquaintances can talk together, and be +interested in one another, without being in love. Why, very frequently +of late Meriwether Clopton comes here. I hope you don't think I'm in +love with him."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Lucy, most certainly not. But do you have Meriwether's +portrait hanging in your parlour? And do you go and sit before it, and +study it, and sometimes shake your finger at it playfully? I tell you, +Lucy, there are some queer people in this world, and Ritta Claiborne is +one of them."</p> + +<p>"She is excellent company," said Mrs. Lumsden.</p> + +<p>"She is, she is," Miss Polly assented. "She is full of life and fun; she +sees the ridiculous side of everything; and that is why I can't +understand her fondness for old Silas. It is away beyond me. Why, Lucy, +she treats that portrait as if it were alive. What she says to it, I +can't tell you, for my hearing is not as good now as it was before my +ears were affected. But she says something, for I can see her lips move, +and I can see her smile. My eyesight is as good now as ever it was. I'm +telling you what I saw, not what I heard. The way she went on over that +portrait was what first attracted my attention; but for that I would +never have had a suspicion. Now, what do you think of it, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular. If it is true, it would be a good thing for +Silas. He is not as mean as a great many people think he is."</p> + +<p>"He may not be, Lucy," responded Miss Polly, "but he brings a bad taste +in my mouth every time I see him."</p> + +<p>"Well, directly after Sherman passed through," said Mrs. Lumsden, "and +when few of us had anything left, Silas came to me, and asked if I +needed anything, and he was ready to supply me with sufficient funds for +my needs."</p> + +<p>"Well, he didn't come to me," Miss Polly declared with emphasis, "and if +anybody in this world had needs, I did. You remember Robert Gaither? +Well, Silas loaned him some money during the war, and although Robert +was in a bad way, old Silas collected every cent down to the very last, +and Robert had to go to Texas. Oh, I could tell you of numberless +instances where he took advantage of those who had borrowed from him."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that Mr. Lumsden had been kind to Silas when he was sowing +his wild oats; indeed, I think my husband advanced him money when he had +exhausted the supply allowed him by the executors of the Tomlin estate."</p> + +<p>"And just think of it, Lucy—Ritta Claiborne sits there and plays the +piano for old Silas, and sometimes Eugenia goes in and sings, and she +has a beautiful voice; I'm not too deaf to know that."</p> + +<p>It was then that Mrs. Lumsden leaned over and gave the ear-trumpet some +very good advice. "If I were in your place, Polly, I wouldn't tell this +to any one else. Mrs. Claiborne is an excellent woman; she comes of a +good family, and she is cultured and refined. No doubt she is sensitive, +and if she heard that you were spreading your suspicions abroad, she +would hardly feel like staying in a house where——" Mrs. Lumsden +paused. She had it on her tongue's-end to say, "in a house where she is +spied upon," but she had no desire in the world to offend that +simple-minded old soul, who, behind all her peculiarities and +afflictions, had a very tender heart.</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean, Lucy," said Miss Polly, "and your advice is good; +but I can't help seeing what goes on under my eyes, and I thought there +could be no harm in telling you about it. I am very fond of Ritta +Claiborne, and as for Eugenia, why she is simply angelic. I love that +child as well as if she were my own. If there's a flaw in her character, +I have never found it. I'll say that much."</p> + +<p>The explanation of Miss Polly's suspicions is not as simple as her +recital of them. No one can account for some of the impulses of the +human heart, or the vagaries of the human mind. It is easy to say that +after Silas Tomlin had his last interview with Mrs. Claiborne, he +permitted his mind to dwell on her personality and surroundings, and so +fell gradually under a spell. Such an explanation is not only easy to +imagine, but it is plausible; nevertheless, it would not be true. There +is a sort of tradition among the brethren who deal with character in +fiction that it must be consistent with itself. This may be necessary in +books, for it sweeps away at one stroke ten thousand mysteries and +problems that play around the actions of every individual, no matter how +high, no matter how humble. How often do we hear it remarked in real +life that the actions of such and such an individual are a source of +surprise and regret to his friends; and how often in our own experience +have we been shocked by the unexpected as it crops out in the actions of +our friends and acquaintances!</p> + +<p>For this and other reasons this chronicler does not propose to explain +Silas's motives and movements and try to show that they are all +consistent with his character, and that, therefore, they were all to be +predicated from the beginning. What is certainly true is that Silas was +one day stopped in the street by Eugenia, who inquired about Paul. He +looked at the girl very gloomily at first, but when he began to talk +about the troubles of his son, he thawed out considerably. In this case +Eugenia's sympathies abounded, in fact were unlimited, and she listened +with dewy eyes to everything Silas would tell her about Paul.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't think too much about Paul," remarked Silas grimly, as they +were about to part.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," replied Eugenia, with a smile, "I'll think just enough +and no more. But it was my mother that told me to ask about him if I saw +you. She is very fond of him. You never come to see us now," the sly +creature suggested.</p> + +<p>Silas stared at her before replying, and tried to find the gleam of +mockery in her eyes, or in her smile. He failed, and his glances became +shifty again. "Why, I reckon she'd kick me down the steps if I called +without having some business with her. If you were to ask her who her +worst enemy is, she'd tell you that I am the man."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," replied Eugenia archly, "I have been knowing mother a good +many years, but I've never seen her put any one out of the house yet. We +were talking about you to-day, and she said you must be very lonely, now +that Paul is away, and I know she sympathises with those who are lonely; +I've heard her say so many a time."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that may be true," remarked Silas, "but she has special reasons +for not sympathising with me. She knows me a great deal better than you +do."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you misjudge us both," said Eugenia demurely. "If you knew +us better, you'd like us better. I'm sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" grunted Silas. Then looking hard at the girl, he bluntly asked, +"Is there anything between you and Paul?"</p> + +<p>"A good many miles, sir, just now," she answered, making one of those +retorts that Paul thought so fine.</p> + +<p>"H-m-m; yes, you are right, a good many miles. Well, there can't be too +many."</p> + +<p>"I think you are cruel, sir. Is Paul not to come home any more? Paul is +a very good friend of mine, and I could wish him well wherever he might +be; but how would you feel, sir, if he were never to return?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I must go," said Silas somewhat bluntly. When Beauty has a glib +tongue, abler men than Silas find themselves without weapons to cope +with it.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell mother that you have given your promise to call soon?" +Eugenia asked.</p> + +<p>"Now, I hope you are not making fun of me," cried Silas with some +irritation.</p> + +<p>"How could that be, sir? Don't you think it would be extremely pert in a +young girl to make fun of a gentleman old enough to be her father?"</p> + +<p>Silas winced at the comparison. "Well, I have seen some very pert ones," +he insisted, and with that he bade her good-day with a very ill grace, +and went on about his business, of which he had a good deal of one kind +and another.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Eugenia, after she had given an account of her encounter +with Silas, "I believe the man has a good heart and is ashamed of it."</p> + +<p>"Why, I think the same may be said of most of the grand rascals that we +read about in history; and the pity of it is that they would have all +been good men if they had had the right kind of women to deal with them +and direct their careers."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so, mother?" the daughter inquired.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it," said the lady.</p> + +<p>Then after all there might be some hope for old Silas Tomlin. And his +instinct may have given him an inkling of the remedy for his particular +form of the whimsies, for it was not many days before he came knocking +at the lady's door, where he was very graciously received, and most +delightfully entertained. Both mother and daughter did their utmost to +make the hours pass pleasantly, and they succeeded to some extent. For +awhile Silas was suspicious, then he would resign himself to the +temptations of good music and bright conversation. Presently he would +remember his suspicions, and straighten himself up in his chair, and +assume an attitude of defiance; and so the first evening passed. When +Silas found himself in the street on his way home, he stopped still and +reflected.</p> + +<p>"Now, what in the ding-nation is that woman up to? What is she trying to +do, I wonder? Why, she's as different from what she was when I first +knew her as a butterfly is from a caterpillar. Why, there ain't a +pearter woman on the continent. No wonder Paul lost his head in that +house! She's up to something, and I'll find out what it is."</p> + +<p>Silas was always suspicious, but on this occasion he bethought himself +of the fact that he had not been dragged into the house; he had been +under no compulsion to knock at the door; indeed, he had taken advantage +of the slightest hint on the part of the daughter—a hint that may have +been a mere form of politeness. He remembered, too, that he had +frequently gone by the house at night, and had heard the piano going, +accompanied by the singing of one or the other of the ladies. His +reflections would have made him ashamed of himself, but he had never +cultivated such feelings. He left that sort of thing to the women and +children.</p> + +<p>In no long time he repeated his visit, and met with the same pleasurable +experience. On this occasion, Eugenia remained in the parlour only a +short time. For a diversion, the mother played a few of the old-time +tunes on the piano, and sang some of the songs that Silas had loved in +his youth. This done, she wheeled around on the stool, and began to talk +about Paul.</p> + +<p>"If I had a son like that," she said, "I should be immensely proud of +him."</p> + +<p>"You have a fine daughter," Silas suggested, by way of consolation.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, but you know we always want that which +we have not. Yet they say that envy is among the mortal sins."</p> + +<p>"Well, a sin's a sin, I reckon," remarked Silas.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! there are degrees in sin. I used to know a preacher who could +run the scale of evil-doing and thinking, just as I can trip along the +notes on the piano."</p> + +<p>"They once tried to make a preacher out of me," remarked Silas, "but +when I slipped in the church one day and went up into the pulpit, I +found it was a great deal too big for me."</p> + +<p>"They make them larger now," said the lady, "so that they will hold the +exhorter and the horrible example at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Did Paul ever see my picture there?" asked Silas, changing the +conversation into a more congenial channel.</p> + +<p>"Why, I think so," replied the lady placidly. "I think he asked about +it, and I told him that we had known each other long ago, which was not +at all the truth."</p> + +<p>"What did Paul say to that?" asked Silas eagerly.</p> + +<p>"He said that while some people might think you were queer, you had been +a good dad to him. I think he said dad, but I'll not be sure."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, he said it," cried Silas, all in a glow. "That's Paul all +over; but what will the poor boy think when he finds out what you know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he'll enjoy the situation," said the lady, laughing. "As you +Georgians say, he'll be tickled to death."</p> + +<p>Silas regarded her with astonishment, his hands clenched and his thin +lips pressed together. "Do you think, Madam, that it is a matter for a +joke? You women——"</p> + +<p>"Can't I have my own views? You have yours, and I make no objection."</p> + +<p>"But think of what a serious matter it is to me. Do you realise that +there is nothing but a whim betwixt me and disgrace—betwixt Paul and +disgrace?"</p> + +<p>"A whim? Why, you are another Daniel O'Connell! Call me a hyperbole, a +rectangled triangle, a parenthesis, or a hyphen." She was laughing, and +yet it was plain to be seen that she had no relish for the term which +Silas had unintentionally applied to her.</p> + +<p>"I meant to say that if the notion seized you, you would fetch us down +as a hunter bags a brace of doves."</p> + +<p>"Doves!" exclaimed Mrs. Claiborne, with a comical lift of the eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Buzzards, then!" said Silas with some heat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you overdo everything," laughed the lady.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's nobody hurt but me," was Silas's gruff reply.</p> + +<p>"And Paul," suggested the lady, with a peculiar smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I say Paul, I mean myself. I've been called worse names than +buzzard by people who were trying to walk off with my money. Oh, they +didn't call me that to my face," said Silas, noticing a queer expression +in the lady's eyes. "And people who should have known better have hated +me because I didn't fling my money away after I had saved it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't worry about that," Mrs. Claiborne remarked. "You will +have plenty of company in the money-grabbing business before long. I can +see signs of it now, and every time I think of it I feel sorry for our +young men, yes, and our young women, and the long generations that are +to come after them. In the course of a very few years you will find your +business to be more respectable than any of the professions. You +remember how, before the war, we used to sneer at the Yankees for their +money-making proclivities? Well, it won't be very long before we'll beat +them at their own game; and then our politicians will thrive, for each +and all of them will have their principles dictated by Shylock and his +partners."</p> + +<p>"Why, you talk as if you were a politician yourself. But why are you +sorry for our young women?"</p> + +<p>"That was a hasty remark. I am sorry for those who will grow weary and +fall by the wayside. The majority of them, and the best of them, will +make themselves useful in thousands of ways, and new industries will +spring up for their benefit. They will become workers, and, being +workers, they will be independent of the men, and finally begin to look +down on them as they should."</p> + +<p>"Well!" exclaimed Silas, and then he sat and gazed at the lady for the +first time with admiration. "Where'd you learn all that?" he asked after +awhile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I read the newspapers, and such books as I can lay my hands on, and +I remember what I read. Didn't you notice that I recited my piece much +as a school-boy would?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't," replied Silas. "I do a good deal of reading myself, but +all those ideas are new to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, they'll be familiar to you just as soon as our people can look +around and get their bearings. As for me, I propose to become an +advanced woman, and go on the stage; there's nothing like being the +first in the field. I always told my husband that if he died and left +me without money, I proposed to earn my own living."</p> + +<p>"You told your husband that? When did you tell him?" inquired Silas with +some eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, long before he died," replied the lady.</p> + +<p>Silas sat like one stunned. "Do you mean to tell me that your husband is +dead?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," replied Mrs. Claiborne. "What possible reason could I +have for denying or concealing the fact?"</p> + +<p>Silas straightened himself in his chair, and frowned. "Then why did you +come here and pretend—pretend—ain't you Ritta Rozelle, that used to +be?"</p> + +<p>"There were two of them," the lady replied. "They were twins. One was +named Clarita, and the other Floretta, but both were called Ritta by +those who could not distinguish them apart. I had reason to believe that +you hadn't treated my sister as you should have done, and I came here to +see if you would take the bait. You snapped it up before the line +touched the water. It was not even necessary for me to try to deceive +you. You simply shut your eyes and declared that I was your wife and +that I had come."</p> + +<p>"You are the sister who was going to school in—wasn't it Boston?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is why I am broad-minded and free from guile," remarked the +lady with a laugh so merry that it irritated Silas.</p> + +<p>"Then you have never been married to me," Silas suggested, still +frowning.</p> + +<p>"I thank you kindly, sir, I never have been."</p> + +<p>"Well, you never denied it," he said.</p> + +<p>"You never gave me an opportunity," she retorted.</p> + +<p>"You simply sat back, and watched me make a fool of myself."</p> + +<p>"You express it very well."</p> + +<p>Silas squirmed on his chair. "Why, you knew me the minute you saw me!" +he cried.</p> + +<p>"Therefore you are still sure I am the woman you married in Louisiana. +Well, the man who was driving the hack the day of my arrival, saw you in +the fields, and he made a remark I have never forgotten. He said—she +mimicked Mr. Goodlett as well as she could—'Well, dang my hide! ef thar +ain't old Silas Tomlin out huntin'! Ef he shoots an' misses he'll pull +all his ha'r out.' 'Why?' I asked. 'Bekaze he can't afford to waste a +load of powder an' shot.'"</p> + +<p>Silas tried to smile. He knew that the point of Mr. Goodlett's joke was +lost on the lady.</p> + +<p>Silas tried to smile, but the effort was too much for him, and he +frowned instead. "You did all you could to humour my mistake," he +declared.</p> + +<p>"I certainly did," said Mrs. Claiborne, very seriously. "I had good +reason to believe that your treatment of my sister was not what it +should have been."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! she wouldn't let me treat her well. Why, we hadn't been +married three months before she took a dislike to me, and she never got +over it. The truth is, she couldn't bear the sight of me. I did what any +other young man would have done. I packed up my things and came back +home. I told Dorrington about it when I came back, and he said the +trouble was a form of hysterics that finally develops into insanity."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was what happened to my poor sister," said Mrs. Claiborne, +"and I never knew the facts until a few months ago. Our aunt, you know, +always contended that you were the cause of it all. But Judge Vardeman, +quite by accident, met the physician who had charge of the case, and I +have a letter from him which clearly explains the whole matter."</p> + +<p>Silas Tomlin sat silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the floor. +"Well, well! here I have been going on for years under the impression +that I was partly responsible for that poor girl's troubles; and it has +been a nightmare riding me every minute that I had time to think." He +stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and drew a long breath. "I +thank you for laying my ghost, and I'll bid you good-night."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY-ONE"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE</h2> + +<h3><i>Mr. Sanders Receives a Message</i></h3> + + +<p>The demeanour of Mr. Sanders about this time was a seven days' wonder in +Shady Dale. As Mrs. Absalom declared, he had tucked his good-humour +under the bed, and was now going about in a state of gloom. This at +least was the general impression; but Mr. Sanders was not gloomy. He was +filled to the brim with impatience, and was to be seen constantly +walking the streets, or occupying his favourite seat on the court-house +steps, the seat that had always attracted him when he was communing with +John Barleycorn. But he and John Barleycorn were strangers now; they +were not on speaking terms. He avoided the companionship of those who +were in the habit of seeking him out to enjoy his drolleries; and +various rumours flew about as to the cause of his apparent troubles. He +was on the point of joining the church, having had enough of the world's +sinfulness; he had lost the money he made by selling cotton directly +after the war; he had been jilted by some buxom country girl. In short, +when a man is as prominent in a community as Mr. Sanders was in Shady +Dale, he must pay such penalty as gossip levies when his conduct becomes +puzzling or problematical.</p> + +<p>The tittle-tattle of the town ran in a different direction when some one +discovered that the Racking Roan was tied every day to the rack behind +the court-house. Then the gossips were certain that the Yankees were +after Mr. Sanders, and his horse was placed close at hand in order to +give him an opportunity to escape. Mr. Sanders apparently confirmed this +rumour when he told Cephas to take the horse to Clopton's, should he +find the animal standing at the rack after sundown.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Sanders walked about, or sat on the court-house steps, he +wondered if he had made all the arrangements necessary to the scheme he +had in view. Hundreds and hundreds of times he went over the ground in +his mind, and reviewed every step he had taken, trying to discover if +anything had been omitted, or if there were any flaw in the plan he +proposed to follow. He had made all his arrangements beforehand. He had +made a visit to Malvern, and remained there several days. He had met the +Mayor of the city, the Chief of Police, and the latter had casually +introduced him to the Chief of the Fire Department.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders accounted himself very fortunate in making the acquaintance +of the Fire Chief, who was what might be termed one of the +unreconstructed. He was something more than that, he was an +irreconcilable, who would have been glad of an opportunity to take up +arms again. This official took an eager interest in the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had in view; in fact, as he said himself, it was a personal +interest. He invited Mr. Sanders to the head-quarters of the Fire +Department.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why I want you to come," he said. "There's a man in my +office, or he will be there when we arrive, who is likely to take as +much interest in this thing as I do—he couldn't take more—and I want +him to hear your plan. Have you ever heard of Captain Buck Sanford?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders paused in the street, and stared at the Fire Chief. "Heard +of him? Well, I should say! He's the feller that fights a duel before +breakfast to git up an appetite. Well, well! How many men has Buck +Sanford winged?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite a number, but not as many as he gets credit for. He comes in +my private office every morning, and he's a great help to me. He was +rather down at the heels right after the war, and then I happened to +find out that he had a great talent in getting the truth out of +criminals. We sometimes arrest a man against whom there is no direct +evidence of guilt, and if we didn't have some one skilful enough to make +him own up, we could do nothing. Buck always knows whether a fellow is +guilty or not, and we turn over the suspects to him, and whatever he +says goes. He sits in my office like a piece of furniture, and you'd +think he was a wooden man. Now you go down with me, and go over your +scheme so that Buck can hear you, and whatever he says do, will be the +thing to do."</p> + +<p>When Mr. Sanders and the Chief arrived at the head-quarters of the +department, and entered the private office, they found a pale and +somewhat emaciated young man sitting in a chair, which was leaned +against the wall at a somewhat dangerous angle. He was apparently +asleep; his eyes were closed, and he held between his teeth a short but +handsome pipe. He made no movement whatever when the two entered the +room. His hat was on the floor at the side of his chair, and had +evidently fallen from his head. If Mr. Sanders had been called on to +describe the young man, he would have said that he was a weasly looking +creature, half gristle and half ghost. His hands were small and thin, +and the skin of his face had the appearance of parchment.</p> + +<p>At the request of the Chief, Mr. Sanders went over the details of his +plan from beginning to end, and at the close the young man, who had +apparently been asleep, remarked in a thin, smooth voice, "Won't it be a +fine day for a parade!"</p> + +<p>His eyes remained closed; he had not even taken the pipe out of his +mouth. There was a silence of many long seconds. But the weasly looking +man made no movement, nor did he add anything to his remark. Evidently, +he had no more to say.</p> + +<p>"Buck is right," said the Chief.</p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" Mr. Sanders inquired.</p> + +<p>"Why, he means that it will be a fine day for a general turn-out of the +department," replied the Chief.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders reflected a moment, and then made one of his characteristic +comments. "Be jigged ef he ain't saved my life!"</p> + +<p>"Captain Sanford, this is Mr. Sanders, of Shady Dale," said the Chief, +by way of introducing the two men. Both rose, and Mr. Sanders found +himself looking into the eyes of one of the most interesting characters +that Georgia ever produced. Captain Buck Sanford was one of the last of +the knights-errant, the self-constituted champion of all women, old or +young, good or bad. He said of himself, with some drollery, that he was +one of the scavengers of society, and he declared that the job was +important enough to command a good salary.</p> + +<p>No man in his hearing ever used the name of a woman too freely without +answering for it; and it made no difference whether the woman was rich +or poor, good or bad. Otherwise he was the friendliest and simplest of +men, as modest as a woman, and entirely unobtrusive. His duel with +Colonel Conrad Asbury, one of the most sensational events in the annals +of duelling, owing to the fact that the weapons were shot-guns at ten +paces, was the result of a remark the Colonel had made about a lady whom +Sanford had never seen. But so far as the general public knew, it grew +out of the fact that the Colonel had spilled some water on Sanford's +pantaloons.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said Mr. Sanders, "I've heard tell of you many a time, an' +I'm right down glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"You haven't heard much good of me, I reckon," Captain Sanford remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; not so very long ago I heard a fine old lady say that if they was +more Buck Sanfords, the wimmen would be better off."</p> + +<p>A faint colour came into the face of the duellist. "Is that so?" he +asked with some eagerness.</p> + +<p>"It's jest like I tell you, an' the lady was Lucy Lumsden, the +grandmother of this chap that we're tryin' to git out'n trouble."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Tomlin Perdue wouldn't let me into the row?" inquired +Captain Sanford. "You see, it's this way: If the boy can't break away, +it would be well for a serious accident to happen, and in that case, +you'll need a man that's perfectly willing to bear the brunt of such an +accident."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that," said Mr. Sanders.</p> + +<p>"Suppose it's a rainy day, Buck; what then?" asked the Chief.</p> + +<p>"And you a grown man!" exclaimed Mr. Sanford, sarcastically. "Did you +ever hear of a false alarm? Or were you at a Sunday-school picnic when +it was rung in? Oh, I'm going to get a blacksmith and have your head +worked on," and with that, Captain Buck Sanford turned on his heel and +went out.</p> + +<p>"I know Buck was pleased with your plan," the Chief declared. "He nodded +at me a time or two when you wasn't looking. If you can work him into +the row, it will tickle him mightily. He ain't flighty; he never gets +mad; and he always knows just what to do, and when to shoot."</p> + +<p>Thus, long before he became impatient enough to walk the streets, or +seek consolation on the court-house steps, which he called his +liquor-post, Mr. Sanders had made all the arrangements necessary to the +success of his scheme. He had sent a suit of clothes to a friend in +Malvern, he had shipped three bales of cotton to the firm of Vardeman & +Stark, who had been informed of the use to which Mr. Sanders desired to +put it; he had hired an ox-cart, and made a covered waggon of it; and +the yoke of oxen he proposed to use had been driven through the country +and were now at Malvern.</p> + +<p>In short, no matter how deeply Mr. Sanders might ponder over the matter, +there was nothing he could think of to add to the details of the +arrangement that he had already made.</p> + +<p>One morning, while Nan, who was on her way to borrow a book from Eugenia +Claiborne, was leaning on the court-house fence talking to Mr. Sanders, +Tasma Tid cried out, "Yonner dee come! yonner dee come!" The African, +who had heard the rumour that the Yankees were after Mr. Sanders, +concluded that this was the advance guard, and she therefore sounded the +alarm. But only a solitary rider was in sight, and he was coming as fast +as a tired horse could fetch him. By the time this rider had reached the +public square, Mr. Sanders had mounted the Racking Roan, and was +awaiting him. The rider was no other than Colonel Blasengame, who had +insisted on bringing the message himself.</p> + +<p>He was the bearer of a telegram addressed to Major Perdue. "Consignment +will be shipped to-morrow night. Reach Malvern next morning. Invoice by +mail." This was signed by the firm of factors with whom Meriwether +Clopton had had dealings for many years. It was the form of announcement +that had been agreed on, and to Mr. Sanders the message read, "The +prisoners will go to Atlanta to-morrow night, and they will reach +Malvern the next morning. This information can be relied on."</p> + +<p>"It's a joy to see you, Colonel," cried Mr. Sanders. "One more day of +waitin' would 'a' pulled the rivets out. You know Miss Nan Dorrington, +don't you, Colonel Blasengame? I lay you used to dandle her on your knee +when she was a baby."</p> + +<p>The Colonel bowed lower to Nan than if she had been a queen. "You are +not to go to the tavern," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Meriwether Clopton +wants the messenger to go straight to his house, an' he'll be all the +gladder bekaze it's you. Gus Tidwell will drive you home in his buggy in +the cool of the evenin', an' you can leave your hoss at Clopton's for a +day or two. Ef you see Tidwell, Nan, please tell him that the Colonel is +at Clopton's. I reckon you'll be willin' to buss me, honey, the next +time you see me."</p> + +<p>"If you have earned it, Mr. Sanders," said Nan, trying to smile.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, Mr. Sanders waved his hand miscellaneously, as he would have +described it, and moved away at a clipping gait, stirring up quite a +cloud of dust as he went. He reached Halcyondale, and at once sought out +Major Tomlin Perdue, and found that a telegram had already been sent to +Captain Buck Sanford, whose prompt reply over the wire had been. "All +skue vee," which was as satisfactory as any other form of reply would +have been—more so, perhaps, for it showed that the Captain was in high +good-humour.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tidwell and Colonel Blasengame arrived in time to eat a late +supper, and the next morning found them all ready to take the train for +Malvern. Major Perdue and Mr. Sanders were in high feather. Somehow +their spirits always rose when a doubtful issue was to be faced. On the +other hand, Colonel Blasengame and Mr. Tidwell were somewhat +thoughtful—the Colonel because he had an idea that they were trying to +"crowd him into a back seat," as he expressed it, and Mr. Tidwell +because it had occurred to him that his presence might tend to +jeopardise the case of his son. They were not gloomy; on the contrary +they were cheerful; but their spirits failed to run as high as those of +Mr. Sanders and Major Perdue, who were engaged all the way to Malvern in +relating anecdotes and narrating humourous stories. It seemed that +everything either one of them said reminded the other of a story or a +humourous incident, and they kept the car in a roar until Malvern was +reached.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders did not go at once to the hotel, but turned his attention to +the various details which he had arranged for. Mr. Tidwell went to the +hotel opposite the railway station, while Major Perdue and Colonel +Blasengame, for obvious reasons, went to the rival hotel. There they +found Captain Buck Sanford lounging about with a Winchester rifle slung +across his shoulder. A great many people were interested when this pale +and weary-looking little man appeared in public with a gun in his hands, +and he was compelled to answer many questions in regard to the event. To +all he made the same reply, namely, that he had been out practising at a +target.</p> + +<p>"I'm getting so I can't miss," he said to Major Perdue. "I wasted +twenty-four cartridges trying to miss the bull's eye, but I couldn't do +it. I don't know what to make of it," he complained. "There must be +something wrong with me. That kind of shooting don't look reasonable. +I'm afraid something is going to happen to me. It may be a sign that I'm +going to fall over a cellar-door and break my neck, or tumble downstairs +and injure my spine."</p> + +<p>Then he left his gun with a clerk in the hotel, and, taking Major Perdue +by the arm, went into a corner and discussed the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had mapped out. They were joined presently by Colonel +Blasengame; and as they sat there, whispering together, and making many +emphatic gestures, they were the centre of observation, and word went +around that some personal difficulty, in which these noted men were to +act together, was imminent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY-TWO" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY-TWO"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO</h2> + +<h3><i>Malvern Has a Holiday</i></h3> + + +<p>Very early the next morning Malvern aroused itself to the fact that the +firemen and the police, and a very large crowd of the rag, tag and +bobtail that hangs on the edge of all holiday occasions, were out for a +frolic. A band was playing, and the old-fashioned apparatus with which +fire departments were provided in that day and time, was showing the +amazed and amused crowd how to put out an imaginary conflagration. And +it succeeded, too. Worked as it was by hand-power, it sent a famously +strong stream into the very midst of the imaginary conflagration; and +when the fire raged no longer, the gallant firemen turned the stream on +the rag, tag and bobtail, and such screams and such a scattering as +ensued has no parallel in the history of Malvern, which is a long and +varied one.</p> + +<p>But what did it all mean? It was some kind of a celebration, of course, +but why then did the <i>Malvern Recorder</i>, one of the most enterprising +newspapers in the State, as its editors and proprietors were willing to +admit, why, then, did the <i>Recorder</i> fail to have an appropriate +announcement of an event so interesting and important? Was our public +press, the palladium of our liberties, losing its prestige and +influence? Certainly it seemed so, when such an affair as this could be +devised and carried out without an adequate announcement in the organ of +public opinion.</p> + +<p>After awhile there was a lull in the display. The Chief, who was +stationed near the depot, received authoritative information that the +train from Savannah was approaching. He waved his trumpet, and the +firemen formed themselves into a procession, and passed twice in review +before their Chief, and then halted, with their hose reels, and their +hook and ladder waggons almost completely blocking up the entrance to +the station. The crowd had followed them, but the police managed to keep +the street clear, so that vehicles might effect a passage.</p> + +<p>It was well that the officers of the law had been thus thoughtful in the +matter, otherwise a countryman who chanced to be coming along just then +would have found it difficult to drive his team even half way through +the jam. He was a typical Georgia farmer in his appearance. He wore a +wide straw hat to preserve his complexion, a homespun shirt and jeans +trousers, the latter being held in place by a dirty pair of home-made +suspenders. He drove what is called a spike-team, two oxen at the +wheels, and a mule in the lead. The day was warm, but he was warmer. The +crowd had flurried him, and he was perspiring more profusely than usual. +He was also inclined to use heated language, as those nearest him had no +difficulty in discovering. In fact, he was willing to make a speech, as +the crowd into which he was wedging his team grew denser and denser. It +was observed that when the crowd really impeded the movements of his +team, he had a way of touching the mule in the flank with the long whip +he carried. This was invariably the signal for such gyrations on the +part of the mule as were calculated to make the spectators pay due +respect to the animal's heels.</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said the countryman, "why you fellers don't get out +some'rs an' go to work. They's enough men in this crowd to make a crop +big enough to feed a whole county, ef they'd git out in the field an' +buckle down to it stidder loafin' roun' watchin' 'em spurt water at +nothin'. It's a dad-blamed shame that the courts don't take a han' in +the matter. Ef you lived in my county, you'd have to work or go to the +poor-house. Whoa, Beck! Gee, Buck! Why don't you gee, contrive your +hide!"</p> + +<p>At a touch from the whip, the rearing, plunging, and kicking of the mule +were renewed, and the team managed to fight its way to a point opposite +where the chief officials of the Police and Fire Department were +standing. The waggon to which the team was attached was a ramshackle +affair apparently, but was strong enough, nevertheless, to sustain the +weight of three bales of cotton, one of the bales being somewhat larger +than the others.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said the Chief of Police, elevating his voice so that the +countryman could hear him distinctly, "this is not a warehouse. If you +want to sell your cotton, carry it around the corner yonder, and there +you'll find the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark."</p> + +<p>"If I want to sell my cotton? Well, you don't reckon I want to give it +away, do you? Way over yander in the fur eend of town, they told me that +the cotton warehouse was down here some'rs, an' that it was made of +brick. This shebang is down yander, an' it's made of brick. How fur is +t'other place?"</p> + +<p>"Right around the corner," said one in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Humph—yes; that's the way wi' ever'thing in this blamed town; it's +uther down yander, or right around the corner. But ef it was right here, +how could I git to it? Deliver me from places whar they celebrate +Christmas in the hottest part of June! Ef I ever git out'n the town +you'll never ketch me here ag'in—I'll promise you that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mister, please don't say that!" wailed some humourist in the crowd. +"There's hundreds of us that couldn't live without you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that you?" cried the countryman. "Tell your sister Molly that +I'll be down as soon as I sell my cotton." This set the crowd in a roar, +for though the humourist had no sister Molly, the retort was accepted as +a very neat method of putting an end to impertinence.</p> + +<p>Inside the station another scene was in the full swing of action. +Certain well-known citizens of Halcyondale had been pacing up and down +the planked floor of the station apparently awaiting with some +impatience for the moment to come when the train for Atlanta would be +ready to leave. But the train itself seemed to be in no particular +hurry. The locomotive was not panting and snorting with suppressed +energy, as the moguls do in our day, but stood in its place with the +blue smoke curling peacefully from its black chimney. Presently an +access of energy among the employees of the station gave notice to those +who were familiar with their movements that the train from Savannah was +crossing the "Y."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tidwell, of Shady Dale, who was also among those who were apparently +anxious to take the train for Atlanta, ceased his restless walking, and +stood leaning against one of the brick pillars supporting the rear end +of the structure. Major Tomlin Perdue, on the other hand, leaned +confidently on the counter of the little restaurant, where a weary +traveller could get a cup of hasty and very nasty coffee for a dime. The +Major was acquainted with the vendor of these luxuries, and he informed +the man confidentially that he was simply waiting a fair opportunity to +put a few lead plugs into the carcass of the person at the far end of +the station, who was no other than Mr. Tidwell.</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" asked the clerk breathlessly. "Well, I don't mind telling +you that he has been having some of the same kind of talk about you, and +you'd better keep your eye on him. They say he's 'most as handy with his +pistol as Buck Sanford."</p> + +<p>Slowly the Savannah train backed in, and slowly and carelessly Major +Perdue sauntered along the raised floor. They had decided that the +prisoners would most likely be in the second-class coach, and they +purposed to make that coach the scene of their sham duel. It was a very +delicate matter to decide just when to begin operations. A moment too +soon or too late would be decisive. When this point was referred to Mr. +Sanders, he settled it at once. "What's your mouth for, Gus? Shoot wi' +that tell the time comes to use your gun. And the Major has got about as +much mouth as you. Talk over the rough places, an' talk loud. Don't +whisper; rip out a few damns an' then cut your caper. This is about the +only chance you'll have to cuss the Major out wi'out gittin' hurt. I +wisht I was in your shoes; I'd rake him up one side an' down the other. +You can stand to be cussed out in a good cause, I reckon, Major."</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, yes! It'll make my flesh crawl, but I'll stand it like a +baby."</p> + +<p>"Don't narry one on you try to be too polite," said Mr. Sanders, and +this was his parting injunction.</p> + +<p>The two men were the length of the car apart when the Savannah train +came to a standstill. "Perdue! they tell me that you have been hunting +for me all over the city," said Mr. Tidwell. He was a trained speaker, +and his voice had great carrying power. The firemen of both trains heard +it distinctly, caught the note of passion in it and looked curiously out +of their cabs.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've been hunting you, and now that I've found you you'll not get +away until you apologise to me for the language you have used about me," +cried Major Perdue. He was not as loud a talker as Mr. Tidwell, but his +voice penetrated to every part of the building.</p> + +<p>"What I've said I'll stand to," declared Mr. Tidwell, "and if you think +I have been trying to keep out of your way, you will find out +differently, you blustering blackguard!" (The Major insisted afterward +that Tidwell took advantage of the occasion to give his real views.)</p> + +<p>"Are you ready, you cowardly hellian?" cried the Major, apparently in a +rage.</p> + +<p>"As ready as you will ever be," replied Tidwell hotly. He was the better +actor of the two.</p> + +<p>And then just as the prisoners were coming out of the coach—as soon as +Gabriel, lean and haggard, had reached the floor of the station, Major +Perdue whipped out his pistol and a shot rang out, clear and distinct, +and it was immediately reproduced from the further end of the car by Mr. +Tidwell, and then the shooting became a regular fusillade. There was a +wild scattering on the part of the crowd assembled in the station, a +scuffling, scurrying panic, and in the midst of it all Gabriel ducked +his head, and made a rush with the rest. He had been handcuffed, but his +wrist was nearly as large as his hand, and he had found early in his +experience with these bracelets that by placing his thumb in the palm of +his hand, he would have no difficulty in freeing himself from the irons. +This he had accomplished without much trouble, as soon as he started out +of the car, and when he ducked his head and ran, he had nothing to +impede his movements.</p> + +<p>And Gabriel was always swift of foot, as Cephas will tell you. On the +present occasion, he brought all his strength, and energy, and will to +bear on his efforts to escape. Running half-bent, he was afraid the +crowd which he saw all about him, pushing and shoving, and apparently +making frantic efforts to escape, would give him some trouble. But +strangely enough, this struggling crowd seemed to help him along. He saw +men all around him with uniforms on, and wearing queerly shaped hats. +They opened a way before him and closed in behind him. He heard a sharp +cry, "Prisoner escaped!" and he heard the energetic commands of the +officer in charge, but still the crowd opened a way in front of him, and +closed up behind him. This pathway, formed of struggling firemen, led +Gabriel away from the main entrance, and conducted him to the side, +where there was an opening between the pillars. Not twenty feet away was +the countryman with his queer-looking team. He was still complaining of +the way he had been taken in by the town fellers who had told him that +the station was a cotton warehouse.</p> + +<p>Gabriel recognised the voice and ran toward it, jumped into the waggon, +and crawled under the cover. "Now here—now here!" cried the countryman, +"you kin rob me of my money, an' make a fool out'n me about your cotton +warehouses, but be jigged ef I'll let you take my waggin an' team. I +dunner what you're up to, but you'll have to git out'n my waggin." With +that he stripped the cover from the top, and, lo! there was no one +there!</p> + +<p>He turned to the astonished crowd with open mouth. "Wher' in the nation +did he go?" he cried. There was no answer to this, for the spectators +were as much astonished as Mr. Sanders professed to be. The man who had +crawled under the waggon-cover had disappeared.</p> + +<p>He turned to the astonished crowd with a face on which amazement was +depicted, crying out, "Now, you see, gentlemen, what honest men have to +endyore when they come to your blame town. Whoever he is, an' wharsoever +he may be, that chap ain't up to no good." Then he looked under the +waggon and between the bales of cotton, and, finally, took the cover and +shook it out, as if it might be possible for one of the "slick city +fellers" to hide in any impossible place.</p> + +<p>There was a tremendous uproar in the station, caused by the soldiers +trying to run over the firemen and the efforts of the firemen to prevent +them. In a short time, however, a squad of soldiers had forced +themselves through the crowd, and as they made their appearance, Mr. +Sanders gave the word to old Beck, saying as he moved off, "Ef you gents +will excuse me, I'll mosey along, an' the next time I have a crap of +cotton to sell, I'll waggin it to some place or other wher' w'arhouses +ain't depots, an' wher' jugglers don't jump on you an' make the'r +disappearance in broad daylight. This is my fust trip to this great +town, an' it'll be my last ef I know myself, an' I ruther reckon I do."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, his team Was moving slowly off, and the soldiers who were +in pursuit of Gabriel had no idea that it was worth their while to give +the countryman and his superannuated equipment more than a passing +glance. It was providential that Captain Falconer, who was to have +conveyed the prisoners to Atlanta, should have been confined to his bed +with an attack of malarial fever when the order for their removal came. +The Captain would surely have recognised the countryman as Mr. Sanders, +and the probability is that Gabriel would have been recaptured, though +Captain Buck Sanford, who was sitting in an upper window of the hotel, +with his Winchester across his lap, says not.</p> + +<p>The officer in charge did all that he could have been expected to do +under the circumstances. By a stroke of good-luck, as he supposed, he +found the Chief of Police near the entrance of the station and +interested that official in his effort to recapture the prisoner who had +escaped. By order of the military commander in Atlanta, the train was +held a couple of hours while the search for Gabriel proceeded. The whole +town was searched and researched, but all to no purpose. Gabriel had +disappeared, and was not to be found by any person hostile to his +interests.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sanders drove his team around to the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark, +where he was met by Colonel Tom Vardeman, who, besides being a cotton +factor, was one of the political leaders of the day, and as popular a +man as there was in the State.</p> + +<p>"I heard a terrible fusillade in the direction of the depot," he said to +Mr. Sanders, as the latter drove up. "I hope nobody's hurt."</p> + +<p>"Well, they ain't much damage done, I reckon. Gus Tidwell an' Major +Perdue took a notion to play a game of tag wi' pistols. They're doin' it +jest for fun, I reckon. They want to show you city fellers that all the +public sperrit an' enterprise ain't knocked out'n the country chaps."</p> + +<p>"Well, they're almost certain to get in the lock-up," remarked Colonel +Tom Vardeman.</p> + +<p>"It reely looks that away," said Mr. Sanders, drily; "the Chief of +Police was standin' in front of the depot, an' ev'ry time a gun'd go off +he'd wink at me."</p> + +<p>Colonel Tom laughed, and then turned to Mr. Sanders with a serious air. +"What did I tell you about that wild plan of yours to rescue one of the +prisoners? You've had all your trouble for nothing, and the probability +is that you are out considerable cash first and last. You don't catch +grown men asleep any more. Why, if the officer in charge of those poor +boys were to permit one of them to escape, he'd be court-martialled, and +it would serve him right."</p> + +<p>"So it would," replied Mr. Sanders, "an' I'm mighty glad it wa'n't +Captain Falconer. This feller that had the boys in tow is a stranger to +me, an' I'm glad of it. He'll never know who lost him his job. He's a +right nice-lookin' feller, too, but when he run out'n the depot awhile +ago, his face kinder spoke up an' said he had had a dram too much some +time endyorin' of the night; or his colour mought 'a' been high bekaze +he was flurried or skeered. Now, then, Colonel Tom, ef you've done what +you laid off to do, an' I don't misdoubt it in the least, you've got a +safe place wher' I kin store a bale of long-staple cotton, ag'in a rise +in prices. Ef you've got it fixed, I'll drive right in, bekaze the kind +of cotton I'm dealin' in will spile ef it lays in the sun too long."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me——"</p> + +<p>"I'm mean enough for anything, Colonel Tom; but right now, I want to +git wher' I can drench a long-sufferin' friend of mine wi' a big +gourdful of cold water."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Sanders——"</p> + +<p>"Ef you'd 'a' stuck in the William H., you'd 'a' purty nigh had my whole +name," remarked Mr. Sanders with a solemn air.</p> + +<p>"Why, dash it, man! you've taken my breath away. Drive right in there. +John! Henry! come here, you lazy rascals, and take this team out! I told +you," said Colonel Tom to Mr. Sanders as the negroes came forward, "that +you couldn't get any better prices for your cotton than I offered you. +We treat everybody right over here, and that's the way we keep our +trade."</p> + +<p>The two negroes were detailed to convey the mule and the oxen to the +stable where Mr. Sanders had arranged for their "keep," as he termed it, +and as soon as they were out of sight, Mr. Sanders went to the rear of +the waggon, and said playfully, "Peep eye, Gabriel!" Receiving no +answer, he was suddenly seized with the idea that the young man had +suffocated behind the loose cotton which was intended to conceal him. +But no such thing had happened. Gabriel had plenty of breathing-room, +and the practical and unromantic rascal was sound asleep. His quarters +were warm, but the sweat-boxes at Fort Pulaski were hotter. It was very +fortunate for Gabriel that the reaction from the strain under which he +had been, took the blessed shape of sleep.</p> + +<p>Gabriel's place of concealment was simplicity itself. With his own hands +Mr. Sanders had constructed a stout box of oak boards, and around this +he had packed cotton until the affair, when complete, had the +appearance of an extra large bale of cotton, covered with bagging, and +roped as the majority of cotton-bales were in those days. The only way +to discover the sham was to pull out the cotton that concealed the +opening in the end of the box. In delivering his message to Cephas, Mr. +Sanders had called this loose cotton a plug, and the fact that the word +was new to the vocabulary of the school-children gave great trouble to +Gabriel, causing him to lose considerable sleep in the effort to +translate it satisfactorily to himself. The meaning dawned on him one +night when he had practically abandoned all hope of discovering it, and +then the whole scheme became so clear to him that he could have shouted +for joy.</p> + +<p>It was thought that a search would be made for Gabriel in the +neighbourhood of Shady Dale, and it was decided that it would be best +for him to remain in the city until all noise of the pursuit had died +away. But no pursuit was ever made, and it soon became apparent to the +public at large that radicalism was burning itself out at last, after a +weary time. When rage has nothing to feed upon it consumes itself, +especially when various chronic maladies common to mankind take a hand +in the game.</p> + +<p>Not only was no pursuit made of Gabriel, but the detachment of Federal +troops which had been stationed at Shady Dale was withdrawn. The young +men who had been arrested with Gabriel were placed on trial before a +military court, but with the connivance of counsel for the prosecution, +the trial dragged along until the military commander issued a +proclamation announcing that civil government had been restored in the +State, and the prisoners were turned over to the State courts. And as +there was not the shadow of a case against them, they were never brought +to trial, a fact which caused some one to suggest to Mr. Sanders that +all his work in behalf of Gabriel had been useless.</p> + +<p>"Well, it didn't do Gabriel no good, maybe," remarked the veteran, "but +it holp me up mightily. It gi' me somethin' to think about, an' it holp +me acrosst some mighty rough places. You have to pass the time away +anyhow, an' what better way is they than workin' for them you like? Why, +I knowed a gal, an' a mighty fine one she was, who knit socks for a +feller she had took a fancy to. The feller died, but she went right +ahead wi' her knittin' just the same. Now, that didn't do the feller a +mite of good, but it holp the gal up might'ly."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY-THREE" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY-THREE"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE</h2> + +<h3><i>Gabriel as an Orator</i></h3> + + +<p>The <i>Malvern Recorder</i> was very kind to Gabriel, and said nothing in +regard to his escape. This was due to a timely suggestion on the part of +Colonel Tom Vardeman, who rightly guessed that the Government +authorities would be more willing to permit the affair to blow over, +provided the details were not made notorious in the newspapers. As the +result of the Colonel's discretion, there was not a hint in the public +press that one of the prisoners had eluded the vigilance of those who +had charge of him. There was a paragraph or two in the <i>Recorder</i>, +stating that the Shady Dale prisoners—"the victims of Federal +tyranny"—had passed through the city on their way to Atlanta, and a +long account was given of their sufferings in Fort Pulaski. The facts +were supplied by Gabriel, but the printed account went far beyond +anything he had said. "They are not the first martyrs that have suffered +in the cause of liberty," said the editor of the <i>Recorder</i>, in +commenting on the account in the local columns, "and they will not be +the last. Let the radicals do their worst; on the old red hills of +Georgia, the camp-fires of Democracy have been kindled, and they will +continue to burn and blaze long after the tyrants and corruptionists +have been driven from power."</p> + +<p>Gabriel read this eloquent declaration somewhat uneasily. There was +something in it, and something in the exaggeration of the facts that he +had given to the representative of the paper that jarred upon him. He +had already in his own mind separated the Government and its real +interests from the selfish aims and desires of those who were +temporarily clothed with authority, and he had begun to suspect that +there might also be something selfish behind the utterances of those who +made such vigorous protests against tyranny. The matter is hardly worth +referring to in these days when shams and humbugs appear before the +public in all their nakedness; but it was worth a great deal to Gabriel +to be able to suspect that the champions of constitutional liberty, and +the defenders of popular rights, in the great majority of instances had +their eyes on the flesh-pots. The suspicions he entertained put him on +his guard at a time when he was in danger of falling a victim to the +rhetoric of orators and editors, and they preserved him from many a +mistaken belief.</p> + +<p>During the period that intervened between his escape and the +announcement of the restoration of civil government in Georgia, Gabriel +settled down to a course of reading in the law office of Judge Vardeman, +Colonel Tom's brother. He did this on the advice of those who were old +enough to know that idleness does not agree with a healthy youngster, +especially in a large city. His experience in Judge Vardeman's office +decided his career. He was fascinated from the very beginning. He found +the dullest law-book interesting; and he became so absorbed in his +reading that the genial Judge was obliged to warn him that too much +study was sometimes as bad as none.</p> + +<p>Yet the lad's appetite grew by what it fed on. A new field had been +opened up to him, and he entered it with delight. Here was what he had +been longing for, and there were moments when he felt sure that he had +heard delivered from the bench, or had dreamed, the grave and sober +maxims and precepts that confronted him on the printed page. He pursued +his studies in a state of exaltation that caused the days to fly by +unnoted. He thought of home, and of his grandmother, and a vision of Nan +sometimes disturbed his slumbers; but for the time being there was +nothing real but the grim commentators and expounders of the common law.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Sanders returned home, bearing the news of Gabriel's escape, +Nan Dorrington laid siege to his patience, and insisted that he go over +every detail of the event, not once but a dozen times. To her it was a +remarkable adventure, which fitted in well with the romances which she +had been weaving all her life. How did Gabriel look when he ran from the +depot at Malvern? Was he frightened? And how in the world did he manage +to get in the waggon, and crawl on the inside of the sham bale of cotton +and hide so that nobody could see him? And what did he say and how did +he look when Mr. Sanders found him asleep in the cotton-bale box, or the +cotton-box bale, whichever you might call it?</p> + +<p>"Why, honey, I've told you all I know an' a whole lot more," protested +Mr. Sanders. "Ef ever'body was name Nan, I'd be the most populous man in +the whole county."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me this," Nan insisted; "what did he talk about when he woke +up? Did he ask about any of the home-folks?"</p> + +<p>"Lemme see," said Mr. Sanders, pretending to reflect; "he turned over in +his box, an' got his ha'r ketched in a rough plank, an' then he bust out +cryin' jest like you use to do when you got hurt. I kinder muched him +up, an' then he up an' tol' me a whole lot of stuff about a young lady: +how he was gwine to win her ef he had to stop chawin' tobacco, an' +cussin'. I'll name no names, bekaze I promised him I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"I think that is disgusting," Nan declared. "Do you mean to tell me he +never asked about his grandmother?"</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks, Nan! he looked at me like he was hungry, an' I told him +all about his grandmother, an' he kep' on a-lookin' hungry, an' I told +him all about her neighbours. What he said I couldn't tell you no more +than the man in the moon. He done jest like any other healthy boy would +'a' done, an' that's all I know about it."</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought," said Nan wearily; "boys are so tiresome!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Gabriel didn't look much like a boy when I seed him last. He +hadn't shaved in a month of Sundays, and his beard was purty nigh as +long as my little finger. He couldn't go to a barber-shop in Malvern +for fear some of the niggers might know him an' report him to the +commander of the post there. I begged him not to shave the beard off. He +looks mighty well wi' it."</p> + +<p>"His beard!" cried Nan. "If he comes home with a beard I'll never speak +to him again. Gabriel with a beard! It is too ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," Mr. Sanders remarked soothingly. "Ef I git word of his +comin' I'll git me a pa'r of shears, an' meet him outside the +corporation line, an' lop his whiskers off for him; but I tell you now, +it won't make him look a bit purtier—not a bit."</p> + +<p>"You needn't trouble yourself," said Nan, with considerable dignity. "I +have no interest in the matter at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought maybe you'd be glad to git Gabriel's beard an' make it +in a sofy pillow."</p> + +<p>"Why, whoever heard of such a thing?" cried Nan. In common with many +others, she was not always sure when Mr. Sanders was to be taken +seriously.</p> + +<p>"I knowed a man once," replied Mr. Sanders, by way of making a practical +application of his suggestion, "that vowed he'd never shave his beard +off till Henry Clay was elected President. Well, it growed an' growed, +an' bimeby it got so long that he had to wrop it around his body a time +or two for to keep it from draggin' the ground. It went on that away for +a considerbul spell, till one day, whilst he was takin' a nap, his wife +took her scissors an' whacked it off. The reason she give was that she +wanted to make four or five sofy pillows; but I heard afterwards that +she changed her mind, an' made a good big mattress."</p> + +<p>Nan looked hard at the solemn countenance of Mr. Sanders, trying to +discover whether he was in earnest, but older and wiser eyes than hers +had often failed to penetrate behind the veil of child-like serenity +that sometimes clothed his features.</p> + +<p>One day while Gabriel was deep in a law-book, Colonel Tom Vardeman came +in smiling. He had a telegram in his hand, which he tossed to Gabriel. +It was from Major Tomlin Perdue, and contained an urgent request for +Gabriel to take the next train for Halcyondale, where he would meet the +prisoners who had been released pending their trial by the State courts, +an event that never came off. Gabriel had seen in the morning paper that +the prisoners were to be released in a day or two; but undoubtedly Major +Perdue had the latest information, for he was in communication with +Meriwether Clopton and other friends of the prisoners who were in +Atlanta watching the progress of the case.</p> + +<p>Gabriel lost no time in making his arrangements to leave, and he was in +Halcyondale some hours before the Atlanta train was due. When all had +arrived, they were for going home at once; but the citizens of +Halcyondale, led by Major Perdue and Colonel Blasengame, would not hear +of such a thing.</p> + +<p>"No, sirs!" exclaimed Major Perdue. "You young ones have been away from +home long enough to be weaned, and a day or two won't make any +difference to anybody's feelings. We have long been wanting a red-letter +day in this section, and now that we've got the excuse for making one, +we're not going to let it go by. Everything is fixed, or will be by day +after to-morrow. We're going to have a barbecue half-way between this +town and Shady Dale. The time was ripe for it anyhow, and you fellows +make it more binding. The people of the two counties haven't had a +jollification since the war, and they couldn't have one while it was +going on. They haven't had an excuse for it; and now that we have the +excuse we're not going to turn it loose until the jollification is +over."</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged. Notice was given to the people in the +old-fashioned way, and nearly everybody in the two counties not only +contributed something to the barbecue, but came to enjoy it, and when +they were assembled they made up the largest crowd that had been seen +together in that section since the day when Alexander Stephens and Judge +Cone had their famous debate—a debate which finally ended in a personal +encounter between the two.</p> + +<p>The details of the barbecue were in the hands of Mr. Sanders, who was +famous in those days for his skill in such matters. The fires had been +lighted the night before, and when the sun rose, long lines of carcasses +were slowly roasting over the red coals, contributing to the breezes an +aroma so persistent and penetrating that it could be recognised miles +away, and so delicious that, as Mr. Sanders remarked, "it would make a +sick man's mouth water."</p> + +<p>A speaker's stand had been erected, and everything was arranged just as +it would have been for a political meeting. There was a good deal of +formality too. Major Perdue prided himself on doing such things in +style. He was a great hand to preside at political meetings, in which +there is considerable formality. As the Major managed the affair, the +friends of the young men caught their first glimpse of them as they went +upon the stand. By some accident, or it may have been arranged by Major +Perdue, Gabriel was the first to make his appearance, but he was closely +followed by the rest. A tremendous shout went up from the immense +audience, which was assembled in front of the stand, and this was what +the Major had arranged for. The shouts and cheers of a great assemblage +were as music in his ears. He comported himself with as much pride as if +all the applause were a tribute to him. He advanced to the front, and +stood drinking it in greedily, not because he was a vain man, but +because he was fond of the excitement with which the presence of a crowd +inspired him. It made his blood tingle; it warmed him as a glass of +spiced wine warms a sick person.</p> + +<p>When the applause had subsided, the Major made quite a little speech, in +which he referred to the spirit of martyrdom betrayed by the young +patriots, who had been seized and carried into captivity by the strong +hand of a tyrannical Government, and he managed to stir the crowd to a +great pitch of excitement. He brought his remarks to a close by +introducing his young friend, Gabriel Tolliver.</p> + +<p>There was tremendous cheering at this, and all of a sudden Gabriel woke +up to the fact that his name had been called, and he looked around with +a dazed expression on his face. He had been trying to see if he could +find the face of Nan Dorrington in the crowd, but so far he had failed, +and he woke out of a dream to hear a multitude of voices shouting his +name. "Why, what do they mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Get up there and face 'em," said Major Perdue.</p> + +<p>Now, Nan was not so very far from the stand, so close, indeed, that she +had not been in Gabriel's field of vision while he was sitting down; but +when he rose to his feet she was the first person he saw, and he +observed that she was very pale. In fact, Nan had shrunk back when the +Major announced that Gabriel would speak for his fellow-martyrs, and for +a moment or two she fairly hated the man. She might not be very fond of +Gabriel, but she didn't want to see him made a fool of before so many +people.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other, the young fellow divined her thought, and he smiled in +spite of himself. He had no notion what to say, but he had the gift of +saying something, very strongly developed in him; and he knew the moment +he saw Nan's scared face that he must acquit himself with credit. So he +looked at her and smiled, and she tried to smile in return, but it was a +very pitiful little smile. Gabriel walked to the small table and leaned +one hand on it, and his composure was so reassuring to everybody but +Nan, that the cheering was renewed and kept up while the youngster was +trying to put his poor thoughts together.</p> + +<p>He began by thanking Major Perdue for his sympathetic remarks, and then +proceeded to take sharp issue with the whole spirit of the Major's +speech, using as the basis of his address an idea that had been put into +his head by Judge Vardeman. The day before he left Malvern, the Judge +had asked him this question: "Why should a parcel of politicians turn us +against a Government under which we are compelled to live?"</p> + +<p>This was the basis of Gabriel's remarks. He elaborated it, and was +perhaps the first person in the country to ask if there was any +Confederate soldier who had feelings of hatred against the soldiers of +the Union. He had not gone far before he had the audience completely +under his control. Almost every statement he made was received with +shouts of approval, and in some instances the applause was such that he +had time to stand and gaze at Nan, whose colour had returned, and who +occasionally waved the little patch of lace-bordered muslin that she +called a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>She was almost frightened at Gabriel's composure. The last time she had +seen him, he was an awkward young man, whose hands and feet were always +in his way. She felt that she was his superior then; but how would she +feel in the presence of this grave young man, who was as composed while +addressing an immense crowd as if he had been talking to Cephas, and who +was dealing out advice to his seniors right and left? Nan was very sure +in her own mind that she would never understand Gabriel again, and the +thought robbed the occasion of a part of its enjoyment. She allowed her +thoughts to wander to such an extent that she forgot the speech, and +had her mind recalled to it only when the frantic screams of the +audience split her ears, and she saw Gabriel, flushed and triumphant, +returning to his seat. Then the real nature of his triumph dawned on +her, as she saw Meriwether Clopton and all the others on the stand +crowding around Gabriel and shaking his hand. She sat very quiet and +subdued until she felt some one touch her shoulder. It was Cephas, and +he wanted to know what she thought of it all. Wasn't it splendiferous?</p> + +<p>Nan made no reply, but gave the little lad a message for Gabriel, which +he delivered with promptness. He edged his way through the crowd, +crawled upon the stand, and pulled at Gabriel's coat-tails. The great +orator—that's what Cephas thought he was—seized the little fellow and +hugged him before all the crowd; and though many years have passed, +Cephas has never had a triumph of any kind that was quite equal to the +pride he felt while Gabriel held him in his arms. The little fellow took +this occasion to deliver his message, which was to the effect that +Gabriel was to ride home in the Dorrington carriage with Nan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTY-FOUR" id="CHAPTER_THIRTY-FOUR"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR</h2> + +<h3><i>Nan Surrenders</i></h3> + + +<p>It was all over at last, and Gabriel found himself seated in the +carriage, side by side with the demurest and the quietest young lady he +had ever seen. He had shaken hands until his arm was sore, and he had +hunted for Nan everywhere; and finally, when he had given up the search, +he heard her calling him and saw her beckoning him from a carriage. +There was not much of a greeting between them, and he saw at once that, +while this was the Nan he had known all his life, she had changed +greatly. What he didn't know was that the change had taken place while +he was in the midst of his speech. She was just as beautiful as ever; in +fact, her loveliness seemed to be enhanced by some new light in her +eyes—or was it the way her head drooped?—or a touch of new-born +humility in her attitude? Whatever it was, Gabriel found it very +charming.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The +change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You +used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of +you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained.</p> + +<p>"If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage +and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the +firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever +he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk. +Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of +Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his +character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every +way—strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet +there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way +that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet +she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully.</p> + +<p>"I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile. +"I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm +the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not."</p> + +<p>"I was feeling very bold when I was mouthing to those people; and every +time I looked into your eyes, I said to myself, 'You are mine; you are +mine! and you know it!' And I thought all the time that you could hear +me. It was a very queer impression. Please don't make fun of me to-day; +wait till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't hear you," said Nan, "but I could feel what you said."</p> + +<p>"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps +you were angry, too."</p> + +<p>"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the +actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I +couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was +bold to send for you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh. +"Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more."</p> + +<p>"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found +it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested—well, +it is all a dream to me. I didn't know before that one could be +perfectly happy and completely miserable at the same time."</p> + +<p>Then, for the first time since he had entered the carriage she looked at +him. Her eyes met his, and—well, nothing more was said for some time. +Nan had as much as she could do to straighten her hat, and get her hair +smoothed out as it should be, so that people wouldn't know that she and +Gabriel were engaged. That was what she said, and she was so cute and +lovely, so sweet and gentle that Gabriel threatened to crush the hat and +get the hair out of order again. And they were very happy.</p> + +<p>When they arrived at Shady Dale, Gabriel insisted that Nan go home with +him, and he gave what seemed to the young woman a very good reason. "You +know, Nan, my grandmother has been Bethuning me every time I mentioned +your name, and I have heard her Bethuning you. We'll just go in hand in +hand and tell her the facts in the case."</p> + +<p>"Hand in hand, Gabriel? Wouldn't she think I was very bold?"</p> + +<p>"No, Nan," replied Gabriel, very emphatically. "There are two things my +grandmother believes in. She believes in her Bible, and she believes in +love."</p> + +<p>"And she believes in you, Gabriel. Oh, if you only knew how much she +loves you!" cried Nan.</p> + +<p>They didn't go in to the dear old lady hand in hand, for when they +reached the Lumsden Place, they found Miss Polly Gaither there, and they +interrupted her right in the midst of some very interesting gossip. Miss +Polly, after greeting Gabriel as cordially as her lonely nature would +permit, looked at Nan very critically. There was a question in her eyes, +and Nan answered it with a blush.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," said Miss Polly, oracularly. "I declare I believe +there's an epidemic in the town. There's Pulaski Tomlin, Silas Tomlin, +Paul Tomlin, and now Gabriel Tolliver. Well, I wish them well, +especially you, Gabriel. Nan is a little frivolous now, but she'll +settle down."</p> + +<p>"She isn't frivolous," said Gabriel, speaking in the ear-trumpet; "she +is simply young."</p> + +<p>"Is that the trouble?" inquired Miss Polly, with a smile, "well, she'll +soon recover from that." And then she turned to Gabriel's grandmother, +and took up the thread of her gossip where it had been broken by the +arrival of Nan and Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"I declare, Lucy, if anybody had told me, and I couldn't see for +myself, I never would have believed it. Why, Silas Tomlin is a changed +man. He looks better than he did twenty-five years ago. He goes about +smiling, and while he isn't handsome—he never could be handsome, you +know—he is very pleasant-looking. Yes, he is a changed man. He was +going into the house just now as I came out, and he stopped and shook +hands with me, and asked about my health, something he never did before. +Honestly I don't know what to make of it; I'm clean put out. Why, the +man had two or three quarrels with Ritta Claiborne when she first came +here, and now he is going to marry her, or she him—I don't know which +one did the courting, but I'll never believe it was old Silas. I am +really and truly sorry for Ritta Claiborne. We who know Silas Tomlin +better than she does ought to warn her of the step she is about to take. +I have been on the point of doing so several times; but really, Lucy, I +haven't the heart. She is one of the finest characters I ever knew—she +is perfectly lovely. She is all heart, and I am afraid Silas Tomlin has +imposed on her in some way. But she is perfectly happy, and so is Silas. +If I thought such a thing was possible, I'd say they were very much in +love with each other."</p> + +<p>"Possible!" cried Gabriel's grandmother; "why, love is the only thing +worth thinking about in this world. Even the Old Testament is full of +it, and there is hardly anything else in the New Testament. Read it, +Polly, and you'll find that all the sacrifice and devotion are based on +love—real love, and unselfish because it is real."</p> + +<p>"It may be so, Lucy; I'll not deny it," and then, after some more gossip +less interesting, Miss Polly Gaither took her leave, saying, "I'll +leave you with your grand-children, Lucy."</p> + +<p>When she was gone, Gabriel stood up and beckoned to Nan, and she went to +him without a word. He placed his arm around her, and then called the +attention of his grandmother.</p> + +<p>"You've been Bethuning Nan and me for ever so long, grandmother: what do +you think of this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I think it is very pretty, if it is real. I have known it all +along; I mean since the night you were carried away. Nan told me."</p> + +<p>"Why, Grandmother Lumsden! I never said a word to you about it; I +wouldn't have dared."</p> + +<p>"I knew it when you came in the door that day—the day that Meriwether +Clopton was here. Do you suppose I would have sat by you on the sofa, +and held your hand if I had not known it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you knew it," said Nan. "I wanted you to know it, but I didn't +dare to tell you in so many words. I am going home now, Gabriel, and you +mustn't call on me to-day or to-night. I want to be alone. I am so +happy," she said to Mrs. Lumsden, as she kissed her, "that I don't want +to talk to any one, not even to Gabriel."</p> + +<p>And this was Gabriel's thought too. He saw none of his friends that day, +and when night fell he went out to the old Bermuda hill, and lay upon +the warm damp grass, the happiest person in the world.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Gabriel Tolliver, by Joel Chandler Harris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + +***** This file should be named 33058-h.htm or 33058-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/5/33058/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gabriel Tolliver + A Story of Reconstruction + +Author: Joel Chandler Harris + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33058] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + + + + + GABRIEL TOLLIVER + + _A Story of Reconstruction_ + + By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS + + _Author of "Uncle Remus," "The Making of a Statesman," etc._ + + +McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. +NEW YORK +1902 + +COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY +JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS + +_Published, October, 1902 R_ + + * * * * * + + To James Whitcomb Riley + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +_Prelude_ + +CHAPTER ONE _Kettledrum and Fife_ + +CHAPTER TWO _A Town with a History_ + +CHAPTER THREE _The Return of Two Warriors_ + +CHAPTER FOUR _Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_ + +CHAPTER FIVE _The Story of Margaret Gaither_ + +CHAPTER SIX _The Passing of Margaret_ + +CHAPTER SEVEN _Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling_ + +CHAPTER EIGHT _The Political Machine Begins Its Work_ + +CHAPTER NINE _Nan and Gabriel_ + +CHAPTER TEN _The Troubles of Nan_ + +CHAPTER ELEVEN _Mr. Sanders in His Cups_ + +CHAPTER TWELVE _Caught in a Corner_ + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN _The Union League Organises_ + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN _Nan and Her Young Lady Friends_ + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN _Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble_ + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN _Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble_ + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN _Rhody Has Something to Say_ + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN _The Knights of the White Camellia_ + +CHAPTER NINETEEN _Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY _Gabriel at the Big Poplar_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE _Bridalbin Follows Gabriel_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO _The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE _Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR _Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE _Mr. Sanders's Riddle_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX _Cephas Has His Troubles_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN _Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT _Nan and Margaret_ + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE _Bridalbin Finds His Daughter_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY _Miss Polly Has Some News_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE _Mr. Sanders Receives a Message_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO _Malvern Has a Holiday_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE _Gabriel as an Orator_ + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR _Nan Surrenders_ + + + + +GABRIEL TOLLIVER + + + + +_Prelude_ + + +"Cephas! here is a letter for you, and it is from Shady Dale! I know you +will be happy now." + +For several years Sophia had listened calmly to my glowing descriptions +of Shady Dale and the people there. She was patient, but I could see by +the way she sometimes raised her eyebrows that she was a trifle +suspicious of my judgment, and that she thought my opinions were unduly +coloured by my feelings. Once she went so far as to suggest that I was +all the time looking at the home people through the eyes of +boyhood--eyes that do not always see accurately. She had said, moreover, +that if I were to return to Shady Dale, I would find that the friends of +my boyhood were in no way different from the people I meet every day. +This was absurd, of course--or, rather, it would have been absurd for +any one else to make the suggestion; for at that particular time, Sophia +was a trifle jealous of Shady Dale and its people. Nevertheless, she was +really patient. You know how exasperating a man can be when he has a +hobby. Well, my hobby was Shady Dale, and I was not ashamed of it. The +man or woman who cannot display as much of the homing instinct as a cat +or a pigeon is a creature to be pitied or despised. Sophia herself was a +tramp, as she often said. She was born in a little suburban town in New +York State, but never lived there long enough to know what home was. She +went to Albany, then to Canada, and finally to Georgia; so that the only +real home she ever knew is the one she made herself--out of the raw +material, as one might say. + +Well, she came running with the letter, for she is still active, though +a little past the prime of her youth. I returned the missive to her with +a faint show of dignity. "The letter is for you," I said. She looked at +the address more carefully, and agreed with me. "What in the world have +I done," she remarked, "to receive a letter from Shady Dale?" + +"Why, it is the simplest thing in the world," I replied. "You have been +fortunate enough to marry me." + +"Oh, I see!" she cried, dropping me a little curtsey; "and I thank you +kindly!" + +The letter was from an old friend of mine--a school-mate--and it was an +invitation to Sophia, begging her to take a day off, as the saying is, +and spend it in Shady Dale. + +"Your children," the letter said, "will be glad to visit their father's +old home, and I doubt not we can make it interesting for the wife." The +letter closed with some prettily turned compliments which rather caught +Sophia. But her suspicions were still in full play. + +"I know the invitation is sent on your account, and not on mine," she +said, holding the letter at arm's length. + +"Well, why not? If my old friend loves me well enough to be anxious to +give my wife and children pleasure, what is there wrong about that?" + +"Oh, nothing," replied Sophia. "I've a great mind to go." + +"If you do, my dear, you will make a number of people happy--yourself +and the children, and many of my old friends." + +"He declares," said Sophia, "that he writes at the request of his wife. +You know how much of that to believe." + +"I certainly do. Imagine me, for instance, inviting to visit us a lady +whom you had never met." + +Whereupon Sophia laughed. "I believe you'd endorse any proposition that +came from Shady Dale," she declared. + +She accepted the invitation more out of curiosity than with any +expectation of enjoying herself; but she stayed longer than she had +intended; and when she came back her views and feelings had undergone a +complete change. "Cephas, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not +going to see those people," she declared. "Why, they are the salt of the +earth. I never expected to be treated as they treated me. If it wasn't +for your business, I would beg you to go back there and live. They are +just like the people you read about in the books--I mean the good +people, the ideal characters--the men and women you would like to meet." +Here she paused and sighed. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed that visit for +anything. But what amazes me, Cephas, is that you've never put in your +books characters such as you find in Shady Dale." + +The suggestion was a fertile one; it had in it the active principle of a +germ; and it was not long before the ferment began to make itself felt. +The past began to renew itself; the sun shone on the old days and gave +them an illumination which they lacked when they were new. Time's +perspective gave them a mellower tone, and they possessed, at least for +me, that element of mystery which seems to attach to whatever is +venerable. It was as if the place, the people, and the scenes had taken +the shape of a huge picture, with just such a lack of harmony and unity +as we find in real life. + +Let those who can do so continue to import harmony and unity into their +fabrications and call it art. Whether it be art or artificiality, the +trick is beyond my powers. I can only deal with things as they were; on +many occasions they were far from what I would have had them to be; but +as I was powerless to change them, so am I powerless to twist +individuals and events to suit the demands or necessities of what is +called art. + +Such a feat might be possible if I were to tell the simple story of Nan +and Gabriel and Tasma Tid during the days when they roamed over the old +Bermuda hills, and gazed, as it were, into the worlds that existed only +in their dreams: for then the story would be both fine and beautiful. It +would be a wonderful romance indeed, with just a touch of tragic +mystery, gathered from the fragmentary history of Tasma Tid, a +child-woman from the heart of Africa, who had formed a part of the cargo +of the yacht _Wanderer_, which landed three hundred slaves on the coast +of Georgia in the last months of 1858. You may find the particulars of +the case of the _Wanderer_ in the files of the Savannah newspapers, and +in the records of the United States Court for that district; but the +tragic history of Tasma Tid can be found neither in the newspapers nor +in the court records. + +But for this one touch of mystery and tragedy, this chronicle, supposing +it to deal only with the childhood and early youth of Nan and Gabriel, +would resolve itself into a marvellous fairy tale, made up of the +innocent dreams and hopes and beliefs, and all the extraordinary +inventions and imaginings of childhood. And even mystery and tragedy +have their own particular forms of simplicity, so that, with Tasma Tid +in the background the tale would be artless enough to satisfy the most +artful. For, even if the reader, seated on the magic cloak of some +competent story-teller, were transported to the heart of Africa, where +the mountains, with their feet in the jungle, reach up and touch the +moon, or to China, or the Islands of the Sea, the hero of the tale would +be the same. His name is Dilly Bal, and he carries on his operations +wherever there are stars in the sky. He is a restless and a roving +creature, flitting to and fro between all points of the compass. + +When King Sun crawls into his trundle bed and begins to snore, Dilly +Bal creeps forth from Somewhere, or maybe from Nowhere, which is just on +the other side, fetching with him a long broom, which he swishes about +to such purpose that the katydids hear it and are frightened. They hide +under the leaves and are heard no more that night. That is why you never +hear them crying and disputing when you chance to be awake after +midnight. + +But Dilly Bal knows nothing of the katydids; he has his own duties to +perform, and his own affairs to attend to; and these, as you will +presently see, are very pressing. It is his business, as well as his +pleasure, to be the Housekeeper of the Sky, which he dusts and tidies +and puts in order. It is a part of his duty to see that the stars are +safely bestowed against the moment when old King Sun shall emerge from +his tent, and begin his march over the world. And then, in the dusk of +the evening, Dilly Bal must take each star from the bag in which he +carries it, polish it bright, and put it in its proper place. + +Sometimes, as you may have observed, a star will fall while Dilly Bal is +handling it. This happens when he is nervous for fear that King Sun, +instead of going to bed in his tent, has crept back and is watching from +behind the cloud mountains. Sometimes a star falls quite by accident, as +when Lucindy or Patience drops a plate in the kitchen. You will be sure +to know Dilly Bal when you see him, for, in handling the stars and +dusting the sky, his clothes get full of yellow cobwebs, which he never +bothers himself to brush off. + +But Dilly Bal's most difficult job is with the Moon. Regularly the Moon +blackens her face in a vain effort to hide from King Sun. If she used +smut or soot, Dilly Bal's task would not be so difficult; but she has +found a lake of pitch somewhere in Africa, and in this lake she smears +her face till it is so black her best friends wouldn't know her. The +pitch is such sticky stuff that it is days and days before it can be +rubbed off. The truth is, Dilly Bal never does succeed in getting all +the pitch off. At her brightest, the Moon shows signs of it. So said +Tasma Tid, and so we all firmly believed. + +Yes, indeed! If this chronicle could be confined to the childhood and +youth of those children, Dilly Bal would be the hero first and last. He +was so real to all of us that we used to wander out to the old Bermuda +fields almost every fine afternoon, and sit there until the light had +faded from the sky, watching Dilly Bal hanging the stars on their pegs. +The Evening Star was such a large and heavy one that Dilly Bal always +replaced it before dark, so as to be sure not to drop it. + +Once when we stayed out in the Bermuda fields later than usual, a big +star fell from its place, and went flying across the sky, leaving a long +and brilliant streamer behind it. At first, Nan thought that Dilly Bal +had tried to hang the Evening Star on the wrong peg, but when she looked +in the west, there was the big star winking at her and at all of us as +hard as it could. + +The pity of it was that Nan and Gabriel, and all their young friends, +had finally to come in contact with the hard practical affairs of the +world. As for Tasma Tid, contact had no special influence on her. She +was to all appearance as unchangeable as the pyramids, and as mysterious +as the Sphinx. But it was different with Nan and Gabriel, and, indeed, +with all the rest. Their story soon ceased to be a simple one. In some +directions, it appeared to be a hopeless tangle, catching a great many +other persons in its loops and meshes; so that, instead of a simple, +entrancing story, all aglow with the glamour of romance, they had +troubles that were grievous, and their full share of dulness and +tediousness, which are the essential ingredients of everyday life. + +After all, it is perhaps fortunate that the marvellous dreams of Nan and +Gabriel, and the quaint imaginings of Tasma Tid are not to be +chronicled. The spinning of this glistening gossamer once begun would +have no end, for Nan was an expert dreamer both night and day, and in +the practice of this art, Gabriel was not far behind her; while Tasma +Tid, who was Nan's maid and bodyguard, could frame her face in her +hands, and tell you stories from sunrise to sundown and far into the +night. + +Tasma Tid, though she was only a child in stature and nature, was +growner in years, as she said, than some of the grownest grown folks +that they knew. She was a dwarf by race, and always denied bitterly, +sometimes venomously, that she was a negro, declaring that in her +country the people were always at war with the blacks. Her color was +dark brown, light enough for the blood tints to show in her face, and +her hair was straight and glossy black. From the _Wanderer_, she soon +found herself in the slave market at Malvern, and there she fell under +the eye of Dr. Randolph Dorrington, Nan's father, who bought her +forthwith. He thought that a live doll would please his daughter. The +dwarf said that her name was Tasma Tid in her country, and she would +answer to no other. + +It was a very fortunate bargain all around, especially for Nan, for in +the African woman she found both a playmate and a protector. Tasma Tid +was far above the average negro in intelligence, in courage and in +cunning. She was as obstinate as a mule, and no matter what obstacles +were thrown in her way, her own desires always prevailed in the end, a +fact that will explain her early appearance in the slave market. Those +of her owners who failed to understand her were not willing to see her +spoil on their hands, like a barrel of potatoes or a basket of shrimps. +The African was uncanny when she chose to be, outspoken, vicious, and +tender-hearted, her nature being compounded of the same qualities and +contradictions as those which belong to the great ladies of the earth, +who, with opportunity always at their elbows, have contrived to create a +great stir in the world. + +When Dr. Dorrington fetched Tasma Tid home, he called out to Nan from +his gig: "I have brought you a live doll, daughter; come and see how you +like it." + +Nan went running--she never learned how to walk until she was several +years older--and regarded Tasma Tid with both surprise and sympathy. +The African, seeing only the sympathy, leaped from the gig, seized Nan +around the waist, lifted her from the ground, ran this way and that, and +then released her with a loud and joyous laugh. + +"What do you mean by that?" cried Nan, somewhat taken aback. + +"She stan' fer we howdy," the African answered. + +"Well, let's see you tell popsy howdy," suggested Nan, indicating her +father. + +"Uh-uh! he we buckra." + +From that hour Tasma Tid attached herself to Nan, following her +everywhere with the unquestioning fidelity of a dog. She sat on the +floor of the dining-room while Nan ate her meals, and slept on a pallet +by the child's bed at night. If the African was sweeping the yard, a +task she sometimes consented to perform, she would fling the brushbroom +away and go with Nan if the child started out at the gate. At first this +constant attendance was somewhat annoying to Nan, for she was an +independent lass; but presently, when she found that Tasma Tid was a +most accomplished and versatile playfellow, as well as the depositary of +hundreds of curious fables and quaint tales of the wildwood, Nan's +irritation disappeared. + +As for Gabriel--Gabriel Tolliver--he was almost as indispensable as the +African woman. Children learn a good many things, as they grow older, +and I have heard that Nan and Gabriel were thought to be queer, and that +all who were much in their company were also thought to be queer. No +one knows why. It was a simple statement, and simple statements are +readily believed, because no one takes the trouble to inquire into them. +A man who has views different from those of the majority is called +eccentric; if he insists on promulgating them, he is known as a crank. +In the case of Nan and Gabriel, it may be said by one who knows, that, +while they were different from the majority of children, they were +neither queer nor eccentric. + +They, and those whom they chose as companions, were children at a time +when the demoralisation of war was about to begin--when it was already +casting its long shadow before it--and when their elders were discussing +as hard as ever they could the questions of State rights, the true +interpretation of the Constitution, squatter sovereignty, the right of +secession--every question, in short, except the one at issue. In this +way, and for this reason, the two children and their companions were +thrown back upon themselves. + +Of those who formed this merry little company, not one went to the +academies that had been established in the town early enough to be its +most ancient institutions. Nan was taught by her father, Randolph +Dorrington, and Gabriel and I said our lessons to his grandmother, Mrs. +Lucy Lumsden. Thus it happened that we were through with our school +tasks before the children in the two academies had begun their morning +recess. + +"We would never have been such good friends," said Nan on one occasion, +"if I hadn't wanted to go to your house, Gabriel, to see how your +grandmother wavies her hair. I saw Cephas, and asked him to go along +with me." Child as she was, Nan had her little vanities. She desired +above all things that her hair should fall away from her brow in little +rippling waves, like those that shone in the silver-grey hair of +Gabriel's grandmother. + +"Why, my grandmother doesn't wavie her hair at all," protested Gabriel. + +"Of course not," replied Nan, with a toss of the hand; "I found that out +for myself. And I was very sorry; I want my hair to wavie like hers and +yours." + +"Well, if your hair was to wavie like mine," said Gabriel, "you'd have a +mighty hard time combing it in the morning." + +"Don't you remember," Nan went on in a reminiscent way, "that she made +you shake hands with me that day? It was funny the way you came up and +held out your arm. If I had jumped at you and said _Boo!_ I don't know +what would have happened." Gabriel grew very red at this, but Nan +ignored his embarrassment. "You had syrup on your fingers, you know, and +then we all had some in a saucer. Yes, and we all sopped our bread in +the same saucer, and Cephas here got the syrup on his face and in his +hair." + +It never occurred to me in those days that Nan was beautiful, or that +Gabriel was handsome, but looking back in the light of experience, it is +easy to remember that they had in their features all the promises that +the long and slow-moving years were to fulfil. I was struck, however, by +one peculiarity of Nan's face. When her countenance was at rest, it +gave out a hint of melancholy, and there was an appealing look in her +brown eyes; but when she smiled or laughed, the sombre face broke up +into numberless dimples. Apart from her countenance, there was a charm +about her which I have never been able to trace to its source, and which +of course is beyond description; and this charm remained, and made +itself felt whether the appearance of melancholy had its dwelling-place +in her eyes, which were large, and lustrous, and full of tenderness, or +whether her face was brilliant with smiles. She had a deserved +reputation as a tomboy, but she carried off her tricksy whims with a +daintiness that preserved them from all hint of coarseness; and if +sometimes she was rude, she had a way of righting herself that none +could resist. + +As for Gabriel, he was always large for his age. He was strong and +healthy, possessing every physical excuse for roughness and +boisterousness; but association with his grandmother, who was one of the +gentlest of gentlewomen, had toned him down and smoothed the rough +edges. His hair was dark and curly, and his face gave promise of great +strength of character--a promise which, it may be said here, was +fulfilled to the letter. He was as whimsical as Nan, and, in addition, +had moods to which she was a stranger. + +These things did not occur to Cephas the Child, but are the fruits of +his memory and experience. He only knew at that time that Nan and +Gabriel were both very good to him. He was considerably younger than +either of them, and he often wondered then, and has wondered since, why +they were such good friends of his, and why they were constantly hunting +him up if he failed to make his appearance. Perhaps because he was so +full of unadulterated mischief. Gabriel, with all his gravity, was full +of a quaint humour, and Nan hunted for cause for laughter in everything; +and she was never more beautiful than when this same laughter had shaken +her tawny hair about her face. + +We had travelled widely. Nan had been to Malvern with her father, and +had seen sights--railway trains, omilybuses, as she called them, a great +big hotel, and "oodles" of crippled persons; yes, and besides the +crippled persons, there was a blind man standing on the corner with a +big card hanging from his neck; and that very day, she had eaten +"reesins" until she never wanted 'em any more, as she said. Gabriel and +Cephas had not gone so far; but once upon a time, they went to +Halcyondale, and, among other things, had seen Major Tomlin Perdue kill +sparrows with a pistol. Nan had been anxious to go with them at the +time, but when she heard about the slaughter of the sparrows, she was +very glad she had stayed at home, for what did a grown man as old as +Major Perdue want to kill the poor little brown sparrows for? Nan's +question was never answered. Gabriel and Cephas had only seen in the +transaction the enviable skill of the Major; whereas Nan thought of +nothing but the poor little birds that had been slain for a holiday +show. "They may have been singing sparrows, or snow-birds," mourned Nan. +True enough; but Gabriel and Cephas had thought of nothing but the +skill of the marksman with his duelling pistols. Tasma Tid also had her +point of view. "Wey you no fetcha dem lil bud home fer we supper?" She +was hardly satisfied when she was told that the little birds, all put +together, would have made hardly more than a mouthful. + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +_Kettledrum and Fife_ + + +The serene repose of Shady Dale no doubt stood for dulness and lack of +progress in that day and time. In all ages of the world, and in all +places, there are men of restless but superficial minds, who mistake +repose and serenity for stagnation. No doubt then, as now, the most +awful sentence to be passed on a community was to say that it was not +progressive. But when you examine into the matter, what is called +progress is nothing more nor less than the multiplication of the +resources of those who, by means of dicker and barter, are trying all +the time to overreach the public and their fellows, in one way and +another. This sort of thing now has a double name; it is called +civilisation, as well as progress, and those who take things as they +find them in their morning newspaper, without going to the trouble to +reflect for themselves, are no doubt duly impressed by terms that are +large enough to fill both the ear and mouth at one and the same time. + +Well, whatever serene repose stands for, Shady Dale possessed it in an +eminent degree, and the people there had their full share of the sorrows +and troubles of this world, as Madame Awtry, or Miss Puella Gillum, or +Neighbour Tomlin, or even that cheerful philosopher, Mr. Billy Sanders, +could have told you; but of these Nan and Gabriel and Cephas knew +nothing except in a vague, indefinite way. They heard hints of rumours, +and sometimes they saw their elders shaking their heads as they gossiped +together, but the youngsters lived in a world of their own, a world +apart, and the vague rumours were no more interesting to them than the +reports of canals on Mars are to the average person to-day. He reads in +his newspaper that the markings in Mars are supposed to be canals; +whereat he smiles and reflects that these canals can do him no harm. Nan +and Gabriel and Cephas were as far from contemporary troubles as we are +from Mars. The most serious trouble they had was not greater than that +which they discovered one day on the Bermuda hill. As they were sitting +on the warm grass, wondering how long before peaches would be ripe, they +saw a field mouse cutting up some queer capers. Nan was not very +friendly with mice, and she instinctively gathered up her skirts; but +she did not run; her curiosity was ever greater than her fear. Presently +we found that the troubles of Mother Mouse were very real. A tremendous +black beetle had invaded her nest, and had seized one of her children, a +little bit of a thing, naked and red and about the size of a half-ripe +mulberry. We tried hard to rescue the mouse from the beetle, but soon +found that it was quite dead. Cephas crushed the beetle, which was as +venomous-looking a bug as they had ever seen. Was the beetle preparing +to eat the mouse? Tasma Tid said yes, but Gabriel thought not. His idea +was that the Mother Mouse had attacked the beetle, which was blindly +crawling about, and had fallen in the nest accidentally. The beetle, +striving to defend itself, had seized the mouse between its pinchers, +and held it there until it was quite dead. + +But the Bermuda fields were not the only resource of the children. There +were seasons when Uncle Plato, who was Meriwether Clopton's +carriage-driver, came to town with the big waggon to haul home the +supplies necessary for the plantation; loads of bagging and rope; cases +of brogan shoes, and hats for the negroes; and bales on bales of +osnaburgs and blankets. The appearance of the Clopton waggon on the +public square was hailed by these youngsters with delight. They always +made a rush for it, and, in riding back and forth with Uncle Plato, they +spent some of the most delightful moments of their lives. + +And then in the fall season, there was the big gin running at the +Clopton place, with old Beck, the blind mule, going round and round, +turning the cogged and pivoted post that set the machinery in motion. +But the youngsters rarely grew tired of riding back and forth with Uncle +Plato. He was the one person in the world who catered most completely to +their whims, who was most responsive to their budding and eager fancies, +and who entered most enthusiastically into the regions created and +peopled by Nan's skittish and fantastic imagination. + +These children had their critics, as may well be supposed, especially +Nan, who did not always conform to the rules and theories which have +been set up for the guidance of girls; but Uncle Plato, along with +Gabriel and Cephas, accepted her as she was, with all her faults, and +took as much delight in her tricksy and capricious behaviour, as if he +were responsible for it all. She and her companions furnished Uncle +Plato with what all story-tellers have most desired since hairy man +began to shave himself with pumice-stone, and squat around a common +hearth--a faithful and believing audience. Uncle AEsop, it may be, cared +less for his audience than for the opportunity of lugging in a dismal +and perfunctory moral. Uncle Plato, like Uncle Remus, concealed his +behind text and adventure, conveying it none the less completely on that +account. Not one of his vagaries was too wild for the acceptance of his +small audience, and the elusiveness of his methods was a perpetual +delight to Nan, as hers was to Uncle Plato, though he sometimes shook +his head, and pretended to sigh over her innocent evasions. + +Once when we were all riding back and forth from the Clopton Place to +Shady Dale, Nan asked Uncle Plato if he could spell. + +"Tooby sho I kin, honey. What you reckon I been doin' all deze +long-come-shorts ef I dunner how ter spell? How you speck I kin git +'long, haulin' an' maulin', ef I dunner how ter spell? Why, I could +spell long 'fo' I know'd my own name." + +"Long-come-shorts, what are they?" asked Nan. + +"Rainy days an' windy nights," responded Uncle Plato, throwing his head +back, and closing his eyes. + +"Let's hear you spell, then," said Nan. + +"Dee-o-egg, dog," was the prompt response. Nan looked at Uncle Plato to +see if he was joking, but he was solemnity itself. "E-double-egg, egg!" +he continued. + +"Now spell John A. Murrell," said Nan. Murrell, the land pirate, was one +of her favourite heroes at this time. + +Uncle Plato pretended to be very much shocked. "Why, honey, dat man wuz +rank pizen. En spozen he wa'nt, how you speck me ter spell sump'n er +somebody which I ain't never laid eyes on? How I gwineter spell Johnny +Murrell, an' him done dead dis many a long year ago?" + +"Well, spell goose, then," said Nan, seeing a flock of geese marching +stiffly in single file across a field near the road. + +Uncle Plato looked at them carefully enough to take their measure, and +then shook his head solemnly. "Deyer so many un um, honey, dey'd be +monstus hard fer ter spell." + +"Well, just spell one of them then," Nan suggested. + +"Which un, honey?" + +"Any one you choose." + +Uncle Plato studied over the matter a moment, and again shook his head. +"Uh-uh, honey; dat ain't nigh gwine ter do. Ef you speck me fer ter +spell goose, you got ter pick out de one you want me ter spell." + +"Well, spell the one behind all the rest." + +Again Uncle Plato shook his head. "Dat ar goose got half-grown goslin's, +an' I ain't never larnt how ter spell goose wid half-grown goslin's. You +ax too much, honey." + +"Then spell the one next to head." Nan was inexorable. + +"Dat ar ain't no goose," replied Uncle Plato, with an air of triumph; +"she's a gander." + +"I don't believe you know how to spell goose," said Nan, with something +like scorn. + +"Don't you fool yo'se'f, honey," remarked Uncle Plato in a tone of +confidence. "You git me a great big fat un, not too ol', an' not too +young, an' fill 'er full er stuffin', an' bake 'er brown in de big oven, +an' save all de drippin's, an' put 'er on de table not fur fum whar I +mought be settin' at, an' gi' me a pone er corn bread, an' don't have no +talkin' an' laughin' in de game--an' ef I don't spell dat goose, I'll +come mighty nigh it, I sholy will. Ef I don't spell 'er, dey won't be +nuff lef' fer de nex' man ter spell. You kin 'pen' on dat, honey." + +Nan suddenly called Uncle Plato's attention to the carriage horses, +which were hitched to the waggon. She said she knew their names well +enough when they were pulling the carriage, but now-- + +"Haven't you changed the horses, Uncle Plato?" she asked. + +"How I gwine change um, honey?" + +"I mean, haven't you changed their places?" + +"No, ma'am!" he answered with considerable emphasis. "No, ma'am; ef I +wuz ter put dat off hoss in de lead, you'd see some mighty high kickin'; +you sho would." + +"Oh, let's try it!" cried Nan, with real eagerness. + +"Dem may try it what choosen ter try it," responded Uncle Plato, dryly, +"but I'll ax um fer ter kindly le' me git win' er what deyer gwine ter +do, an' den I'll make my 'rangerments fer ter be somers out'n sight an' +hearin'." + +"Well, if you haven't made the horses swap places," remarked Nan, "I'll +bet you a thrip that the right-hand horse is named Waffles, and the +left-hand one Battercakes." + +At once Uncle Plato became very dignified. "Well-'um, I'm mighty glad +fer ter hear you sesso, kaze ef dey's any one thing what I want mo' dan +anudder, it's a thrip's wuff er mannyfac terbacker. Ez fer de off hoss, +dat's his name--Waffles--you sho called it right. But when it comes ter +de lead hoss, anybody on de plantation, er off'n it, I don't keer whar +dey live at, ef dey yever so much ez hear er dat lead hoss, will be glad +fer ter tell you dat he goes by de name er Muffins." He held out his +hand for the thrip. + +"Well, what is the difference?" said Nan, drawing back as if to prevent +him from taking the thrip. + +"De diffunce er what?" inquired Uncle Plato. + +"And you expect me to give you money you haven't won," declared Nan. +"What's the difference between Battercakes and Muffins? A muffin is a +battercake if you pour three big spoonfuls in a pan and spread it out, +and a battercake is a muffin if you pen it up in a tin-thing like a +napkin ring. Anybody can tell you that, Uncle Plato--yes, anybody." + +What reply the old negro would have made to this bit of home-made +casuistry will never be known. That it would have been reasonable, if +not entirely adequate, may well be supposed, but just as he had given +his head a preliminary shake, the rattle of a kettle-drum was heard, and +above the rattle a fife was shrilling. + +The shrilling fife, and the roll and rattle of the drums! These were +sounds somewhat new to Shady Dale in 1860; but presently they were to be +heard all over the land. + +"I can see dem niggers right now!" exclaimed Uncle Plato, as we hustled +out of his waggon. "Riley playin' de fife, Green beatin' on de +kittledrum, an' Ike Varner bangin' on de big drum. Ef de white folks pay +much 'tention ter dem niggers, dey won't be no livin' in de same county +wid um. But dey better not come struttin' 'roun' me!" + +The drums were beating the signal for calling together the men whose +names had been signed to the roll of a company to be called the Shady +Dale Scouts, and the meeting was for the purpose of organizing and +electing officers. All this was accomplished in due time; but meanwhile +Nan and Gabriel and Cephas, as well as Tasma Tid and all the rest of the +children in the town, went tagging after the fife and drums listening to +Riley play the beautiful marching tunes that set Nan's blood to +tingling. Riley was a master hand with the fife, and we had never known +it, had never even suspected it! Nan thought it was very mean in Riley +not to tell somebody that he could play so beautifully. + +Well, in a very short time, the company was rigged out in the finest +uniforms the children had even seen. All the men, even the privates, had +plumes in their hats and epaulettes of gold on their shoulders; and on +their coats they wore stripes of glowing red, and shiny brass buttons +without number. And at least twice a week they marched through the +streets and out into the Bermuda fields, where they had their drilling +grounds. These were glorious days for the youngsters. Nan was so +enthusiastic that she organised a company of little negroes, and +insisted on being the captain. Gabriel was the first lieutenant, and +Cephas was the second. When the company was ready to take the field, it +was discovered that Nan would also have to be orderly sergeant and +color-bearer. But she took on herself the duties and responsibilities of +these positions without a murmur. She wore a paper hat of the true +Napoleonic cut, and carried in one hand her famous sword-gun, and the +colors in the other. The oldest private in Nan's company was nine; the +youngest was four, and had as much as he could do to keep up with the +rest. The uniforms of these sun-seasoned troops was the regulation +plantation fatigue dress--a shirt coming to the knees. Two or three of +the smaller privates had evidently fallen victims to the pot-liquor and +buttermilk habits, for their bellies stuck out black and glistening from +rents in their shirts. + +Their accoutrements prefigured in an absurd way the resources of the +Confederacy at a later date. They were armed with broomsticks, and +what-not. The file-leader had an old pair of tongs, which he snapped +viciously when Nan gave the word to fire. The famous sword-gun, with +which Nan did such execution, had once seen service as an umbrella +handle. + +One afternoon, as Nan was drilling her troops, she chanced to glance +down the road, and saw a waggon coming along. Deploying her company +across the highway, she went forward in person to reconnoitre. She soon +discovered that the waggon was driven by Uncle Plato. Running back to +her veterans, she placed herself in front of them, and calmly awaited +events. Slowly the fat horses dragged the waggon along, when suddenly +Nan cried "Halt!" whereupon the drummer, obeying previous instructions, +began to belabour his tin-pan, while Nan levelled her famous sword-gun +at Uncle Plato. "Bang!" she exclaimed, and then, "Why didn't you fall +off the waggon?" she cried, as Uncle Plato remained immovable. "Why, you +don't know any more about real war than a baby," she said scornfully. + +If the truth must be told, Uncle Plato had been dozing, and when he +awoke he viewed the scene before him with astonishment. There was no +need to cry "Halt!" or exclaim "Bang!" for as soon as the drummer began +to beat his tin-pan, the horses stood still and craned their necks +forward, with a warning snort, trying to see what this strange and +unnatural proceeding meant. Uncle Plato had involuntarily tightened the +reins when he was so rudely awakened, and the horses took this for a +hint that they must avoid the danger, and, as the shortest way is the +best way, they began to back, and had the waggon nearly turned around +before Uncle Plato could tell them a different tale. + +"Ef I'd 'a' fell out'n de waggon, honey, who gwine ter pick me up?" he +asked, laughing. + +"Why, no one is picked up in war!" + +"Is dis war, honey?" + +"Of course it is," Nan declared. + +"Does bofe sides hafter take part in de rucus?" asked Uncle Plato, +making a terrible face at the little negroes. + +"Why, of course," said Nan. + +Seeing the scowl, Nan's veteran troops began to edge slowly toward the +nearest breach in the fence. Uncle Plato seized his whip and pretended +to be clambering from the waggon. At this a panic ensued, and Nan's army +dispersed in a jiffy. The seasoned troops dropped their arms and fled. +The four-year-old became lost or entangled in a thick growth of jimson +weed, seeing which, Uncle Plato cried out in terrible voice, "Ketch um +dar! Fetch um here!" + +Then and there ensued a wild scene of demoralisation and anarchy; loud +shrieks and screams filled the air; the dogs barked, the hens cackled, +and the neighbours began to put their heads out of the windows. Mrs. +Absalom, who had charge of the Dorrington household, and who had raised +Nan from a baby, came to the door--the defeat of the troops occurred +right at Nan's own home--crying, "My goodness gracious! has the yeth +caved in?" Then, seeing the waggon crosswise the road, and mistaking +Nan's shrieks of laughter for cries of pain, she bolted from the house +with a white face. + +Mrs. Absalom's reactions from her daily alarms about Nan usually +resulted in bringing her into open and direct war with everybody in +sight or hearing, except the child; but on this occasion, her fright had +been so serious that when Nan, somewhat sobered, ran to her the good +woman was shaking. + +"Why, Nonny!" cried Nan, hugging her, "you are all trembling." + +"No wonder," said Mrs. Absalom in a subdued voice; "I saw you under them +waggon wheels as plain as I ever saw anything in my life. I'm gittin' +old, I reckon." + +And yet there were some people who wondered how Nan could endure such a +foster-mother as Mrs. Absalom. + +But the complete rout of Nan's army made no change in the general +complexion of affairs. The Shady Dale Scouts continued to perfect +themselves in the tactics of war, and after awhile, when the great +controversy began to warm up--the children paid no attention to the +passage of time--the company went into camp. This was a great hour for +the youngsters. Here at last was something real and tangible. The +marching and the countermarching through the streets and in the old +field were very well in their way, but Nan and Gabriel and the rest had +grown used to these man[oe]uvres, and they longed for something new. +This was furnished by the camp, with its white tents, and the grim +sentinels pacing up and down with fixed bayonets. No one, not even an +officer, could pass the sentinels without giving the password, or +calling for the officer of the guard. + +All this, from the children's point of view, was genuine war; but to the +members of the company it was a veritable picnic. The citizens of the +town, especially the ladies, sent out waggon loads of food every +day--boiled ham, barbecued shote, chicken pies, and cake; yes, and +pickles. Nan declared she didn't know there were as many pickles in the +world, as she saw unloaded at the camp. + +Mr. Goodlett, who was Mrs. Absalom's husband, went out to the camp, +looked it over with the eye of an expert, and turned away with a groan. +This citizen had served both in the Mexican and the Florida wars, and he +knew that these gallant young men would have a rude awakening, when it +came to the real tug of war. + +"Doesn't it look like war, Mr. Ab?" Nan asked, running after the +veteran. + +Mr. Goodlett looked at the bright face lifted up to his, and frowned, +though a smile of pity showed itself around his grizzled mouth. He was a +very deliberate man, and he hesitated before he spoke. "You think that +looks like war?" he asked. + +"Why, of course. Isn't that the way they do when there's a war?" + +"What! gormandise, an' set in the shade? Why, it ain't no more like war +than sparrergrass is like jimson weed--not one ioter." With that, he +sighed and went on his way. + +But when did the precepts of age and experience ever succeed in chilling +the enthusiasm of youth? With the children, it was "O to be a soldier +boy!" and Nan and her companions continued to linger around the edges of +the spectacle, taking it all in, and enjoying every moment. And the +Scouts themselves continued to live like lords, eating and drilling, and +dozing during the day, and at night dancing to the sweet music of +Flavian Dion's violin. Nan and Gabriel thought it was fine, and, as well +as can be remembered, Cephas was of the same opinion. As for Tasma Tid, +she thought that the fife and drums, and the general glare and glitter +of the affair were simply grand, very much nicer than war in her +country, where the Arab slave-traders crept up in the night and seized +all who failed to escape in the forest, killing right and left for the +mere love of killing. Compared with the jungle war, this pageant was +something to be admired. + +And many of the older citizens held views not very different from those +of the children, for enthusiasm ran high. The Shady Dale Scouts went +away arrayed in their holiday uniforms. Many of them never returned to +their homes again, but those that did were arrayed in rags and tatters. +Their gallantry was such that the Shady Dale Scouts, disguised as +Company B, were always at the head of their regiment when trouble was on +hand. But all this is to anticipate. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +_A Town with a History_ + + +Before, during, and after the war, Shady Dale presented always the same +aspect of serene repose. It was, as you may say, a town with a history. +Then, as now, there were towns all about that had no such fortunate +appendage behind them to explain their origin. No one could tell what +they were begun for; no one could say whether they had for their nucleus +an old field or a cross-roads grocery, or whether a party of immigrants +pitched their tents there because the grass was fine and the water +abundant. There is one city in Georgia, and it is the most prosperous of +all, that was built on the idea that the cattle-paths and the old +government roads afford the most convenient and picturesque contours for +the streets; and to this day, the thoroughfares of that city afford a +most interesting study to those who are interested in either topography +or human nature; for it is possible to go to that city, and, with half +an eye, discover the places where the waggons and other vehicles turned +aside nearly a hundred years ago to avoid the mudholes, the fallen +trees, and other temporary obstructions. They have been preserved in the +conformation of the streets. + +Shady Dale is no city, and it may be that its public-spirited citizens +stretch the meaning of the term when they call it a town. Nevertheless, +the community has a well-defined history. When Raleigh Clopton, shortly +after the signing of the treaty of peace between the United States and +Great Britain, crossed the Oconee, and settled on the lands of the +hostile Creeks, his friends declared that he was tempting Providence; +and so it seemed; but the event proved that from first to last, his +adventure was under the direct guidance of Providence. He demonstrated +anew the truth of two ancient maxims: he who risks nothing, gains +nothing; heaven helps those who help themselves. Raleigh Clopton risked +everything and gained the most beautiful domain in all the land. He had, +indeed, one stormy interview with General McGillivray, the great Creek +chief and statesman, but after that all was peace and prosperity. + +General McGillivray was one of the most remarkable men of his time, and +his time was during an era of remarkable men. He possessed a genius that +enabled him to cope successfully with the ablest statesmen of his day. +He drew Washington into a secret treaty with the Creek Nation, and when +McGillivray died, the Father of his country referred to him as "my +friend," and deplored his taking off. Courageous and adventurous +himself, McGillivray was no doubt attracted by the attitude and +personality of the fearless Virginian. He became the warm friend of +Raleigh Clopton, and marked that friendship by deeding to the first +white settler two thousand acres of land lying between the Little River +hills on one side, and the meadows of Murder Creek on the other. +Moreover, he named the estate Shady Dale, and aided Raleigh Clopton to +establish a trading-post where the court-house of the town now stands; +and on a pine near by, he caused to be made the semblance of a broken +arrow, a token that between the Creeks and the Master of Shady Dale a +lasting peace had been established. + +This was the beginning. When the multifarious and long-disputed treaties +between the United States and the Creek Nation had been signed, and a +general peace was assured, Raleigh Clopton communicated with his friends +in Wilkes, Burke, Columbia and Richmond counties--the choice spirits who +had fought by his side in the bloodiest battles of the War for +Independence--informed them of his good fortune, and invited them to +share it. The response was all that he could have desired. His old +friends and comrades lost no time in joining him--the Dorringtons, the +Tomlins, the Gaithers, the Awtrys, the Terrells, the Odoms, the +Lumsdens, and, later, the friends and relatives of these. For the most +part they were men of substance and character. + +Well, perhaps not all. There are black sheep in every flock, and +wherever the nature of Adam survives, there we may behold wisdom and +folly dancing to the same tune, and sin and repentance occupying the +same couch. So it has been from the first, and so it will be to the end. +But, take them all in all, making due allowance for the tendencies of +human nature, the men and women who responded to the invitation of +Raleigh Clopton may be described as the salt of the earth. They had all, +women and men, been subjected to the trials and hardships of a war in +which no quarter was asked or given; and their experiences had given +them a strength of character, and a versatility in dealing with +unexpected events, that could hardly be matched elsewhere. To each of +those who responded to his invitation, Raleigh Clopton gave a part of +his domain, and laid out their settlement for them. + +This was the origin of Shady Dale. But to set forth its origin is not to +describe its beauty, which is of a character that refuses to submit to +description. You go down to the old town from the city, and you say to +yourself and your friends that you are enjoying the delights of the +country. You visit it from the plantations, and you feel that you are +breathing the kind of atmosphere that should be found in the social life +of a large, refined and perfectly homogeneous community. But whether you +go there from the city, or from the plantations, you are inevitably +impressed with a sense of the attractiveness of the place; you fall +under the spell of the old town--it was old even in the old times of the +sixties. And yet if you were called upon to define the nature of the +spell, what could you say? What name could you give to the tremulous +beauty that hovers about and around the place, when the fresh green +leaves of the great trees are fluttering in the cool wind, and +everything is touched and illumined by the tender colours of spring? +Under what heading in the catalogue of things would you place the vivid +richness which animates the town and the landscape all around when the +summer is at its height? And how could you describe the harmony that +time has brought about between the fine old houses and the setting in +which they are grouped? + +All these things are elusive; they make themselves keenly felt, but they +do not lend themselves to analysis. + +It is a pity that those who are interested in traditions that are truer +than history could not have all the facts in regard to Shady Dale from +the lips of Mr. Obadiah Tutwiler, who had constituted himself the oral +historian of the community. Mr. Tutwiler was alive as late as 1869, and +had at his fingers'-ends all the essential facts relating to the origin +and growth of the town, and he related the story with a fluency, an +accuracy, and a relish quite surprising in so old a man. + +As was fitting, the old court-house, the temple of justice, had been +reared in the centre of the town, and the square that surrounds it took +the shape of a park of considerable dimensions. On two sides were some +of the more pretentious dwellings; the tavern, with a few of the more +modest houses took up a third side; while the fourth side was taken up +by the shops and stores; and so careful had the early settlers been with +the trees, that it was possible to stand in a certain upper window of +the court-house, and look out upon the town with not a house in sight. + +Naturally, the most interesting feature of Shady Dale was the Clopton +Place. It had been the home of the First Settler, and in 1860, when Nan +and Gabriel were enjoying their happiest days, it was owned and occupied +by the son, Meriwether Clopton. + +From the time of the First Settler, the Clopton Place had been dedicated +and set apart to the uses of hospitality. The deed in which General +McGillivray, in the name of the Creek Nation, conveyed the domain to +Raleigh Clopton, distinctly sets forth the condition that the Clopton +Place was to be an asylum and a place of refuge for the unfortunate and +for those who needed succour. During the long and bloody contests +between the white settlers and the Creeks, it was the pleasure of the +Creek chief to pay out of his own private fortune, which was a large one +for those days, the ransoms which, under the rules of the tribal +organisations, each Indian town demanded for the prisoners captured by +its warriors. Such was the poverty of the whites in general that only +occasionally was General McGillivray reimbursed for his expenditures in +this direction. + +But no matter by whom the ransoms were paid, the prisoners were one and +all forwarded to the Clopton Place, where they were cared for until such +time as they could be transferred to the white settlements. In this way +hospitality became a habit at the Place, and in the years that followed, +no wayfarer was ever turned away from those wide doors. + +In the pleasant weather, it was a familiar spectacle to see Meriwether +Clopton sitting on the wide lawn, reading Virgil and Horace, two volumes +of which he never tired. His favourite seat was in the shade of a +silver maple, through the branches of which a grapevine had been +trained. This silver maple, with the vine running through it, and the +seat in the shade, were a realisation, he once told Gabriel and Cephas, +of one of the most beautiful poems in one of the volumes, but whether +Virgil or Horace, the aforesaid Cephas is unable to remember. + +There were days long to be remembered when the Master of Clopton Place +read aloud to the children, translating as he went along, and smacking +his lips over the choice of words as though he were tasting a fine +quality of wine. And the children felt the charm of these ancient +verses; and they soon came to understand why words written down +centuries ago, had power to take possession of the mind. They were +charged with the qualities that brought them home to the modern hour; +and for all that was foreign in them, they might have been composed at +Shady Dale. It is no wonder that the common people in the Middle Ages +clothed Virgil with the gift and power of a prophet or a magician. + +Something of the charm that dwelt all about the place had its origin and +centre in Meriwether Clopton himself. His years sat lightly upon him. He +had led an active and a temperate life, and a hale and hearty old age +was the fruit thereof. He had had his flings, and something more, +perhaps, for there were traditions of some very serious troubles in +which he had been engaged shortly after reaching his majority. But +Gabriel's grandmother, who knew--none better--declared that these +troubles were not of Meriwether Clopton's seeking. They were the results +of a legacy of feuds which Raleigh Clopton, through no desire of his +own, had left to his son. It was said of Raleigh Clopton that his sense +of justice was as strong as his temper, which was a stormy one. He +espoused the cause of young Eli Whitney, who had been despoiled of his +rights in the cotton-gin in Georgia, and this led him into a series of +difficulties without parallel in the history of the State. Raleigh +Clopton's attitude in this contest brought him in conflict with some of +the most powerful men and interests in the commonwealth. It was a +contest in which knavery, fraud and corruption, the courts, and +considerable private capital, were all combined against Whitney, who +appeared to be without a strong friend until Raleigh Clopton became his +champion. + +The collusion of the courts with this high-handed robbery was so +ill-concealed that Raleigh Clopton soon discovered the fact, and his +indignation rose to such a white heat that it drove him to excesses. He +dragged one judge from a buggy, and plied him with a rawhide, he slapped +the face of another in a public house, and posted a dozen prominent men +as thieves and corruptionists, with the result that the State fairly +swarmed with his enemies, men who were able to keep him busy in the way +of troubles and difficulties. It was the day of private feuds, and it +was not surprising that some of these enemies should attack the father +through the son. Thus it fell out that Meriwether Clopton's experience +for half a score of years after he came of age was anything but +peaceful. But he came out of all these difficulties with head erect, +clean hands and a clear conscience. He was neither hardened nor +embittered by the violence with which he had to deal. On the contrary, +his character was strengthened and his temper sweetened; so that when +the lads who listened to his mellifluous translations from the Latin +poets, were old enough to appreciate the qualities that go to make up a +good man and an influential citizen, the fact dawned upon their minds +that Meriwether Clopton was the finest gentleman they had ever seen. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +_The Return of Two Warriors_ + + +When the great contest began, Nan was close to thirteen, and Gabriel was +fourteen. Cephas was younger; he had lived hardly as many months as he +had freckles on his face, otherwise he would have been an aged citizen. +They wandered about together, always accompanied by Tasma Tid, all of +them being children in every sense of the word. Occasionally they were +joined by some of the other boys and girls; but they were always happier +when they were left to themselves. + +In the late afternoons they could always be found in the Bermuda fields, +but at other times, especially on a warm day, their favourite playground +was under the wide-spreading elms in front of the post-office. Amusing +themselves there in the fine weather, they could see the people come and +go, many of them looking for letters that never came. When the conflict +at the front became warm and serious, and when the very newspapers, as +Mrs. Absalom said, smelt of blood, there was always a large crowd of +men, old and young, gathered at the post-office when the mail-coach came +from Malvern. As few of the people subscribed for a daily newspaper, +Judge Odom (he was Judge of the Inferior Court, now called the Court of +Ordinary) took upon himself to mount a chair or a dry-goods box, and +read aloud the despatches printed in the Malvern _Recorder_. This +enterprising journal had a number of volunteer correspondents at the +front who made it a point to send with their letters the lists of the +killed and wounded in the various Georgia regiments; and these lists +grew ominously long as the days went by. + +And then, in the course of time, came the collapse of the Confederacy, +an event that blew away with a breath, as it were, the hopes and dreams +of those who had undertaken to build a new government in the South; and +this march of time brought about a gradual change in the relations +between Nan and Gabriel. It was almost as imperceptible in its growth as +the movement of the shadow on the sun-dial. Somehow, and to her great +disgust, Nan awoke one morning and was told that she was a young woman, +or dreamt that she was told. Anyhow, she realised, all of a sudden, that +she was now too tall for short dresses, and too old to be playing with +the boys as if she were one of them; and the consciousness of this +change gave her many a bad quarter of an hour, and sometimes made her a +trifle irritable; for, sweet as she was, she had a temper. + +She asked herself a thousand times why she should now begin to feel shy +of Gabriel, and why she should be so self-conscious, she who had never +thought of herself with any degree of seriousness until now. It was all +a puzzle to her. As it was with Nan, so it was with Gabriel. As Nan grew +shy and shyer, so the newly-awakened Gabriel grew more and more and +more timid, and the two soon found themselves very far apart without +knowing why. For a long time Cephas was the only connecting link between +them. He was a sly little rascal, this same Cephas, and he found in the +situation food for both curiosity and amusement. He had not the least +notion why the two friends and comrades were inclined to avoid each +other. He only knew that he was not having as pleasant a time as fell to +his portion when they were all going about together with no serious +notions of life or conduct. + +Cephas got no satisfaction from either Nan or Gabriel when he asked them +what the trouble was. Nan tried to explain matters, but her explanation +was a very lame one. "I am getting old enough to be serious, Cephas; and +I must begin to make myself useful. That's what Miss Polly Gaither says, +and she's old enough to know. Oh, I hate it all!" said Nan. + +"Is Miss Polly Gaither useful?" inquired Cephas. + +"I'm sure I don't know," replied Nan; "but that's what she told me, and +then she held up her ear-trumpet for me to talk in it; but I just +couldn't, she looked so very much in earnest. It was all I could do to +keep from laughing. Did you ever notice, Cephas, how funny people are +when they are really in earnest?" + +Alas! Cephas had often pinched himself in Sunday-school to keep from +laughing at old Mrs. Crafton, his teacher. She was so dreadfully in +earnest that she kept her face in a pucker the whole time. Outside of +the Sunday-school she was a very pleasant old lady. + +Gabriel had no explanation to make whatever. He simply told Cephas that +Nan was becoming vain. This Cephas denied with great emphasis, but +Gabriel only shook his head and looked wise, as much as to say that he +knew what he knew, and would continue to know it for some time to come. +The truth is, however, that Gabriel was as ignorant of the feminine +nature as it is possible for a young fellow to be; whereas, Nan, by +means of the instinct or intuition which heaven has conferred on her sex +for their protection, knew Gabriel a great deal better than she knew +herself. + +When the war came to a close, Gabriel was nearly eighteen, and Nan was +seventeen, though she appeared to be a year or two younger. She was +still childish in her ways and tastes, and carried with her an +atmosphere of simplicity and sweetness in which very few girls of her +age are fortunate enough to move. Simplicity was a part of her nature, +though some of her young lady friends used to whisper to one another +that it was all assumed. She was even referred to as Miss Prissy, a term +that was probably intended to be an abbreviation of Priscilla. + +Regularly, she used to hunt Cephas up and carry him home with her for +the afternoon; and on the other hand, Gabriel manifested a great +fondness for the little fellow, who enjoyed his enviable popularity with +a clear conscience. It was years and years afterwards before the secret +of his popularity dawned on him. If he had suspected it at the time, his +pride, such as he had, would have had a terrible fall. + +One day, it was the year of Appomattox, and the month was June, Cephas +heard his name called, and answered very promptly, for the voice was the +voice of Gabriel, and it was burdened with an invitation to visit the +woods and fields that surrounded the town. The weather itself was +burdened with the same invitation. The birds sang it, and it rustled in +the leaves of the trees. And Cephas leaped from the house, glad of any +excuse to escape from the domestic task at which he had been set. They +wandered forth, and became a part and parcel of the wild things. The +hermit thrush, with his silver bell, was their brother, and the +cat-bird, distressed for the safety of her young, was their sister. Yea, +and the gray squirrel was their playmate, a shy one, it is true, but +none the less a genuine one for all that. They roamed about the +green-wood, and over the hills and fields, and finally found themselves +in the public highway that leads to Malvern. + +Cephas found a cornstalk, and with hardly an effort of his mind, changed +it into a fine saddle-horse. The contagion seized Gabriel, and though he +was close upon his eighteenth birthday, he secured a cornstalk, which at +once became a saddle-horse at his bidding. The magical powers of youth +are wonderful, and for a little while the cornstalk horses were as real +as any horses could be. The steed that Cephas bestrode was comparatively +gentle, but Gabriel's horse developed a desire to take fright at +everything he saw. A creature more skittish and nervous was never seen, +and his example was soon followed by the steed that Cephas rode. The +two boys were so busily engaged in trying to control their perverse +horses, that they failed to see a big covered waggon that came creeping +up the hill behind them. So, while they were cutting up their queer +capers, the big waggon, drawn by two large mules, was plumb upon them. +As for Cephas, he didn't care, being at an age when such capers are +permissible, but Gabriel blushed when he discovered that his childish +pranks had witnesses; and he turned a shade redder when he saw that the +occupants of the waggon were, of all the persons in the world, Mr. Billy +Sanders and Francis Bethune. + +Both of the boys would have passed on but for the compelling voice of +Mr. Sanders. "Why, it's little Gabe, and he's little Gabe no longer. And +Cephas ain't growed a mite. Hello, Gabe! Hello, Cephas! Howdy, howdy?" + +Francis Bethune's salutation was somewhat constrained, or if that be too +large a word, was lacking in cordiality. "What is the matter with +Gabriel?" he asked. + +"It's a thousand pities, Frank," remarked Mr. Sanders, "that Sarah +Clopton wouldn't let you be a boy along with the other boys; but she +coddled you up jest like you was a gal. Be jigged ef I don't believe +you've got on pantalettes right now." + +Bethune blushed hotly, while Gabriel and Cephas fairly yelled with +laughter--and there was a little resentment in Gabriel's mirth. "But I +don't see what could possess Tolliver," Bethune insisted. + +"Shucks, Frank! you wouldn't know ef he was to write it down for you, +an' Nan Dorrin'ton would know wi'out any tellin'. You ain't a bit +brighter about sech matters than you was the day Nan give you a +thumpin'." + +At this Gabriel laughed again, for he had been an eye-witness to the +episode to which Mr. Sanders referred. A boy has his prejudices, as +older persons have theirs. Bethune had always had the appearance of +being too fond of himself; when other boys of his age were playing and +pranking, he would be primping, and in the afternoon, before he went off +to the war, he would strut around town in the uniform of a cadet, and +seemed to think himself better than any one else. These things count +with boys as much as they do with older persons. + +"Climb in the waggin, Gabe an' Cephas, an' tell us about ever'thing an' +ever'body. The Yanks didn't take the town off, did they?" + +The boys accepted the invitation without further pressing, for they were +both fond of Mr. Sanders, and proceeded to give their old friend all the +information he desired. Francis Bethune asked no questions, and Gabriel +was very glad of it. At bottom, Bethune was a very clever fellow, but +the boys are apt to make up their judgments from what is merely +superficial. Francis had a very handsome face, and he could have made +himself attractive to a youngster on the lookout for friends, but he had +chosen a different line of conduct, and as a result, Gabriel had several +scores against the young man. And so had Cephas; for, on one occasion, +the latter had gone to the Clopton Place for some wine for his mother, +who was something of an invalid, and, coming suddenly on Sarah Clopton, +found her in tears. Cephas never had a greater shock than the sight gave +him, for he had never connected this self-contained, gray-haired woman +with any of the tenderer emotions. In the child's mind, she was simply a +sort of superintendent of affairs on the Clopton Place, who, in the +early mornings, stood on the back porch of the big house, and, in a +voice loud enough to be heard a considerable distance, gave orders to +the domestics, and allotted to the field hands their tasks for the day. + +Sarah Clopton must have seen how shocked the child was, for she dried +her eyes and tried to laugh, saying, "You never expected to see me +crying, did you, little boy?" Cephas had no answer for this, but when +she asked if he could guess why she was crying, the child remembered +what he had heard Nan and Gabriel say, and he gave an answer that was +both prompt and blunt. "I reckon Frank Bethune has been making a fool of +himself again," said he. + +"But how did you know, child?" she asked, placing her soft white fingers +under his chin, and lifting his face toward the light. "You are a wise +lad for your years," she said, when he made no reply, "and I am sure you +are sensible enough to do me a favour. Please say nothing about what you +have seen. An old woman's tears amount to very little. And don't be too +hard on Frank. He has simply been playing some college prank, and they +are sending him home." + +The most interesting piece of news that Gabriel had in his budget +related to the hanging of Mr. Absalom Goodlett by some of Sherman's men, +when that commander came marching through Georgia. It seems that a negro +had told the men that Mr. Goodlett knew where the Clopton silver had +been concealed, and they took him in hand and tried to frighten him into +giving them information which he did not possess. Threats failing, they +secured a rope and strung him up to a tree. They strung him up three +times, and the third time, they went off and left him hanging; and but +for the promptness of the negro who was the cause of the trouble, and +who had been an interested spectator of the proceedings, Mr. Goodlett +would never have opened his eyes on the affairs of this world again. The +negro cut him down in the nick of time, and as soon as he recovered, he +sent the darkey with instructions to go after the men, and tell them +where they could find the plate, indicating an isolated spot. Whereupon +Mr. Goodlett took his gun, and went to the point indicated. The negro +carried out his instructions to the letter. He found the men, who had +not gone far, pointed out the spot from a safe distance, and then waited +to see what would happen. If he saw anything unusual, he never told of +it; but the men were never seen again. Some of their companions returned +to search for them, but the search was a futile one. The negro went +about with a frightened face for several days, and then he settled down +to work for Mr. Goodlett, in whom he seemed to have a strange interest. +He showed this in every way. + +"You keep yo' eye on 'im," he used to say to his coloured acquaintances, +in speaking of Mr. Goodlett; "keep yo' eye on 'im, an' when you see his +under-jaw stickin' out, des turn you' back, an' put yo' fingers in yo' +ears." + +"You never know," said Mr. Sanders, in commenting on the story, "what a +man will do ontell he gits rank pizen mad, or starvin' hongry, or in +love." + +"What would you do, Mr. Sanders, if you were in love?" Gabriel asked +innocently enough. + +"Maybe I'd do as Frank does," replied Mr. Sanders, smiling blandly; +"shed scaldin' tears one minnit, an' bite my finger-nails the next; +maybe I would, but I don't believe it." + +"Now, I'll swear you ought not to tell these boys such stuff as that!" +exclaimed Francis Bethune angrily. "I don't know about Cephas, but +Tolliver doesn't like me any way." + +"How do you know?" inquired Gabriel. + +"Because you used to make faces at me," replied Bethune, half laughing. + +"Why, so did Nan," Gabriel rejoined. "Mine must have been terrible ones +for you to remember them so well." + +The reference to Nan struck Bethune, and he began to gnaw at the end of +his thumb, whereupon Mr. Sanders smiled broadly. The young man reflected +a moment and then remarked, his face a trifle redder than usual; "Isn't +the young lady old enough for you to call her Miss Dorrington?" + +"She is," replied Gabriel; "but if she permits me to call her Nan, why +should any one else object?" + +There was no answer to this, but presently Bethune turned to Gabriel and +said: "Why do you dislike me, Tolliver?" + +For a little time the lad was silent; he was trying to formulate his +prejudices into something substantial and sufficient, but the effort was +a futile one. While he was silent, Bethune regarded him with a curious +stare. "Honestly," said Gabriel, "I can give no reason; and I'm not sure +I dislike you. But you always held your head so high that I kept away +from you. I had an idea that you felt yourself above me because my +grandmother is not as rich as the Cloptons." + +The statement seemed to amaze Bethune. "You couldn't have been more than +ten or twelve when I left here for the war," he remarked. + +"Yes, I was more than thirteen," Gabriel replied. + +"Well, I never thought that a boy so young could have such thoughts," +Bethune declared. + +"Pooh!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "a fourteen-year-old boy can have some +mighty deep thoughts, specially ef he' been brung up in a house full of +books, as Gabriel was. I hope, Gabriel," he went on, "that you'll stick +to your cornstalk hoss as long as you want to. You'll live longer for +it, an' your friends will love you jest the same. Frank here has never +been a boy. Out of bib an' hippin, he jumped into long britches an' a +standin' collar, an' the only fun he ever had in his life he got kicked +out of college for, an' served him right, too. I'll bet you a thrip to a +pint of pot-licker that Nan'll ride a stick hoss tomorrer ef she takes a +notion--an' she's seventeen. Don't you forgit, Gabriel, that you'll +never be a boy but once, an' you better make the most on it whilst you +can." + +The waggon came just then to the brow of the hill that overlooked Shady +Dale, and here Mr. Sanders brought his team to a standstill. It had been +many long months since his eyes or Bethune's had gazed on the familiar +scene. "I'll tell you what's the fact, boys," he said, drawing in a long +breath--"the purtiest place this side of Paradise lies right yander +before our eyes. Ef I had some un to give out the lines, I'd cut loose +and sing a hime. Yes, sirs! you'd see me break out an' howl jest like my +old coon dog, Louder, used to do when he struck a hot track. The Lord +has picked us out of the crowd, Frank, an' holp us along at every turn +an' crossin'. But before the week's out, we'll forgit to be thankful. +J'inin' the church wouldn't do us a grain of good. By next Sunday week, +Frank, you'll be struttin' around as proud as a turkey gobbler, an' +you'll git wuss an' wuss less'n Nan takes a notion for to frail you out +ag'in." + +Bethune relished the remark so little that he chirped to the mules, but +Mr. Sanders seized the reins in his own hands. "We've fit an' we've +fout, an' we've got knocked out," he went on, "an' now, here we are +ready for to take a fresh start. The Lord send that it's the right +start." He would have driven on, but at that moment, a shabby looking +vehicle drew up alongside the waggon. Gabriel and Cephas knew at once +that the outfit belonged to Mr. Goodlett. His mismatched team consisted +of a very large horse and a very small mule, both of them veterans of +the war. They had been left by the Federals in a broken-down condition, +and Mr. Goodlett found them grazing about, trying to pick up a living. +He appropriated them, fed them well, and was now utilising them not only +for farm purposes, but for conveying stray travellers to and from +Malvern, earning in this way many a dollar that would have gone +elsewhere. + +Mr. Goodlett drew rein when he saw Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune, and +gave them as cordial a greeting as he could, for he was a very +undemonstrative and reticent man. At that time both Gabriel and Cephas +thought he was both sour and surly, but, in the course of events, their +opinions in regard to that and a great many other matters underwent a +considerable change. + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +_Mr. Goodlett's Passengers_ + + +The vehicle that Mr. Goodlett was driving was an old hack that had been +used for long years to ply between Shady Dale and Malvern. On this +occasion, Mr. Goodlett had for his passengers a lady and a young woman +apparently about Nan's age. There was such a contrast between the two +that Gabriel became absorbed in contemplating them; so much so that he +failed to hear the greetings that passed between Mr. Goodlett and Mr. +Sanders, who were old-time friends. The elder of the two women was +emaciated to a degree, and her face was pale to the point of +ghastliness; but in spite of her apparent weakness, there was an ease +and a refinement in her manner, a repose and a self-possession that +reminded Gabriel of his grandmother, when she was receiving the fine +ladies from a distance who sometimes called on her. The younger of the +two women, on the other hand, was the picture of health. The buoyancy of +youth possessed her. She had an eager, impatient way of handling her fan +and handkerchief, and there was a twinkle in her eye that spoke of +humour; but her glance never fell directly on the men in the waggon; all +her attention was for the invalid. + +Mr. Goodlett, his greeting over, was for pushing on, but the voice of +the invalid detained him. "Can you tell me," she said, turning to Mr. +Sanders, "whether the Gaither Place is occupied? Oh, but I forgot; you +are just returning from that horrible, horrible war." She had lifted +herself from a reclining position, but fell back hopelessly. + +"Why, Ab thar ought to be able to tell you that," responded Mr. Sanders, +his voice full of sympathy. + +"Well, I jest ain't," declared Mr. Goodlett, with some show of +impatience. "I tell you, William, I been so worried an' flurried, an' so +disqualified an' mortified, an' so het up wi' fust one thing an' then +another, that I ain't skacely had time for to scratch myself on the +eatchin' places, much less gittin' up all times er night for to see ef +the Gaither Place is got folks or ha'nts in it. When you've been through +what I have, William, you won't come a-axin' me ef the Gaither house is +whar it mought be, or whar it oughter be, or ef it's popylated or +dispopylated." + +The young lady stroked the invalid's hand and smiled. Something in the +frowning face and fractious tone of the old man evidently appealed to +her sense of humour. "Don't you think it is absurd," said the pale lady, +again appealing to Mr. Sanders, "that a person should live in so small a +town, and not know whether one of the largest houses in the place is +occupied--a house that belongs to a family that used to be one of the +most prominent of the county? Why, of course it is absurd. There is +something uncanny about it. I haven't had such a shock in many a day." + +"But, mother," protested the young lady, "why worry about it? A great +many strange things have happened to us, and this is the least important +of all." + +"Why, dearest, this is the strangest of all strange things. The driver +here says he lives at Dorringtons', and the Gaither house is not so very +far from Dorringtons'." + +"Everybody knows," said Gabriel, "that Miss Polly Gaither lives in the +Gaither house." He spoke before he was aware, and began to blush. +Whereupon the young lady gave him a very bright smile. + +"Humph!" grunted Mr. Goodlett, giving the lad a severe look. He started +to climb into his seat, but turned to Gabriel. "Is she got a wen?" he +asked, with something like a scowl. + +"Yes, she has a wen," replied the lad, blushing again, but this time for +Mr. Goodlett. + +"Well, then, ef she's got a wen, ef Polly Gaithers is got a wen, she's +livin' in that house, bekaze, no longer'n last Sat'day, she come roun' +for to borry some meal; an' whatsomever she use to have, an' whatsomever +she mought have herearter, she's got a wen now, an' I'll tell you so on +a stack of Bibles as high as the court-house." + +The young lady laughed, but immediately controlled herself with a +half-petulant "Oh dear!" Laughter became her well, for it smoothed away +a little frown of perplexity that had established itself between her +eyebrows. + +"Oh, we'll take the young man's word for it," said the invalid, "and we +are very much obliged to him. What is your name?" When Gabriel had told +her, she repeated the name over again. "I used to know your grandmother +very well," she said. "Tell her Margaret Bridalbin has returned home, +and would be delighted to see her." + +"Then, ma'am, you must be Margaret Gaither," remarked Mr. Sanders. + +"Yes, I was Margaret Gaither," replied the invalid. "I used to know you +very well, Mr. Sanders, and if I had changed as little as you have, I +could still boast of my beauty." + +"Yet nobody hears me braggin' of mine, Margaret," said Mr. Sanders with +a smile that found its reflection in the daughter's face; "but I hope +from my heart that home an' old friends will be a good physic for you, +an' git you to braggin' ag'in. Anyhow, ef you don't brag on yourself, +you can take up a good part of the time braggin' on your daughter." + +"Oh, thank you, sir, for the clever joke. My mother has told me long ago +how full of fun you are," said the young lady, blushing sufficiently to +show that she did not regard the compliment as altogether a joke. "You +may drive on now," she remarked to Mr. Goodlett. Whereupon that +surly-looking veteran slapped his mismatched team with the loose ends of +the reins, and the shabby old hack moved off toward Shady Dale. Mr. +Sanders waited for the vehicle to get some distance ahead, and then he +too urged his team forward. + +"The word is Home," he said; "I reckon Margaret has had her sheer of +trouble, an' a few slices more. She made her own bed, as the sayin' is, +an' now she's layin' on it. Well, well, well! when time an' occasions +take arter you, it ain't no use to run; you mought jest as well set +right flat on the ground an' see what they've got ag'in you." + +The remark was not original, nor very deep, but it recurred to Gabriel +when trouble plucked at his own sleeve, or when he saw disaster run +through a family like a contagion. + +In no long time the waggon reached the outskirts of the town, where the +highway became a part of the wide street that ran through the centre of +Shady Dale, flowing around the old court-house in the semblance of a +wide river embracing a small island. Gabriel and Cephas were on the +point of leaving the waggon here, but Mr. Sanders was of another mind. + +"Ride on to Dorrin'tons' wi' us," he said. "I want to swap a joke or two +wi' Mrs. Ab." + +"She's sure to get the best of it," Gabriel warned him. + +"Likely enough, but that won't spile the fun," responded Mr. Sanders. + +Mrs. Absalom, as she was called, was the wife of Mr. Goodlett, and was +marked off from the great majority of her sex by her keen appreciation +of humour. Her own contributions were spoiled for some, for the reason +that she gave them the tone of quarrelsomeness; whereas, it is to be +doubted whether she ever gave way to real anger more than once or twice +in her life. She was Dr. Randolph Dorrington's housekeeper, and was a +real mother to Nan, who was motherless before she had drawn a dozen +breaths of the poisonous air of this world. + +By the time the waggon reached Dorrington's, Gabriel, acting on the +instructions of Mr. Sanders, had crawled under the cover of the waggon, +and was holding out a pair of old shoes, so that a passer-by would +imagine that some one was lying prone in the waggon with his feet +sticking out. + +When the waggon reached the Dorrington Place, Mr. Sanders drew rein, and +hailed the house, having signed to Cephas to make himself invisible. +Evidently Mrs. Absalom was in the rear, or in the kitchen, which was a +favourite resort of hers, for the "hello" had to be repeated a number of +times before she made her appearance. She came wiping her face on her +ample apron, and brushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busy +housekeeper. + +"We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sanders +in a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thank +you might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, we +picked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' he +keeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place." + +"Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in the +world is the matter wi' old Billy?" she inquired with real solicitude. +"Was he wounded in the war, or is he jest up to some of his old-time +devilment?" + +"Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, he +must 'a' shot hisself in the neck. He complains of cold feet, an' he's +got 'em stuck out from under the kiver." + +"Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will never +strike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soap +an' water." + +"An' he talks in his sleep about a Mrs. Absalom," Mr. Sanders went on, +"an' he cries, an' says she used to be his sweetheart, but he had to +jilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit." + +"The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulated +indignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he ever +sobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jest +drive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle of +the road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come to +Cloptons' in a mighty few minutes." + +At this juncture Mr. Sanders was obliged to laugh, whereupon, Mrs. +Absalom, looking narrowly at the travellers, had no difficulty in +recognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her hands +above her head in a gesture of amazement. "Why, that's old Billy, an' +him sober; and Franky Bethune, an' him not a primpin'! Well, well! I'd +'a' never believed it ef I hadn't 'a' seed it. I vow I'm beginnin' to +believe that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' for +some folks. I'm sorry Ab didn't take his gun an' jine in--maybe he'd 'a' +shed his stinginess. But I declare to gracious, I'm glad to see you all; +the sight of you is good for the sore eyes. An' Frank tryin' to raise a +beard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub on +it." + +Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returned +warriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tears +in her eyes as she greeted them; for in that region, nearly all had +feelings of kinship for their neighbours and friends, and in that day +and time, people were not ashamed of their emotions. + +"Margaret Gaither has come back," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ab fetched her +in his hack." + +"Well, the poor creetur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom; "they say she's had +trouble piled on her house-high." + +"She won't have much more in this world ef looks is any sign," Mr. +Sanders replied. "She ain't nothin' but a livin' skeleton, but she's got +a mighty lively gal." + +The waggon moved on and left Mrs. Absalom leaning on the gate, a +position that she kept for some little time. Farther down the road, +Gabriel, whose example was followed by Cephas, bade Mr. Sanders +good-bye, nodded lightly to Francis Bethune, and jumped from the waggon. + +"Wait a moment, Tolliver," said Bethune. "I want you to come to see +me--and bring Cephas with you. I am going to make you like me if I can. +The home folks have been writing great things about you. Oh, you _must_ +come," he insisted, seeing that Gabriel was hesitating. "I want to show +you what a good fellow I can be when I try right hard." + +"Yes, you boys must come," said Mr. Sanders; "an' ef Frank is off +courtin' that new gal--I ketched him cuttin' his eye at her--you can +hunt me up, an' I'll tell you some old-time tales that'll make your hair +stan' on end." + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +_The Story of Margaret Gaither_ + + +Gabriel and Cephas started toward their homes, which lay in the same +direction. Instead of going around by road or street, they cut across +the fields and woods. Before they had gone very far, they heard a +rustling, swishing sound in the pine-thicket through which they were +passing, but gave it little attention, both being used to the noises +common to the forest. In their minds it was either a rabbit or a grey +fox scuttling away; or a poree scratching in the bushes, or a +ground-squirrel running in the underbrush. + +But a moment later, Nan Dorrington, followed by Tasma Tid, burst from +the pine-thicket, crying, "Oh, you walk so fast, you two!" She was +panting and laughing, and as she stood before the lads, one little hand +at her throat, and the other vainly trying to control her flying hair, a +delicious rosiness illuminating her face, Gabriel knew that he had just +been doing her a gross injustice. As he walked along the path, followed +by his faithful Cephas, he had been mentally comparing her to a young +woman he had just seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack; and had been saying to +himself that the new-comer was, if possible, more beautiful than Nan. + +But now here was Nan herself in person, and Gabriel's comparisons +appeared to be shabby indeed. With Nan before his eyes, he could see +what a foolish thing it was to compare her with any one in this world +except herself. There was a flavour of wildness in her beauty that gave +it infinite charm and variety. It was a wildness that is wedded to grace +and vivacity, such as we see embodied in the form and gestures of the +wood-dove, or the partridge, or the flying squirrel, when it is un-awed +by the presence of man. The flash of her dark brown eyes, her tawny hair +blowing free, and her lithe figure, with the dark green pines for a +background, completed the most charming picture it is possible for the +mind to conceive. All that Gabriel was conscious of, beyond a dim +surprise that Nan should be here--the old Nan that he used to know--was +a sort of dawning thrill of ecstasy as he contemplated her. He stood +staring at her with his mouth open. + +"Why do you look at me like that, Gabriel?" she cried; "I am no ghost. +And why do you walk so fast? I have been running after you as hard as I +can. And, wasn't that Francis Bethune in the waggon with Mr. Sanders?" + +"Did you run hard just to ask me that? Mrs. Absalom could have saved you +all this trouble." The mention of Bethune's name had brought Gabriel to +earth, and to commonplace thoughts again. "Yes, that was Master Bethune, +and he has grown to be a very handsome young man." + +"Oh, he was always good-looking," said Nan lightly. "Where are you and +Cephas going?" + +"Straight home," replied Gabriel. + +"Well, I'm going there, too. I heard Nonny" (this was Mrs. Absalom) "say +that Margaret Gaither has come home again, and then I remembered that +your grandmother promised to tell me a story about her some day. I'm +going to tease her to-day until she tells it." + +"And didn't Mrs. Absalom tell you that Bethune was in the waggon with +Mr. Sanders?" Gabriel inquired, in some astonishment. + +"Oh, Gabriel! you are so--" Nan paused as if hunting for the right term +or word. Evidently she didn't find it, for she turned to Gabriel with a +winning smile, and asked what Mr. Sanders had had to say. "I'm so glad +he's come I don't know what to do. I wouldn't live in a town that didn't +have its Mr. Sanders," she declared. + +"Well, about the first thing he said was to remind Bethune of the time +when you whacked him over the head with a cudgel." + +"And what did Master Francis say to that?" inquired Nan, with a laugh. + +"Why, what could he say? He simply turned red. Now, if it had been me, +I----" + +The path was so narrow, that Nan, the two lads, and Tasma Tid were +walking in Indian file. Nan stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that +Gabriel fell against her. As he did so, she turned and seized him by the +arm, and emphasised her words by shaking him gently as each was uttered. +"Now--Gabriel--don't--say--disagreeable--things!" + +What she meant he had not the least idea, and it was not the first nor +the last time that his wit lacked the nimbleness to follow and catch her +meaning. + +"Disagreeable!" he exclaimed. "Why, I was simply going to say that if I +had been in Bethune's shoes to-day, I should have declared that you did +the proper thing." + +Nan dropped a low curtsey, saying, "Oh, thank you, sir--what was the +gentleman's name, Cephas--the gentleman who was such a cavalier?" + +"Was he a Frenchman?" asked Cephas. + +"Oh, Cephas! you should be ashamed. You have as little learning as I." +With that she turned and went along the path at such a rapid pace that +it was as much as the lads could do to keep up with her, without +breaking into an undignified trot. + +Nan went home with Gabriel; was there before him indeed, for he paused a +moment to say something to Cephas. She ran along the walk, took the +steps two at a time, and as she ran skipping along the hallway, she +cried out: "Grandmother Lumsden! where are you? Oh, what do you think? +Margaret Gaither has come home!" When Gabriel entered the room, Nan had +fetched a footstool, and was already sitting at Mrs. Lumsden's feet, +holding one of the old lady's frail, but beautiful white hands. + +Here was another picture, the beauty of which dawned on Gabriel +later--youth and innocence sitting at the feet of sweet and wholesome +old age. The lad was always proud of his grandmother, but never more so +than at that moment when her beauty and refinement were brought into +high relief by her attitude toward Nan Dorrington. Gabriel was very +happy to be near those two. Not for a weary time had Nan been so +friendly and familiar as she was now, and he felt a kind of exaltation. + +"Margaret Gaither! Margaret Gaither!" Gabriel's grandmother repeated the +name as if trying to summon up some memory of the past. "Poor girl! Did +you see her, Gabriel? And how did she look?" With a boy's bluntness, he +described her physical condition, exaggerating, perhaps, its worst +features, for these had made a deep impression on him. "Oh, I'm so sorry +for her! and she has a daughter!" said Mrs. Lumsden softly. "I will call +on them as soon as possible. And then if poor Margaret is unable to +return the visit, the daughter will come. And you must be here, Nan; +Gabriel will fetch you. And you, Gabriel--for once you must be polite +and agreeable. Candace shall brush up your best suit, and if it is to be +mended, I will mend it." + +Nan and Gabriel laughed at this. Both knew that this famous best suit +would not reach to the lad's ankles, and that the sleeves of the coat +would end a little way below the elbow. + +"I can't imagine what you are laughing at," said Mrs. Lumsden, with a +faint smile. "I am sure the suit is a very respectable one, especially +when you have none better." + +"No, Grandmother Lumsden; Gabriel will have to take his tea in the +kitchen with Aunt Candace." + +However, the affair never came off. The dear old lady, in whom the +social instinct was so strong, had no opportunity to send the invitation +until long afterward. Nan was compelled to beg very hard for the story +of Margaret Gaither. It was never the habit of Gabriel's grandmother to +indulge in idle gossip; she could always find some excuse for the faults +of those who were unfortunate; but Nan had the art of persuasion at her +tongue's end. Whether it was this fact or the fact that Mrs. Lumsden +believed that the story carried a moral that Nan would do well to +digest, it would be impossible to say. At any rate, the youngsters soon +had their desire. The story will hardly bear retelling; it can be +compressed into a dozen lines, and be made as uninteresting as a +newspaper paragraph; but, as told by Gabriel's grandmother, it had the +charm which sympathy and pity never fail to impart to a narrative. When +it came to an end, Nan was almost in tears, though she could never tell +why. + +"It happened, Nan, before you and Gabriel were born," said Mrs. Lumsden. +"Margaret Gaither was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, +and at that time Pulaski Tomlin was one of the handsomest young men in +all this region. Naturally these two were drawn together. They were in +love with each other from the first, and, finally, a day was set for the +wedding. They were to have been married in November, but one night in +October, the Tomlin Place was found to be on fire. The flames had made +considerable headway before they were discovered, and, to me, it was a +most horrible sight. Yet, horrible as it was, there was a fascination +about it. The sweeping roar of the flames attracted me and held me +spellbound, but I hope I shall never be under such a spell again. + +"Well, it was impossible to save the house, and no one attempted such a +preposterous feat. It was all that the neighbours could do to prevent +the spread of the flames to the nearby houses. Some of the furniture was +saved, but the house was left to burn. All of a sudden, Fanny +Tomlin----" + +"You mean Aunt Fanny?" interrupted Nan. + +"Yes, my dear. All of a sudden Fanny Tomlin remembered that her mother's +portrait had been left hanging on the wall. Without a word to any one +she ran into the house. How she ever passed through the door safely, I +never could understand, for every instant, it seemed to me, great +tongues and sheets of flame were darting across it and lapping and +licking inward, as if trying to force an entrance. You may be sure that +we who were looking on, helpless, held our breaths when Fanny Tomlin +disappeared through the doorway. Pulaski Tomlin was not a witness to +this performance, but he was quickly informed of it; and then he ran +this way and that, like one distraught. Twice he called her name, and +his voice must have been heard above the roar of the flames, for +presently she appeared at an upper window, and cried out, 'What is it, +brother?' 'Come down! Come out!' he shouted. 'I'm afraid I can't,' she +answered; and then she waved her hand and disappeared, after trying +vainly to close the blinds. + +"But no sooner had Pulaski Tomlin caught a glimpse of his sister, and +heard her voice, than he lowered his head like an angry bull, and rushed +through the flames that now had possession of the door. I, for one, +never expected to see him again; and I stood there frightened, +horrified, fascinated, utterly helpless. Oh, when you go through a trial +like that, my dear," said Mrs. Lumsden, stroking Nan's hair gently, "you +will realise how small and weak and contemptible human beings are when +they are engaged in a contest with the elements. There we stood, +helpless and horror-stricken, with two of our friends in the burning +house, which was now almost completely covered with the roaring flames. +What thoughts I had I could never tell you, but I wondered afterward +that I had not become suddenly grey. + +"We waited an age, it seemed to me. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, +who happened to be here at the time, was walking about wringing his +hands and crying like a child. Up to that moment, I had thought him to +be a hard and cruel man, but we can never judge others, not even our +closest acquaintances, until we see them put to the test. Suddenly, I +heard Major Perdue cry, 'Ah!' and saw him leap forward as a wild animal +leaps. + +"Through the doorway, which was now entirely covered with a roaring +flame, a blurred and smoking figure had rushed--a bulky, shapeless +figure, it seemed--and then it collapsed and fell, and lay in the midst +of the smoke, almost within reach of the flames. But Major Perdue was +there in an instant, and he dragged the shapeless mass away from the +withering heat and stifling smoke. After this, he had more assistance +than was necessary or desirable. + +"'Stand back!' he cried; and his voice had in it the note that men never +fail to obey. 'Stand back there! Where is Dorrington? Why isn't he +here?' Your father, my dear, had gone into the country to see a patient. +He was on his way home when he saw the red reflection of the flames in +the sky, and he hastened as rapidly as his horse could go. He arrived +just in the nick of time. He heard his name called as he drove up, and +was prompt to answer. 'Make way there!' commanded Major Perdue; 'make +way for Dorrington. And you ladies go home! There's nothing you can do +here.' Then I heard Fanny Tomlin call my name, and Major Perdue repeated +in a ringing voice, 'Lucy Lumsden is wanted here!' + +"I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue was +obeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of two +or three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had been +saved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of any +service. + +"Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only the +hem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that was +the first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she had +suffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simply +rolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, and +out through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. Fanny has +not so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's face +and see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy, +his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one whole +side of his face was raw and bleeding. + +"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have +been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' And +when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying, +'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here--it was Fanny's wish--and by +the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn +as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water, +and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fanny +and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his +attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his +tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a +confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were +a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.' + +"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked. + +"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied. + +"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything, +especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that +turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the +consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that +insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and +children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as +the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has +done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get +through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of +my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as +a dog.' + +"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he +laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll +find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true." + +"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that +the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles--as she +judged them to be. + +"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had +almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret +came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and +carried her request to the sick-room. + +"'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall +she come in?' + +"I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered. +'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!' + +"'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed Fanny, covering her +face with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!' + +"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't +want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you +know, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is +for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, +then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a +hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.' + +"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, +but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is +Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue--Tomlin +Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, +except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she +said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be +married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you +prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what--what is the +trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him +now--at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she replied +haughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are not +to see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble and +tender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she exclaimed almost violently. +'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across the +door, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by his +friends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there I +found her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to a +gesture from Major Perdue. + +"Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence, +I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but without +raising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, Miss +Lucy,' she said--she always called me Miss Lucy--'and why can't I, his +future wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold his +hand, and help you and Fanny minister to his wants?' I made her no +answer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edge +of the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way to +demonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, and +finally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sit +in a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until such +time as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' she +said. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I am +his.' I gave a cordial assent to this proposition, carried a comfortable +chair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself. + +"I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to see +Fanny Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to be +relieved. Fanny asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered it +aloud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there until +she can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed, +his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. Major +Perdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to the +window. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand. +'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shall +invite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued our +ministrations in perfect silence. + +"A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a strip +of linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for Margaret +Gaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? I +went from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I have +never laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvern +on a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin, +whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again. +Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her." + +"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired. + +"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as +soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember +on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to +retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; +and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one +of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your +father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the +substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering +has made him strong. + +"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the +highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is +because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no +sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person +in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any +hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case +may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get +out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary +attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the +world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune +we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The +Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was +arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski +Tomlin was its instrument." + +"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands +together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have +dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings +that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away." + +"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently. +"Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked +stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole +matter." + +"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain." + +"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the +idea that you are pretty?" + +"I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that I +see in the glass. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes we +quarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but my +own, own self." + +Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, but +Nan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," said +Gabriel's grandmother. + +"Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood well +enough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any one +who was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things. + +"Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmother +admitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make a +handsome pair." + +"When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swift +side-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put such +an idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?" + +"Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, they +used to call the proper caper." + +"Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card of +invitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the front +door." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye, +everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake." + +This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long that +Gabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked his +grandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan to +marry Bethune. + +"Why, I have an idea that the matter has already been arranged," she +answered with a knowing smile. "It would be so natural and appropriate. +You are too young to appreciate the wisdom of such arrangements, +Gabriel, but you will understand it when you are older. Nan is not +related in any way to the Cloptons, though a great many people think so. +Her grandmother was captured by the Creeks when only a year or two old. +She was the only survivor of a party of seven which had been ambushed by +the Indians. She was too young to give any information about herself. +She could say a few words, and she knew that her name was Rosalind, but +that was all. She was ransomed by General McGillivray, and sent to Shady +Dale. Under the circumstances, there was nothing for Raleigh Clopton to +do but adopt her. Thus she became Rosalind Clopton. She married Benier +Odom when, as well as could be judged, she was more than forty years +old. Randolph Dorrington married her daughter, who died when Nan was +born. Marriage, Gabriel, is not what young people think it is; and I do +hope that when you take a wife, it will be some one you have known all +your life." + +"I hope so, too," Gabriel responded with great heartiness. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +_The Passing of Margaret_ + + +The day after the return of Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune from the +war, Gabriel's grandmother had an early caller in the person of Miss +Fanny Tomlin. For a maiden lady, Miss Fanny was very plump and +good-looking. Her hair was grey, and she still wore it in short curls, +just as she had worn it when a girl. The style became her well. The +short curls gave her an air of jauntiness, which was in perfect keeping +with her disposition, and they made a very pretty frame for her rosy, +smiling face. Socially, she was the most popular person in the town, +with both young and old. A children's party was a dull affair in Shady +Dale without Miss Fanny to give it shape and form, to suggest games, and +to make it certain that the timid ones should have their fair share of +the enjoyment. Indeed, the community would have been a very dull one but +for Miss Fanny; in return for which the young people conferred the +distinction of kinship on her by calling her Aunt Fanny. She had +remained single because her youngest brother, Pulaski, was unmarried, +and needed some one to take care of him, so she said. But she had +another brother, Silas Tomlin, who was twice a widower, and who seemed +to need some one to take care of him, for he presented a very mean and +miserable appearance. + +It chanced that when Miss Fanny called, Gabriel was studying his +lessons, using the dining-room table as a desk, and he was able to hear +the conversation that ensued. Miss Fanny stood on no ceremony in +entering. The front door was open and she entered without knocking, +saying, "If there's nobody at home I'll carry the house away. Where are +you, Lucy?" + +"In my room, Fanny; come right in." + +"How are you, and how is the high and mighty Gabriel?" Having received +satisfactory answers to her friendly inquiries, Miss Fanny plunged at +once into the business that had brought her out so early. "What do you +think, Lucy? Margaret Gaither and her daughter have returned. They are +at the Gaither Place, and Miss Polly has just told me that there isn't a +mouthful to eat in the house--and there is Margaret at the point of +death! Why, it is dreadful. Something must be done at once, that's +certain. I wouldn't have bothered you, but you know what the +circumstances are. I don't know what Margaret's feelings are with +respect to me; you know we never were bosom friends. Yet I never really +disliked her, and now, after all that has happened, I couldn't bear to +think that she was suffering for anything. Likely enough she would be +embarrassed if I called and offered assistance. What is to be done?" + +"Wouldn't it be best for some one to call--some one who was her +friend?" The cool, level voice of Gabriel's grandmother seemed to clear +the atmosphere. "Whatever is to be done should be done sympathetically. +If I could see Polly, there would be no difficulty." + +"Well, I saw Miss Polly," said Miss Fanny, "and she told me the whole +situation, and I was on the point of saying that I'd run back home and +send something over, when an upper window was opened, and Margaret +Gaither's daughter stood there gazing at me--and she's a beauty, Lucy; +there's a chance for Gabriel there. Well, you know how deaf Miss Polly +is; if I had said what I wanted to say, that child would have heard +every word, and there was something in her face that held me dumb. Miss +Polly talked and I nodded my head, and that was all. The old soul must +have thought the cat had my tongue." Miss Fanny laughed uneasily as she +made the last remark. + +"If Margaret is ill, she should have attention. I will go there this +morning." This was Mrs. Lumsden's decision. + +"I'll send the carriage for you as soon as I can run home," said Miss +Fanny. With that she rose to go, and hustled out of the room, but in the +hallway she turned and remarked: "Tell Gabriel that he will have to +lengthen his suspenders, now that Nan has put on long dresses." + +"Oh, no!" protested Mrs. Lumsden. "We mustn't put any such nonsense in +Gabriel's head. Nan is for Francis Bethune. If it isn't all arranged it +ought to be. Why, the land of Dorrington joins the land that Bethune +will fall heir to some day, and it seems natural that the two estates +should become one." Gabriel's grandmother had old-fashioned ideas about +marriage. + +"Oh, I see!" replied Miss Fanny with a laugh; "you are so intent on +joining the two estates in wedlock that you take no account of the +individuals. But brother Pulaski says that for many years to come, the +more land a man has the poorer he will become." + +"Upon my word, I don't see how that can be," responded Mrs. Lumsden. +This was the first faint whiff of the new order that had come to the +nostrils of the dear old lady. + +Miss Fanny went home, and in no long time Neighbour Tomlin's carriage +came to the door. At the last moment, Mrs. Lumsden decided that Gabriel +should go with her. "It may be necessary for you to go on an errand. I +presume there are servants there, but I don't know whether they are to +be depended on." + +So Gabriel helped his grandmother into the carriage, climbed in after +her, and in a very short time they were at the Gaither Place. The young +woman whom Gabriel had seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack was standing in the +door, and the little frown on her forehead was more pronounced than +ever. She was evidently troubled. + +"Good-morning," said Mrs. Lumsden. "I have come to see Margaret. Does +she receive visitors?" + +"My name is Margaret, too," said the young woman, after returning Mrs. +Lumsden's salutation, and bowing to Gabriel. "But of course you came to +see my mother. She is upstairs--she would be carried there, though I +begged her to take one of the lower rooms. She is in the room in which +she was born." + +"I know the way very well," said Mrs. Lumsden. She was for starting up +the stairway, but the young woman detained her by a gesture and turned +to Gabriel. + +"Won't you come in?" she inquired. "We are old acquaintances, you know. +Your name is Gabriel--wait!--Gabriel Tolliver. Don't you see how well I +know you? Come, we'll help your grandmother up the stairs." This they +did--the girl with the firm and practised hand of an expert, and Gabriel +with the awkwardness common to young fellows of his age. The young woman +led Mrs. Lumsden to her mother's bedside, and presently came back to +Gabriel. + +"We will go down now, if you please," she said. "My mother is very +ill--worse than she has ever been--and you can't imagine how lonely I +am. Mother is at home here, while my home, if I have any, is in +Louisiana. I suppose you never had any trouble?" + +"My mother is dead," he said simply. Margaret reached out her hand and +touched him gently on the arm. It was a gesture of impulsive sympathy. + +"What is it?" Gabriel asked, thinking she was calling his attention to +something she saw or heard. + +"Nothing," she said softly. Gabriel understood then, and he could have +kicked himself for his stupidity. "Your grandmother is a very beautiful +old lady," she remarked after a period of silence. + +"She is very good to me," Gabriel replied, at a loss what to say, for he +always shrank from praising those near and dear to him. As he sat +there, he marvelled at the self-possession of this young woman in the +midst of strangers, and with her mother critically ill. + +In a little while he heard his grandmother calling him from the head of +the stairs. "Gabriel, jump in the carriage and fetch Dr. Dorrington at +once. He's at home at this hour." + +He did as he was bid, and Nan, who was coming uptown on business of her +own, so she said, must needs get in the carriage with her father. The +combination was more than Gabriel had bargained for. There was a twinkle +in Dr. Dorrington's eye, as he glanced good-humouredly from one to the +other, that Gabriel did not like at all. For some reason or other, which +he was unable to fathom, the young man was inclined to fight shy of +Nan's father; and there was nothing he liked less than to find himself +in Dr. Dorrington's company--more especially when Nan was present, too. +Noting the quizzical glances of the physician, Gabriel, like a great +booby, began to blush, and in another moment, Nan was blushing, too. + +"Now, father"--she only called him father when she was angry, or +dreadfully in earnest--"Now, father! if you begin your teasing, I'll +jump from the carriage. I'll not ride with a grown man who doesn't know +how to behave in his daughter's company." + +Her father laughed gaily. "Teasing? Why, I wasn't thinking of teasing. I +was just going to remark that the weather is very warm for the season, +and then I intended to suggest to Gabriel that, as I proposed to get +you a blue parasol, he would do well to get him a red one." + +"And why should Gabriel get a parasol?" Nan inquired with a show of +indignation. + +"Why, simply to be in the fashion," her father replied. "I remember the +time when you cried for a hat because Gabriel had one; I also remember +that once when you were wearing a sun-bonnet, Gabriel borrowed one and +wore it--and a pretty figure he cut in it." + +"I don't see how you can remember it," said Gabriel laughing and +blushing. + +"Well, I don't see how in the world I could forget it," Dr. Dorrington +responded in tone so solemn that Nan laughed in spite of her +uncomfortable feelings. + +"You say Margaret Gaither has a daughter, Gabriel?" said Dr. Dorrington, +suddenly growing serious, much to the relief of the others. "And about +Nan's age? Well, you will have to go in with me, daughter, and see her. +If her mother is seriously ill, it will be a great comfort to her to +have near her some one of her own age." + +Nan made a pretty little mouth at this command, to show that she didn't +relish it, but otherwise she made no objection. Indeed, as matters fell +out, it became almost her duty to go in to Margaret Bridalbin; for when +the carriage reached the house, the young girl was standing at the gate. + +"Is this Dr. Dorrington? Well, you are to go up at once. They are +constantly calling to know if you have come. I don't know how my dearest +is--I dread to know. Oh, I am sure you will do what you can." There was +an appeal in the girl's voice that went straight to the heart of the +physician. + +"You may make your mind easy on that score, my dear," said Dr. +Dorrington, laying his hand lightly on her shoulder. There was something +helpful and hopeful in the very tone of his voice. "This is my daughter +Nan," he added. + +Margaret turned to Nan, who was lagging behind somewhat shyly. "Will you +please come in?--you and Gabriel Tolliver. It is very lonely here, and +everything is so still and quiet. My name is Margaret Bridalbin," she +said. She took Nan's hand, and looked into her eyes as if searching for +sympathy. And she must have found it there, for she drew Nan toward her +and kissed her. + +That settled it for Nan. "My name is Nan Dorrington," she said, +swallowing a lump in her throat, "and I hope we shall be very good +friends." + +"We are sure to be," replied the other, with emphasis. "I always know at +once." + +They went into the dim parlour, and Nan and Margaret sat with their arms +entwined around each other. "Gabriel told me yesterday that you were a +young girl," Nan remarked. + +"I am seventeen," replied the other. + +"Only seventeen! Why, I am seventeen, and yet I seem to be a mere child +by the side of you. You talk and act just as a grown woman does." + +"That is because I have never associated with children of my own age. I +have always been thrown with older persons. And then my mother has been +ill a long, long time, and I have been compelled to do a great deal of +thinking. I know of nothing more disagreeable than to have to think. Do +you dislike poor folks?" + +"No, I don't," replied Nan, snuggling up to Margaret. "Some of my very +bestest friends are poor." + +Margaret smiled at the childish adjective, and placed her cheek against +Nan's for a moment. "I'm glad you don't dislike poverty," she said, "for +we are very poor." + +"When it comes to that," Nan responded, "everybody around here is +poor--everybody except Grandfather Clopton and Mr. Tomlin. They have +money, but I don't know where they get it. Nonny says that some folks +have only to dream of money, and when they wake in the morning they find +it under their pillows." + +Dr. Dorrington came downstairs at this moment. "Your mother is very much +better than she was awhile ago," he said to Margaret. "She never should +have made so long a journey. She has wasted in that way strength enough +to have kept her alive for six months." + +"I begged and implored her not to undertake it," the daughter explained, +"but nothing would move her. Even when she needed nourishing food, she +refused to buy it; she was saving it to bring her home." + +"Well, she is here, now, and we'll do the best we can. Gabriel, will you +run over, and ask Fanny Tomlin to come? And if Neighbour Tomlin is there +tell him I want to see him on some important business." + +It was very clear to Gabriel from all this that there was small hope +for the poor lady above. She might be better than she was when the +doctor arrived, but there was no ray of hope to be gathered from Dr. +Dorrington's countenance. + +Pulaski Tomlin and his sister responded to the summons at once; and with +Gabriel's grandmother holding her hand, the poor lady had an interview +with Pulaski Tomlin. But she never saw his face nor he hers. The large +screen was carried upstairs from the dining-room, and placed in front of +the bed; and near the door a chair was placed for Pulaski Tomlin. It was +the heart's desire of the dying lady that Neighbour Tomlin should become +the guardian of her daughter. He was deeply affected when told of her +wishes, but before consenting to accept the responsibility, asked to see +the daughter, and went to the parlour, where she was sitting with Nan +and Gabriel. When he came in Nan ran and kissed him as she never failed +to do, for, though his face on one side was so scarred and drawn that +the sight of it sometimes shocked strangers, those who knew him well, +found his wounded countenance singularly attractive. + +"This is Margaret," he said, taking the girl's hand. "Come into the +light, my dear, where you may see me as I am. Your mother has expressed +a wish that I should become your guardian. As an old and very dear +friend of mine, she has the right to make the request. I am willing and +more than willing to meet her wishes, but first I must have your +consent." + +They went into the hallway, which was flooded with light. "Are you the +Mr. Tomlin of whom I have heard my mother speak?" Margaret asked, +fixing her clear eyes on his face; and when he had answered in the +affirmative--"I wonder that she asked you, after what she has told me. +She certainly has no claims on you." + +"Ah, my dear, that is where you are wrong," he insisted. "I feel that +every one in this world has claims on me, especially those who were my +friends in old times. It is I who made a mistake, and not your mother; +and I should be glad to rectify that mistake now, as far as I can, by +carrying out her wishes. You know, of course, that she is very ill; will +you go up and speak with her?" + +"No, not now; not when there are so many strangers there," Margaret +replied, and stood looking at him with almost childish wonder. + +At this moment, Nan, who knew by heart all the little tricks of +friendship and affection, left Margaret, and took her stand by Neighbour +Tomlin's side. It was an indorsement that the other could not withstand. +She followed Nan, and said very firmly and earnestly, "It shall be as my +mother wishes." + +"I hope you will never have cause to regret it," remarked Pulaski Tomlin +solemnly. + +"She never will," Nan declared emphatically, as Pulaski Tomlin turned to +go upstairs. + +He went up very slowly, as if lost in thought. He went to the room and +stood leaning against the framework of the door. "Pulaski is here," said +Miss Fanny, who had been waiting to announce his return. + +"You remember, Pulaski," the invalid began, "that once when you were +ill, you would not permit me to see you. I was so ignorant that I was +angry; yes, and bitter; my vanity was wounded. And I was ignorant and +bitter for many years. I never knew until eighteen months ago why I was +not permitted to see you. I knew it one day, after I had been ill a long +time. I looked in the mirror and saw my wasted face and hollow eyes. I +knew then, and if I had known at first, Pulaski, everything would have +been so different. I have come all this terrible journey to ask you to +take my daughter and care for her. It is my last wish that you should be +her guardian and protector. Is she in the room? Can she hear what I am +about to say?" + +"No, Margaret," replied Pulaski Tomlin, in a voice that was tremulous +and husky. "She is downstairs; I have just seen her." + +"Well, she has no father according to my way of thinking," Margaret +Bridalbin went on. "Her father is a deserter from the Confederate army. +She doesn't know that; I tried to tell her, but my heart failed me. +Neither does she know that I have been divorced from him. These things +you can tell her when the occasion arises. If I had told her, it would +have been like accusing myself. I was responsible--I felt it and feel +it--and I simply could not tell her." + +"I shall try to carry out your wishes, Margaret," said Pulaski Tomlin; +"I have seen your daughter, as Fanny suggested, and she has no objection +to the arrangement. I shall do all that you desire. She shall be to me a +most sacred charge." + +"If you knew how happy you are making me, Pulaski--Oh, I am +grateful--grateful!" + +"There should be no talk of gratitude between you and me, Margaret." + +At a signal from Pulaski Tomlin, Judge Odom cleared his throat, and read +the document that he had drawn up, and his strong, business-like voice +went far toward relieving the strain that had been put on those who +heard the conversation between the dying woman and the man who had +formerly been her lover. Everything was arranged as she desired, every +wish she expressed had been carried out; and then, as if there was +nothing else to be done, the poor lady closed her eyes with a sigh, and +opened them no more in this world. It seemed that nothing had sustained +her but the hope of placing her daughter in charge of Pulaski Tomlin. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +_Silas Tomlin Goes A-Calling_ + + +When the solemn funeral ceremonies were over, it was arranged that Nan +should spend a few days with her new friend, Margaret Gaither--she was +never called by the name of her father after her mother died--and +Gabriel took advantage of Nan's temporary absence to pay a visit to Mrs. +Absalom. He was very fond of that strong-minded woman; but since Nan had +grown to be such a young lady, he had not called as often as he had been +in the habit of doing. He was afraid, indeed, that some one would accuse +him of a sneaking desire to see Nan, and he was also afraid of the +quizzing which Nan's father was always eager to apply. But with Nan +away--her absence being notorious, as you may say--Gabriel felt that he +could afford to call on the genial housekeeper. + +Mrs. Absalom had for years been the manager of the Dorrington household, +and she retained her place even after Randolph Dorrington had taken for +his second wife Zepherine Dion, who had been known as Miss Johns, and +who was now called Mrs. Johnny Dorrington. In that household, indeed, +Mrs. Absalom was indispensable, and it was very fortunate that she and +Mrs. Johnny were very fond of each other. Her maiden name was Margaret +Rorick, and she came of a family that had long been attached to the +Dorringtons. In another clime, and under a different system, the Roricks +would have been described as retainers. They were that and much more. +They served without fee or reward. They were retainers in the highest +and best sense; for, in following the bent of their affections, they +retained their independence, their simple dignity and their +self-respect; and in that region, which was then, and is now, the most +democratic in the world, they were as well thought of as the Cloptons or +the Dorringtons. + +It came to pass, in the order of events, that Margaret Rorick married +Mr. Absalom Goodlett, who was the manager of the Dorrington plantation. +Though she was no chicken, as she said herself, Mr. Goodlett was her +senior by several years. She was also, in a sense, the victim of the +humour that used to run riot in Middle Georgia; for, in spite of her +individuality, which was vigorous and aggressive, she lost her own name +and her husband's too. At Margaret Rorick's wedding, or, rather, at the +infair, which was the feast after the wedding, Mr. Uriah Lazenby, whose +memory is kept green by his feats at tippling, and who combined fiddling +with farming, furnished the music for the occasion. Being something of a +privileged character, and having taken a thimbleful too much dram, as +fiddlers will do, the world over, Mr. Lazenby rose in his place, when +the company had been summoned to the feast, and remarked: + +"Margaret Rorick, now that the thing's been gone and done, and can't be +holp, I nominate you Mrs. Absalom, an' Mrs. Absalom it shall be +herearter. Ab Goodlett, you ought to be mighty proud when you can fling +your bridle on a filly like that, an' lead her home jest for the bar' +sesso." + +The loud laughter that followed placed the bride at a temporary +disadvantage. She joined in, however, and then exclaimed: "My goodness! +Old Uriah's drunk ag'in; you can't pull a stopper out'n a jug in the +same house wi' him but what he'll dribble at the mouth an' git shaky in +the legs." + +But drunk or sober, Uriah had "nominated" Mrs. Absalom for good and all. +One reason why this "nomination" was seized on so eagerly was the sudden +change that had taken place in Miss Rorick's views in regard to +matrimony. She was more than thirty years old when she consented to +become Mrs. Absalom. Up to that time she had declared over and over +again that there wasn't a man in the world she'd look at, much less +marry. + +Now, many a woman has said the same thing and changed her mind without +attracting attention; but Mrs. Absalom's views on matrimony, and her +pithy criticisms of the male sex in general, had flown about on the +wings of her humour, and, in that way, had come to have wide +advertisement. But her "nomination" interfered neither with her +individuality, nor with her ability to indulge in pithy comments on +matters and things in general. Of Mr. Lazenby, she said later: "What's +the use of choosin' betwixt a fool an' a fiddler, when you can git both +in the same package?" + +She made no bad bargain when she married Mr. Goodlett. His irritability +was all on the surface. At bottom, he was the best-natured and most +patient of men--a philosopher who was so thoroughly contented with the +ways of the world and the order of Providence, that he had no desire to +change either--and so comfortable in his own views and opinions that he +was not anxious to convert others to his way of thinking. If anything +went wrong, it was like a garment turned inside out; it would "come out +all right in the washin'." + +Mrs. Absalom's explanation of her change of views in the subject of +matrimony was very simple and reasonable. "Why, a single 'oman," she +said, "can't cut no caper at all; she can't hardly turn around wi'out +bein' plumb tore to pieces by folks's tongues. But now--you see Ab over +there? Well, he ain't purty enough for a centre-piece, nor light enough +for to be set on the mantel-shelf, but it's a comfort to see him in that +cheer there, knowin' all the time that you can do as you please, and +nobody dastin to say anything out of the way. Why, I could put on Ab's +old boots an' take his old buggy umbrell, an' go an' jine the muster. +The men might snicker behind the'r han's, but all they could say would +be, 'Well, ef that kind of a dido suits Ab Goodlett, it ain't nobody +else's business.'" + +It happened that Mr. Sanders was the person to whom Mrs. Absalom was +addressing her remarks, and he inquired if such an unheard of proceeding +would be likely to suit Mr. Goodlett. + +"To a t!" she exclaimed. "Why, he wouldn't bat his eye. He mought grunt +an' groan a little jest to let you know that he's alive, but that'd be +all. An' that's the trouble: ef Ab has any fault in the world that you +can put your finger on, it's in bein' too good. You know, +William--anyhow, you'd know it ef you belonged to my seck--that there's +lots of times and occasions when it'd make the wimmen folks feel lots +better ef they had somethin' or other to rip and rare about. My old cat +goes about purrin', the very spit and image of innocence; but she'd die +ef she didn't show her claws sometimes. Once in awhile I try my level +best for to pick a quarrel wi' Ab, but before I say a dozen words, I +look at him an' have to laugh. Why the way that man sets there an' says +nothin' is enough to make a saint ashamed of hisself." + +It was the general opinion that Mr. Goodlett, who was shrewd and +far-seeing beyond the average, had an eye to strengthening his relations +with Dr. Dorrington, when he "popped the question" to Margaret Rorick. +But such was not the case. His relations needed no strengthening. He +managed Dorrington's agricultural interests with uncommon ability, and +brought rare prosperity to the plantation. Unlettered, and, to all +appearances, taking no interest in public affairs, he not only foresaw +the end of the Civil War, but looked forward to the time when the +Confederate Government, pressed for supplies, would urge upon the States +the necessity of limiting the raising of cotton. + +He gave both Meriwether Clopton and Neighbour Tomlin the benefit of +these views; and then, when the rumours of Sherman's march through +Georgia grew rifer he made a shrewd guess as to the route, and succeeded +in hiding out and saving, not only all the cotton the three plantations +had grown, but also all the livestock. Having an ingrained suspicion of +the negroes, and entertaining against them the prejudices of his class, +Mr. Goodlett employed a number of white boys from the country districts +to aid him with his refugee train. And he left them in charge of the +camp he had selected, knowing full well that they would be glad to +remain in hiding as long as the Federal soldiers were about. + +The window of the dining-room at Dorringtons' commanded a view of the +street for a considerable distance toward town, and it was at this +window that Mrs. Absalom had her favourite seat. She explained her +preference for it by saying that she wanted to know what was going on in +the world. She looked out from this window one day while she was talking +to Gabriel Tolliver, whose visits to Dorringtons' had come to be +coincident with Nan's absence, and suddenly exclaimed: + +"Well, my gracious! Ef yonder ain't old Picayune Pauper! I wonder what +we have done out this way that old Picayune should be sneakin' around +here? I'll tell you what--ef Ab has borried arry thrip from old Silas +Tomlin, I'll quit him; I won't live wi' a man that'll have anything to +do wi' that old scamp. As I'm a livin' human, he's comin' here!" + +Now, Silas Tomlin was Neighbour Tomlin's elder brother, but the two men +were as different in character and disposition as a warm bright day is +different from a bitter black night. Pulaski Tomlin gave his services +freely to all who needed them, and he was happy and prosperous; whereas +Silas was a miserly money-lender and note-shaver, and always appeared to +be in the clutches of adversity. To parsimony he added the sting--yes, +and the stain--of a peevish and an irritable temper. It was as Mrs. +Absalom had said--"a picayunish man is a pauper, I don't care how much +money he's got." + +"I'll go see ef Johnny is in the house," said Mrs. Absalom. "Johnny" was +Mrs. Dorrington, who, in turn, called Mrs. Absalom "Nonny," which was +Nan's pet name for the woman who had raised her--"I'll go see, but I +lay she's gone to see Nan; I never before seed a step-mammy so wropped +up in her husband's daughter." Nan, as has been said, was spending a few +days with poor Margaret Bridalbin, whose mother had just been buried. + +Mrs. Absalom called Mrs. Dorrington, and then looked for her, but she +was not to be found at the moment. "I reckon you'll have to go to the +door, Gabe," said Mrs. Absalom, as the knocker sounded. "Sence freedom, +we ain't got as many niggers lazyin' around an' doin' nothin' as we use +to have." + +"Is Mr. Goodlett in?" asked Silas Tomlin, when Gabriel opened the door. + +"I think he's in Malvern," Gabriel answered, as politely as he could. + +"No, no, no!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, with a terrible frown; "you don't +know a thing about it, not a thing in the world. He got back right after +dinner." + +"Well, ef he did," said Mrs. Absalom, coming forward, "he didn't come +here. He ain't cast a shadow in this house sence day before yistiddy, +when he went to Malvern." + +"How are you, Mrs. Absalom?--how are you?" said Silas, with a tremendous +effort at politeness. "I hope you are well; you are certainly looking +well. You say your husband is not in? Well, I'm sorry; I wanted to see +him on business; I wanted to get some information." + +"Ab don't owe you anything, I hope," remarked Mrs. Absalom, ignoring the +salutation. + +"Not a thing--not a thing in the world. But why do you ask? Many people +have the idea that I'm rolling in money--that's what I hear--and they +think that I go about loaning it to Tom, Dick and Harry. But it is not +so--it is not so; I have no money." + +Mrs. Absalom laughed ironically, saying, "I reckon if your son Paul was +to scratch about under the house, he'd find small change about in +places." + +Silas Tomlin looked hard at Mrs. Absalom, his little black eyes +glistening under his coarse, heavy eyebrows like those of some wild +animal. He was not a prepossessing man. He was so bald that he was +compelled to wear a skull-cap, and the edge of this showed beneath the +brim of his chimney-pot hat. His face needed a razor; and the grey beard +coming through the cuticle, gave a ghastly, bluish tint to the pallor of +his countenance. His broadcloth coat--Mrs. Absalom called it a +"shadbelly"--was greasy at the collar, and worn at the seams, and his +waistcoat was stained with ambeer. His trousers, which were much too +large for him, bagged at the knees, and his boots were run down at the +heels. Though he was temperate to the last degree, he had the appearance +of a man who is the victim of some artificial stimulant. + +"What put that idea in your head, Mrs. Goodlett?" he asked, after +looking long and searchingly at Mrs. Absalom. + +"Well, I allowed that when you was countin' out your cash, a thrip or +two mought have slipped through the cracks in the floor," she replied; +"sech things have happened before now." + +He wiped his thin lips with his lean forefinger, and stood hesitating, +whereupon Mrs. Absalom remarked: "It sha'n't cost you a cent ef you'll +come in. Ab'll be here purty soon ef somebody ain't been fool enough to +give him his dinner. His health'll fail him long before his appetite +does. Show Mr. Tomlin in the parlour, Gabriel, an' I'll see about Ab's +dinner; I don't want it to burn to a cracklin' before he gits it." + +Silas Tomlin went into the parlour and sat down, while Gabriel stood +hesitating, not knowing what to do or say. He was embarrassed, and Silas +Tomlin saw it. "Oh, take a seat," he said, with a show of impatience. +"What are you doing for yourself, Tolliver? You're a big boy now, and +you ought to be making good money. We'll all have to work now: we'll +have to buckle right down to it. The way I look at it, the man who is +doing nothing is throwing money away; yes, sir, throwing it away. What +does Adam Smith say? Why, he says----" + +Gabriel never found out what particular statement of Adam Smith was to +be thrown at his head, for at that moment, Mr. Goodlett called out from +the dining-room: "Si Tomlin in there, Gabriel? Well, fetch him out here +whar I live at. I ain't got no parlours for company." By the time that +Gabriel had led Mr. Silas Tomlin into the dining-room, Mr. Goodlett had +a plate of victuals carrying it to the kitchen; and he remarked as he +went along, "I got nuther parlours nor dinin'-rooms: fetch him out here +to the kitchen whar we both b'long at." + +If Silas Tomlin objected to this arrangement, he gave no sign; he +followed without a word, Mr. Goodlett placed his plate on the table +where the dishes were washed, and dropped his hat on the floor beside +him, and began to attack his dinner most vigorously. Believing, +evidently, that ordinary politeness would be wasted here, Silas entered +at once on the business that had brought him to Dorringtons'. + +"Sorry to trouble you, Goodlett," he said by way of making a beginning. + +"I notice you ain't cryin' none to hurt," remarked Mr. Goodlett +placidly. "An' ef you was, you'd be cryin' for nothin'. You ain't +troublin' me a mite. Forty an' four like you can't trouble me." + +"You'll have to excuse Ab," said Mrs. Goodlett, who had preceded Gabriel +and Silas to the kitchen. "He's lost his cud, an' he won't be right well +till he finds it ag'in." She placed her hand over her mouth to hide her +smiles. + +Silas Tomlin paid no attention to this by-play. He stood like a man who +is waiting an opportunity to get in a word. + +"Goodlett, who were the ladies you brought from Malvern to-day?" His +face was very serious. + +"You know 'em lots better'n I do. The oldest seed you out in the field, +an' she axed me who you mought be. I told her, bekaze I ain't got no +secrets from my passengers, specially when they're good-lookin' an' +plank down the'r money before they start. Arter I told 'em who you was, +the oldest made you a mighty purty bow, but you wer'n't polite enough +for to take off your hat. I dunno as I blame you much, all things +considered. Then the youngest, she's the daughter, she says, says she, +'Is that reely him, ma?' an' t'other one, says she, 'Ef it's him, honey, +he's swunk turrible.' She said them very words." + +"I wonder who in the world they can be?" said Silas Tomlin, as if +talking to himself. + +"You'll think of the'r names arter awhile," Mr. Goodlett remarked by way +of consolation, but his tone was so suspicious that Silas turned on his +heel--he had started out--and asked Mr. Goodlett what he meant. + +"Adzackly what I said, nuther more nor less." + +Mrs. Absalom was so curious to find out something more that Silas was +hardly out of the house before she began to ply her husband with +questions. But they were all futile. Mr. Goodlett knew no more than +that he had brought the women from Malvern; that they had chanced to +spy old Silas Tomlin in a field by the side of the road, and that when +the elder of the two women found out what his name was, she made him a +bow, which Silas wasn't polite enough to return. + +"That's all I know," remarked Mr. Goodlett. "Dog take the wimmen +anyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly; "ef they'd stay at home they'd be all +right; but here they go, a-trapesin' an' a-trollopin' all over creation, +an' a-givin' trouble wherever they go. They git me so muddled an' +befuddled wi' ther whickerin' an' snickerin' that I dunner which een' +I'm a-stannin' on half the time. Nex' time they want to ride wi' me, +I'll say, 'Walk!' By jacks! I won't haul 'em." + +This episode, if it may be called such, made small impression on +Gabriel's mind, but it tickled Mrs. Goodlett's mind into activity, and +the lad heard more of Silas Tomlin during the next hour than he had ever +known before. In a manner, Silas was a very important factor in the +community, as money-lenders always are, but according to Gabriel's idea, +he was always one of the poorest creatures in the world. + +When he was a young man, Silas joined the tide of emigration that was +flowing westward. He went to Mississippi, where he married his first +wife. In a year's time, he returned to his old home. When asked about +his wife--for he returned alone--he curtly answered that she was well +enough off. Mrs. Absalom was among those who made the inquiry, and her +prompt comment was, "She's well off ef she's dead; I'll say that much." + +But there was a persistent rumour, coming from no one knew where, that +when a child was born to Silas, the wife was seized with such a horror +of the father that the bare sight of him would cause her to scream, and +she constantly implored her people to send him away. It is curious how +rumours will travel far and wide, from State to State, creeping through +swamps, flying over deserts and waste places, and coming home at last as +the carrier-pigeon does, especially if there happens to be a grain of +truth in them. + +It turned out that the lady, in regard to whom Silas Tomlin expressed +such curiosity, was a Mrs. Claiborne, of Kentucky, who, with her +daughter, had refugeed from point to point in advance of the Federal +army. Finally, when peace came, the lady concluded to make her home in +Georgia, where she had relatives, and she selected Shady Dale as her +place of abode on account of its beauty. These facts became known later. + +Evidently the new-comers had resources, for they arranged to occupy the +Gaither house, taking it as it stood, with Miss Polly Gaither, furniture +and all. This arrangement must have been satisfactory to Miss Polly in +the first place, or it would never have been made; and it certainly +relieved her of the necessity of living on the charity of her +neighbours, under pretence of borrowing from them. But so strange a +bundle of contradictions is human nature, that no sooner had Miss Polly +begun to enjoy the abundance that was now showered upon her in the shape +of victuals and drink than she took her ear-trumpet in one hand and her +work-bag in the other, and went abroad, gossiping about her tenants, +telling what she thought they said, and commenting on their +actions--not maliciously, but simply with a desire to feed the curiosity +of the neighbours. + +In order to do this more effectually, Miss Polly returned visits that +had been made to her before the war. There was nothing in her talk to +discredit the Claibornes or to injure their characters. They were +strangers to the community, and there was a natural and perfectly +legitimate curiosity on the part of the town to learn something of their +history. Miss Polly could not satisfy this curiosity, but she could whet +it by leaving at each one's door choice selections from her catalogue of +the sayings and doings of the new-comers--wearing all the time a dress +that Miss Eugenia, the daughter, had made over for her. Miss Polly was a +dumpy little woman, and, with her wen, her ear-trumpet, and her +work-bag, she cut a queer figure as she waddled along. + +There was one piece of information she gave out that puzzled the +community no little. According to Miss Polly, the Claibornes had hardly +settled themselves in their new home before Silas Tomlin called on them. +"I can't hear as well as I used to," said Miss Polly--she was deaf as a +door-post--"but I can see as well as anybody; yes indeed, as well as +anybody in the world. And I tell you, Lucy Lumsden"--she was talking to +Gabriel's grandmother--"as soon as old Silas darkened the door, I knew +he was worried. I never saw a grown person so fidgety and nervous, +unless it was Micajah Clemmons, and he's got the rickets, poor man. So I +says to myself, 'I'll watch you,' and watch I did. Well, when Mrs. +Claiborne came into the parlour, she bowed very politely to old Silas, +but I could see that she could hardly keep from laughing in his face; +and I don't blame her, for the way old Silas went on was perfectly +ridiculous. He spit and he spluttered, and sawed the air with his arms, +and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jerked at the bottom of his +wescut till I really thought he'd pull the front out. I wish you could +have seen him, Lucy Lumsden, I do indeed. And when the door was shut on +him, Mrs. Claiborne flung herself down on a sofa, and laughed until she +frightened her daughter. I don't complain about my afflictions as a +general thing, Lucy, but I would have given anything that day if my +hearing had been as good as it used to be." + +And though Gabriel's grandmother was a woman of the highest principles, +holding eavesdropping in the greatest contempt, it is possible that she +would have owned to a mild regret that Miss Polly Gaither was too deaf +to hear what Silas Tomlin's troubles were. This was natural, too, for, +on account of the persistent rumours that had followed Silas home from +Mississippi, there was always something of a mystery in regard to his +first matrimonial venture. There was none about his second. A year or +two after he returned home he married Susan Pritchard, whose father was +a prosperous farmer, living several miles from town. Susan bore Silas a +son and died. She was a pious woman, and with her last breath named the +child Paul, on account of the conjunction of the names of Paul and Silas +in the New Testament. Paul grew up to be one of the most popular young +men in the community. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +_The Political Machine Begins its Work_ + + +All that has been set down thus far, you will say, is trifling, +unimportant and wearisome. Your decision is not to be disputed; but if, +by an effort of the mind, you could throw yourself back to those dread +days, you would understand what a diversion these trifling events and +episodes created for the heart-stricken and soul-weary people of that +region. The death of Margaret Bridalbin moved them to pity, and awoke in +their minds pleasing memories of happier days, when peace and prosperity +held undisputed sway in all directions. The arrival of the Claibornes +had much the same effect. It gave the community something to talk about, +and, in a small measure, took them out of themselves. Moreover, the +Claibornes, mother and daughter, proved to be very attractive additions +to the town's society. They were both bright and good-humoured, and the +daughter was very beautiful. + +To a people overwhelmed with despair, the most trifling episode becomes +curiously magnified. The case of Mr. Goodlett is very much to the point. +He was merely an individual, it is true, but in some respects an +individual represents the mass. When Sherman's men hanged him to a +limb, under the mistaken notion that he was the custodian of the Clopton +plate, the last thing he remembered as he lost consciousness, was the +ticking of his watch. It sounded in his ears, he said, as loud as the +blows of a sledge-hammer falling on an anvil. From that day until he +died, he never could bear to hear the ticking of a watch. He gave his +time-piece to his wife, who put it away with her other relics and +treasures. + +How it was with other communities it is not for this chronicler to say, +but the collapse of the Confederacy, coming when it did, was an event +that Shady Dale least expected. The last trump will cause no greater +surprise and consternation the world over, than the news of Lee's +surrender caused in that region. The public mind had not been prepared +for such an event, especially in those districts remote from the centres +of information. Almost every piece of news printed in the journals of +the day was coloured with the prospect of ultimate victory: and when the +curtain suddenly came down and the lights went out, no language can +describe the grief, the despair, and the feeling of abject humiliation +that fell upon the white population in the small towns and village +communities. How it was in the cities has not been recorded, but it is +to be presumed that then, as now, the demands and necessities of trade +and business were powerful enough to overcome and destroy the worst +effects of a calamity that attacked the sentiments and emotions. + +It has been demonstrated recently on some very wide fields of action +that the atmosphere of commercialism is unfavourable to the growth of +sentiments of an ideal character. That is why wise men who believe in +the finer issues of life are inclined to be suspicious of what is +loosely called civilisation and progress, and doubtful of the theories +of those who clothe themselves in the mantle of science. + +Whatever the feeling in the cities may have been when news of the +surrender came, it caused the most poignant grief and despair in the +country places: and there, as elsewhere in this world, whenever +suffering is to be borne, the most of the burden falls on the shoulders +of the women. It is at once the strength and weakness of the sex that +woman suffers more than man and is more capable of enduring the pangs of +suffering. + +As for the men they soon recovered from the shock. They were startled +and stunned, but when they opened their eyes to the situation they found +themselves confronted by conditions that had no precedent or parallel in +the history of the world. It is small fault if their minds failed at +first to grasp the significance and the import of these conditions, so +new were they and so amazing. + +A few years later, Gabriel Tolliver, who, when the surrender came, was a +lad just beyond seventeen, took himself severely to task before a public +assemblage for his blindness in 1865, and the years immediately +following; and his criticisms must have gone home to others, for the +older men who sat in the audience rose to their feet and shook the house +with their applause. They, too, had been as blind as the boy. + +It was perhaps well for Shady Dale that Mr. Sanders came home when he +did. He had been in the field, if not on the forum. He had mingled with +public men, and, as he himself contended, had been "closeted" with one +of the greatest men the country ever produced--the reference being to +Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Sanders had to tell over and over again the story of +how he and Frank Bethune didn't kidnap the President; and he brought +home hundreds of rich and racy anecdotes that he had picked up in the +camp. In those awful days when there was little ready money to be had, +and business was at a standstill, and the courts demoralised, and the +whole social fabric threatening to fall to pieces, it was Mr. Billy +Sanders who went around scattering cheerfulness and good-humour as +carelessly as the children scatter the flowers they have gathered in the +fields. + +Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune had formed a part of the escort that +went with Mr. Davis as far as Washington in Wilkes County. On this +account, Mr. Sanders boasted that at the last meeting of the Confederate +Cabinet held in that town, he had elected himself a member, and was duly +installed. "It was the same," he used to say, "as j'inin' the +Free-masons. The doorkeeper gi' me the grip an' the password, the head +man of the war department knocked me on the forrerd, an' the thing was +done. When Mr. Davis was ready to go, he took me by the hand, an' says, +'William,' says he, 'keep house for the boys till I git back, an' be +shore that you cheer 'em up.'" + +This sort of nonsense served its purpose, as Mr. Sanders intended that +it should. Wherever he appeared on the streets a crowd gathered around +him--as large a crowd as the town could furnish. To a spectator standing +a little distance away and out of hearing, the attitude and movements of +these groups presented a singular appearance. The individuals would move +about and swap places, trying to get closer to Mr. Sanders. There would +be a period of silence, and then, suddenly, loud shouts of laughter +would rend the air. Such a spectator, if a stranger, might easily have +imagined that these men and boys, standing close together, and shouting +with laughter at intervals, were engaged in practising a part to be +presented in a rural comedy--or that they were a parcel of simpletons. + +One peculiarity of Mr. Sanders's humour was that it could not be +imitated with any degree of success. His raciest anecdote lost a large +part of its flavour when repeated by some one else. It was the way he +told it, a cut of the eye, a lift of the eyebrow, a movement of the +hand, a sudden air of solemnity--these were the accessories that gave +point and charm to the humour. + +Mr. Sanders had cut out a very large piece of work for himself. He kept +it up for some time, but he gradually allowed himself longer and longer +intervals of seriousness. The multitude of problems growing out of the +new and strange conditions were of a thought-compelling nature; and they +grew larger and more ominous as the days went by. Gabriel Tolliver might +take to the woods, as the saying is, and so escape from the prevailing +depression. But Mr. Sanders and the rest of the men had no such +resource; responsibility sat on their shoulders, and they were compelled +to face the conditions and study them. Gabriel could sit on the fence by +the roadside, and see neither portent nor peril in the groups and gangs +of negroes passing and repassing, and moving restlessly to and fro, some +with bundles and some with none. He watched them, as he afterward +complained, with a curiosity as idle as that which moves a little child +to watch a swarm of ants. He noticed, however, that the negroes were no +longer cheerful. Their child-like gaiety had vanished. In place of their +loud laughter, their boisterous play, and their songs welling forth and +filling the twilight places with sweet melodies, there was silence. +Gabriel had no reason to regard this silence as ominous, but it was so +regarded by his elders. + +He thought that the restless and uneasy movements of the negroes were +perfectly natural. They had suddenly come to the knowledge that they +were free, and they were testing the nature and limits of their freedom. +They desired to find out its length and its breadth. So much was clear +to Gabriel, but it was not clear to his elders. And what a pity that it +was not! How many mistakes would have been avoided! What a dreadful +tangle and turmoil would have been prevented if these grown children +could have been judged from Gabriel's point of view! For the boy's +interpretation of the restlessness and uneasiness of the blacks was the +correct one. Your historians will tell you that the situation was +extraordinary and full of peril. Well, extraordinary, if you will, but +not perilous. Gabriel could never be brought to believe that there was +anything to be dreaded in the attitude of the blacks. What he scored +himself for in the days to come was that his interest in the matter +never rose above the idle curiosity of a boy. + +And yet there were some developments calculated to pique curiosity. A +few years before the war, one of Madame Awtry's nephews from +Massachusetts came in to the neighbourhood preaching freedom to the +negroes. As a result, a large body of the Clopton negroes gathered +around the house one morning with many breathings and mutterings. Uncle +Plato, the carriage-driver, went to his master with a very grave face, +and announced that the hands, instead of going to work, had come in a +body to the house. + +"Well, go and see what they want, Plato," said the master of the Clopton +Place. + +"I done ax um dat, suh," replied Uncle Plato, "an' dey say p'intedly dat +dey want ter see you." + +"Very well; where is Mr. Sanders?" + +"He out dar, suh, makin' fun un um." + +When Meriwether Clopton went out, he was told by old man Isaiah, the +foreman of the field-hands, that the boys didn't want to be "Bledserd." +It was some time before the master could understand what the old man +meant, but Mr. Sanders finally made it clear, and Meriwether Clopton +sent the negroes about their business with a promise that none of them +should ever be "Bledserd" by his consent. + +A year or two before this "rising" occurred, General Jesse Bledsoe had +died leaving a will, by the terms of which all his negroes were given +their freedom, and provision was made for their transportation to a free +State. But the General had relatives, who put in their claims, and +succeeded in breaking the will, with the result that many of the negroes +were carried to the West and Southwest, bringing about a wholesale +separation of families, the first that had ever occurred in that +section. The impression it made on both whites and negroes was a lasting +one. In the minds of the blacks, freedom was only another name for +"Bledserin'." + +Nevertheless, when, after the collapse of the Confederacy and the advent +of Sherman's army, the Clopton negroes were told that they were free, a +large number of them joined the restless, migratory throng that passed +to and fro along the public highway, some coming, some going, but all +moved by the same irresistible impulse to test their freedom--to see if +they really could come hither and go yonder without let or hinderance. +Uncle Plato and his family, with a dozen others who were sagacious +enough to follow the old man's example, remained in their places and +fared better than the rest. + +For a time Shady Dale rested peacefully in its seclusion, watching the +course of events with apparent tranquillity. But behind this appearance +of repose there was a good deal of restlessness and uneasiness. +Sometimes its bosom (so to speak) was inflamed with anger, and sometimes +it would be sunk in despair. One of the events that brought Shady Dale +closer to the troubles that the newspapers were full of, was a circular +letter issued by Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale. Major Perdue had +returned home thoroughly reconstructed. He was full of admiration for +General Grant's attitude toward General Lee, and he endorsed with all +his heart the tone and spirit of Lee's address to his old soldiers; but +when he saw the unexpected turn that the politicians had been able to +give to events, he found it hard to hold his peace. Finally, when he +could restrain himself no longer, he incited his friends to hold a +meeting and propose his name as a candidate for Congress. This was done, +and the Major seized the opportunity to issue a circular letter +declining the nomination, and giving his reasons therefor. This letter +remains to this day the most scathing arraignment of carpet-baggery, +bayonet rule, and the Republican Party generally that has ever been put +in print. It contained some decidedly picturesque references to the +personality of the commander of the Georgia district, who happened to be +General Pope, the famous soldier who had his head-quarters in the saddle +at a very interesting period of the Civil War. + +Major Perdue did not intend it so, but his letter was a piece of pure +recklessness. The effect of this scorching document was to bring a +company of Federal troops to Halcyondale, and in the course of a few +weeks a detachment was stationed at Shady Dale. In each case they +brought their tents with them, and went into camp. This was taken as a +signal by the carpet-baggers that the region round-about was to be +cultivated for political purposes, and forthwith they began operations, +receiving occasional accessions in the person of a number of scalawags, +the most respectable and conscientious of these being Mr. Mahlon Butts, +who had been a vigorous and consistent Union man all through the war. He +could be neither convinced nor intimidated, and his consistency won for +him the respect of his neighbours. But when the carpet-baggers made +their appearance, and Mahlon Butts began to fraternise with them, he was +ostracised along with the rest. + +It soon became necessary for the whites to take counsel together, and +Shady Dale became, as it had been before the war, the Mecca of the +various leaders. Before the war, the politicians of both parties were in +the habit of meeting at Shady Dale, enjoying the barbecues for which the +town was famous, and taking advantage of the occasion to lay out the +programme of the campaign. And now, when it was necessary to organise a +white man's party, the leaders turned their eyes and their steps to +Shady Dale. + +Then it was that Gabriel had an opportunity to see Toombs, and Stephens, +and Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson--he who was on the national ticket +with Douglas in 1860--and other men who were to become prominent later. +There were some differences of opinion to be settled. A few of the +leaders had advised the white voters to take no part in the political +farce which Congress had arranged, but to leave it all to the negroes +and the aliens, especially as so many of the white voters had been +disfranchised, or were labouring under political disabilities. Others, +on the contrary, advised the white voters to qualify as rapidly as +possible. It was this difference of opinion that remained to be settled, +so far as Georgia was concerned. + +It was Gabriel's acquaintance with Mr. Stephens that first fired his +ambition. Here was a frail, weak man, hardly able to stand alone, who +had been an invalid all his life, and yet had won renown, and by his +wisdom and conservatism had gained the confidence and esteem of men of +all parties and of all shades of opinion. His willpower and his energy +lifted him above his bodily weakness and ills, and carried him through +some of the most arduous campaigns that ever occurred in Georgia, where +heated canvasses were the rule and not the exception. Watching him +closely, and noting his wonderful vivacity and cheerfulness, Gabriel +Tolliver came to the conclusion that if an invalid could win fame a +strong healthy lad should be able to make his mark. + +It fell out that Gabriel attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens, who +was always partial to young men. He made the lad sit near him, drew him +out, and gave him some sound advice in regard to his studies. At the +suggestion of Mr. Stephens, the lad was permitted to attend the +conferences, which were all informal, and the kindly statesman took +pains to introduce the awkward, blushing youngster to all the prominent +men who came. + +It was curious, Gabriel thought, how easily and naturally the invalid +led the conversation into the channel he desired. He was smoking a clay +pipe, which his faithful body-servant replenished from time to time. +"Mr. Sanders," he began, "I have heard a good deal about your attempt +to kidnap Lincoln. What did you think of Lincoln anyhow?" + +"Well, sir, I thought, an' still think that he was the best all-'round +man I ever laid eyes on." + +"He certainly was a very great man," remarked Mr. Stephens. "I knew him +well before the war. We were in Congress together. It is odd that he +showed no remarkable traits at that time." + +"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "arter the Dimmycrats elected him +President, he found hisself in a corner, an' he jest had to be a big +man." + +"You mean after the Republicans elected him," some one suggested. + +"Not a bit of it,--not a bit of it!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Why the +Republicans didn't have enough votes to elect three governors, much less +a President. But the Dimmycrats, bein' perlite by natur' an' not +troubled wi' any surplus common sense, divided up the'r votes, an' the +Republicans walked in an' took the cake. If you ever hear of me votin' +the Dimmycrat ticket--an' I reckon I'll have to do it--you may jest put +it down that it ain't bekase I want to, but bekase I'm ableege to. The +party ain't hardly got life left in it, an' yit here you big men are +wranglin' an' jowerin' as to whether you'll set down an' let a drove of +mules run over you, or whether you'll stan' up to the rack, fodder or no +fodder." + +"This brings us to the very point we are to discuss," said Mr. Stephens, +laughing. "I may say in the beginning that I am much of Mr. Sanders's +opinion. Some very able men insist that if we take no part in this +reconstruction business, we'll not be responsible for it. That is true, +but we will have to endure the consequences just the same. Radicalism +has majorities at present, but these will disappear after a time." + +"I reckon some of us can be trusted to wear away a few majorities," said +Mr. Sanders, dryly, and it was his last contribution to the discussion. +As might be supposed, no definite policy was hit upon. The conditions +were so new to those who had to deal with them, that, after an +interchange of views, the company separated, feeling that the policy +proper to be pursued would arise naturally out of the immediate +necessities of the occasion, or the special character of the situation. +This was the view of Mr. Stephens, who, as he was still suffering from +his confinement in prison, accepted the invitation of Meriwether Clopton +to remain at Shady Dale for a week or more. + +During that week, there was hardly a day that Gabriel did not go to the +Clopton Place. He went because he could see that his presence was +agreeable to Mr. Stephens, as well as to Meriwether Clopton. He was led +along to join in the conversation which the older men were carrying on, +and in that way he gained more substantial information about political +principles and policies than he could have found in the books and the +newspapers. + +Moreover, Gabriel came in closer contact with Francis Bethune. That +young gentleman seized the opportunity to invite Gabriel to his room, +where they had several familiar and pleasant talks. Bethune told Gabriel +much that was interesting about the war, and about the men he had met +in Richmond and Washington. He also related many interesting incidents +and stories of adventure, in which he had taken part. But he never once +put himself forward as the hero of an exploit. On the contrary, he was +always in the background; invariably, it was some one else to whom he +gave the credit of success, taking upon himself the responsibility of +the failures. + +Gabriel had never suspected this proud-looking young man of modesty, and +he at once began to admire and like Bethune, who was not only genial, +but congenial. He seemed to take a real interest in Gabriel, and gave +him a good deal of sober advice which he should have taken himself. + +"I'll never be anything but plain Bethune," he said to Gabriel. "I'd +like to do something or be something for the sake of those who have had +the care of me; but it isn't in me. I don't know why, but the other +fellow gets there first when there's something to be won. And when I am +first it leads to trouble. Take my college scrape; you've heard about +it, no doubt. Well, the boys there have been playing poker ever since +there was a college, and they'll play it as long as the college remains; +but the first game I was inveigled into, the Chancellor walked in upon +us while I was shuffling the cards, and stood at my back and heard me +cursing the others because they had suddenly turned to their books. +'That will do, Mr. Bethune,' said the Chancellor; 'we have had enough +profanity for to-night.' Well, that has been the way all through. I +wanted to win rank in the army--and I did; I ranked everybody as the +king-bee of insubordination. That isn't all. Take my gait--the way I +walk; everybody thinks I hold my head up and swagger because I am vain. +But look at the matter with clear eyes, Tolliver; I walk that way +because it is natural to me. As for vanity, what on earth have I to be +vain of?" + +"Well, you are young, you know," said Gabriel--"almost as young as I am; +and though you have been unlucky, that is no sign that it will always be +so." + +"No, Tolliver, I am several years older than you. All your opportunities +are still to come; and if I can do nothing myself, I should like to see +you succeed. I have heard my grandfather say some fine things about +you." + +Now, such talk as that, when it carries the evidence of sincerity along +with it, is bound to win a young fellow over; youth cannot resist it. +Bethune won Gabriel, and won him completely. It was so pleasing to +Gabriel to be able to have a cordial liking for Bethune that he had the +feelings of those who gain a moral victory over themselves in the matter +of some evil habit or passion. His grandmother smiled fondly on his +enthusiasm, remarking: + +"Yes, Gabriel; he is certainly a fine young gentleman, and I am glad of +it for Nan's sake. He will be sure to make her happy, and she deserves +happiness as much as any human being I ever knew." + +Gabriel also thought that Nan deserved to be very happy, but he could +imagine several forms of happiness that did not include marriage with +Bethune, however much he might admire his friend. And his enthusiastic +praises of Bethune ceased so suddenly that his grandmother looked at him +curiously. The truth is, her remarks about Nan and Bethune always gave +Gabriel a cold chill. His grandmother was to him the fountain-head of +wisdom, the embodiment of experience. When he was a bit of a lad, she +used to untie all the hard knots, and untangle all the tangles that +persisted in invading his large collection of string, cords and twines, +and the ease with which she did this--for the knots seemed to come +untied of their own accord, and the tangles to vanish as soon as her +fingers touched them--gave Gabriel an impression of her ability that he +never lost. Her word was law with him, though he had frequently broken +the law, and her judgment was infallible. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +_Nan and Gabriel_ + + +Gabriel renewed his enthusiasm for Bethune as soon as he had an +opportunity to see Nan. These opportunities became rarer and rarer as +the days went by. Sometimes she was friendly and familiar, as on the day +when she went home with him to hear the story of poor Margaret Gaither; +but oftener she was cool and dignified, and appeared to be inclined to +patronise her old friend and comrade. This was certainly her attitude +when Gabriel began to sing the praises of Francis Bethune when, on one +occasion, he met her on the street. + +"I'm sure it is very good of you, Gabriel, to speak so kindly of Mr. +Bethune," she said. "No doubt he deserves it all. He also says some very +nice things about you, so I've heard. Nonny says there's some sort of an +agreement between you--'you tickle me and I'll tickle you.' Oh, there's +nothing for you to blush about, Gabriel," she went on very seriously. +"Nonny may laugh at it, but I think it speaks well for both you and Mr. +Bethune." + +Gabriel made no reply, and as he stood there looking at Nan, and +realising for the first time what he had only dimly suspected before, +that they could no longer be comrades and chums, he presented a very +uncomfortable spectacle. He was the picture of awkwardness. His hands +and his feet were all in his way, and for the first time in his life he +felt cheap. Nan had suddenly loomed up as a woman grown. It is true that +she resolutely refused to follow the prevailing fashion and wear +hoop-skirts, but this fact and her long dress simply gave emphasis to +the fact that she was grown. + +"Well, Nan, I'm very sorry," said Gabriel, by way of saying something. +He spoke the truth without knowing why. + +"Sorry! Why should you be sorry?" cried Nan. "I think you have +everything to make you glad. You have your Mr. Bethune, and no longer +than yesterday I heard Eugenia Claiborne say that you are the handsomest +man she ever saw--yes, she called you a man. She declared that she never +knew before that curly hair could be so becoming to a man. And Margaret +says that you and Eugenia would just suit each other, she a blonde and +you a brunette." + +Gabriel blushed again in spite of himself, and laughed, too--laughed at +the incongruity of the situation. This Nan, with her long gingham frock, +and her serious ways, was no more like the Nan he had known than if she +had come from another world. It was laughable, of course, and pathetic, +too, for Gabriel could laugh and feel sorry at the same moment. + +"You haven't told me why you are sorry," said Nan, when the lad's +silence had become embarrassing to her. + +"Well, I am just sorry," Gabriel replied. + +"You are angry," she declared. + +"No," he insisted, "I am just sorry. I don't know why, unless it's +because you are not the same. You have been changing all the time, I +reckon, but I never noticed it so much until to-day." His tone was one +of complaint. + +As Nan stood there regarding Gabriel with an expression of perplexity in +her countenance, and tapping the ground impatiently with one foot, the +two young people got their first whiff of the troubles that had been +slowly gathering over that region. Around the corner near which they +stood, two men had paused to finish an earnest conversation. Evidently +they had been walking along, but their talk had become so interesting, +apparently, that they paused involuntarily. They were hid from Nan and +Gabriel by the high brick wall that enclosed Madame Awtry's back yard. + +"As president of this league," said a voice which neither Nan nor +Gabriel could recognise, "you will have great responsibility. I hope you +realise it." + +"I'm in hopes I does, suh," replied the other, whose voice there was no +difficulty in recognising as that of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin. + +"As you so aptly put it last night at your church, the bottom rail is +now on top, and it will stay there if the coloured people know their own +interests. Every dollar that has been made in the South during the parst +two hundred years was made by the niggeroes and belongs to them." + +"Dat is so, suh; dat is de Lord's trufe. I realise dat, suh; an' I'll +try fer ter make my people reelize it," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"What you lack in experience," continued the first speaker, "you make up +in numbers. It is important to remember that. Organise your race, get +them together, impress upon them the necessity of acting as one man. +Once organised, you will find leaders. All the arrangements have been +made for that." + +"I hears you, suh; an' b'lieves you," replied the Rev. Jeremiah with +great ceremony. + +"You have seen white men from a distance coming and going. Where did +they go?" + +"Dey went ter Clopton's, suh; right dar an' nowhars else. I seed um, +suh, wid my own eyes." + +"You don't know what they came for. Well, I will tell you: they came +here to devise some plan by which they can deprive the niggeroes of the +right to vote. Now, what do you suppose would be the simplest way to do +this?" The Rev. Jeremiah made no reply. He was evidently waiting in awe +to hear what the plan was. "You don't know," the first speaker went on +to say; "well, I will tell you. They propose to re-enslave the coloured +people. They propose to take the ballots out of their hands and put in +their place, the hoe and the plough-handles. They propose to deprive you +of the freedom bestowed upon you by the martyr President." + +"You don't tell me, suh! Well, well!" + +"Yes, that is their object, and they will undoubtedly succeed if your +people do not organise, and stand together, and give their support to +the Republican Party." + +"I has b'longed ter de Erpublican Party, suh, sense fust I heard de +name." + +"We meet to-night in the school-house. Bring only a few--men whom you +can trust, and the older they are the better." + +"I ain't so right down suttin and sho' 'bout dat, suh. Some er de ol' +ones is mighty sot in der ways; dey ain't got de l'arnin', suh, an' dey +dunner what's good fer 'm. But I'll pick out some, suh; I'll try fer ter +fetch de ones what'll do us de mos' good." + +"Very well, Mr. Tommerlin; the old school-house is the place, and +there'll be no lights that can be seen from the outside. Rap three times +slowly, and twice quickly--so. The password is----" + +He must have whispered it, for no sound came to the ears of Nan and +Gabriel. The latter motioned his head to Nan, and the two walked around +the corner. As they turned Nan was saying, "You must go with me some +day, and call on Eugenia Claiborne; she'll be delighted to see you--and +she's just lovely." + +What answer Gabriel made he never knew, so intently was he engaged in +trying to digest what he had heard. The Rev. Jeremiah took off his hat +and smiled broadly, as he gave Nan and Gabriel a ceremonious bow. They +responded to his salute and passed on. The white man who had been +talking to the negro was a stranger to both of them, though both came to +know him very well--too well, in fact--a few months later. He had about +him the air of a preacher, his coat being of the cut and colour of the +garments worn by clergymen. His countenance was pale, but all his +features, except his eyes, stood for energy and determination. The eyes +were restless and shifty, giving him an appearance of uneasiness. + +"What does he mean?" inquired Nan, when they were out of hearing. + +"He means a good deal," replied Gabriel, who as an interested listener +at the conferences of the white leaders, had heard several prominent men +express fears that just such statements would be made to the negroes by +the carpet-bag element; and now here was a man pouring the most alarming +and exciting tidings into the ears of a negro on the public streets. +True, he had no idea that any one but the Rev. Jeremiah was in hearing, +but the tone of his voice was not moderated. What he said, he said right +out. + +"But what do you mean by a good deal?" Nan asked. + +"You heard what he said," Gabriel answered, "and you must see what he is +trying to do. Suppose he should convince the negroes that the whites are +trying to put them back in slavery, and they should rise and kill the +whites and burn all the houses?" + +"Now, Gabriel, you know that is all nonsense," replied Nan, trying to +laugh. In spite of her effort to smile at Gabriel's explanation, her +face was very serious indeed. + +"Yonder comes Miss Claiborne," said Gabriel. "Good-bye, Nan; I'm still +sorry you are not as you used to be. I must go and see Mr. Sanders." +With that, he turned out of the main street, and went running across the +square. + +"That child worries me," said Nan, uttering her thought aloud, and +unconsciously using an expression she had often heard on Mrs. Absalom's +tongue. "Did you see that great gawk of a boy?" she went on, as Eugenia +Claiborne came up. "He hasn't the least dignity." + +"Well, you should be glad of that, Nan," Eugenia suggested. + +"I? Well, please excuse me. If there is anything I admire in other +people, it is dignity." She straightened herself up and assumed such a +serious attitude that Eugenia became convulsed with laughter. + +"What did you do to Gabriel, Nan, that he should be running away from +you at such a rate? Or did he run because he saw me coming?" Before Nan +could make any reply, Eugenia seized her by both elbows--"And, oh, Nan! +you know the Yankee captain who is in command of the Yankee soldiers +here? Well, his name is Falconer, and mother says he is our cousin. And +would you believe it, she wanted to ask him to tea. I cried when she +told me; I never was so angry in my life. Why, I wouldn't stay in the +same house nor eat at the same table with one who is an enemy of my +country." + +"Nor I either," said Nan with emphasis. "But he's very handsome." + +"I don't care if he is," cried the other impulsively. "He has been +killing our gallant young men, and depriving us of our liberties, and +he's here now to help the negroes lord it over us." + +"Oh, now I know what Gabriel intends to do!" exclaimed Nan, but she +refused to satisfy Eugenia's curiosity, much to that young lady's +discomfort. "I must go," said Nan, kissing her friend good-bye. Eugenia +stood watching her until she was out of sight, and wondered why she was +in such a hurry. + +Nan had changed greatly in the course of two years, and, in some +directions, not for the better, as some of the older ones thought and +said. They remembered how charming she was in the days when she threw +all conventions to the winds, and was simply a wild, sweet little +rascal, engaged in performing the most unheard-of pranks, and cutting up +the most impossible capers. Until Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne +came to Shady Dale, Nan had no girl-friends. All the others were either +ages too old or ages too young, or disagreeable, and Nan had to find her +amusements the best way she could. + +Margaret Gaither and Eugenia Claiborne had a very subduing effect upon +Nan. They had been brought up with the greatest respect for all the +small formalities and conventions, and the attention they paid to these +really awed Nan. The young ladies were free and unconventional enough +when there was no other eye to mark their movements, but at table, or in +company, they held their heads in a certain way, and they had rules by +which to seat themselves in a chair, or to rise therefrom; they had been +taught how to enter a room, how to bow, and how to walk gracefully, as +was supposed, from one side of a room to the other. Nan tried hard to +learn a few of these conventions, but she never succeeded; she never +could conform to the rules; she always failed to remember them at the +proper time; and it was very fortunate that this was so. The native +grace with which she moved about could never have been imparted by rule; +but there were long moments when her failure to conform weighed upon her +mind, and subdued her. + +This was a part of the change that Gabriel found in her. She could no +longer, in justice to the rules of etiquette, seize Gabriel by the +lapels of his coat and give him a good shaking when he happened to +displease her, and she could no longer switch him across the face with +her braided hair--that wonderful tawny hair, so fine, so abundant, so +soft, and so warm-looking. No, indeed! the day for that was over, and +very sorry she was for herself and for Gabriel, too. + +And while she was going home, following in the footsteps of that young +man (for Dorringtons' was on the way to Cloptons'), a thought struck +her, and it seemed to be so important that she stopped still and clapped +the palms of her hands together with an energy unusual to young ladies. +Then she gathered her skirt firmly, drew it up a little, and went +running along the road as rapidly as Gabriel had run. Fortunately, a +knowledge of the rules of etiquette had not had the effect of paralysing +Nan's legs. She ran so fast that she was wellnigh breathless when she +reached home. She rushed into the house, and fell in a chair, crying: + +"Oh, Nonny!" + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +_The Troubles of Nan_ + + +"Why, what on earth ails the child?" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom. Nan was +leaning back in the chair, her face very red, making an effort to fan +herself with one little hand, and panting wildly. "Malindy!" Mrs. +Absalom yelled to the cook, "run here an' fetch the camphire as you +come! Ain't you comin'? The laws a massy on us! the child'll be cold and +stiff before you start! Honey, what on earth ails you? Tell your Nonny. +Has anybody pestered you? Ef they have, jest tell me the'r name, an' +I'll foller 'em to the jumpin'-off place but what I'll frail 'em out. +You Malindy! whyn't you come on? You'll go faster'n that to your own +funeral." + +But when Malindy came with the camphor, and a dose of salts in a +tumbler, Nan waved her away. "I don't want any physic, Nonny," she said, +still panting, for her run had been a long one; "I'm just tired from +running. And, oh, Nonny! I have something to tell you." + +"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom indignantly, withdrawing her +arms from around Nan, and rising to her feet. "A little more, an' you'd +'a' had me ready for my coolin'-board. I ain't had such a turn--not +sence the day a nigger boy run in the gate an' tol' me the Yankees was +a-hangin' Ab. An' all bekaze you've hatched out some rigamarole that +nobody on the green earth would 'a' thought of but you." + +She fussed around a little, and was for going about the various +unnecessary duties she imposed on herself; but Nan protested. "Please, +Nonny, wait until I tell you." Thereupon Nan told as well as she could +of the conversation she and Gabriel had overheard in town, and the +recital gave Mrs. Absalom a more serious feeling than she had had in +many a day. Her muscular arms, bare to the elbow, were folded across her +ample bosom, and she seemed to be glaring at Nan with a frown on her +face, but she was thinking. + +"Well," she said with a sigh, "I knowed there was gwine to be trouble of +some kind--old Billy Sanders went by here this mornin' as drunk as a +lord." + +"Drunk!" cried Nan with blanched face. + +"Well, sorter tollerbul how-come-you-so. The last time old Billy was +drunk, was when sesaytion was fetched on. Ev'ry time he runs a straw in +a jimmy-john, he fishes up trouble. An' my dream's out. I dremp last +night that a wooden-leg man come to the door, an' ast me for a pair of +shoes. I ast him what on earth he wanted wi' a pair, bein's he had but +one foot. He said that the foot he didn't have was constant a-feelin' +like it was cold, an' he allowed maybe it'd feel better ef it know'd +that he had a shoe ready for it ag'in colder weather." + +"Oh, I hate him! I just naturally despise him!" cried Nan. When she was +angry her face was pale, and it was very pale now. + +"Why do you hate the wooden-leg man, honey? It was all in a dream," said +Mrs. Absalom, soothingly. + +"Oh, I don't know what you are talking about, Nonny!" exclaimed Nan, +ready to cry. "I mean old Billy Sanders. And if I don't give him a piece +of my mind when I see him. Now Gabriel will go to that place to-night, +and he's nothing but a boy." + +"A boy! well, I dunner where you'll find your men ef Gabriel ain't +nothin' but a boy. Where's anybody in these diggin's that's any bigger +or stouter? I wish you'd show 'em to me," remarked Mrs. Absalom. + +"I don't care," Nan persisted; "I know just what Gabriel will do. He'll +go to that place to-night, and--and--I'd rather go there myself." + +"Well, my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with lifted eyebrows. + +The pallor of Nan's face was gradually replaced by a warmer glow. "Now, +Nonny! don't say a word--don't tease--don't tease me about Gabriel. If +you do, I'll never tell you anything more for ever and ever." + +"All this is bran new to me," Mrs. Absalom declared. "You make me feel, +Nan, like I was in some strange place, talkin' wi' some un I never seed +before. You ain't no more like yourself--you ain't no more like you used +to be--than day is like night, an' I'm jest as sorry as I can be." + +"That's what Gabriel says," sighed Nan. "He said he was sorry, and now +you say you are sorry. Oh, Nonny, I don't want any one to be sorry for +me." + +"Well, then, behave yourself, an' be like you use to be, an' stop +trollopin' aroun' wi' them highfalutin' gals downtown. They look like +they know too much. All they talk about is boys, boys, boys, from +mornin' till night; an' I noticed when they was spendin' a part of the'r +time here that you was just as bad. It was six of one an' twice three of +the rest. Now you know that ain't a sign of good health for gals to be +eternally talkin' about boys, 'specially sech ganglin', lop-sided +creeturs as we've got aroun' here." + +"Where's Johnny?" asked Nan, who evidently had no notion of getting in a +controversy with Mrs. Absalom on the subject of boys. "Johnny" was her +name for her step-mother, whose surname of Dion had been changed to +"Johns" the day after she arrived at Shady Dale. The story of little +Miss Johns has been told in another place and all that is necessary to +add to the record is the fact that she had managed to endear herself to +the critical, officious, and somewhat jealous Mrs. Absalom. Mrs. +Dorrington had the tact and the charm of the best of her race. She was +Nan's dearest friend and only confidante, and though she was not many +years the girl's senior, she had an influence over her that saved Nan +from many a bad quarter of an hour. + +Mrs. Dorrington was in her own room when Nan found her, sewing and +singing softly to herself, the picture of happiness and content. Nan +dropped on her knees beside her chair, and threw her arms impulsively +around the little woman's neck. + +"Tell me ever what it is, Nan, before you smother-cate me," said Mrs. +Dorrington, smoothing the girl's hair. The two had a language of their +own, which the elder had learned from the younger. + +"It is the most miserable misery, Johnny. Do you remember what I told +you about those people?" + +"How could I forget, Nan?" + +"Well, those people are going head foremost into trouble, and whatever +happens, I want to be there." + +"Oh, is that so? Well, it is too bad," said the little woman +sympathetically. "Perhaps if you would say something about it--not too +much, but just enough for me to get it through my thick numskull----" + +Whereupon Nan told of all the fears by which she was beset, and of all +the troubles that racked her mind, and the two had quite a consultation. + +"You are not afraid for yourself; why should you be afraid for those +people?" inquired Mrs. Dorrington, laying great stress on "those +people," the name that Gabriel went by when Nan and Johnny were +referring to him. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Nan, helplessly. "It isn't because of what +you would guess if you knew no better. I have a very great friendship +for those people; but it isn't the other feeling--the kind that you were +telling me about. If it is--oh, if it is--I shall never forgive myself." + +"In time--yes. It is quite easy to forgive yourself on account of those +people. I found it so." + +"Oh, don't! You make me feel as if I ought never to speak to myself." + +"Then don't," said Mrs. Dorrington, calmly. "You can speak to me instead +of to that ignorant girl." + +"Oh, you sweetest!" cried Nan, hugging her step-mother; "I am going to +have you for my doll." + +"Very well, then," said Mrs. Dorrington, shrugging her shoulders; "but +you will have some trouble on your hands--yes, more than those people +give you." + +"Johnny, you are my little mother, and you never gave me any trouble in +your life. I am the one that is troublesome; I am troubling you now." + +"Silly thing! will you be good?" cried Mrs. Dorrington, tapping Nan +lightly on the cheek. "How can you trouble me when I don't know what you +mean? You haven't told me." + +"I thought you could guess as well as I can," replied Nan. + +"About some things--yes; but not about this terrible danger that is to +overcome those people." + +Whereupon, Nan told Mrs. Dorrington of the conversation she and Gabriel +had overheard. To this information she added her suspicions that Gabriel +intended to do something desperate; and then she gave a very vivid +description of the strange white man, of his pale and eager countenance, +his glittering, shifty eyes, and his thin, cruel lips. + +Instead of shuddering, as she should have done, Mrs. Dorrington laughed. +"But I don't see what the trouble is," she declared. "That boy is ever +so large; he can take care of himself. But if you think not, then ask +him to tea." + +Nan frowned heavily. "But, Johnny, tea is so tame. Think of rescuing a +friend from danger by means of a cup of tea! Doesn't it seem +ridiculous?" + +"Of course it is," responded Mrs. Dorrington. "But it isn't half so +ridiculous as your make-believe. Oh, Nan! Nan! when will you come down +from your clouds?" + +Now, Nan's world of make-believe was as natural to her as the persons +and things all about her. No sooner had she guessed that it was +Gabriel's intention to find out what the Union League was for, and, in a +way, expose himself to some possible danger of discovery, than she +carried the whole matter into her land of make-believe as naturally as a +mocking-bird carries a flake of thistle-down to its nest. Once there, +nothing could be more reasonable or more logical than the terrible +danger to which Gabriel would be exposed. While it lasted, Nan's feeling +of anxiety and alarm was both real and sincere. Mrs. Absalom could never +enter into this world of Nan's; she was too practical and downright. And +yet she had a ready sympathy for the girl's troubles and humoured her +without stint, though she sometimes declared that Nan was queer and +flighty. + +Mrs. Dorrington, on the other hand, inheriting the sensitive and +artistic temperament of Flavian Dion, her father, was able to enter +heartily into the most of Nan's vagaries. Sometimes she humoured them, +but more frequently she laughed at them as the girl grew older. +Occasionally, in her twilight conversations with her father, whose +gentleness and shyness kept him in the background, Mrs. Dorrington +would deplore Nan's tendency to exploit her imagination. + +"But she was born thus, my dear," Flavian Dion would reply, speaking the +picturesque patois of New France. "It will either be her great misery, +or her great happiness. How was it with me? Once it was my great misery, +but now--you see how it is. Come! we will have some music, if +Mademoiselle the Dreamer is willing." + +And then they would go into the parlour, where, with Mrs. Dorrington at +the piano, Flavian Dion with his violin, and Nan with her voice, which +was rich and strong, they would render the beautiful folk-songs of +France. Moreover, Flavian Dion had caught many of the plantation +melodies, of which Nan knew the words, and when the French songs were +exhausted, they would fall back on these. It frequently happened that +Mademoiselle the Dreamer would add feet as well as voice to the negro +melodies, especially if Tasma Tid were there to incite her, and the way +that Nan reproduced steps and poses was both wonderful and inimitable. + +The reader who takes the trouble to make inferences as he goes along, +will perceive that Nan's solicitude for Gabriel was no compliment to +him; it was not flattering to the heroism of a young man who was +threatening to grow a moustache, for a young lady to believe, or even +pretend to believe, that he needed to be rescued from some imaginary +danger. Gabriel was strong enough to take a man's place at a +log-rolling, and he would have had small relish for the information if +he had been told that Nan Dorrington was planning to rescue him. + +Let the simple truth be told. Gabriel was no hero in Nan's eyes. He was +merely a friend and former comrade, who now was in sad need of some one +to take care of him. That was her belief, and she would have shrunk from +the idea that Gabriel would one day be her lover. She had quite other +views. Yes, indeed! Her lover must be a man who had passed through some +desperate experiences. He must be a hero with sword and plume, a cutter +and slasher, a man who had a relish for bloodshed, such as she had read +about in the romances she had appropriated from her father's library. + +Nan had brought over from her childhood many queer dreams and fancies. +Once upon a time, she had heard her elders talking of John A. Murrell, +the notorious land-pirate and highwayman. The man was one of the +coarsest and cruellest of modern ruffians, but about his name the common +people had placed a halo of romance. It was said of him that he rescued +beautiful maidens from their abductors, and restored them to their +friends, and that he robbed the rich only to give to the poor. Sad to +say, this ruffian was Nan's ideal hero. + +And now, when she was racking her brains to invent some bold and simple +plan for the rescue of Gabriel, her mind reverted to this ideal hero of +her childhood. + +"If you insist, Johnny, I'll ask Gabriel to tea," Nan remarked for the +second time; "but, as you say, it is perfectly ridiculous. Whoever heard +of rescuing persons by inviting them to supper?" She paused a moment, +and then went on with a sigh that would have sounded very real in Mrs. +Absalom's ears, but which simply brought a smile to Mrs. Dorrington's +face--"Heigh-ho! What a pity John A. Murrell isn't alive to-day!" + +"And who is this Mr. Murrell?" Mrs. Dorrington asked. + +"He was a fierce robber-chief," replied Nan, placidly. "He wore a big +black beard, and a hat with a red feather in it. Over his left shoulder +was a red sash, and he rode a big white horse. He carried two big +pistols and a bowie-knife--Nonny can tell you all about him." + +Whereupon, Mrs. Dorrington jumped from her chair, and made an effort to +catch the young romancer; and in a moment, the laughter of the pursuer, +and the shrieks of the pursued, when she thought she was in danger of +being caught, roused the echoes in the old house. Mrs. Absalom, who was +in the kitchen, laughed and shook her head. "I believe them two scamps +will be children when they are sixty year old!" + +But after awhile, when their romp was over, Nan suddenly discovered that +she had been in very high spirits, and this, according to the +constitution and by-laws of the land of make-believe, was an +unpardonable offence, especially when, as now, a very dear friend was in +danger. So she went out upon the veranda, and half-way down the steps, +where she seated herself in an attitude of extreme dejection. + +While sitting there, Nan suddenly remembered that she did have a +grievance and a very real one. Tasma Tid was in a state of insurrection. +She had not been permitted to accompany her young mistress when the +latter visited her girl-friends, and for a long time she had been +sulking and pouting. An effort had been made to induce Tasma Tid to make +herself useful, but even the strong will of Mrs. Absalom collapsed when +it found itself in conflict with the bright-eyed African. + +Tasma Tid had been wounded in her tenderest part--her affections. Her +sentiments and emotions, being primitive, were genuine. Her grief, when +separated from Nan, was very keen. She refused to eat, and for the most +part kept herself in seclusion, and no one was able to find her +hiding-place. Now, when Nan threw herself upon the steps in an attitude +of dejection, with her head on her arm, it happened that Tasma Tid was +prowling about with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. The African, +slipping around the house, suddenly came plump upon the object of her +search. She stood still, and drew a long breath. Here was Honey Nan +apparently in deep trouble. Tasma Tid crept up the steps as silently as +a ghost, and sat beside the prostrate form. If Nan knew, she made no +sign; nor did she move when the African laid a caressing hand on her +hair. It was only when Tasma Tid leaned over and kissed Nan on the hand +that she stirred. She raised her head, saying, + +"You shouldn't do that, Tasma Tid; I'm too mean." + +"How come you dis away, Honey Nan?" inquired the African in a low tone. +"Who been-a hu't you?" + +"No one," replied Nan; "I am just mean." + +"'Tis ain't so, nohow. Somebody been-a hu't you. You show dem ter Tasma +Tid--dee ain't hu't you no mo'." + +"Where have you been? Why did you go away and leave me?" + +"Nobody want we fer stay. You go off, an' den we go off. We go off an' +walk, walk, walk in de graveyard--walk, walk, walk in de graveyard; an' +den we go home way off yander in de woods." + +"Home! why this is your home; it shall always be your home," cried Nan, +touched by the forlorn look in Tasma Tid's eyes, and the despairing +expression in her voice. + +"No, no, Honey Nan; 'tis-a no home fer we when you drive we 'way fum +foller you, when you shak-a yo' haid ef we come trot, trot 'hind you. We +no want home lak dat. No, no, Honey Nan. We make home in de woods." + +"Where is your home?" Nan inquired, full of curiosity. + +"We take-a you dey when dem sun go 'way." + +"Well, you must stay here," said Nan, emphatically. "You shall follow me +wherever I go." + +"You talk-a so dis time, Honey Nan; nex' time--" Tasma Tid ran down the +steps, and went along the walk mimicking Nan's movements, shaking her +frock first on one side and then on the other. Then she looked over her +shoulder, turned around with a frown, stamped her foot and made menacing +gestures with her hands. "Dat how 'twill be nex' time, Honey Nan." + +Hearing Mrs. Absalom laughing, Nan conjectured that she had witnessed +Tasma Tid's performance. "Nonny," she cried, "do I really walk that way, +and finger my skirt so?" + +"To a t," said Mrs. Absalom, laughing louder. "Ef she was a foot an' a +half higher, I'd 'a' made shore it was you practisin' ag'in the time +when you'll mince by the store where old Silas Tomlin's yearlin' is +clerkin', or by the tavern peazzer, where Frank Bethune an' the rest of +the loafers set at. It's among the merikels that Gabe Tolliver don't mix +wi' that crowd. I reckon maybe it's bekaze he jest natchally too +wuthless." + +"Now, Nonny! I don't think you ought to make fun of me," protested Nan. +"I am perfectly certain that I don't mince when I walk, and you are +always complaining that I don't care how my clothes look." + +"Go roun' to the kitchen, you black slink," exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, +addressing Tasma Tid, "an' git your dinner! You've traipsed and +trolloped until I bet you can gulp down all the vittles on the place." + +"And when you have finished your dinner, come to my room," said Nan. + +It was not often that Nan was to be found in her own room during the +day, but now she remembered that she had promised to spend the night +with Eugenia Claiborne; and how was she to invite Gabriel to tea, as +Mrs. Dorrington had suggested? There was but one thing to do, and that +was to break her engagement with Eugenia. She was of half a dozen minds +what to say to her friend. She wrote note after note, only to destroy +each one. She pulled her nose, stuck out her tongue, looked at the +ceiling, and bit her thumb, but all to no purpose. + +Tasma Tid, who had finished her dinner, sat on the floor eying Nan as an +intelligent dog eyes its master, ready to respond to look, word or +gesture. Finally, the African, seeing Nan's perplexity, made a +suggestion. + +"Make dem cuss-words come," she said. Tasma Tid had heard men use +profane language when fretted or irritated, and she supposed that it was +a remedy for troubles both small and large. + +"Be jigged if I haven't a mind to," cried Nan, laughing at the African's +earnestness. + +But at last she flung her pen down, seized her hat, and, with an +unspoken invitation to Tasma Tid, went out into the street, determined +to go to the Gaither Place, where Eugenia lived, and present her excuses +in person. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +_Mr. Sanders in His Cups_ + + +When Nan came in sight of the court-house she saw a crowd of men and +boys gazing at some spectacle on the side opposite her. Some were +laughing, while others had serious faces. Among them she noticed Francis +Bethune, and she also saw Gabriel, who was standing apart from the rest +with a very gloomy countenance. Arriving near the crowd, she paused to +discover what had excited their curiosity; and there before her eyes, +seated on the court-house steps, was Mr. Billy Sanders, relating to an +imaginary audience some choice incidents in his family history. His hat +was off, and his face was very red. + +As Nan listened, he was telling how his "pa" and "ma" had married in +South Carolina, and had subsequently moved to Jasper County in Georgia. +In coming away (according to Mr. Sanders's version), they had fetched a +half dozen hogs too many, and maybe a cow or two that didn't belong to +them. By-and-by the owners of the stock appeared in the neighbourhood +where Mr. Sanders, Sr., had settled, found the missing property, and +carried him away with them. They had, or claimed to have, a warrant, and +they hustled the pioneer off to South Carolina, and put him in jail. + +"Now, Sally Hart was Nancy's own gal," said Mr. Sanders, pausing to take +a nip from a bottle he carried in his pocket. "She was a chip off'n the +old block ef they ever was a block that had a chip. So Sally (that was +ma) she went polin' off to Sou' Ca'liny. The night she got to whar she +was agwine, she tore a hole in the side of the jail that you could 'a' +driv a buggy through. Then she took poor pa by one ear, an' fetched him +home. An' that ain't all. Arter she got him home, she took a rawhide an' +liter'ly wore pa out. She said arterwards that she didn't larrup him for +fetchin' the stock off, but for layin' up there in jail an' lettin' his +crap spile. Well, that frailin' made a good Christian of pa. He j'ined +the church, an' would 'a' been a preacher, but ma wouldn't let him. She +allowed they'd be too much gaddin' about, an' maybe a little too much +honeyin' up wi' the sisterin'. 'No,' says she, 'ef you want to do good +prayin', pray whilst you're ploughin'. I'll look arter the hoein' +myself,' says she." + +Mr. Sanders was not regarded as a dangerous man in his cups, but on one +well-remembered occasion he had fired into a crowd of men who were +inclined to be too familiar, and since that day he had been given a wide +berth when he took a seat on the court-house steps and began to recite +his family history. While Nan stood there, Mr. Sanders drew a pistol +from his pocket, and, smiling blandly, began to flourish it around. As +he did so, Gabriel Tolliver sprang into the street and ran rapidly +toward him. Some one in the crowd uttered a cry of warning. Seized by +some blind impulse Nan ran after Gabriel. Francis Bethune caught her +arm as she ran by him, but she wrenched herself from his grasp, and ran +faster than ever. + +"Stand back there!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders in an angry voice, raising his +pistol. For one brief moment, the spectators thought that Gabriel was +doomed, for he went on without wavering. But he was really in no danger. +Mr. Sanders had mistaken him for some of the young men who had been +taunting him as they stood at a safe distance. But when he saw who it +was, he replaced the pistol in his pocket, remarking, "You ought to hang +out your sign, Gabe. Ef I hadn't 'a' had on my furseein' specks, I'm +afear'd I'd a plugged you." + +At that moment Nan arrived on the scene, her anger at white heat. She +caught her breath, and then stood looking at Mr. Sanders, with eyes that +fairly blazed with scorn and anger. "Ef looks'd burn, honey, they +wouldn't be a cinder left of me," said Mr. Sanders, moving uneasily. +"Arter she's through wi' me, Gabriel, plant me in a shady place, an' +make old Tar-Baby thar," indicating Tasma Tid, who had followed +Nan--"make old Tar-Baby thar set on my grave, an' warm it up once in +awhile. I leave you my Sunday shirts wi' the frills on 'em, Gabriel, an' +my Sunday boots wi' the red tops; an' have a piece put in the Malvern +paper, statin' that I was one of the most populous and public-sperreted +citizens of the county. An' tell how I went about killin' jimson weeds +an' curkle-burrs for my neighbours by blowin' my breath on 'em." + +What Nan had intended to say, she left unsaid. Her feelings reacted +while Mr. Sanders was talking, and she turned her back on him and began +to cry. Under the circumstances, it was the very thing to do. Mr. +Sanders's face fell. "I'll tell you the honest truth, Gabriel--I never +know'd that anybody in the roun' world keer'd a continental whether I +was drunk or sober, alive or dead; an' I'd lots ruther some un 'd stick +a knife through my gizzard than to see that child cryin'." + +He rose and went to Nan--he was not too tipsy to walk--and tried to lay +his hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said, +"what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say." + +"Go home and try to be decent," she answered. + +"I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for to +keep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, you +be the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"--he held out both elbows, so that +each could take him by an arm--"an' when you're ready to start, give the +word." + +Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consent +to go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask of +apple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house. + +"Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in a +quarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" He +paused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty good +thing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' jury +an' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wall +there. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart, +too?" he asked again, turning to Nan. + +"I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red and +swollen, Gabriel?" + +"They are somewhat red, but----" + +"But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused. + +"They are just as pretty as ever." + +"Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life." + +"You'll remember it longer on that account," said Mr. Sanders. "Gabriel +is lazy-minded, but he'll brighten up arter awhile. Speakin' of fust an' +last, an' things of that kind," he went on, "I reckon this is the fust +time I ever come betwixt you children. I hope no harm's done." + +"Well, sir," said Nan, addressing Gabriel with a pretty formality, +"since you are kind enough to pay me a compliment, I'll be bold enough +to ask you to take tea with me this evening; and I'll have no refusal." + +Gabriel found himself in an awkward predicament. He felt bound to +discover what part the Union League was playing. He had read of its +sinister influence in other parts of the South, and he judged that the +hour of its organisation at Shady Dale was the aptest time for such a +discovery. He couldn't tell Nan what his plans were--he had no idea that +she had already guessed them--and he hardly knew what to say. He was +thoroughly uncomfortable. He was silent so long that Mr. Sanders had an +opportunity to ask Nan if she hadn't made a remark to Gabriel. + +"Yes; I asked him to tea," she replied in a low voice; "he has forgotten +it by this time." But Nan well knew why Gabriel was silent; she was +neither vexed nor surprised at his hesitation. Nevertheless, she must +play her part. + +"Give him time, Nan; give him time," said Mr. Sanders, consolingly. +"Gabriel comes of a stuttering family. They say it took his grandma e'en +about seven year to tell Dick Lumsden she'd have him. I lay Gabriel is +composin' in his mind a flowery piece sorter like, 'Here's my heart, an' +here's my hand; ef you ax me to tea, I'm your'n to command.'" + +"I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, but I can't; and it's just my luck that +you should invite me to-day," said Gabriel, finally. + +"You have another engagement?" asked Nan. + +"No, not an engagement," he replied. + +"Well, you are going to do something very unnecessary and improper," +said Nan, with the air and tone of a mature woman. "You are sure to get +into trouble. Why don't you ask your Mr. Bethune to take your place, or +at least go with you?" + +"Why, you talk as if you knew what I am going to do," remarked Gabriel; +"but you couldn't guess in a week." + +At this point Mr. Sanders tried to stop in order to deliver an address. +"I bet you--I bet you a seven-pence ag'in a speckled hen that Nan knows +precisely what you're up to." + +But Nan and Gabriel pulled him along in spite of his frequently +expressed desire to "lay down in the road an' take a nap." "It's a +shame," he said, "for a great big gal an' a great big boy to be harryin' +a man as old as me. Why don't you ketch hands an' run to play? No, +nothin' will do, but you must worry William H. Sanders, late of said +county." He received no reply to this, and continued: "I'm glad I took +too much, Gabriel, ef only for one thing. You know what I told you about +Nan's temper--well, you've seed it for yourself. She's frailed Frank, +she'd 'a' frailed me jest now ef you hadn't 'a' been on hand, an' she'll +frail you out before long. She's jest turrible." + +Mr. Sanders kept up his good-humour all the way home, and when he had +been placed in charge of Uncle Plato, who knew how to deal with him, he +said: "Now, fellers, I had a mighty good reason for restin' my mind. You +cried bekase old Billy Sanders was drunk, didn't you, Nan? Well, I'm +mighty glad you did. I never know'd before that a sob or two would make +a Son of Temperance of a man; but that's what they'll do for me. Nobody +in this world will ever see me drunk ag'in. So long!" + +It may be said here that Mr. Sanders kept his promise. The events which +followed required clear heads and steady hands for their shaping, but +each crisis, as it arose, found Mr. Sanders, and a few others who acted +with him, fully prepared to meet it, though there were times and +occasions when he, as well as the rest, was overtaken by a profound +sense of his helplessness. Some fell into melancholy, and some were +overtaken by dejection, but Mr. Sanders never for a moment forgot to be +cheerful. + +"I don't suppose there is another girl in the country who would make +such a spectacle of herself as I made to-day," said Nan, as she and +Gabriel walked slowly in the direction of town. + +"What do you mean?" inquired Gabriel. + +"You know well enough," replied Nan. "Why, think of a young woman +rushing across the public square in the face of a crowd, and doing as I +did! I'll be the talk of the town. What is your opinion?" + +"Well, considering who the man was, and everything, I think it was very +becoming in you," replied Gabriel. + +"Oh, thank you!" said Nan. "Under the circumstances, you could say no +less. You have changed greatly, Gabriel, since Eugenia Claiborne began +to make eyes at you. You seem to think it is a mark of politeness to pay +compliments right and left, and to agree with everybody. No doubt, if an +invitation to tea had come from further up the street, you would have +found some excuse for accepting." + +Nan's logic was quite feminine, but Gabriel took no advantage of that +fact. "I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, and I hope you'll not be angry." + +"Angry! why should I be angry?" Nan exclaimed. "An invitation to tea is +not so important." + +"But this one is important to me," said Gabriel. "It is the first time +you have asked me, and I hope it won't be the last." + +Nan said nothing more until she bade Gabriel good-bye at her father's +gate. He thought she was angry, while she was wondering if he considered +her bold. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +_Caught in a Corner_ + + +It was no difficult matter for Nan Dorrington to infer what course of +action Gabriel intended to pursue. The Union Leagues established in the +South under the auspices of the political department of the Freedman's +Bureau had already excited the suspicion of the whites. The reputation +they instantly achieved was extremely sinister, and they had become the +source of much uneasiness. There was an air of mystery about them which, +however pleasing it might be to the negroes, was not at all relished by +those who had been made the victims of radical legislation. There were +wild rumours to the effect that the object of these leagues was to +organise the negroes and prepare them for an armed attack on the whites. + +These rumours were to be seen spread out in the newspapers, and were to +be heard wherever people gathered together. Nan was familiar with them, +and, while both she and Gabriel were possibly too young to harbour all +the anxieties entertained by their elders, they nevertheless took a very +keen interest in the situation; and it was not less keen because it had +curiosity for its basis. + +Gabriel had no sooner digested the purport of the conversation to which +he had listened than he made up his mind to unravel, if he could, the +mystery of the Union League, and to discover what part the new-comer, +the companion of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin, proposed to play. It was +characteristic of the lad that he should act promptly. When he left Nan +so unceremoniously, he ran to the Clopton Place to report what he had +heard to Mr. Sanders, but he found that worthy citizen in no condition +to give him aid, or even advice. Meriwether Clopton chanced to be in +consultation with some gentleman from Atlanta, and could not be seen, +while Francis Bethune was said to be in town somewhere. + +It was then that Gabriel made up his mind that he would act alone. He +knew the old school-house in which the league was to be organised, as +well as he knew his own home. It had formerly been called the Shady Dale +Male Academy, and its reputation, before the war, had gone far and wide. +Gabriel had spent many a happy hour there, and some that were memorably +unpleasant, especially during the term that a school-master by the name +of McManus wielded the rod. Among the things that Gabriel remembered was +the fact that the space under the stairway--the building had two +stories--was boarded up so as to form a large closet, where the pupils +deposited their extra coats and wraps, as well as their lunches. The +closet had also been used as a reformatory for refractory pupils, and +this was one reason why Gabriel remembered it so well; he had spent +numerous uncomfortable hours there at a time when darkness and isolation +had real terrors for him. + +The building had been abandoned by the whites during the war, and was +for a time used as a hospital. At the close of the war it was turned +over to the negroes, who established there a flourishing school, which +was presided over by a native Southerner, an old gentleman whom the war +had stripped of this world's goods. + +Gabriel thought it best to begin operations before the sun went down. He +made a detour wide enough to place the school-house between him and +Shady Dale, so that if by any chance his movements should attract +attention he would have the appearance of approaching the building quite +by accident. Under the circumstances, it was perhaps fortunate that he +took this precaution, for when he drew near the school-house, the Rev. +Jeremiah Tomlin was standing in the back door flourishing a broom. + +"Hello, Jeremiah!" said Gabriel by way of salutation. "What's up now?" + +"Good-evenin', Mister Gabe," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. "Dey been +havin' some plasterin' done in my chu'ch, suh, an' we 'lowd we'd hol' +pra'r-meetin' here ter-night. An' I'll tell you why, suh: You know +mighty well how we coloured folks does--we ain't got nothin' fer ter +hide, an' we couldn't hide it ef we did had sump'n. Well, suh, dem +mongst us what got any erligion is bleeze ter show it; when de sperret +move um, dey bleeze ter let one an'er know it; an' in dat way, suh, dey +do a heap er movin' 'bout. Dey rastles wid Satan, ez you may say, when +dey gits in a weavin' way; an' I wuz fear'd, suh, dat dey mought shake +de damp plasterin' down." + +"But you have no pulpit here," suggested Gabriel, who associated a +pulpit with all religious gatherings. + +"So much de better, suh," replied the Rev. Jeremiah. "Ef you wuz ter +come ter my chu'ch, you'd allers see me come down when I gits warmed up. +Dey ain't no pulpit big nuff for me long about dat time. No, suh; I'm +bleeze ter have elbow-room, an' I'm mighty glad dey ain't no pulpit in +here. But whar you been, Mr. Gabe?" inquired the Rev. Jeremiah, craftily +changing the subject. + +"Just walking about in the woods and fields," answered Gabriel. + +"'Twant no use fer ter ax you, suh; you been doin' dat sence you wuz big +nuff ter clime a fence. Ef you wan't wid Miss Nan, you wuz by yo'se'f. I +uv seed you many a day, suh, when you didn't see me. You wuz wid Miss +Nan dis ve'y day." The Rev. Jeremiah dropped his head to one side, and +smiled a knowing smile. "Oh, you needn't be shame un it, suh," the negro +went on as the colour slowly mounted to Gabriel's face. "I uv said it +befo' an' I'll say it ag'in, an' I don't keer who hears me--Miss Nan is +boun' ter make de finest 'oman in de lan'. An' dat ain't all, suh: when +I hear folks hintin' dat she's gwine ter make a match wid Mr. Frank +Bethune, sez I, 'Des keep yo' eye on Mr. Gabe'; dat zackly what I sez." + +"Oh, the dickens and Tom Walker!" exclaimed Gabriel impatiently; "who's +been talking of the affairs of Miss Dorrington in that way?" + +"Why, purty nigh eve'ybody, suh," remarked the Rev. Jeremiah, smacking +his lips. "What white folks say in de parlour, you kin allers hear in de +kitchen." + +After firing this homely truth at Gabriel, the Rev. Jeremiah went to +work with his broom and made a great pretence of sweeping and moving the +benches about. The lad followed him in, and looked about him with +interest. It was the first time he had revisited the old school-house +since he was a boy of ten, and he was pleased to find that there had +been few changes. The desk at which he had sat was intact. His initials, +rudely carved, stared him in the face, and there, too, was the hole he +had cut in the seat. He remembered that this was a dungeon in which he +had imprisoned many a fly. These mute evidences of his idleness seemed +to be as solid as the hills. Between those times and the present, the +wild and furious perspective of war lay spread out, and Gabriel could +imagine that the idler who had hacked the desk belonged to another +generation altogether. + +He went to the blackboard, found a piece of chalk, and wrote in a large, +bold hand: "Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin will lecture here to-night, beginning +at early candle-light." + +The Rev. Jeremiah, witnessing the performance, had his curiosity +aroused: "What is de word you uv writ, suh?" he inquired, and when +Gabriel had read it off, the negro exclaimed, "Well, suh! You put all +dat down, an' it didn't take you no time; no, suh, not no time. But I +might uv speckted it, bekase I hear lots er talk about how smart you is +on all sides--dey all sesso." + +"Does Tasma Tid belong to your church?" Gabriel inquired with a most +innocent air. + +"Do which, suh?" exclaimed Rev. Jeremiah, pausing with his broom +suspended in the air. When Gabriel repeated his inquiry, the Rev. +Jeremiah drew a deep breath, his nostrils dilated, and he seemed to grow +several inches taller. "No, suh, she do not; no, suh, she do not belong +ter my chu'ch. You kin look at her, suh, an' see de mark er de Ol' Boy +on her. She got de hoodoo eye, suh; an' de blue gums dat go long wid it, +an' ef she wuz ter jine my chu'ch, she'd be de only member." + +It was very clear to Gabriel that nothing was to be gained by remaining, +so he bade the Rev. Jeremiah good-bye, and went toward Shady Dale. When +he was well out of sight, the negro approached the blackboard, and, with +the most patient curiosity, examined the inscription or announcement +that Gabriel had written. With his forefinger, he traced over the lines, +as if in that way he might absorb the knowledge that was behind the +writing. Then, stepping back a few paces, he viewed the writing +critically. Finally he shook his head doubtfully, exclaiming aloud: +"Dat's whar dey'll git us--yes, suh, dat's whar dey sho' will git us." + +After which, he carefully closed the doors of the school-house and +followed the path leading to Shady Dale--the path that Gabriel had +taken. The Rev. Jeremiah mumbled as he walked along, giving oral +utterance to his thoughts, but in a tone too low to reveal their import. +He had taken a step which it was now too late to retrace. He was not a +vicious negro. In common with the great majority of his race--in +common, perhaps with the men of all races--he was eaten up by a desire +to become prominent, to make himself conspicuous. Generations of +civilisation (as it is called) have gone far to tone down this desire in +the whites, and they manage to control it to some extent, though now and +then we see it crop out in individuals. But there had been no toning +down of the Rev. Jeremiah's egotism; on the contrary, it had been fed by +the flattery of his congregation until it was gross and rank. + +It was natural, therefore, under all the circumstances, that the Rev. +Jeremiah should become the willing tool of the politicians and +adventurers who had accepted the implied invitation of the radical +leaders of the Republican Party to assist in the spoliation of the +South. The Rev. Jeremiah, once he had been patted on the back, and +addressed as Mr. Tomlin by a white man, and that man a representative of +the Government, was quite ready to believe anything he was told by his +new friends, and quite as ready to aid them in carrying out any scheme +that their hatred of the South and their natural rapacity could suggest +or invent. + +Therefore, let it not be supposed that the Rev. Jeremiah, as he went +along the path, mumbling out his thoughts, was expressing any doubt of +the wisdom or expediency of the part he was expected to play in arraying +the negroes against the whites. No; he was simply putting together as +many sonorous phrases as he could remember, and storing them away in +view of the contingency that he would be called on to address those of +his race who might be present at the organisation of the Union League. +He had been very busy since his conference with the agent of the +Freedman's Bureau, and, in one way and another, had managed to convey +information of the proposed meeting to quite a number of the negroes; +and in performing this service he was careful that a majority of those +notified should be members of his church--negroes with whom his +influence was all-powerful. But he had also invited Uncle Plato, +Clopton's carriage-driver, Wiley Millirons, and Walthall's Jake, three +of the worthiest and most sensible negroes to be found anywhere. + +While the Rev. Jeremiah, full of his own importance, and swelling with +childish vanity, was making his way toward Neighbour Tomlin's, on whose +lot he had a house, rent free, there were other plotters at work. In +addition to Gabriel Tolliver, Nan Dorrington was a plotter to be +reckoned with, especially when she had as her copartner Tasma Tid, who +was as cunning as some wild thing. + +When the day was far spent, or, as Mrs. Absalom would say, "along to'rds +the shank of the evenin'," Nan and Tasma Tid went wandering out of town +in the direction of the school-house. The excuse Nan had given at home +was that she wanted to see Tasma Tid's hiding-place. As they passed +Tomlin's, they saw the Rev. Jeremiah splitting wood for his wife, who +was the cook. At sight of Jeremiah, Tasma Tid began to laugh, and she +laughed so long and so loud that the parson paused in his labours and +looked at her. He took off his hat and bowed to Nan, whereupon Tasma Tid +raised her hand above her head, and indulged in a series of wild +gesticulations, which, to the Rev. Jeremiah, were very mysterious and +puzzling. He shook his head dubiously, and mopped his face with a large +red handkerchief. + +"What are you trying to do to Jeremiah?" inquired Nan, as they went +along. + +"Him fool nigger. We make him dream bad dream," responded Tasma Tid +curtly. + +The two were in no hurry. They sauntered along leisurely, and, although +the sun had not set, by the time they had entered the woods in which the +school-house stood, the deep shadows of the trees gave the effect of +twilight to the scene. Tasma Tid led Nan to the old building, and told +her to wait a moment. The African crawled under the house, and then +suddenly reappeared at the back door, near which Nan stood waiting. +Tasma Tid had crawled under the house, and lifted a loose plank in the +floor of the closet, making her entrance in that way. The front door was +locked and the key was safe in the pocket of the Rev. Jeremiah, but the +back door was fastened on the inside, and Tasma Tid had no trouble in +getting it open. + +It is fair to say that Nan hesitated before entering. Some instinct or +presentiment held her a moment. She was not afraid; her sense of fear +had never developed itself; it was one of the attributes of human nature +that was foreign to her experience; and this was why some of her +actions, when she was younger, and likewise when she was older, were +inexplicable to the rest of her sex, and made her the object of +criticism which seemed to have good ground to go upon. Nan hesitated +with her foot on the step, but it was not her way to draw back, and she +went in. Tasma Tid refastened the door very carefully, and then turned +and led the way toward the closet. The room was not wholly dark; one or +two of the shutters had fallen off, and in this way a little light +filtered in. Nan followed Tasma Tid to the closet, the door of which was +open. + +"Dis-a we house," said Tasma Tid; "dis-a de place wey we live at." + +"Why did you come here?" Nan asked. + +"We had no nurrer place; all-a we frien' gone; da's why." + +What further comment Nan may have made cannot even be guessed, for at +that moment there was a noise at one of the windows; some one was trying +to raise the sash. Nan and Tasma Tid held their breath while they +listened, and then, when they were sure that some one was preparing to +enter the building, the African closed the closet door noiselessly, and +pulled Nan after her to the narrowest and most uncomfortable part of the +musty and dusty place--the space next the stairway, where it was so low +that they were compelled to sit flat on the floor. + +The intruder, whoever he might be, crawled cautiously through the +window--they could hear the buttons of his coat strike against the +sill--and leaped lightly to the floor. He lowered the window again, and +then, after tiptoeing about among the benches, came straight to the +closet. As Tasma Tid had not taken time to fasten it on the inside, the +door was easily opened. Dark as it was, Nan and the African could see +that the intruder was a man, but, beyond this, they could distinguish +nothing. Nan and her companion would have breathed freer if recognition +had been possible, for the new-comer was Gabriel, who had determined to +take this method of discovering the aim and object of the Union League. + +Once in the closet, Gabriel took pains to make the inside fastenings +secure. It was one of the whims of Mr. McManus, the school-master, who +had so often caused Gabriel's head and the blackboard to meet, that the +fastenings of this closet should be upon the inside. It tickled his +humour to feel that a refractory boy should be his own jailer, able, and +yet not daring, to release himself until the master should rap sharply +on the door. + +Gabriel was less familiar with these fastenings than he had formerly +been, and he fumbled about in the dark for some moments before he could +adjust them to his satisfaction. He made no effort to explore the +closet, taking for granted that it could have no other occupant. This +was fortunate for Nan, for if he had moved about to any extent, he would +inevitably have stumbled over the African and her young mistress, who +were crouched and huddled as far under the stairway as they could get. + +Gabriel stood still a moment, as if listening, and then he sat flat on +the floor, and stretched out his legs with a sigh of relief. After that +there was a long period of silence, during which Nan had a fine +opportunity to be very sorry that she had ever ventured out on such a +fool's errand. "If I get out of this scrape," she thought over and over +again, "I'll never be a tomboy; I'll never be a harum-scarum girl any +more." She had no physical fear, but she realised that she was placed in +a very awkward position. + +She was devoured with curiosity to know whether the intruder really was +Gabriel. She hoped it was, and the hope caused her to blush in the dark. +She knew she was blushing; she felt her ears burn--for what would +Gabriel think if he knew that she was crouching on the floor, not more +than an arm's length from him? Why, naturally, he would have no respect +for her. How could he? she asked herself. + +As for Gabriel, he was sublimely unconscious of the fact that he was not +alone. Once or twice he fancied he heard some one breathing, but he was +a lad who was very close to nature, and he knew how many strange and +varied sounds rise mysteriously out of the most profound silence; and +so, instead of becoming suspicious, he became drowsy. He made himself as +comfortable as he could, and leaned against the wall, pitting his +patience against the loneliness of the place and the slow passage of +time. + +Being a healthy lad, Gabriel would have gone to sleep then and there, +but for a mysterious splutter and explosion, so to speak, which went off +right at his elbow, as he supposed. He was in that neutral territory +between sleeping and waking and he was unable to recognise the sound +that had startled him; and it would have remained a mystery but for the +fact that a sneeze is usually accompanied by its twin. Nan had for some +time felt an inclination to sneeze, and the more she tried to resist it +the greater the inclination grew, until finally, it culminated in the +spluttering explosion that had aroused Gabriel. This was followed by a +sneeze which he had no difficulty in recognising. + +The fact that some unknown person was a joint occupant of the closet +upset him so little that he was surprised at himself. He remained +perfectly quiet for awhile, endeavouring to map out a course of action, +little knowing that Nan Dorrington was chewing her nails with anger a +few feet from where he sat. + +"Who are you?" he asked finally. He spoke in a firm low tone. + +In another moment Nan's impulsiveness would have betrayed her, but Tasma +Tid came to her rescue. + +"Huccum you in we house? Whaffer you come dey? How you call you' name?" + +"Oh, shucks! Is that you, Tiddy Me Tas?"--this was the way Gabriel +sometimes twisted her name. "I thought you were the booger-man. You'd +better run along home to your Miss Nan. She says she wants to see you. +What are you hiding out here for anyway?" + +"We no hide, Misser Gable. 'Tis-a we house, dis. Honey Nan no want we; +she no want nobody. She talkin' by dat Misser Frank what live-a down dey +at Clopton. Dee got cake, dee got wine, dee got all de bittle dee want." + +Tasma Tid told this whopper in spite of the fact that Nan was giving her +warning nudges and pinches. + +"Yes, I reckon they are having a good time," said Gabriel gloomily. +"Miss Nan gave me an invitation, but I couldn't go." It was something +new in Nan's experience to hear Gabriel call her Miss Nan, and she +rather relished the sensation it gave her. She was now ready to believe +that she was really and truly a young lady. + +"Whaffer you ain't gone down dey?" inquired Tasma Tid. "Ef you kin come +dis-a way, you kin go down dey." + +"I was obliged to come here," responded Gabriel. + +"Shoo! dem fib roll out lak dey been had grease on top um," exclaimed +Tasma Tid derisively. "Who been ax you fer come by dis way? 'Tis-a we +house, dis. You better go, Misser Gable; go by dat place wey Honey Nan +live, an' look in de blin' wey you see dat Misser Frank, and dat Misser +Paul Tomlin, an' watch um how dee kin make love. Maybe you kin fin' out +how fer make love you'se'f." + +Gabriel laughed uneasily. "No, Tiddy Me Tas--no love-making for me. I'm +either too old or too young, I forget which." + +They ceased talking, for they heard footsteps outside, and the sound of +voices. Presently some one opened the door, and it seemed from the noise +that was made, the shuffling of feet, and the repressed tones of +conversation, that a considerable number of negroes had responded to the +Rev. Jeremiah's invitation. + +The first-comers evidently lit a candle, for a phantom-like shadow of +light trickled through a small crack in the closet door, and a faint, +but unmistakable, odour of a sulphur match readied Gabriel's nostrils. +There were whispered consultations, and a good deal of muffled and +subdued conversation, but every word that was distinctly enunciated was +clearly heard in the sound-box of a closet. But suddenly all +conversation ceased, and complete silence took possession of those +present. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +_The Union League Organises_ + + +The silence was presently broken by a very clear and distinct voice, +which both Nan and Gabriel recognised as that of the stranger whom they +had overheard talking to the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"Before we proceed to the business that has called us together," said +the voice, "it is best that we should come to some clear understanding. +I am not here in my own behalf. I have nothing to lose except my life, +and nothing to gain but the betterment of those who have been released +from the horrors of slavery. Very few of you know even my name, but the +very fact that I am here with you to-night should go far to reassure +you. It is sufficient to say that I represent the great party that has +given you your freedom. That fact constitutes my credentials." + +"Bless God!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah, piously. He rolled the word +"credentials" under his tongue, and resolved to remember it and bring it +out in one of his sermons. The stranger had a very smooth and pleasing +delivery. There was a sort of Sunday-school cadence to his voice well +calculated to impress his audience. The language he employed was far +above the heads of those to whom he spoke, but his persuasive tone, and +his engaging manner carried conviction. The great majority of the +negroes present were ready to believe what he said whether they +understood it or not. + +"My name," he went on, "is Gilbert Hotchkiss, and I belong to a family +that has been striving for more than a generation to bring about the +emancipation of the negroes. My father worked until the day of his death +for the abolition of slavery; and now that slavery has been abolished, +I, with thousands of devoted women and men whom you have never seen and +doubtless never will see, have begun the work of uplifting the coloured +people in order that they may be placed in a position to appreciate the +benefits that have been conferred on them, and enable them to enjoy the +fruits of freedom. It is a great work, a grand work, and all we ask is +the active co-operation and assistance of the coloured people +themselves." + +These were the words of Mr. Hotchkiss, the philanthropist; but now Mr. +Hotchkiss, the politician, took his place, and there was an indefinable +change in the tone of his voice. + +"There is no need to ask," he said, "why we do not, in this great work +of uplifting the coloured race, ask the assistance of those who were +lately in rebellion against the best and the greatest Government on +which the sun ever shone. It would be foolish and unreasonable to expect +their assistance. They fought to destroy the Union, and they were +defeated; they fought to perpetuate slavery, and they failed. More than +that, there is every reason to believe that they will refuse to abide +by the results of the war. They are very quiet now, but they are merely +waiting their opportunity. With our troops withdrawn, and with the +Republican Party weakened by opposition, what is to prevent your late +masters from placing you back in slavery? Could we expect anything less +from those who have been brought up to believe that slavery is a divine +institution?" + +"You hear dat, people?" cried the Rev. Jeremiah. + +"You cannot help believing," continued Mr. Hotchkiss, "that your former +masters would force the chains of slavery on you if they could; all they +lack is the opportunity; and if you are not careful, they will find an +opportunity, or make one. Slavery was profitable to them once, and it +would be profitable again. There is one fact you should never forget," +said the speaker, warming up a little. "It is a most stupendous fact, +namely: that every dollar's worth of property in all this Southern land +has been earned by the labour of your hands and by the sweat of your +brows. It has been earned by you, not once, but many times over. You +have earned every dollar that has ever circulated here. The lands, the +houses, the stock, and all the farm improvements are a part of the +fruits of negro labour; and when right and justice prevail, this +property, or a very large part of it, will be yours." + +This statement was received with demonstrations of approval, one of the +audience exclaiming: "You sho' is talkin' now, boss!" + +"But how are right and justice to prevail? Only by the constant and +continued success of the party of which the martyred Lincoln was the +leader. The mission of that party has not yet been fulfilled. First, it +made you freemen. Then it went a step further, and made you citizens and +voters. Should you sustain it by your votes, it will take still another +step, and give you an opportunity to reap some of the fruits of your +toil, as well as the toil of the unfortunates who pined away and died or +who were starved under the infamous system of slavery." + +"Ain't it de trufe!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah fervently. + +"We have met here to-night to organise a Union League," continued Mr. +Hotchkiss. "The object of this league is to bring about a unity of +purpose and action among its members, to give them opportunities to +confer together, and to secure a clear understanding. No one knows what +will happen. Your former masters are jealous of your rights; they will +try by every means in their power to take these rights away from you. +They will employ both force and fraud, and the only way for you to meet +and overcome this danger is to organise. Ten men who understand one +another and act together are more powerful than a hundred who act as +individuals. You must be as wise as serpents, but not as harmless as +doves. Your rights have been bought for you by the blood of thousands of +martyrs, and you must defend them. If necessary arm yourselves. Yea! if +necessary apply the torch." + +There was a certain air of plausibility about this harangue, a degree +of earnestness, that impressed Gabriel, and he does not know to this day +whether this ill-informed emissary of race hatred and sectional +prejudice really believed all that he said. Who shall judge? Certainly +not those who remember the temper of those times, the revengeful +attitude of the radical leaders at the North, and the distorted fears of +those who suddenly found themselves surrounded by a horde of ignorant +voters, pliant tools in the hands of unscrupulous carpet-baggers. + +Hotchkiss brought his remarks to a close, and then proceeded to read the +constitution and by-laws of the proposed Union League, under which, he +explained, hundreds of leagues had been organised. Each one who desired +to become a member was to make oath separately and individually that he +would not betray the secrets of the league, nor disclose the signs and +passwords, nor tolerate any opposition to the Republican Party, nor have +any unnecessary dealings with rebels and former slave-holders. He was to +keep eyes and ears open, and report all important developments to the +league. + +"We are now ready, I presume, for the ceremonies to begin," remarked Mr. +Hotchkiss. "First we will elect officers of the league, and I suggest +that the Honourable Jeremiah Tomlin be made President." + +"Dat's right!" "He sho is de man!" "No needs fer ter put dat ter de +question!" were some of the indorsements that came from various parts of +the room. + +The Rev. Jeremiah was immensely tickled by the title of Honourable that +had been so unexpectedly bestowed on him. He hung his head with as much +modesty as he could summon, and, bearing in mind his calling, one might +have been pardoned for suspecting that he was offering up a brief prayer +of thanksgiving. He rose in his place, however, passed the back of his +hand across his mouth, paused a moment, and then began: + +"Mr. Cheer, I thank you an' deze friends might'ly fer de renomination er +my name, an' de gener'l endossments er de balance er deze gentermen. So +fur, so good. But, Mr. Cheer, 'fo' we gits right spang down ter +business, I moves dat some er de br'ers be ax'd fer ter give der idee er +dis plan which have been laid befo' us by our hon'bul frien'. I moves +dot we hear fum Br'er Plato Clopton, ef so be de sperret is on him fer +ter gi' us his sesso." + +Uncle Plato, taken somewhat by surprise, was slow in responding, but +when he rose, he presented a striking figure. He was taller than the +average negro, and there was a simple dignity--an air of gentility and +serene affability--in his attitude and bearing that attracted the +attention of Mr. Hotchkiss. The Rev. Jeremiah was still standing, and +Uncle Plato, after bowing gracefully to Mr. Hotchkiss, turned with a +smile to the negro who had called on him. + +"You know mighty well, Br'er Jerry, dat I ain't sech a talker ez ter git +up an' say my say des dry so, an' let it go at dat. Howsomever, I laid +off ter say sump'n, an' I ain't sorry you called my name. In what's been +said dey's a heap dat I 'gree wid. I b'lieve dat de cullud folks oughter +work tergedder, an' stan tergedder fer ter he'p an' be holped. But when +you call on me fer ter turn my back on my marster, an' go to hatin' 'im, +you'll hatter skuzen me. You sho will." + +"He ain't yo' marster now, Br'er Plato, an' you know it," said the Rev. +Jeremiah. + +"I know dat mighty well," replied Uncle Plato, "but ef it don't hurt my +feelin's fer ter call him dat it oughtn't ter pester yuther people. How +it may be wid you all, I dunno; but me an' my marster wus boys +tergedder. We useter play wid one an'er, an' fall out an' fight, an' +I've whipped him des ez many times ez he ever whipped me--an' he'll tell +you de same." + +"But all this," suggested Mr. Hotchkiss coldly, "has nothing to do with +the matter in hand. The coloured race is facing conditions that amount +to a crisis--a crisis that has no parallel in the world's history." + +"Dat is suttinly so!" the Rev. Jeremiah ejaculated, though he had but a +dim notion of what Hotchkiss was talking about. + +"They have been made citizens," pursued the organiser, "and it is their +duty to demand all their rights and to be satisfied with nothing less. +The best men of our party believe that the rebels are still rebellious, +and that they will seize the first opportunity to re-enslave the +coloured people." + +"Ah-yi!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah triumphantly. + +"Does you reely b'lieve, Br'er Jerry, dat Pulaski Tomlin will ever try +ter put you back in slav'ry?" asked Uncle Plato. + +The inquiry was a poser, and the Rev. Jeremiah was unable to make any +satisfactory reply. Perceiving this, Mr. Hotchkiss came to the rescue. +"You must bear in mind," he blandly remarked, "that this is not a +question of one person here and another person there. It concerns a +whole race. Should all the former slave-owners of the South succeed in +reclaiming their slaves, Mr. Tomlin and Mr. Clopton would be compelled +by public sentiment to reclaim theirs. If they refused to do so, their +former slaves would fall into the hands of new masters. It is not a +question of individuals at all." + +"Well, suh, we'll fin' out atter awhile dat we'll hatter do like de +white folks. Eve'y tub'll hatter stan' on its own bottom. I'm des ez +free now ez I wuz twenty year ago----" + +"I can well believe that, after what you have said," Mr. Hotchkiss +interrupted. + +The tone of his voice was as smooth as velvet, but his words carried the +sting of an imputation, and Uncle Plato felt it and resented it. "Yes, +suh,--an' I wuz des ez free twenty year ago ez you all will ever be. My +marster has been good ter me fum de work go. I ain't stayin' wid 'im +bekaze he got money. Ef him an' Miss Sa'ah di'n'a have a dollar in de +worl', an no way ter git it, I'd work my arms off fer 'm. An' ef I +'fused ter do it, my wife'd quit me, an' my chillun wouldn't look at me. +But I'll tell you what I'll do: when my marster tu'ns his back on me +I'll tu'n my back on him." + +"I'm really sorry that you persist in making this question a personal +one when it affects all the negroes now living and millions yet to be +born," said Mr. Hotchkiss. + +"Well, suh, le's look at it dat away," Uncle Plato insisted. "Spoz'n you +ban' tergedder like dis, an' try ter tu'n de white folks ag'in you, an' +dey see what you up ter, an' tu'n der backs, den what you gwine ter do? +You got ter live here an' you got ter make yo' livin' here. Is you gwine +ter cripple de cow dat gives de cream?" + +Uncle Plato paused and looked around. He saw at once that he was in a +hopeless minority, and so he reached for his hat. "I'm mighty glad ter +know you, suh," he said to Mr. Hotchkiss, with a bow that Chesterfield +might have envied, "but I'll hatter bid you good-night." With that, he +went out, followed by Wiley Millirons and Walthall's Jake, much to the +relief of the Rev. Jeremiah, who proceeded to denounce "white folks' +niggers," and to utter some very violent threats. + +Then, in no long time, the Union League was organised. Those in the +closet failed to hear the words that constituted the ceremony of +initiation. Only low mutterings came to their ears. But the ceremony +consisted of a lot of mummery well calculated to impress the +simple-minded negroes. After a time the meeting adjourned, the solitary +candle was blown out, and the last negro departed. + +Gabriel waited until all sounds had died away, and then, with a brief +good-night to Tasma Tid, he opened the closet door, slipped out, and was +soon on his way home. But before he was out of the dark grove, some one +went flitting by him--in fact, he thought he saw two figures dimly +outlined in the darkness; yet he was not sure--and presently he thought +he heard a mocking laugh, which sounded very much as if it had issued +from the lips of Nan Dorrington. But he was not sure that he heard the +laugh, and how, he asked himself, could he imagine that it was Nan +Dorrington's even if he had heard it? He told himself confidentially, +the news to go no further, that he was a drivelling idiot. + +As Gabriel went along he soon forgot his momentary impressions as to the +two figures in the dark and the laugh that had seemed to come floating +back to him. The suave and well-modulated voice of Mr. Hotchkiss rang in +his ears. He had but one fault to find with the delivery: Mr. Hotchkiss +dwelt on his r's until they were as long as a fishing-pole, and as sharp +as a shoemaker's awl. Though these magnified r's made Gabriel's flesh +crawl, he had been very much impressed by the address, only part of +which has been reported here. Boylike, he never paused to consider the +motives or the ulterior purpose of the speaker. Gabriel knew of course +that there was no intention on the part of the whites to re-enslave the +negroes; he knew that there was not even a desire to do so. He knew, +too, that there were many incendiary hints in the address--hints that +were illuminated and emphasised more by the inflections of the speaker's +voice than by the words in which they were conveyed. In spite of the +fact that he resented these hints as keenly as possible, he could see +the plausibility of the speaker's argument in so far as it appealed to +the childish fears and doubts and uneasiness of the negroes. If anything +could be depended on, he thought, to promote a spirit of incendiarism +among the negroes such an address would be that thing. + +If Gabriel had attended some of the later meetings of the league, he +would have discovered that the address he had heard was a milk-and-water +affair, compared with some of the harangues that were made to the +negroes in the old school-house. + +All that Gabriel had heard was duly reported to Meriwether Clopton, and +to Mr. Sanders, and in a very short time all the whites in the community +became aware of the fact that the negroes were taking lessons in +race-hatred and incendiarism, and as a natural result, Hotchkiss became +a marked man. His comings and goings were all noted, so much so that he +soon found it convenient as well as comfortable to make his +head-quarters in the country, at the home of Judge Mahlon Butts, whose +Union principles had carried him into the Republican Party. The Judge +lived a mile and a half from the corporation line, and Mr. Hotchkiss's +explanation for moving there was that the exercise to be found in +walking back and forth was necessary to his health. + +Uncle Plato was very much surprised the next day to be called into the +house where Mr. Sanders was sitting with Meriwether Clopton and Miss +Sarah in order that they might shake hands with him. + +"I want to shake your hand, Plato," said his old master. "I've always +thought a great deal of you, but I think more of you to-day than ever +before." + +"And you must shake hands with me, Plato," remarked Sarah Clopton. + +"Well, sence shakin' han's is comin' more into fashion these days, I +reckon you'll have to shake wi' me," declared Mr. Sanders. + +"I declar' ter gracious I dunner whedder you all is makin' fun er me or +not!" exclaimed Uncle Plato. "But sump'n sholy must 'a' happened, kaze +des now when I wuz downtown Mr. Alford call me in his sto' an' 'low, +'Plato, when you wanter buy anything, des come right in, money er no +money, kaze yo' credit des ez good in here ez de best man in town.' I +dunner what done come over eve'ybody." He went away laughing. + +Nevertheless, Uncle Plato was more seriously affected by the schemes of +Mr. Hotchkiss than any other inhabitant of Shady Dale. He had been a +leader in the Rev. Jeremiah's church, and up to the day of the +organisation of the Union League, had wielded an influence among the +negroes second only to that of the Rev. Jeremiah himself. But now all +was changed. He soon found that he would have to resign his deaconship, +for those whom he had regarded as his spiritual brethren were now his +enemies--at any rate they were no longer his friends. + +But Uncle Plato had one consolation in his troubles, and that was the +strong indorsement and support of Aunt Charity, his wife, who was the +cook at Clopton's, famous from one end of the State to the other for her +biscuits and waffles. Uncle Plato had been somewhat dubious about her +attitude, for the negro women had developed the most intense +partisanship, and some of them were loud in their threats, going much +further than the men. No doubt Aunt Charity would have taken a different +course had she been in her husband's place, if only for the sake of her +colour, as she called her race. She was very fond of her own white +folks, but she had her prejudices against the rest. + +When Uncle Plato reached home and told his wife what he had said and +done, she drew a long breath and looked at him hard for some time. Then +she took up her pipe from the chimney-corner, remarking, "Well, what you +done, you done; dar's yo' supper." + +Uncle Plato had a remarkably good appetite, and while he ate, Aunt +Charity sat near a window and looked out at the stars. She was getting +together in her mind a supply of personal reminiscences, of which she +had a goodly store. Presently, she began to shake with laughter, which +she tried to suppress. Uncle Plato mistook the sound he heard for an +evidence of grief, and he spoke up promptly: + +"I declar' ef I'd 'a' know'd I wuz gwine ter hurt yo' feelings, I'd 'a' +j'ined in wid um den an' dar. An' 'taint too late yit. I kin go ter +Br'er Jerry an' tell him whilst I ain't change my own min' I'll j'ine in +wid um druther dan be offish an' mule-headed." + +"No you won't! no you won't! no you won't!" exclaimed Aunt Charity. "I +mought 'a' done diffunt, an' I mought 'a' done wrong. We'll hatter git +out'n de church, ef you kin call it a church, but dat ain't so mighty +hard ter do. Yit, 'fo' we does git out I'm gwine ter preach ol' Jerry's +funer'l one time--des one time. Dat what make me laugh des now; I was +runnin' over in my min' how I kin raise his hide. Some folks got de +idee dat kaze I'm fat I'm bleeze ter be long-sufferin'; but you know +better'n dat, don't you?" + +"Well, I know dis," said Uncle Plato, wiping his mouth with the back of +his hand, "when you git yo' dander up you kin talk loud an' long." + +"Miss Sa'ah done tol' me dat when I git mad, I kin keep up a +conversation ez long ez de nex' one," remarked Aunt Charity, with real +pride. "An' den dar's dat hat Miss Sa'ah gi' me; I laid off ter w'ar it +ter church nex' Sunday, but now--well, I speck I better des w'ar my +head-hankcher, kaze dey's sho gwine ter be trouble ef any un um look at +me cross-eyed." + +"You gwine, is you?" Uncle Plato asked. + +"Ef I live," replied Aunt Charity, "I'm des ez good ez dar right now. +An' mo' dan dat, you'll go too. 'Tain't gwineter be said dat de Clopton +niggers hung der heads bekaze dey stood by der own white folks. Ef it's +said, it'll hatter be said 'bout some er de yuthers." + +"I'll go," said Uncle Plato, "but I hope I won't hatter frail Br'er +Jerry out." + +"Now, dat's right whar we gits crossways," Aunt Charity declared. "I +hope you'll hatter frail 'im out." + +Fortunately, Uncle Plato had no excuse for using his walking-cane on the +Rev. Jeremiah, when Sunday came. None of the church-members made any +active show of animosity. They simply held themselves aloof. Aunt +Charity had her innings, however. When services were over, and the +congregation was slowly filing out of the building, followed by the Rev. +Jeremiah, she remarked loud enough for all to hear her: + +"Br'er Jerry, de nex' time you want me ter cook pullets fer dat ar +Lizzie Gaither, des fetch um 'long. I'll be glad ter 'blige you." + +As the Rev. Jeremiah's wife was close at hand, the closing scenes can be +better imagined than described. In this chronicle the veil of silence +must be thrown over them. + +It may be said, nevertheless, that Uncle Plato and his wife felt very +keenly the awkward position in which they were placed by the increasing +prejudice of the rest of the negroes. They were both sociable in their +natures, but now they were practically cut off from all association with +those who had been their very good friends. It was a real sacrifice they +had to make. On the other hand, who shall say that their firmness in +this matter was not the means of preventing, at least in Shady Dale, +many of the misfortunes that fell to the lot of the negroes elsewhere? +There can hardly be a doubt that their attitude, firm and yet modest, +had a restraining influence on some of the more reckless negroes, who, +under the earnest but dangerous teachings of Hotchkiss and his +fellow-workers, would otherwise have been led into excesses which would +have called for bloody reprisals. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +_Nan and Her Young Lady Friends_ + + +Nan Dorrington found a pretty howdy-do at her house when she reached +home the night the Union League was organised. The members of the +household were all panic-stricken when the hours passed and Nan failed +to return. Ordinarily, there would have been no alarm whatever, but a +little after dark, Eugenia Claiborne, accompanied by a little negro +girl, came to Dorrington's to find out why Nan had failed to keep her +engagement. She had promised to take supper with Eugenia, and to spend +the night. + +It will be remembered that Nan was on her way to present her excuses to +Eugenia when the spectacle of Mr. Sanders, tipsy and talkative, had +attracted her attention. She thought no more of her engagement, and for +the time being Eugenia was to Nan as if she had never existed. +Meanwhile, the members of the Dorrington household, if they thought of +Nan at all, concluded that she had gone to the Gaither Place, where +Eugenia lived. But when Miss Claiborne came seeking her, why that put +another face on affairs. Eugenia decided to wait for her; but when the +long minutes, and the half hours and the hours passed, and Nan failed to +make her appearance, Mrs. Absalom began to grow nervous, and Mrs. +Dorrington went from room to room with a very long face. She could have +made a very shrewd guess as to Nan's whereabouts, but she didn't dare to +admit, even to herself, that the girl had been so indiscreet as to go in +person to the rescue of Gabriel. + +They waited and waited, until at last Mrs. Dorrington suggested that +something should be done. "I don't know what," she said, "but something; +that would be better than sitting here waiting." + +Mrs. Absalom insisted on keeping up an air of bravado. "The child's safe +wherever she is. She's been a rippittin' 'round all day tryin' to git +old Billy Sanders sober, an' more'n likely she's sot down some'rs an' +fell asleep. Ef folks could sleep off the'r sins, Nan'd be a saint." + +"But wherever she is, she isn't here," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, +tearfully; "and here is where she should be. I wonder what her father +will say when he comes?" Dr. Dorrington had gone to visit a patient in +the country. + +"Perhaps she went with him," Eugenia suggested. + +"No fear of that," said Mrs. Absalom. "Ridin' in a gig is too much like +work for Nan to be fond of it. No; she's some'rs she's got no business, +an' ef I could lay my hand on her, I'd jerk her home so quick, her head +would swim worse than old Billy Sanders's does when he's full up to the +chin." + +After awhile, Eugenia said she had waited long enough, but Mrs. +Dorrington looked at her with such imploring eyes that she hesitated. +"If you go," said the lady, "I will feel that Nan is not coming, but as +long as you stay, I have hope that she will run in any moment. She is +with that Tasma Tid, and I think it is terrible that we can't get rid of +that negro. I have never been able to like negroes." + +"Well, you needn't be too hard on the niggers," declared Mrs. Absalom. +"Everything they know, everything they do, everything they +say--everything--they have larnt from the white folks. Study a nigger +right close, an' you'll ketch a glimpse of how white folks would look +an' do wi'out the'r trimmin's." + +"Oh, perhaps so," assented Mrs. Dorrington, with a little shrug of the +shoulders which said a good deal plainer than words, "You couldn't make +me believe that." + +Just as Dr. Dorrington drove up, and just as Mrs. Absalom was about to +get her bonnet, for the purpose, as she said, of "scouring the town," +Nan came running in out of breath. "Oh, such a time as I've had!" she +exclaimed. "You'll not be angry with me, Eugenia, when you hear all! +Talk of adventures! Well, I have had one at last, after waiting all +these years! Don't scold me, Nonny, until you know where I've been and +what I've done. And poor Johnny has been crying, and having all sorts of +wild thoughts about poor me. Don't go, Eugenia; I am going with you in a +moment--just as soon as I can gather my wits about me. I am perfectly +wild." + +"Tell us something new," said Mrs. Absalom drily. "Here we've been on +pins and needles, thinkin' maybe some of your John A. Murrells had +rushed into town an' kidnapped you, an' all the time you an' that slink +of a nigger have been gallivantin' over the face of the yeth. I declare +ef Randolph don't do somethin' wi' you they ain't no tellin' what'll +become of you." + +But Dr. Dorrington was not in the humour for scolding; he rarely ever +was; but on that particular night less so than ever. For one brief +moment, Nan thought he was too angry to scold, and this she dreaded +worse than any outbreak; for when he was silent over some of her capers +she took it for granted that his feelings were hurt, and this thought +was sufficient to give her more misery than anything else. But she soon +discovered that his gravity, which was unusual, had its origin +elsewhere. She saw him take a tiny tin waggon, all painted red, from his +pocket and place it on the mantel-piece, and both she and Mrs. +Dorrington went to him. + +"Oh, popsy! I'm so sorry about everything! He didn't need it, did he?" + +"No, the little fellow has no more use for toys. He sent you his love, +Nan. He was talking about you with his last breath; he remembered +everything you said and did when you went with me to see him. He said +you must be good." + +Now, if Nan was a heroine, or anything like one, it would never do to +say that she hid her face in her hands and wept a little when she heard +of the death of the little boy who had been her father's patient for +many months. In the present state of literary criticism, one must be +very careful not to permit women and children to display their +sensitive and tender natures. Only the other day, a very good book was +damned because one of the female characters had wept 393 times during +the course of the story. Out upon tears and human nature! Let us go out +and reform some one, and leave tears to the kindergarten, where steps +are taking even now to dry up the fountains of youth. + +Nevertheless, Nan cried a little, and so did Eugenia Claiborne, when she +heard the story of the little boy who had suffered so long and so +patiently. The news of his death tended to quiet Nan's excitement, but +she told her story, and, though the child's death took the edge off +Nan's excitement, the story of her adventure attracted as much attention +as she thought it would. She said nothing about Gabriel, and it was +supposed that only she and Tasma Tid were in the closet; but the next +morning, when Dr. Dorrington drove over to Clopton's to carry the +information, he was met by the statement that Gabriel had told of it the +night before. A little inquiry developed the fact that Gabriel had +concealed himself in the closet in order to discover the mysteries of +the Union League. + +Dorrington decided that the matter was either very serious or very +amusing, and he took occasion to question Nan about it. "You didn't tell +us that Gabriel was in the closet with you," he said to Nan. + +"Well, popsy, so far as I was concerned he was not there. He certainly +has no idea that I was there, and if he ever finds it out, I'll never +speak to him again. He never will find it out unless he is told by some +one who dislikes me. Outside of this family," Nan went on with dignity, +"not a soul knows that I was there except Eugenia Claiborne, and I'm +perfectly certain she'll never tell any one." + +Dorrington thought his daughter should have a little lecture, and he +gave her one, but not of the conventional kind. He simply drew her to +him and kissed her, saying, "My precious child, you must never forget +the message the little boy sent you. About the last thing he said was, +'Tell my Miss Nan to be dood.' And you know, my dear, that it is neither +proper nor good for my little girl to be wandering about at night. She +is now a young lady, and she must begin to act like one--not too much, +you know, but just enough to be good." + +Now, you may depend upon it, this kind of talk, accompanied by a smile +of affection, went a good deal farther with Nan than the most tremendous +scolding would have gone. It touched her where she was weakest--or, if +you please, strongest--in her affections, and she vowed to herself that +she would put off her hoyden ways, and become a demure young lady, or at +least play the part to the best of her ability. + +Eugenia Claiborne declared that Nan had acted more demurely in the +closet than she could have done, if, instead of Gabriel, Paul Tomlin had +come spying on the radicals where she was. "I don't see how you could +help saying something. If I had been in your place, and Paul had come in +there, I should certainly have said something to him, if only to let him +know that I was as patriotic as he was." Miss Eugenia had grand ideas +about patriotism. + +"Oh, if it had been Paul instead of Gabriel I would have made myself +known," said Nan; "but Gabriel----" + +"I don't see what the difference is when it comes to making yourself +known to any one in the dark, especially to a friend," remarked Eugenia. +"For my part, horses couldn't have dragged me in that awful place. I'm +sure you must be very brave, to make up your mind to go there. Weren't +you frightened to death?" + +"Why there was nothing to frighten any one," said Nan; "not even rats." + +"Ooh!" cried Eugenia with a shiver. "Why of course there were rats in +that dark, still place. I wouldn't go in there in broad daylight." + +This conversation occurred while Nan was visiting Eugenia, and in the +course thereof, Nan was given to understand that her friend thought a +good deal of Paul Tomlin. As soon as Nan grasped the idea that Eugenia +was trying to convey--there never was a girl more obtuse in +love-matters--she became profuse in her praises of Paul, who was really +a very clever young man. As Mrs. Absalom had said, it was not likely +that he would ever be brilliant enough to set the creek on fire, but he +was a very agreeable lad, entirely unlike Silas Tomlin, his father. + +If Eugenia thought that Nan would exchange confidences with her, she was +sadly mistaken. Nan had a horror of falling in love, and when the name +of Gabriel was mentioned by her friend, she made many scornful +allusions to that youngster. + +"But you know, Nan, that you think more of Gabriel than you do of any +other young man," said Eugenia. "You may deceive yourself and him, but +you can't deceive me. I knew the moment I saw you together the first +time that you were fond of him; and when I was told by some one that you +were to marry Mr. Bethune, I laughed at them." + +"I'm glad you did," replied Nan. "I care no more for Frank Bethune than +for Gabriel. I'll tell you the truth, if I thought I was in love with a +man, I'd hate him; I wouldn't submit to it." + +"Well, you have been acting as if you hate Gabriel," suggested Eugenia. + +"Oh, I don't like him half as well as I did when we were playfellows. I +think he's changed a great deal. His grandmother says he's timid, but to +me it looks more like conceit. No, child," Nan went on with an +affectation of great gravity; "the man that I marry must be somebody. He +must be able to attract the attention of everybody." + +"Then I'm afraid you'll have to move away from this town, or remain an +old maid," said the other. "Or it may be that Gabriel will make a great +man. He and Paul belong to a debating society here in town, and Paul +says that Gabriel can make as good a speech as any one he ever heard. +They invited some of the older men not long ago, and mother heard Mr. +Tomlin say that Gabriel would make a great orator some day. Paul thinks +there is nobody in the world like Gabriel. So you see he is already +getting to be famous." + +"But will he ever wear a red feather in his hat and a red sash over his +shoulder?" inquired Nan gravely. She was reverting now to the ideal hero +of her girlish dreams. + +"Why, I should hope not," replied Eugenia. "You don't want him to be the +laughing-stock of the people, do you?" + +"Oh, I'm not anxious for him to be anything," said Nan, "but you know +I've always said that I never would marry a man unless he wore a red +feather in his hat, and a red sash over his shoulder." + +"When I was a child," remarked Eugenia, "I always said I would like to +marry a pirate--a man with a long black beard, a handkerchief tied +around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, and a shining sword in +one hand and a pistol in the other." + +"Oh, did you?" cried Nan, snuggling closer to her friend. "Let's talk +about it. I am beginning to be very old, and I want to talk about things +that make me feel young again." + +But they were not to talk about their childish ideals that day, for a +knock came on the door, and Margaret Gaither was announced--Margaret, +who seemed to have no ideals, and who had confessed that she never had +had any childhood. She came in dignified and sad. Her face was pale, and +there was a weary look in her eyes, a wistful expression, as if she +desired very much to be able to be happy along with the rest of the +people around her. + +The two girls greeted her very cordially. Both were fond of her, and +though they could not understand her troubles, she had traits that +appealed to both. She could be lively enough on occasion, and there was +a certain refinement of manner about her that they both tried to +emulate--whenever they could remember to do so. + +"I heard Nan was here," she said, with a beautiful smile, "and I thought +I would run over and see you both together." + +"That is a fine compliment for me," Eugenia declared. + +"Miss Jealousy!" retorted Margaret, "you know I am over here two or +three times a week--every time I can catch you at home. But I wish you +were jealous," she added with a sigh. "I think I should be perfectly +happy if some one loved me well enough to be jealous." + +"You ought to be very happy without all that," said Nan. + +"Yes, I know I should be; but suppose you were in my shoes, would you be +happy?" She turned to the girls with the gravity of fate itself. As +neither one made any reply, she went on: "See what I am--absolutely +dependent on those who, not so very long ago, were entire strangers. I +have no claims on them whatever. Oh, don't think I am ungrateful," she +cried in answer to a gesture of protest from Nan. "I would make any +sacrifice for them--I would do anything--but you see how it is. I can do +nothing; I am perfectly helpless. I--but really, I ought not to talk so +before you two children." + +"Children! well, I thank you!" exclaimed Eugenia, rising and making a +mock curtsey. "Nan is nearly as old as you are, and I am two days +older." + +"No matter; I have no business to be bringing my troubles into this +giddy company; but as I was coming across the street, I happened to +think of the difference in our positions. Talk about jealousy! I am +jealous and envious. Yes, and mean; I have terrible thoughts sometimes. +I wouldn't dare to tell you what they are." + +"I know better," said Nan; "you never had a mean thought in your life. +Aunt Fanny says you are the sweetest creature in the world." + +"Don't! don't tell me such things as that, Nan. You will run me wild. +There never was another woman like Aunt Fanny. And, oh, I love her! But +if I could get away and become independent, and in some way pay them +back for all they have done for me, and for all they hope to do, I'd be +the happiest girl in the world." + +"I think I know how you feel," said Nan, with a quick apprehension of +the situation; "but if I were in your place, and couldn't help myself, I +wouldn't let it trouble me much." + +"Very well said," Mrs. Claiborne remarked, as she entered the room. +"Nan, you are becoming quite a philosopher. And how is Margaret?" she +inquired, kissing that blushing maiden on the check. + +"I am quite well, I thank you, but I'd be a great deal better if I +thought you hadn't heard my foolish talk." + +"I heard a part of it, and it wasn't foolish at all. The feeling does +you credit, provided you don't carry it too far. You are alone too +much; you take your feelings too seriously. You must remember that you +are nothing but a child; you are just beginning life. You should +cultivate bright thoughts. My dear, let me tell you one thing--if +Pulaski Tomlin had any idea that you had such feelings as you have +expressed here, he would be miserable; he would be miserable, and you +would never know it. You said something about gratitude; well if you +want to show any gratitude and make those two people happy, be happy +yourself--and if you can't really be happy, pretend that you are happy. +And the first thing you know, it will be a reality. Now, I have had +worse troubles than ever fell to your portion and if I had brooded over +them, I should have been miserable. Your lot is a very fortunate one, as +you will discover when you are older." + +This advice was very good, though it may have a familiar sound to the +reader, and Margaret tried hard for the time being to follow it. She +succeeded so well that her laughter became as loud and as joyous as that +of her companions, and when she returned home, her countenance was so +free from care and worry that both Neighbour Tomlin and his sister +remarked it, and they were the happier for it. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +_Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble_ + + +One day--it was a warm Saturday, giving promise of a long hot Sunday to +follow--Mr. Sanders was on his way home, feeling very blue indeed. He +had been to town on no particular business--the day was a half-holiday +with the field-hands--and he had wandered about aimlessly, making +several unsuccessful efforts to crack a joke or two with such +acquaintances as he chanced to meet. He had concluded that his liver was +out of order, and he wondered, as he went along, if he would create much +public comment and dissatisfaction if he should break his promise to Nan +Dorrington by purchasing a jug of liquor and crawling into the nearest +shuck-pen. It was on this warm Saturday, the least promising of all +days, as he thought, that he stumbled upon an adventure which, for a +season, proved to be both interesting and amusing. + +He was walking along, as has been said, feeling very blue and +uncomfortable, when he heard his name called, and, turning around, saw a +negro girl running after him. She came up panting and grinning. + +"Miss Ritta say she wish you'd come dar right now," said the girl. "I +been runnin' an' hollin atter you tell I wuz fear'd de dogs 'd take +atter me. Miss Ritta say she want to see you right now." + +The girl was small and very slim, bare-legged and good-humoured. Mr. +Sanders looked at her hard, but failed to recognise her; nor had he the +faintest idea as to the identity of "Miss Ritta." The girl bore his +scrutiny very well, betraying a tendency to dance. As Mr. Sanders tried +in vain to place her in his memory, she slapped her hands together, and +whirled quickly on her heel more than once. + +"You're a way yander ahead of me," he remarked, after reflecting awhile. +"I reckon I've slipped a cog some'rs in my machinery. What is your +name?" + +"I'm name Larceeny. Don't you know me, Marse Billy? I use ter b'long ter +de Clopton Cadets, when Miss Nan was de Captain; but I wan't ez big den +ez I is now. I been knowin' you most sence I was born." + +"What is your mammy's name?" + +"My mammy name Creecy," replied the girl, grinning broadly. "She cookin' +fer Miss Ritta." + +Mr. Sanders remembered Creecy very well. She had belonged to the Gaither +family before the war. "Where do you stay?" he inquired. He was not +disposed to admit, even indirectly, that he didn't know every human +being in the town. + +"I stays dar wid Miss Ritta," replied Larceeny. "I goes ter de do', an' +waits on Miss Nugeeny." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, with a smile of satisfaction. Here was a +clew. Miss Nugeeny must be Eugenia Claiborne, and Miss Ritta was +probably her mother. + +"Miss Ritta say she wanter see you right now," insisted Larceeny. "When +she seed you on de street, you wuz so fur, she couldn't holla at you, +an' time she call me outer de gyarden, you wuz done gone. I wuz at de +fur een' er de gyarden, pickin' rasbe'ies, an' I had ter drap +ever'thing." + +"Do you pick raspberries with your mouth?" inquired Mr. Sanders, with a +very solemn air. + +"Is my mouf dat red?" inquired Larceeny, with an alarmed expression on +her face. She seized her gingham apron by the hem, and, using the +underside, proceeded to remove the incriminating stains, remarking, "I'm +mighty glad you tol' me, kaze ef ol' Miss Polly had seed dat--well, she +done preach my funer'l once, an' I don't want ter hear it no mo'." + +Mr. Sanders, following Larceeny, proceeded to the Gaither Place, and was +ushered into the parlour, where, to his surprise, he found Judge +Vardeman, of Rockville, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the +State. Mr. Sanders knew the Judge very well, and admired him not only on +account of his great ability as a lawyer, but because of the genial +simplicity of his character. They greeted each other very cordially, and +were beginning to discuss the situation--it was the one topic that never +grew stale during that sad time--when Mrs. Claiborne came in; she had +evidently been out to attend to some household affairs. + +"I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Sanders," she said. "I have sent for you +at the suggestion of Judge Vardeman, who is a kinsman of mine by +marriage. He is surprised that you and I are not well acquainted; but I +tell him that in such sad times as these, it is a wonder that one knows +one's next-door neighbours." + +Mr. Sanders made some fitting response, and as soon as he could do so +without rudeness, closely studied the countenance of the lady. There was +a vivacity, a gaiety, an archness in her manner that he found very +charming. Her features were not regular, but when she laughed or smiled, +her face was beautiful. If she had ever experienced any serious trouble, +Mr. Sanders thought, she had been able to bear it bravely, for no marks +of it were left on her speaking countenance. "Give me a firm faith and a +light heart," says an ancient writer, "and the world may have everything +else." + +"I have sent for you, Mr. Sanders," said the lady, laughing lightly, "to +ask if you will undertake to be my drummer." + +"Your drummer!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, I've been told that I have +a way of blowin' my own horn, when the weather is fine and the spring +sap is runnin', but as for drummin', I reely hain't got the knack on +it." + +"Oh, I only want you to do a little talking here and there, and give out +various hints and intimations--you know what I mean. I am anxious to +even up matters with a friend of yours, who, I am afraid, isn't any +better than he should be." + +While the lady was talking, Mr. Sanders was staring at a couple of +crayon portraits on the wall. He rose from his seat, walked across the +room, and attentively studied one of the portraits. It depicted a man +between twenty-five and thirty-five. + +"Well, I'll be jigged!" he exclaimed as he resumed his seat. "Ef that +ain't Silas Tomlin I'm a Dutchman!" + +"Why, I shouldn't think you would recognise him after all these years," +the lady said, smiling brightly. "Don't you think the portrait flatters +him?" + +"Quite a considerbul," replied Mr. Sanders; "but Silas has got p'ints +about his countenance that a coat of tar wouldn't hide. Trim his +eyebrows, an' give him a clean, close shave, an' he's e'en about the +same as he was then. An' ef I ain't mighty much mistaken, the pictur' by +his side was intended to be took for you. The feller that took it forgot +to put the right kind of a sparkle in the eye, an' he didn't ketch the +laugh that oughter be hov'rin' round the mouth, like a butterfly tryin' +to light on a pink rose; but all in all, it's a mighty good likeness." + +"Now, don't you think I should thank Mr. Sanders?" said the lady, +turning to Judge Vardeman. "It has been many a day since I have had such +a compliment. Actually, I believe I am blushing!" and she was. + +"It wasn't much of a compliment to the artist," the Judge suggested. + +"Well, when it comes to paintin' a purty 'oman," remarked Mr. Sanders, +"it's powerful hard for to git in all the p'ints. A feller could paint +our picturs in short order, Judge. A couple of kags of pink paint, a +whitewash brush, an' two or three strokes, bold an' free, would do the +business." + +The Judge's eye twinkled merrily, and Mrs. Claiborne laughingly +exclaimed, "Why, you'd make quite an artist. You certainly have an eye +for colour." + +Thereupon Judge Vardeman suggested to Mrs. Claiborne that she begin at +the beginning, and place Mr. Sanders in possession of all the facts +necessary to the successful carrying out of the plan she had in view. It +was a plan, the Judge went on to say, that he did not wholly indorse, +bordering, as it did, on frivolity, but as the lady was determined on +it, he would not advise against it, as the results bade fair to be +harmless. + +It must have been quite a story the lady had to tell Mr. Sanders, for +the sun was nearly down when he came from the house; and it must have +been somewhat amusing, too, for he came down the steps laughing +heartily. When he reached the sidewalk, he paused, looked back at the +closed door, shook his head, and threw up his hands, exclaiming to +himself, "Bless Katy! I'm powerful glad I ain't got no 'oman on my +trail. 'Specially one like her. Be jigged ef she don't shake this old +town up!" + +He heard voices behind him, and turned to see Eugenia Claiborne and Paul +Tomlin walking slowly along, engaged in a very engrossing conversation. +Mr. Sanders looked at the couple long enough to make sure that he was +not mistaken as to their identity, and then he went on his way. + +He had intended to go straight home, but, yielding to a sudden whim or +impulse, he went to the tavern instead. This old tavern, at a certain +hour of the day, was the resort of all the men, old and young, who +desired to indulge in idle gossip, or hear the latest news that might be +brought by some stray traveller, or commercial agent, or cotton-buyer +from Malvern. For years, Mr. Woodruff, the proprietor--he had come from +Vermont in the forties, as a school-teacher--complained that the +hospitality of the citizens was enough to ruin any public-house that had +no gold mine to draw upon. But, after the war, the tide, such as it was, +turned in his favour, and by the early part of 1868, he was beginning to +profit by what he called "a pretty good line of custom," and there were +days in the busy season when he was hard put to it to accommodate his +guests in the way he desired. + +During the spring and summer months, there was no pleasanter place than +the long, low veranda of Mr. Woodruff's tavern, and it was very popular +with those who had an idle hour at their disposal. This veranda was much +patronised by Mr. Silas Tomlin, who, after the death of his wife, had no +home-life worthy of the name. Silas was not socially inclined; he took +no part in the gossip and tittle-tattle that flowed up and down the +veranda. The most interesting bit of news never caused him to turn his +head, and the raciest anecdote failed to bring a smile to his face. +Nevertheless, nothing seemed to please him better than to draw a chair +some distance away from the group of loungers, yet not out of ear-shot, +lean back against one of the supporting pillars, close his eyes and +listen to all that was said, or dream his own dreams, such as they might +be. + +Mr. Sanders was well aware of Silas Tomlin's tavern habits, and this +was what induced him to turn his feet in that direction. He expected to +find Silas there at this particular hour and he was not disappointed. +Silas was sitting aloof from the crowd, his chair leaning against one of +the columns, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, and his hands folded in +his lap. But for an occasional nervous movement of his thin lips, and +the twitching of his thumbs, he might have served as a model for a +statue of Repose. As a matter of fact, all his faculties were alert. + +The crowd of loungers was somewhat larger than usual, having been +augmented during the day by three commercial agents and a couple of +cotton-buyers. Lawyer Tidwell was taking advantage of the occasion to +expound and explain several very delicate and intricate constitutional +problems. Mr. Tidwell was a very able man in some respects, and he was a +very good talker, although he wanted to do all the talking himself. He +lowered his voice slightly, as he saw Mr. Sanders, but kept on with his +exposition of our organic law. + +"Hello, Mr. Sanders!" said one of the cotton-buyers, taking advantage of +a momentary pause in Mr. Tidwell's monologue; "how are you getting on +these days?" + +"Well, I was gittin' on right peart tell to-day, but this mornin' I +struck a job that's made me weak an' w'ary." + +"You're looking mighty well, anyhow. What has been the trouble to-day?" + +"Why, I'll tell you," responded Mr. Sanders, with a show of animation. +"I've been gwine round all day tryin' to git up subscriptions for to +build a flatform for Gus Tidwell. Gus needs a place whar he can stand +an' explutterate on the Constitution all day, and not be in nobody's +way." + +"Well, of course you succeeded," remarked Mr. Tidwell, good-naturedly. + +"Middlin' well--middlin' well. A coloured lady flung a dime in the box, +an' I put in a quarter. In all, I reckon I've raised a dollar an' a +half. But I reely believe I could 'a' raised a hunderd dollars ef I'd +'a' told 'em whar the flatform was to be built." + +"Where is that?" some one inquired. + +"In the pine-thicket behind the graveyard," responded Mr. Sanders, so +earnestly and promptly that the crowd shouted with laughter. Even Mr. +Tidwell, who was "case-hardened," as Mrs. Absalom would say, to Mr. +Sanders's jokes, joined in with the rest. + +"Gus is a purty good lawyer," said Mr. Sanders, lifting his voice a +little to make sure that Silas Tomlin would hear every syllable of what +he intended to say; "but he'll never be at his best till he finds out +that the Constitution, like the Bible, can be translated to suit the +idees of any party or any crank. But I allers brag on Gus because I +believe in paternizin' home industries. Howsomever, between us boys an' +gals, an' not aimin' for it to go any furder, there's a lawyer in town +to-day--an' maybe he'll be here to-morrow--who knows more about the law +in one minnit than Gus could tell you in a day and a half. An' when it +comes to explutterations on p'ints of constitutional law, Gus wouldn't +be in it." + +"Is that so? What is the gentleman's name?" asked Mr. Tidwell. + +"Judge Albert Vardeman," replied Mr. Sanders. "Now, when you come to +talk about lawyers, you'll be doin' yourself injustice ef you leave out +the name of Albert Vardeman. He ain't got much of a figure--he's shaped +somethin' like a gourdful of water--but I tell you he's got a head on +him." + +"Is the Judge really here?" Mr. Tidwell asked. "I'd like very much to +have a talk with him." + +"I don't blame you, Gus," remarked Mr. Sanders, "you can git more +straight p'ints from Albert Vardeman than you'll find in the books. He's +been at Mrs. Claiborne's all day; I reckon she's gittin' him to ten' to +some law business for her. They's some kinder kinnery betwixt 'em. His +mammy's cat ketched a rat in her gran'mammy's smokehouse, I reckon. +We've got more kinfolks in these diggin's, than they has been sence the +first generation arter Adam." + +At the mention of Mrs. Claiborne's name Silas Tomlin opened his eyes and +uncrossed his legs. This movement caused him to lose his balance, and +his chair fell from a leaning position with a sharp bang. + +"What sort of a dream did you have, Silas?" Mr. Sanders inquired with +affected solicitude. "You'd better watch out; Dock Dorrin'ton says that +when a man gits bald-headed, it's a sign that his bones is as brittle as +glass. He found that out on one of his furrin trips." + +"Don't worry about me, Sanders," replied Silas. He tried to smile. + +"Well, I don't reckon you could call it worry, Silas, bekaze when I +ketch a case of the worries, it allers sends me to bed wi' the jimmyjon. +I can be neighbourly wi'out worryin', I hope." + +"For a woman with a grown daughter," remarked Mr. Tidwell, speaking his +thoughts aloud, as was his habit, "Mrs. Claiborne is well +preserved--very well preserved." Mr. Tidwell was a widower, of several +years' standing. + +"Why, she's not only preserved, she's the preserves an' the preserver," +Mr. Sanders declared. "To look in her eye an' watch her thoughts +sparklin' like fire, to watch her movements, an' hear her laugh, not +only makes a feller young agin, but makes him glad he's a-livin'. An' +that gal of her'n--well, she's a thoroughbred. Did you ever notice the +way she holds her head? I never see her an' Nan Dorrington together but +what I'm sorry I never got married. I'd put up wi' all the tribulation +for to have a gal like arry one on 'em." + +Mr. Sanders paused a moment, and then turned to Silas Tomlin. "Silas, I +think Paul is fixin' for to do you proud. As I come along jest now, him +an' Jinny Claiborne was walkin' mighty close together. They must 'a' +been swappin' some mighty sweet secrets, bekaze they hardly spoke above +a whisper. An' they didn't look like they was in much of a hurry." + +While Mr. Sanders was describing the scene he had witnessed, +exaggerating the facts to suit his whimsical humour, Silas Tomlin sat +bold upright in his chair, his eyes half-shut, and his thin lips working +nervously. "Paul knows which side his bread is buttered on," he snapped +out. + +"Bread!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, pretending to become tremendously +excited; "bread! shorely you must mean poun'-cake, Silas. And whoever +heard of putting butter on poun'-cake?" + +When the loungers began to disperse, some of them going home, and others +going in to supper in response to the tavern bell, Mr. Silas Tomlin +called to Lawyer Tidwell, and the two walked along together, their homes +lying in the same direction. + +"Gus," said Silas, somewhat nervously, "I want to put a case to you. +It's purely imaginary, and has probably never happened in the history of +the world." + +"You mean what we lawyers call a hypothetical case," remarked Mr. +Tidwell, in a tone that suggested a spacious and a tolerant mind. + +"Precisely," replied Mr. Silas Tomlin, with some eagerness. "I was +readin' a tale in an old copy of _Blackwood's Magazine_ the other day, +an' the whole business turned on just such a case. The sum and substance +of it was about this: A man marries a woman and they get along together +all right for awhile. Then, all of a sudden she takes a mortal dislike +to the man, screams like mad when he goes about her, and kicks up +generally when his name is mentioned. He, being a man of some spirit, +and rather touchy at best, finally leaves her in disgust. Finally her +folks send him word that she is dead. On the strength of that +information, he marries again, after so long a time. All goes well for +eighteen or twenty years, and then suddenly the first wife turns up. +Now what, in law, is the man's status? Where does he stand? Is this +woman really his wife?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Tidwell. "His second marriage is no +marriage at all. The issue of such a marriage is illegitimate." + +"That's just what I thought," commented Silas Tomlin. "But in the tale, +when the woman comes back, and puts in her claim, the judge flings her +case out of court." + +"That was in England," Mr. Tidwell suggested. + +"Or Scotland--I forget which," Silas Tomlin replied. + +"Well, it isn't the law over here," Mr. Tidwell declared confidently. +They walked on a little way, when the lawyer suddenly turned to Silas +and said: "Mr. Tomlin, will you fetch that magazine in to-morrow? I want +to see the ground on which the woman's case was thrown out. It's +interesting, even if it is all fiction. Perhaps there was some +technicality." + +"All right, Gus; I'll fetch it in to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +_Silas Tomlin Finds Trouble_ + + +When Silas Tomlin reached home, he found his son reading a book. No word +of salutation passed between them; Paul simply changed his position in +the chair, and Silas grunted. They had no confidences, and they seemed +to have nothing in common. As a matter of fact, however, Silas was very +fond of this son, proud of his appearance--the lad was as neat as a pin, +and fairly well-favoured,--and proud of his love for books. Unhappily, +Silas was never able to show his affection and his fair-haired son never +knew to his dying day how large a place he occupied in his father's +heart. Miserly Silas was with money, but his love for his son was +boundless. It destroyed or excluded every other sentiment or emotion +that was in conflict with it. His miserliness was for his son's sake, +and he never put away a dollar without a feeling of exultation; he +rejoiced in the fact that it would enable his son to live more +comfortably than his father had cared to live. Silas loved money, not +for its own sake, but for the sake of his son. + +Mrs. Absalom would have laughed at such a statement. The social +structure of the Southern people, and the habits and traditions based +thereon, were of such a character that a great majority could not be +brought to believe that it was possible for parsimony to exist side by +side with any of the finer feelings. All the conditions and +circumstances, the ability to command leisure, the very climate itself, +promoted hospitality, generosity, open-handedness, and that fine spirit +of lavishness that seeks at any cost to give pleasure to others. Popular +opinion, therefore, looked with a cold and suspicious eye on all +manifestations of selfishness. + +But Silas Tomlin's parsimony, his stinginess, had no selfish basis. He +was saving not for himself, but for his son, in whom all his affections +and all his ambitions were centered. He had reared Paul tenderly without +displaying any tenderness, and if the son had speculated at all in +regard to the various liberties he had been allowed, or the indulgent +methods that had been employed in his bringing up, he would have traced +them to the carelessness and indifference of his father, rather than to +the ardent affection that burned unseen and unmarked in Silas's bosom. + +He had never, by word or act, intentionally wounded the feelings of his +son; he had never thrown himself in the path of Paul's wishes. There was +a feeling in Shady Dale that Silas was permitting his son to go to the +dogs; whereas, as a matter of fact, no detective was ever more alert. +Without seeming to do so, he had kept an eye on all Paul's comings and +goings. When the lad's desires were reasonable, they were promptly +gratified; when they were unreasonable, their gratification was +postponed until they were forgotten. Books Paul had in abundance. Half +of the large library of Meredith Tomlin had fallen to Silas, and the +other half to Pulaski Tomlin, and the lad had free access to all. + +Paul was very fond of his Uncle Pulaski and his Aunt Fanny, and he was +far more familiar with these two than he was with his father. His +association with his uncle and aunt was in the nature of a liberal +education. It was Pulaski Tomlin who really formed Paul's character, who +gathered together all the elements of good that are native to the mind +of a sensitive lad, and moulded them until they were strong enough to +outweigh and overwhelm the impulses of evil that are also native to the +growing mind. Thus it fell out that Paul was a young man to be admired +and loved by all who find modest merit pleasing. + +When his father arrived at home on that particular evening, as has been +noted, Paul was reading a book. He changed his position, but said +nothing. After awhile, however, he felt something was wrong. His father, +instead of seating himself at the table, and consulting his note-book, +walked up and down the floor. + +"What is wrong? Are you ill?" Paul asked after awhile. + +"No, son; I am as well in body as ever I was; but I'm greatly troubled. +I wish to heaven I could go back to the beginning, and tell you all +about it; but I can't--I just can't." + +Paul also had his troubles, and he regarded his father gloomily enough. +"Why can't you tell me?" he asked, somewhat impatiently. "But I needn't +ask you that; you never tell me anything. I heard something to-day that +made me ashamed." + +"Ashamed, Paul?" gasped his father. + +"Yes--ashamed. And if it is true, I am going away from here and never +show my face again." + +Silas fell, rather than leaned, against the mantel-piece, his face +ghastly white. He tried to say, "What did you hear, Paul?" His lips +moved, but no sound issued from his throat. + +"Two or three persons told me to-day," Paul went on, "that they had +heard of your intention to join the radicals, and run for the +legislature. I told each and every one of them that it was an infernal +lie; but I don't know whether it is a lie or not. If it isn't I'll leave +here." + +Silas Tomlin's heart had been in his throat, as the saying is, but he +gulped it down again and smiled faintly. If this was all Paul had heard, +well and good. Compared with some other things, it was a mere matter of +moonshine. Paul took up his book again, but he turned the leaves +rapidly, and it was plain that he was impatiently waiting for further +information. + +At last Silas spoke: "All the truth in that report, Paul, is this--It +has been suggested to me that it would be better for the whites here if +some one who sympathises with their plans, and understands their +interests, should pretend to become a Republican, and make the race for +the legislature. This is what some of our best men think." + +"What do you mean by our best men, father?" + +"Why, I don't know that I am at liberty to mention names even to you, +Paul," said Silas, who had no notion of being driven into a corner. "And +then, on the other hand, the white Republicans are not as fond of the +negroes as they pretend to be. And if they can't get some native-born +white man to run, who do you reckon they'll have to put up as a +candidate? Why, old Jerry, Pulaski's man of all work." + +"Well, what of it?" Paul asked with rising indignation. "Jerry is a +great deal better than any white man who puts himself on an equality +with him." + +"Have you met Mr. Hotchkiss?" asked Silas. "He seems to be a very clever +man." + +"No, I haven't met him and I don't want to meet him." Paul rose from his +seat, and stood facing his father. He was a likely-looking young man, +tall and slim, but broad-shouldered. He had the delicate pink complexion +that belongs to fair-haired persons. "This is a question, father, that +can't be discussed between us. You beat about the bush in such a way as +to compel me to believe the reports I have heard are true. Well, you can +do as you like; I'll not presume to dictate to you. You may disgrace +yourself, but you sha'n't disgrace me." + +With that, the high-strung young fellow seized his hat, and flung out of +the house, carrying his book with him. He shut the door after him with a +bang, as he went out, demonstrating that he was full of the heroic +indignation that only young blood can kindle. + +Silas Tomlin sank into a chair, as he heard the street-door slammed. +"Disgrace him! My God! I've already disgraced him, and when he finds it +out he'll hate me. Oh, Lord!" If the man's fountain of tears had not +been dried up years before, he would have wept scalding ones. + +An inner door opened and a negro woman peeped in. Seeing no one but +Silas, she cried out indignantly, "Who dat slammin' dat front do'? +You'll break eve'y glass in de house, an' half de crock'ry-ware in de +dinin'-room, an' den you'll say I done it." + +"It was Paul, Rhody; he was angry about something." + +The negro woman gave an indignant snort. "I don't blame 'im--I don't +blame 'im; not one bit. Ain't I been tellin' you how 'twould be? Ain't I +been tellin' you dat you'd run 'im off wid yo' scrimpin' an' pinchin'? +But 'tain't dat dat run'd 'im off. It's sump'n wuss'n dat. He ain't +never done dat away befo'. Ef dat boy ain't had de patience er Job, he'd +'a' been gone fum here long ago." + +Rhody came into the room where she could look Silas in the eyes. He +regarded her with curiosity, which appeared to be the only emotion left +him. Certainly he had never seen his cook and aforetime slave in such a +tantrum. What would she say and do next? + +"Home!" she exclaimed in a loud voice. Then she turned around and +deliberately inspected the room as if she had never seen it before. "An' +so dis is what you call Home--you, wid all yo' money hid away in holes +in de groun'! Dis de kinder place you fix up fer dat boy, an' him de +onliest one you got! Well!" Rhody's indignation could only be accounted +for on the ground that she had overheard the whole conversation between +father and son. + +"Why, you never said anything about it before," remarked Silas Tomlin. + +"No, I didn't, an' I wouldn't say it now, ef dat boy hadn't 'a' foun' +out fer hisse'f what kinder daddy he got." + +"Blast your black hide! I'll knock your brains out if you talk that way +to me!" exclaimed Silas Tomlin, white with anger. + +"Well, I bet you nobody don't knock yo' brains out," remarked Rhody +undismayed. "An' while I'm 'bout it, I'll tell you dis: Yo' supper's in +dar in de pots an' pans; ef you want it you go git it an' put on de +table, er set flat on de h'ath an' eat it. Dat chile's gone, an' I'm +gwine." + +"You dratted fool!" Silas exclaimed, "you know Paul hasn't gone for +good. He'll come back when he gets hungry, and be glad to come." + +"Is you ever seed him do dis away befo' sence he been born?" Rhody +paused and waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. "No, you ain't! +no, you ain't! You don't know no mo' 'bout dat chile dan ef he want +yone. But I--me--ol' Rhody--I know 'im. I kin look at 'im sideways an' +tell ef he feelin' good er bad er diffunt. What you done done ter dat +chile? Tell me dat." + +But Silas Tomlin answered never a word. He sat glowering at Rhody in a +way that would have subdued and frightened a negro unused to his ways. +Rhody started toward the kitchen, but at the door leading to the +dining-room she paused and turned around. "Oh, you got a heap ter answer +fer--a mighty heap; an' de day will come when you'll bar in mind eve'y +word I been tellin' you 'bout dat chile fum de time he could wobble +'roun' an' call me mammy." + +With that she went out. Silas heard her moving about in the back part of +the house, but after awhile all was silence. He sat for some time +communing with himself, and trying in vain to map out some consistent +course of action. What a blessing it would be, he thought, if Paul would +make good his threat, and go away! It would be like tearing his father's +heart-strings out, but better that than that he should remain and be a +witness to his own disgrace, and to the bitter humiliation of his +father. + +Silas had intended to warn his son that he was throwing away his time by +going with Eugenia Claiborne--that marriage with her was utterly +impossible. But it was a very delicate subject, and, once embarked in +it, he would have been unable to give his son any adequate or +satisfactory reason for the interdiction. Many wild and whirling +thoughts passed through the mind of Silas Tomlin, but at the end, he +asked himself why he should cross the creek before he came to it? + +The reflection was soothing enough to bring home to his mind the fact +that he had had no supper. Unconsciously, and through force of habit, he +had been waiting for Rhody to set the small bell to tinkling, as a +signal that the meal was ready, but no sound had come to his ears. He +rose to investigate. A solitary candle was flaring on the dining-table. +He went to the door leading to the kitchen and called Rhody, but he +received no answer. + +"Blast your impudent hide!" he exclaimed, "what are you doing out there? +Why don't you put supper on the table?" + +He would have had silence for an answer, but for the barking of a nearby +neighbour's dog. He went into the kitchen, and found the fire nearly +out, whereupon he made dire threats against his cook, but, in the end, +he was compelled to fish his supper from the pans as best he could. + +When he had finished he looked at the clock, and was surprised to find +that it was only a little after eight. During the course of an hour and +a half, he seemed to have lived and suffered a year and a half. The +early hour gave him an opportunity to display one of his characteristic +traits. It had never been his way to run from trouble. When a small boy, +if his nurse told him the booger-man was behind a bush, he always +insisted on investigating. The same impulse seized him now. If this Mrs. +Claiborne proposed to make any move against him--as he inferred from the +hints which the jovial Mr. Sanders had flung at his head--he would beard +the lioness in her den, and find out what she meant, and what she +wanted. + +Silas was prompt to act on the impulse, and as soon as he could make the +house secure, he proceeded to the Gaither Place. His knock, after some +delay, was answered by Eugenia. The girl involuntarily drew back when +she saw who the visitor was. "What is it you wish?" she inquired. + +"If your mother is at home, please ask her if she will see Silas Tomlin +on a matter of business." + +Eugenia left the door open, and in a moment, from one of the rear rooms +came the sound of merry, unrestrained laughter, which only ceased when +some one uttered a warning "Sh-h!" + +Eugenia returned almost immediately, and invited the visitor into the +parlour, saying, "It is rather late for business, mamma says, but she +will see you." + +Silas seated himself on a sofa, and had time to look about him before +the lady of the house came in. It was his second visit to Mrs. +Claiborne, and he observed many changes had taken place in the +disposition of the furniture and the draperies. He noted, too, with a +feeling of helpless exasperation, that his own portrait hung on the wall +in close proximity to that of Rita Claiborne. He clenched his hands with +inward rage. "What does this she-devil mean?" he asked himself, and at +that moment, the object of his anger swept into the room. There was +something gracious, as well as graceful, in her movements. She had the +air of a victor who is willing to be magnanimous. + +"What is your business with me?" she asked with lifted eyebrows. There +was just the shadow of a smile hovering around her mouth. Silas caught +it, and looking into a swinging mirror opposite, he saw how impossible +it was for a man with a weazened face and a skull-cap to cope with such +a woman as this. However, he had his indignation, his sense of +persecution, to fall back upon. + +"I want to know what you intend to do," said Silas. There was a note of +weakness and helplessness in his voice. "I want to know what to expect. +I'm tired of leading a dog's life. I hear you have been colloguing with +lawyers." + +"Do you remember your first visit here?" inquired Mrs. Claiborne very +sweetly. If she was an enemy, she certainly knew how to conceal her +feelings. "Do you remember how wildly you talked--how insulting you +were?" + +"I declare to you on my honour that I never intended to insult you," +Silas exclaimed. + +"Why, all your insinuations were insulting. You gave me to understand +that my coming here was an outrage--as if you had anything to do with my +movements. But you insisted that my coming here was an attack on you and +your son. When and where and how did I ever do you a wrong?" + +"Why didn't you--didn't--" Silas tried hard to formulate his wrongs, but +they were either so many or so few that words failed him. + +"Did I desert you when you were ill and delirious? Did I put faith in an +anonymous letter and believe you to be dead?" The lady spoke with a +calmness that seemed to be unnatural and unreal. + +For a little while, Silas made no reply, but sat like one dazed, his +eyes fixed on the crayon portrait of himself. "Did you hang that thing +up there for Paul to see it and ask questions about it?" he asked, +after awhile. + +"I hung it there because I chose to," she replied. "Judge Vardeman +thinks it is a very good likeness of you, but I don't agree with him. Do +you think it does you justice?" she asked. + +"And then there's Paul," said Silas, ignoring her question. "Do you +propose to let him go ahead and fall in love with the girl?" + +"Paul is not my son," the lady calmly answered. + +"But the girl is your daughter," Silas insisted. + +"I shall look after her welfare, never fear," said the lady. + +"But suppose they should take a notion to marry; what would you do to +stop 'em?" + +"Oh, well, that is a question for the future," replied the lady, +serenely. "It will be time enough to discuss that matter when the +necessity arises." + +Her composure, her indifference, caused Silas to writhe and squirm in +his chair, and she, seeing the torture she was inflicting, appeared to +be very well content. + +"I didn't come to argue," said Silas presently. "I came for information; +I want to know what you intend to do. I don't ask any favours and I +don't want any; I'm getting my deserts, I reckon. What I sowed that I'm +reaping." + +"Ah!" the lady exclaimed softly, and with an air of satisfaction. "Do +you really feel so?" She leaned forward a little, and there was that in +her eyes that denoted something else besides satisfaction; compassion +shone there. Her mood had not been a serious one up to this point, but +she was serious now, and Silas could but observe how beautiful she was. +"Do you really feel that I would be justified if I confirmed the +suspicions you have expressed?" + +"So far as I am concerned, you'd be doing exactly right," said Silas +bluntly. "But what about Paul?" + +"Well, what about Paul?" Mrs. Claiborne asked. + +"Well, for one thing, he's never done you any harm. And there's another +thing," said Silas rising from his seat: "I'd be willing to have my body +pulled to pieces, inch by inch, and my bones broken, piece by piece, to +save that boy one single pang." + +He stood towering over the lady. For once he had been taken clean out of +himself, and he seemed to be transfigured. Mrs. Claiborne rose also. + +"Paul is a very good young man," she said. + +"Yes, he is!" exclaimed Silas. "He never had a mean thought, and he has +never been guilty of a mean action. But that would make no difference in +my feelings. It would be all the same to me if he was a thief and a +scoundrel or if he was deformed, or if he was everything that he is not. +No matter what he was or might be, I would be willing to live in eternal +torment if I could know that he is happy." + +His face was not weazened now. It was illuminated with his love for his +son, the one passion of his life, and he was no longer a contemptible +figure. The lady refixed her eyes upon him, and wondered how he could +have changed himself right before her eyes, for certainly, as it seemed +to her, this was not the mean and shabby figure she had found in the +parlour when she first came in. She sighed as she turned her eyes away. + +"Do you remember what I told you on the occasion of your first visit?" +she inquired very seriously. "You were both rude and disagreeable, but I +said that I'd not trouble you again, so long as you left me alone." + +"Well, haven't I left you alone?" asked Silas. + +"What do you call this?" There was just the shadow of a smile on her +face. + +"That's a fact," said Silas after a pause. "But I just couldn't help +myself. Honestly I'm sorry I came. I'm no match for you. I must bid you +good-night. I hardly know what's come over me. If I've worried you, I'm +truly sorry." + +"One of these days," she said very kindly, as she accompanied him to the +door, "I'll send for you. At the proper time I'll give you some +interesting news." + +"Well, I hope it will be good news; if so, it will be the first I have +heard in many a long day. Good-night." + +The lady closed the door, and returned to the parlour and sat down. +"Why, I thought he was a cold-blooded, heartless creature," she said to +herself. Then, after some reflection she uttered an exclamation and +clasped her hands together. Suppose he were to make way with himself! +The bare thought was enough to keep the smiles away from the face of +this merry-hearted lady for many long minutes. Finally, she caught a +glimpse of herself in the swinging mirror. She snapped her fingers at +her reflection, saying, "Pooh! I wouldn't give that for your firmness of +purpose!" + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +_Rhody Has Something to Say_ + + +Now, all this time, while the mother was engaged with Silas, Eugenia, +the daughter, was having an experience of her own. When Rhody, Silas +Tomlin's cook and housekeeper, discovered that Paul had left the house +in a fit of anger, she knew at once that something unusual had occurred, +and her indignation against Silas Tomlin rose high. She was familiar +with every peculiarity of Paul's character, and she was well aware of +the fact that behind his calm and cool bearing, which nothing ever +seemed to ruffle, was a heart as sensitive and as tender as that of a +woman, and a temper hot, obstinate and unreasonable when aroused. + +So, without taking time to serve Silas's supper, she went in search of +Paul. She went to the store where he was the chief clerk, but the doors +were closed; she went to the tavern, but he was not to be seen; and she +walked along the principal streets, where sometimes the young men +strolled after tea. There she met a negro woman, who suggested that he +might be at the Gaither Place. "Humph!" snorted Rhody, "how come dat +ain't cross my mind? But ef he's dar dis night, ef he run ter dat gal +when he in trouble, I better be layin' off ter cook some weddin' +doin's." + +There wasn't a backyard in the town that Rhody didn't know as well as +she knew her own, and she stood on no ceremony in entering any of them. +She went to the Gaither Place, swung back the gate, shutting it after +her with a bang, and stalked into the kitchen as though it belonged to +her. At the moment there was no one in sight but Mandy, the house-girl, +a bright and good-looking mulatto. + +"Why, howdy, Miss Rhody!" she exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like a +flute. "What wind blowed you in here?" + +"Put down dem dishes an' wipe yo' han's," said Rhody, by way of reply. +The girl silently complied, expressing no surprise and betraying no +curiosity. "Now, den, go in de house, an' ax ef Paul Tomlin is in dar," +commanded Rhody. "Ef he is des tell 'im dat Mammy Rhody want ter see +'im." + +"I hope dey ain't nobody dead," suggested Mandy with a musical laugh. +"I'm lookin' out for all sorts er trouble, because I've had mighty funny +dreams for three nights han'-runnin'. Look like I can see blood. I wake +up, I do, cryin' an' feelin' tired out like de witches been ridin' me. +Then I drop off to sleep, an' there's the blood, plain as my han'." + +She went on in the house and Rhody followed close at her heels. She was +determined to see Paul if she could. She was very willing for Silas +Tomlin to be drawn through a hackle; she was willing to see murder done +if the whites were to be the victims; but Paul--well, according to her +view, Paul was one of a thousand. She had given him suck; she had +fretted and worried about him for twenty years; and she couldn't break +off her old habits all at once. She had listened to and indorsed the +incendiary doctrines of the radical emissary who pretended to be +representing the government; she had wept and shouted over the strenuous +pleadings of the Rev. Jeremiah; but all these things were wholly apart +from Paul. And if she had had the remotest idea that they affected his +interests or his future, she would have risen in the church and +denounced the carpet-bagger and his scalawag associates, and likewise +the Rev. Jeremiah. + +When Mandy, closely followed by Rhody, went into the house, she heard +voices in the parlour, but Eugenia was in the sitting-room reading by +the light of a lamp. + +"Miss Genia," said the girl, "is Mr. Paul here?" + +"Why do you ask?" inquired Eugenia. + +"They-all cook wanter speak with him." At this moment, Eugenia saw the +somewhat grim face of Rhody peering over the girl's shoulder. + +"Paul isn't here," said the young lady, rising with a vague feeling of +alarm. "What is the matter?" And then, feeling that if there was any +trouble, Rhody would feel freer to speak when they were alone together, +Eugenia dismissed Mandy, and followed to see that the girl went out. +"Now, what _is_ the trouble, Rhody? Mr. Silas Tomlin is in the parlour +talking to mother." + +Rhody opened her eyes wide at this. "_He_ in dar? What de name er +goodness he doin' here?" Eugenia didn't know, of course, and said so. +"Well, he ain't atter no good," Rhody went on; "you kin put dat down in +black an' white. Dat man is sho' ter leave a smutty track wharsomever he +walk at. You better watch 'im; you better keep yo' eye on 'im. Is he +yever loant yo' ma any money?" + +"Why, no," replied Eugenia, laughing at the absurdity of the question. +"What put that idea in your head?" + +"Bekaze dat's his business--loanin' out a little dab er money here an' a +little dab dar, an' gittin' back double de dab he loant," said Rhody. +"Deyer folks in dis county, which he loant um money, an' now he got all +de prop'ty dey yever had; an' deyer folks right here in dis town, which +he loant um dat ar Conferick money when it want wuff much mo dan +shavin's, an' now dey got ter pay 'im back sho nuff money. I hear 'im +sesso. Oh, dat's him! dat's Silas Tomlin up an' down. You kin take a +thrip an' squeeze it in yo' han' tell it leave a print, an' hol' it up +whar folks kin see it, an' dar you got his pictur'; all it'll need will +be a frame. He done druv Paul 'way fum home." + +She spoke with some heat, and really went further than she intended, but +she was swept away by her indignation. She was certain, knowing Paul as +well as she did, that he had left the house in a fit of anger at +something his father had said or done and she was equally as certain +that he would have to be coaxed back. + +"Surely you are mistaken," said Eugenia. "It is too ridiculous. Why, +Paul--Mr. Paul is----" She paused and stood there blushing. + +"Go on, chile: say it out; don't be shame er me. Nobody can't say +nothin' good 'bout dat boy but what I kin put a lots mo' on what dey er +tellin'. Silas Tomlin done tol' me out'n his own mouf dat Paul went fum +de house vowin' he'd never come back." + +Eugenia was so sure that Rhody (after her kind and colour) was +exaggerating, that she refused to be disturbed by the statement. "Why +did you come here hunting for Paul?" the young lady asked. + +"Oh, go away, Miss Genia!" exclaimed Rhody, laughing. "'Tain't no needs +er my answerin' dat, kaze you know lots better'n I does." + +"Are you very fond of him?" Eugenia inquired. + +"Who--_me_? Why, honey, I raised 'im. Sick er well, I nussed 'im fer +long years. I helt 'im in deze arms nights an' nights, when all he had +ter do fer ter leave dis vale wuz ter fetch one gasp an' go. Ef his +daddy had done all dat, he wouldn't 'a' druv de boy fum home." + +Alas! how could Rhody, in her ignorance and blindness, probe the +recesses of a soul as reticent as that of Silas Tomlin? + +"Oh, don't say he was driven from home!" cried Eugenia, rising and +placing a hand on Rhody's arm. "If you talk that way, other people will +take it up, and it won't be pleasant for Paul." + +"Dat sho is a mighty purty han'," exclaimed Rhody enthusiastically, +ignoring the grave advice of the young woman. "I'm gwine ter show +somebody de place whar you laid it, an' I bet you he'll wanter cut de +cloff out an' put it in his alvum." + +Eugenia made a pretence of pushing Rhody out of the room, but she was +blushing and smiling. "Well'm, he ain't here, sho, an' here's whar he +oughter be; but I'll fin' 'im dis night an' ef he ain't gwine back home, +I ain't gwine back--you kin put dat down." With that, she bade the young +lady good-night, and went out. + +As Rhody passed through the back gate, she chanced to glance toward +Pulaski Tomlin's house, and saw a light shining from the library window. +"Ah-yi!" she exclaimed, "he's dar, an' dey ain't no better place fer +'im. Dey's mo' home fer 'im right dar den dey yever wus er yever will be +whar he live at." + +So saying, she turned her steps in the direction of Neighbour Tomlin's. +In the kitchen, she asked if Paul was in the house. The cook didn't +know, but when the house-girl came out, she said that Mr. Paul was +there, and had been for some time. "Deyer holdin' a reg'lar expeunce +meetin' in dar," she said. "Miss Fanny sho is a plum sight!" + +The house-girl went in again to say that Rhody would like to speak with +him, and Rhody, as was her custom, followed at her heels. + +"Come in, Rhody," said Miss Fanny. "I know you are there. You always +send a message, and then go along with it to see if it is delivered +correctly. 'Twould save a great deal of trouble if the rest of us were +to adopt your plan." + +"I hope you all is well," remarked Rhody, as she made her appearance. +"I declar', Miss Fanny, you look good enough to eat." + +"Well, I do eat," responded Miss Fanny, teasingly. + +"I mean you look good enough ter be etted," said Rhody, correcting +herself. + +"Now, that is what I call a nice compliment," Miss Fanny observed +complacently. "Brother Pulaski, if I am ever 'etted' you won't have to +raise a monument to my memory." + +"No wonder you look young," laughed Rhody. "Anybody what kin git fun +out'n a graveyard is bleeze ter look young." + +Paul was lying on the wide lounge that was one of the features of the +library. His eyes were closed, and his Aunt Fanny was gently stroking +his hair. Pulaski Tomlin leaned back in an easy chair, lazily enjoying a +cigar, the delicate flavour of which filled the room. There was +something serene and restful in the group, in the furniture, in all the +accessories and surroundings. The negro woman turned around and looked +at everything in the room, as if trying to discover what produced the +effect of perfect repose. + +It is the rule that everything beautiful and precious in this world +should have mystery attached to it. There is the enduring mystery of +art, the mystery that endows plain flesh and blood with genius. A little +child draws you by its beauty; there is mystery unfathomable in its +eyes. You enter a home, no matter how fine, no matter how humble; it may +be built of logs, and its furnishings may be of the poorest; but if it +is a home, a real home, you will know it unmistakably the moment you +step across the threshold. Some subtle essence, as mysterious as thought +itself, will find its way to your mind and enlighten your instinct. You +will know, however fine the dwelling, whether the spirit of home dwells +there. + +Rhody, as she looked around in the vain effort to get a clew to the +secret, wondered why she always felt so comfortable in this house. She +sighed as she seated herself on the floor at the foot of the lounge on +which Paul lay. This was her privilege. If Miss Fanny could sit at his +head, Rhody could sit at his feet. + +"You wanted to speak to Paul," suggested Miss Fanny. + +"Yes'm; he lef' de house in a huff, an' I wanter know ef he gwine +back--kaze ef he ain't, I'm gwineter move way fum dar. He ain't take +time fer ter git his supper." + +"Why, Paul!" exclaimed Miss Fanny. + +"I couldn't eat a mouthful to save my life," said Paul. + +"Whar Miss Margaret?" Rhody inquired; and she seemed pleased to hear +that the young lady was spending the night with Nan Dorrington. "Honey," +she said to Paul, "how come yo' pa went ter de Gaither Place ter-night? +What business he got dar?" + +This was news to Paul, and he could make no reply to Rhody's question. +He reflected over the matter a little while. "Was he really there?" he +asked finally. + +"I hear 'im talkin' in de parlour, an' Miss Genia say it's him." + +"What were _you_ doing there?" inquired Miss Fanny, pushing her jaunty +grey curls behind her ears. + +"A coloured 'oman recommen' me ter go dar ef I wan' ter fin' dat chile." + +"Why, Paul! And is the wind really blowing in that quarter?" cried Miss +Fanny, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead. + +"Now, Mammy Rhody, why did you do that?" Paul asked with considerable +irritation. "What will Miss Eugenia and her mother think?" He sat bolt +upright on the sofa. + +"Well, her ma ain't see me, an' Miss Genia look like she wuz sorry I +couldn't fin' you dar." + +Miss Fanny laughed, but Rhody was perfectly serious. "Miss Fanny," she +said, turning to the lady, "how come dat chile lef' home?" + +"Shall I tell her, Paul? I may as well." Whereupon she told the negro +woman the cause of Paul's anger, and ended by saying that she didn't +blame him for showing the spirit of a Southern gentleman. + +"Well, he'll never j'ine de 'Publican Party in dis county," Rhody +declared emphatically. + +"He will if he has made up his mind to do so. You don't know Silas," +said Miss Fanny. + +"Who--me? Me not know dat man? Huh! I know 'im better'n he know hisse'f; +an' I know some yuther folks, too. I tell you right now, he'll never +j'ine; an' ef you don't believe me, you wait an' see. Time I git thoo +wid his kaycter, de 'Publicans won't tetch 'im wid a ten-foot pole." + +"I hope you are right," said Pulaski Tomlin, speaking for the first +time. "There's enough trouble in the land without having a scalawag in +the Tomlin family." + +"Well, you nee'nter worry 'bout dat, kaze I'll sho put a stop ter dem +kinder doin's. Honey," Rhody went on, addressing Paul, "you come on home +when you git sleepy; I'm gwineter set up fer you, an' ef you don't come, +yo' pa'll hatter cook his own vittles ter-morrer mornin'." + +"Good-night, Rhody, and pleasant dreams," said Miss Fanny, as the negro +woman started out. + +"I dunner how anybody kin have pleasin' drams ef dey sleep in de same +lot wid Marse Silas," replied Rhody. "Good-night all." + +Now, the cook at the Tomlin Place was the wife of the Rev. Jeremiah. She +was a tall, thin woman, some years older than her husband, and she ruled +him with a rod of iron. The new conditions, combined with the insidious +flattery of the white radicals, had made her vicious against the whites. +Rhody knew this, and from the "big house," she went into the kitchen, +where Mrs. Jeremiah was cleaning up for the night. Her name was Patsy. + +"You gittin' mighty thick wid de white folks, Sis' Rhody," said Patsy, +pausing in her work, as the other entered the door. + +For answer, Rhody fell into a chair, held both hands high above her +head, and then let them drop in her lap. The gesture was effective for a +dozen interpretations. "Well!" she exclaimed, and then paused, Patsy +watching her narrowly the while. "I dunner how 'tis wid you, Sis' Patsy, +but wid me, it's live an' l'arn--live an' l'arn. An' I'm a-larnin', +mon, spite er de fack dat de white folks think niggers ain't got no +sense." + +"Dey does! Dey does!" exclaimed Patsy. "Dey got de idee dat we all ain't +got no mo' sense dan a passel er fryin'-size chickens. But dey'll fin' +out better, an' den--Ah-h-h!" This last exclamation was a hoarse +gutteral cry of triumph. + +"You sho is talkin' now!" cried Rhody, with an admiring smile. "I knows +it ter-night, ef I never is know'd it befo'." + +Patsy knew that some disclosure was coming, and she invited it by +putting Rhody on the defensive. "It's de trufe," she declared. "Dat what +make me feel so quare, Sis' Rhody, when I see you so ready fer ter +collogue wid de white folks. I wuz talkin' wid Jerry 'bout it no +longer'n las' night. Yes'm, I wuz. I say, 'Jerry, what de matter wid +Sis' Rhody?' He say, 'Which away, Pidgin?'--desso; he allers call me +Pidgin," explained Patsy, with a smile of pride. "I say, 'By de way she +colloguin' wid de white folks.'" + +"What Br'er Jerry say ter dat?" inquired Rhody. + +"He des shuck his head an' groan," was the reply. + +Rhody leaned forward with a frown that was almost tragic in its +heaviness, and spoke in a deep, unnatural tone that added immensely to +the emphasis of her words. "'Oman, lemme tell you: I done it, an' I'm +glad I done it; an' you'll be glad I done it; an' he'll be glad I done +it." Patsy was drying the dish-pan with a towel, but suspended +operations the better to hear what Rhody had to say. "Dey done got it +fixt up fer ol' Silas ter j'ine in wid de 'Publican Party. He gwineter +j'ine so he kin fin' out all der doin's, an' all der comin's an' der +gwines, so he kin tell de yuthers." + +"Huh! Oh, yes--yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes! We er fools; we ain't got no +sense!" cackled Patsy viciously. + +"He des gwineter make out he's a 'Publican," Rhody went on; "dey got it +all planned. He gwineter j'ine de Nunion League, an' git all de names. +Dey talk 'bout it, Sis' Patsy, right befo' my face an' eyes. Dey mus' +take me fer a start-natchel fool." + +"Dey does--dey does!" cried Patsy; "dey takes us all fer fools. But +won't dey be a wakin' up when de time come?" + +Then and there was given the death-blow to Silas Tomlin's ambition to +become a Republican politician. The Rev. Jeremiah was apprised of the +plan, which so far as Rhody was concerned, was a pure invention. Word +went round, and when Silas put in his application to become a member of +the Union League, he was informed that orders had come from Atlanta that +no more members were to be enrolled. + +When Rhody went out into the street, after her talk with Patsy, a +passer-by would have said that her actions were very queer. She leaned +against the fence and went into convulsions of silent laughter. "Oh, I +wish I wuz some'rs whar I could holler," she said aloud between gasps. +"He calls her 'Pidgin!' Pidgin! Ef she's a pidgin, I'd like ter know +what gone wid de cranes!" + +She recurred to this name some weeks afterward, when the Rev. Jeremiah +informed her confidentially that his wife had discovered Silas Tomlin's +plan to unearth the secrets of the Union League. Rhody's comment +somewhat surprised the Rev. Jeremiah. "I allers thought," she said with +a laugh, "dat Pidgin had sump'n else in her craw 'sides corn." + +Rhody waited in the kitchen that night until Paul returned, and then she +went to bed. Silas and his son were up earlier than usual the next +morning, but they found breakfast ready and waiting. The attitude of +father and son toward each other was constrained and reserved. Silas +felt that he must certainly say something to Paul about Eugenia +Claiborne. He hardly knew how to begin, but at last he plunged into the +subject with the same shivering sense of fear displayed by a small boy +who is about to jump into a pond of cold water--dreading it, and yet +determined to take a header. + +"I hear, Paul," he began, "that you are very attentive to Eugenia +Claiborne." + +"I call on her occasionally," said Paul. "She is a very agreeable young +lady." He spoke coolly, but the blood mounted to his face. + +"So I hear--so I hear," remarked Silas in a business-like way. "Still, I +hope you won't carry matters too far." + +"What do you mean?" Paul inquired. + +"I wish I could go into particulars; I wish I could tell you exactly +what I mean, but I can't," said Silas. "All I can say is that it would +be impossible for you to marry the young woman. My Lord!" he exclaimed, +as he saw Paul close his jaws together. "Ain't there no other woman in +the world?" + +"Do you know anything against the young lady's character?" the son +asked. + +"Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the response. + +"Well," said Paul, "I hadn't considered the question of marriage at all, +but since you've brought the subject up, we may as well discuss it. You +say it will be impossible for me to marry this young lady, and you +refuse to tell me why. Don't you think I am old enough to be trusted?" + +"Why, certainly, Paul--of course; but there are some things--" Silas +paused, and caught his breath, and then went on. "Honestly, Paul, if I +could tell you, I would; I'd be glad to tell you; but this is a matter +in which you will have to depend on my judgment. Can't you trust me?" + +"Just as far as you can trust me, but no farther," was the reply. "I'm +not a child. In a few months I'll be of age. But if I were only ten +years old, and knew the young lady as well as I know her now, you +couldn't turn me against her by insinuations." He rose, shook himself, +walked the length of the room and back again, and stood close to his +father. "You've already settled the question of marriage. I asked you +last night about the report that you intended to act with the radicals, +and you refused to give me a direct answer. That means that the report +is true. Do you suppose that Eugenia Claiborne, or any other decent +woman would marry the son of a scalawag?" he asked with a voice full of +passion. "Why, she'd spit in his face, and I wouldn't blame her." + +The young man went out, leaving Silas sitting at the table. "Lord! I +hate to hurt him, but he'd better be dead than to marry that girl." + +Rhody, who was standing in the entryway leading from the dining-room to +the kitchen, and who had overheard every word that passed between father +and son, entered the room at this moment, exclaiming: + +"Well, you des ez well call 'im dead den, kaze marry her he will, an' I +don't blame 'im; an' mo'n dat I'll he'p 'im all I can." + +"You don't know what you are talking about," said Silas, wiping his +lips, which were as dry as a bone. + +"Maybe I does, an' maybe I don't," replied Rhody. "But what I does know, +I knows des ez good ez anybody. You say dat boy sha'n't marry de gal; +but how come you courtin' de mammy?" + +"Doing what?" cried Silas, pushing his chair back from the table. + +"Courtin' de mammy," answered Rhody, in a loud voice. "You wuz dar las' +night, an' fer all I know you wuz dar de night befo', an' de night 'fo' +dat. You may fool some folks, but you can't fool me." + +"Courting! Why you blasted idiot! I went to see her on business." + +Rhody laughed so heartily that few would have detected the mockery in +it. "Business! Yasser; it's business, an' mighty funny business. Well, +ef you kin git her, you take her. Ef she don't lead you a dance, I ain't +name Rhody." + +"I believe you've lost what little sense you used to have," said Silas +with angry contempt. + +"I notice dat nobody roun' here ain't foun' it," remarked Rhody, +retiring to the kitchen with a waiter full of dishes. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +_The Knights of the White Camellia_ + + +Matters have changed greatly since those days, and all for the better. +The people of the whole country understand one another, and there is no +longer any sectional prejudice for the politicians to feed and grow fat +upon. But in the days of reconstruction everything was at white heat, +and every episode and every development appeared to be calculated to add +to the excitement. In all this, Shady Dale had as large a share as any +other community. The whites had witnessed many political outrages that +seemed to have for their object the renewal of armed resistance. And it +is impossible, even at this late day, for any impartial person to read +the debates in the Federal Congress during the years of 1867-68 without +realising the awful fact that the prime movers in the reconstruction +scheme (if not the men who acted as their instruments and tools) were +intent on stirring up a new revolution in the hope that the negroes +might be prevailed upon to sack cities and towns, and destroy the white +population. This is the only reasonable inference; no other conceivable +conclusion can explain the wild and whirling words that were uttered in +these debates: unless, indeed, some charitable investigator shall +establish the fact that the radical leaders were suffering from a sort +of contagious dementia. + +It is all over and gone, but it is necessary to recall the facts in +order to explain the passionate and blind resistance of the whites of +the South and their hatred of everything that bore the name or earmarks +of Republicanism. Shady Dale, in common with other communities, had +witnessed the assembling of a convention to frame a new constitution for +the State. This body was well named the mongrel convention. It was made +up of political adventurers from Maine, Vermont, and other Northern +States, and boasted of a majority composed of ignorant negroes and +criminals. One of the most prominent members had served a term in a +Northern penitentiary. The real leaders, the men in whose wisdom and +conservatism the whites had confidence, were disqualified from holding +office by the terms of the reconstruction acts, and the convention +emphasised and adopted the policy of the radical leaders in +Washington--a policy that was deliberately conceived for the purpose of +placing the governments of the Southern States in the hands of ignorant +negroes controlled by men who had no interest whatever in the welfare of +the people. + +But this was not all, nor half. When the military commandant who had +charge of affairs in Georgia, found that the State government +established under the terms of Mr. Lincoln's plan of reconstruction, had +no idea of paying the expenses of the mongrel convention out of the +State's funds, he issued an order removing the Governor and Treasurer, +and "detailed for duty as Governor of Georgia," one of the members of +his staff. + +The mongrel convention, which would have been run out of any Northern +State in twenty-four hours, had provided for an election to be held in +April, 1868, for the ratification or rejection of the new constitution +that had been framed, and for the election of Governor and members of +the General Assembly. Beginning on the 20th, the election was to +continue for three days, a provision that was intended to enable the +negroes to vote at as many precincts as they could conveniently reach in +eighty-three hours. No safeguard whatever was thrown around the +ballot-box, and it was the remembrance of this initial and overwhelming +combination of fraud and corruption that induced the whites, at a later +day, to stuff the ballot-boxes and suppress the votes of the ignorant. + +These things, with the hundreds of irritating incidents and episodes +belonging to the unprecedented conditions, gradually worked up the +feelings of the whites to a very high pitch of exasperation. The worst +fears of the most timid bade fair to be realised, for the negroes, +certain of their political supremacy, sure of the sympathy and support +of Congress and the War Department, and filled with the conceit produced +by the flattery and cajolery of the carpet-bag sycophants, were +beginning to assume an attitude which would have been threatening and +offensive if their skins had been white as snow. + +Gabriel was now old enough to appreciate the situation as it existed, +though he never could bring himself to believe that there were elements +of danger in it. He knew the negroes too well; he was too familiar with +their habits of thought, and with their various methods of accomplishing +a desired end. But he was familiar with the apprehensions of the +community, and made no effort to put forward his own views, except in +occasional conversations with Meriwether Clopton. After a time, however, +it became clear, even to Gabriel, that something must be done to +convince the misguided negroes that the whites were not asleep. + +He conformed himself to all the new conditions with the ready +versatility of youth. He studied hard both night and day, but he spent +the greater part of his time in the open air. It was perhaps fortunate +for him at this time that there was a lack of formality in his methods +of acquiring knowledge. He had no tutor, but his line of study was +mapped out for him by Meriwether Clopton, who was astonished at the +growing appetite of the lad for knowledge--an appetite that seemed to be +insatiable. + +What he most desired to know, however, he made no inquiries about. He +ached, as Mrs. Absalom would have said, to know why he had suddenly come +to be afraid of Nan Dorrington. He had been somewhat shy of her before, +but now, in these latter days, he was absolutely afraid of her. He liked +her as well as ever, but somehow he became panic-stricken whenever he +found himself in her company, which was not often. + +It was impossible that his desire to avoid her should fail to be +observed by Nan, and she found a reason for it in the belief that +Gabriel had discovered in some way that she was in the closet with Tasma +Tid the night the Union League had been organised. Nan would never have +known what a crime--this was the name she gave the escapade--what a +crime she had committed but for the shock it gave her step-mother. This +lady had been trained and educated in a convent, where every rule of +propriety was emphasised and magnified, and most rigidly insisted upon. + +One day, when Nan was returning home from the village, she saw Gabriel +coming directly toward her. She studied the ground at her feet for a +considerable distance, and when she looked up again Gabriel was gone; he +had disappeared. This episode, insignificant though it was, was the +cause of considerable worry to Nan. She gave Mrs. Dorrington the +particulars, and then asked her what it all meant. + +"Why should it mean anything?" that lady asked with a laugh. + +"Oh, but it must mean something, Johnny. Gabriel has avoided me before, +and I have avoided him, but we have each had some sort of an excuse for +it. But this time it is too plain." + +"What silly children!" exclaimed Mrs. Dorrington, with her cute French +accent. + +Nan went to a window and looked out, drumming on a pane. Outside +everything seemed to be in disorder. The flowers were weeds, and the +trees were not beautiful any more. Even the few birds in sight were all +dressed in drab. What a small thing can change the world for us! + +"I know why he hid himself," Nan declared from the window. "He has found +out that I was in the closet with Tasma Tid." How sad it was to be +compelled to realise the awful responsibilities that rest as a burden +upon Girls who are Grown! + +"Well, you were there," replied Mrs. Dorrington, "and since that is so, +why not make a joke of it? Gabriel has no squeamishness about such +things." + +"Then why should he act as he does?" Nan was about to break down. + +"Well, he has his own reasons, perhaps, but they are not what you think. +Oh, far from it. Gabriel knows as well as I do that it would be +impossible for you to do anything _very_ wrong." + +"Oh, but it isn't impossible," Nan insisted. "I feel wicked, and I know +I am wicked. If Gabriel Tolliver ever dares to find out that I was in +that closet, I'll tell him what I think of him, and then I'll--" Her +threat was never completed. Mrs. Dorrington rose from her chair just in +time to place her hand over Nan's mouth. + +"If you were to tell Gabriel what you really think of him," said the +lady, "he would have great astonishment." + +"Oh, no, he wouldn't, Johnny. You don't know how conceited Gabriel is. +I'm just ready to hate him." + +"Well, it may be good for your health to dislike him a little +occasionally," remarked Mrs. Dorrington, with a smile. + +"Now, what _do_ you mean by that, Johnny?" cried Nan. But the only +reply she received was an eloquent shrug of the shoulders. + +Gabriel was as much mystified by his own dread of meeting Nan, as he was +by her coolness toward him. He could not recall any incident which she +had resented; but still she was angry with him. Well, if it was so, so +be it; and though he thought it was cruel in his old comrade to harbour +hard thoughts against him, he never sought for an explanation. He had +his own world to fall back upon--a world of books, the woods and the +fields. And he was far from unhappiness; for no human being who loves +Nature well enough to understand and interpret its meaning and its +myriad messages to his own satisfaction, can be unhappy for any length +of time. Whatever his losses or his disappointments, he can make them +all good by going into the woods and fields and taking Nature, the great +comforter, by the hand. + +So Gabriel confined his communications for the most part to his old and +ever-faithful friends, the woods and the velvety Bermuda fields. He +walked about among these old friends with a lively sense of their +vitality and their fruitfulness. He was certain that the fields knew him +as well as he knew them--and as for the trees, he had a feeling that +they knew his name as well as he knew theirs. He was so familiar with +some of them, and they with him, that the katydids in the branches +continued their cries even while he was leaning against the trunks of +the friends of his childhood: whereas, if a stranger or an alien to the +woods had so much as laid the tip of his little finger on the rugged +bark of one of them, a shuddering signal would have been sent aloft, and +the cries would have ceased instantly. + +Gabriel's grandmother went to bed early and rose early--a habit that +belongs to old age. But it was only after the darkness and silence of +night had descended upon the world that all of Gabriel's faculties were +alert. It was his favourite time for studying and reading, and for +walking about in the woods and fields, especially when the weather was +too warm for study. Every Sunday night found him in the Bermuda fields, +long since deserted by Nan and Tasma Tid. To think of the old days +sometimes brought a lump in his throat; but the skies, and the +constellations (in their season) remained, and were as fresh and as +beautiful as when they looked down in pity on the sufferings of Job. + +Gabriel's favourite Bermuda field was crowned by a hill, which, +gradually sloping upward, commanded a fine view of the surrounding +country; and though it was close to Shady Dale, it was a lonely place. +Here the killdees ran, and bobbed their heads, and uttered their +plaintive cries unmolested; here the partridge could raise her brood in +peace; and here the whippoorwill was free to play upon his flute. + +Many and many a time, while sitting on this hill, Gabriel had watched +the village-lights go out one by one till all was dark; and the silence +seemed to float heaven-ward, and fall again, and shift and move in vast +undulations, keeping time to a grand melody which the soul could feel +and respond to, but which the ear could not hear. And at such time, +Gabriel believed that in the slow-moving constellations, with their +glittering trains, could be read the great secrets that philosophers and +scientists are searching for. + +Beyond the valley, still farther away from the town, was the negro +church, of which the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin was the admired pastor. +Ordinarily, there were services in this church three times a week, +unless one of the constantly recurring revivals was in progress, and +then there were services every night in the week, and sometimes all +night long. The Rev. Jeremiah was a preacher who had lung-power to +spare, and his voice was well calculated to shatter our old friend the +welkin, so dear to poets and romancers. But if there was no revival in +progress, the nights devoted to prayer-meetings were mainly musical, and +the songs, subdued by the distance, floated across the valley to Gabriel +with entrancing sweetness. + +One Wednesday night, when the political conditions were at their worst, +Gabriel observed that while the lights were lit in the church, there was +less singing than usual. This attracted his attention and then excited +his curiosity. Listening more intently, he failed to hear the sound of a +single voice lifted in prayer, in song or in preaching. The time was +after nine o'clock, and this silence was so unusual that Gabriel +concluded to investigate. + +He made his way across the valley, and was soon within ear-shot of the +church. The pulpit was unoccupied, but Gabriel could see that a white +man was standing in front of it. The inference to be drawn from his +movements and gestures was that he was delivering an address to the +negroes. Hotchkiss was standing near the speaker, leaning in a familiar +way on one of the side projections of the pulpit. Gabriel knew +Hotchkiss, but the man who was speaking was a stranger. He was flushed +as with wine, and appeared to have no control of his hands, for he flung +them about wildly. + +Gabriel crept closer, and climbed a small tree, in the hope that he +might hear what the stranger was saying, but listen as he might, no +sound of the stranger's voice came to Gabriel. The church was full of +negroes, and a strange silence had fallen on them. He marvelled somewhat +at this, for the night was pleasant, and every window was open. The +impression made upon the young fellow was very peculiar. Here was a man +flinging his arms about in the heat and ardour of argument or +exhortation, and yet not a sound came through the windows. + +Suddenly, while Gabriel was leaning forward trying in vain to hear the +words of the speaker, a tall, white figure, mounted on a tall white +horse, emerged from the copse at the rear of the church. At the first +glance, Gabriel found it difficult to discover what the figures were, +but as horse and rider swerved in the direction of the church, he saw +that both were clad in white and flowing raiment. While he was gazing +with all his eyes, another figure emerged from the copse, then another, +and another, until thirteen white riders, including the leader, had come +into view. Following one another at intervals, they marched around the +church, observing the most profound silence. The hoofs of their horses +made no sound. Three times this ghostly procession marched around the +church. Finally they paused, each horseman at a window, save the leader, +who, being taller than the rest, had stationed himself at the door. + +He was the first to break the silence. "Brothers, is all well with you?" +his voice was strong and sonorous. + +"All is not well," replied twelve voices in chorus. + +"What do you see?" the impressive voice of the leader asked. + +"Trouble, misery, blood!" came the answering chorus. + +"Blood?" cried the leader. + +"Yes, blood!" was the reply. + +"Then all is well!" + +"So mote it be! All is well!" answered twelve voices in chorus. + +Once more the ghostly procession rode round and round the church, and +then suddenly disappeared in the darkness. Gabriel rubbed his eyes. For +an instant he believed that he had been dreaming. If ever there were +goblins, these were they. The figures on horseback were so closely +draped in white that they had no shape but height, and their heads and +hands were not in view. + +It may well be believed that the sudden appearance and disappearance of +these apparitions produced consternation in the Rev. Jeremiah's +congregation. The stranger who had been addressing them was left in a +state of collapse. The only person in the building who appeared to be +cool and sane was the man Hotchkiss. The negroes sat paralysed for an +instant after the white riders had disappeared--but only for an instant, +for, before you could breathe twice, those in the rear seats made a +rush for the door. This movement precipitated a panic, and the entire +congregation joined in a mad effort to escape from the building. The +Rev. Jeremiah forgot the dignity of his position, and, umbrella in hand, +emerged from a window, bringing the upper sash with him. Benches were +overturned, and wild shrieks came from the women. The climax came when +five pistol-shots rang out on the air. + +Gabriel, in his tree, could hear the negroes running, their feet +sounding on the hard clay like the furious scamper of a drove of wild +horses. Years afterward, he could afford to laugh at the events of that +night, but, at the moment, the terror of the negroes was contagious, and +he had a mild attack of it. + +The pistol-shots occurred as the Rev. Jeremiah emerged from the window, +and were evidently in the nature of a signal, for before the echoes of +the reports had died away, the white horsemen came into view again, and +rode after the fleeing negroes. Gabriel did not witness the effect of +this movement, but it came near driving the fleeing negroes into a +frenzy. The white riders paid little attention to the mob itself, but +selected the Rev. Jeremiah as the object of their solicitude. + +He had bethought him of his dignity when he had gone a few hundred +steps, and found he was not pursued, and, instead of taking to the +woods, as most of his congregation did, he kept to the public road. +Before he knew it, or at least before he could leave the road, he found +himself escorted by the entire band. Six rode on each side, and the +leader rode behind him. Once he started to run, but the white riders +easily kept pace with him, their horses going in a comfortable canter. +When he found that escape was impossible, he ceased to run. He would +have stopped, but when he tried to do so he felt the hot breath of the +leader's horse on the back of his neck, and the sensation was so +unexpected and so peculiar, that the frightened negro actually thought +that a chunk of fire, as he described it afterward, had been applied to +his head. So vivid was the impression made on his mind that he declared +that he had actually seen the flame, as it circled around his head; and +he maintained that the back of his head would have been burned off if +"de fier had been our kind er fier." + +Finding that he could not escape by running, he began to walk, and as he +was a man of great fluency of speech, he made an effort to open a +conversation with his ghostly escort. He was perspiring at every pore, +and this fact called for a frequent use of his red pocket-handkerchief. + +"Blood!" cried the leader, and twelve voices repeated the word. + +"Bosses--Marsters! What is I ever done to you?" To this there was no +reply. "I ain't never hurted none er you-all; I ain't never had de idee +er harmin' you. All I been doin' for dis long time, is ter try ter fetch +sinners ter de mercy-seat. Dat's all I been doin', an' dat's all I +wanter do--I tell you dat right now." Still there was no response, and +the Rev. Jeremiah made bold to take a closer look at the riders who were +within range of his vision. He nearly sunk in his tracks when he saw +that each one appeared to be carrying his head under his arm. "Name er +de Lord!" he cried; "who is you-all anyhow? an' what you gwineter do wid +me?" + +Silence was the only answer he received, and the silence of the riders +was more terrifying than their talk would have been. "Ef you wanter know +who been tryin' fer ter 'casion trouble, I kin tell you, an' dat mighty +quick." But apparently the white riders were not seeking for +information. They asked no questions, and the perspiration flowed more +freely than ever from the Rev. Jeremiah's pores. Again his red +handkerchief came out of his pocket, and again the rider behind him +cried out "Blood!" and the others repeated the word. + +The Rev. Jeremiah, in despair, caught at what he thought was the last +straw. "Ef you-all think dey's blood on dat hankcher, you mighty much +mistooken. 'Twuz red in de sto', long 'fo' I bought it, an' ef dey's any +blood on it, I ain't put it dar--I'll tell you dat right now." + +But there was no answer to his protest, and the ghostly cortege +continued to escort him along the road. The white riders went with him +through town and to the Tomlin Place. Once there, each one filed between +him and the gate he was about to enter, and the last word of each was +"Beware!" + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + +_Major Tomlin Perdue Arrives_ + + +Gabriel was struck by the fact that Hotchkiss seemed to be undisturbed +by the events that had startled and stampeded the negroes and the white +stranger. He remained in the church for some time after the others were +gone, and he showed no uneasiness whatever. He had seated himself on one +of the deacons' chairs near the pulpit, and, with his head leaning on +his hand, appeared to be lost in thought. After awhile--it seemed to be +a very long time to Gabriel--he rose, put on his hat, blew out one by +one the lamps that rested in sconces along the wall, and went out into +the darkness. + +Gabriel had remained in the tree, and with good reason. He knew that +whoever fired the pistol, the reports of which added so largely to the +panic among the negroes, was very close to the tree where he had hid +himself, and so he waited, not patiently, perhaps, but with a very good +grace. When Hotchkiss was out of sight, and presumably out of hearing, +Gabriel heard some one calling his name. He made no answer at first, but +the call was repeated in a tone sufficiently loud to leave no room for +mistake. + +"Tolliver, where are you? If you're asleep, wake up and show me a +near-cut to town." + +"Who are you?" Gabriel asked. + +"One," replied the other. + +"I don't know your voice," said Gabriel; "how did you know me?" + +"That is a secret that belongs to the Knights of the White Camellia," +answered the unknown. "If you don't come down, I'm afraid I'll have to +shake you out of that tree. Can't you slide down without hurting your +feelings?" + +Gabriel slid down the trunk of the small tree as quickly as he could, +and found that the owner of the voice was no other than Major Tomlin +Perdue, of Halcyondale. + +"You didn't expect to find me roosting around out here, did you?" the +irrepressible Major asked, as he shook Gabriel warmly by the hand. +"Well, I fully expected to find you. Your grandmother told me an hour +ago that I'd find you mooning about on the hills back there. I didn't +find you because I didn't care to go about bawling your name; so I came +around by the road. I was loafing around here when you came up, and I +knew it was you, as soon as I heard you slipping up that tree. But that +hill business, and the mooning--how about them? You're in love, I +reckon. Well, I don't blame you. She's a fine gal, ain't she?" + +"Who?" inquired Gabriel. + +"Who!" cried Major Perdue, mockingly. "Why, there's but one gal in the +Dale. You know that as well as I do. She never has had her match, and +she'll never have one. And it's funny, too; no matter which way you +spell her first name, backwards or forwards, it spells the same. Did you +ever think of that, Tolliver? But for Vallic--you know my daughter, +don't you?--I never would have found it out in the world." + +Gabriel laughed somewhat sheepishly, wondering all the time how Major +Perdue could think and talk of such trivial matters, in the face of the +spectacle they had just witnessed. + +"Well, you deserve good luck, my boy," the Major went on. "Everybody +that knows you is singing your praises--some for your book-learning, +some for your modesty, and some for the way you ferreted out the designs +of that fellow who was last to leave the church." + +"I'm sure I don't deserve any praise," protested Gabriel. + +"Continue to feel that way, and you'll get all the more," observed the +Major, sententiously. "But for you these dirty thieves might have got +the best of us. Why, we didn't know, even at Halcyondale, what was up +till we got word of your discovery. Well, sir, as soon as we found out +what was going on, we got together, and wiped 'em up. Why, you've got +the pokiest crowd over here I ever heard of. They just sit and sun +themselves, and let these white devils do as they please. When they do +wake up, the white rascals will be gone, and then they'll take their +spite out of the niggers--and the niggers ain't no more to blame for all +this trouble than a parcel of two-year-old children. You mark my words: +the niggers will suffer, and these white rascals will go scot-free. Why +don't the folks here wake up? They can't be afraid of the Yankee +soldiers, can they? Why the Captain here is a rank Democrat in politics, +and a right down clever fellow." + +"He is a clever gentleman," Gabriel assented. "I have met him walking +about in the woods, and I like him very much. He is a Kentuckian, and +he's not fond of these carpet-baggers and scalawags at all. But I never +told anybody before that he is a good friend of mine. You know how they +are, especially the women--they hate everything that's clothed in blue." + +"Well, by George! you are the only person in the place that keeps his +eyes open, and finds out things. You saw that rascal talking to the +niggers awhile ago, didn't you? Well, he's the worst of the lot. He has +been preaching his social equality doctrine over in our town, but I +happened to run across him t'other day, and I laid the law down to him. +I told him I'd give him twenty-four hours to get out of town. He stayed +the limit; but when he saw me walk downtown with my shot-gun, he took a +notion that I really meant business, and he lit out. Minervy Ann found +out where he was headed for, and I've followed him over here. He's the +worst of the lot, and they're all rank poison." + +Major Perdue paused a moment in his talk, as if reflecting. "Can you +keep a secret, Tolliver?" he asked after awhile. + +"Well, I haven't had much practice, Major, but if it is important, I'll +do my best to keep it." + +"Oh, it is not so important. That fellow you saw talking to the negroes +awhile ago is named Bridalbin." + +"Bridalbin!" exclaimed Gabriel. + +"Yes; he goes by some other name, I've forgotten what. He used to hang +around Malvern some years before the war, and a friend of mine who lived +there knew him the minute he saw him. He's the fellow that married +Margaret Gaither; you remember her; she came home to die not so very +long ago. Pulaski Tomlin adopted her daughter, or became the girl's +guardian. Now, Tolliver, whatever you do, don't breathe a word about +this Bridalbin--don't mention his name to a soul, not even to your +grandmother. There's no need of worrying that poor girl; she has already +had trouble enough in this world. I'm telling you about him because I +want you to keep your eye on him. He's up to some kind of devilment +besides exciting the niggers." + +Gabriel promptly gave his word that he would never mention anything +about Bridalbin's name, and then he said--"But this parade--what does it +mean?" + +The Major laughed. "Oh, that was just some of the boys from our +settlement. They are simply out for practice. They want to get their +hands in, as the saying is. They heard I was coming over, and so they +followed along. They don't belong to the Kuklux that you've read so much +about. A chap from North Carolina came along t'other day, and told about +the Knights of the White Camellia, and the boys thought it would be a +good idea to have a bouquet of their own. They have no signs or +passwords, but simply a general agreement. You'll have to organise +something of that kind here, Tolliver. Oh, you-all are so infernally +slow out here in the country! Why, even in Atlanta, they have a Young +Men's Democratic Club. You've got to get a move on you. There's no way +out of it. The only way to fight the devil is to use his own weapons. +The trouble is that some of the hot-headed youngsters want to hold the +poor niggers responsible, as I said just now, and the niggers are no +more to blame than the chicken in a new-laid egg. Don't forget that, +Tolliver. I wouldn't give my old Minervy Ann for a hundred and +seventy-five thousand of these white thieves and rascals; and Jerry +Tomlin, fool as he is, is more of a gentleman than any of the men who +have misled him." + +They walked back to the village the way Gabriel had come. On top of the +Bermuda hill, Major Perdue paused and looked toward Shady Dale. Lights +were still twinkling in some of the houses, but for the most part the +town was in darkness. + +The Major waved his hand in that direction, remarking, "That's what +makes the situation so dangerous, Tolliver--the women and the children. +Here, and in hundreds of communities, and in the country places all +about, the women and children are in bed asleep, or they are laughing +and talking, with only dim ideas of what is going on. It looks to me, my +son, as if we were between the devil and the deep blue sea. I, for one, +don't believe that there's any danger of a nigger-rising. But look at +the other side. I may be wrong; I may be a crazy old fool too fond of +the niggers to believe they're really mean at heart. Suppose that such +men as this--ah, now I remember!--this Boring--that is what Bridalbin +calls himself now--suppose that such men as he were to succeed in what +they are trying to do? I don't believe they will, even if we took no +steps to prevent it; but then there's the possibility--and we can't +afford to take any chances." + +Gabriel agreed with all this very heartily. He was glad to feel that his +own views were also those of this keen, practical, hard-headed man of +the world. + +"But men of my sort will be misjudged, Tolliver," pursued the Major; +"violent men will get in the saddle, and outrages will be committed, and +injustice will be done. Public opinion to the north of us will say that +the old fire-eaters, who won't permit even a respectable white man to +insult them with impunity--the old slave-drivers--are trying to destroy +the coloured race. But you will live, my son, to see some of these same +radicals admit that all the injustice and all the wrong is due to the +radical policy." + +This prophecy came true. Time has abundantly vindicated the Major and +those who acted with him. + +"Yes, yes," Major Perdue went on musingly, "injustice will be done. The +fact is, it has already begun in some quarters. Be switched if it +doesn't look like you can't do right without doing wrong somewhere on +the road." + +Gabriel turned this paradox over in his mind, as they walked along; but +it was not until he was a man grown that it straightened itself out in +his mind something after this fashion: When a wrong is done the +innocent suffer along with the guilty; and the innocent also suffer in +its undoing. + +Shady Dale woke up the next morning to find the walls and the fences in +all public places plastered with placards, or handbills, printed in red +ink. The most prominent feature of the typography, however, was not its +colour, but the image of a grinning skull and cross-bones. The handbill +was in the nature of a proclamation. It was dated "Den No. Ten, Second +Moon. Year 21,000 of the Dynasty." It read as follows: + +"To all Lovers of Peace and Good Order--Greeting: Whereas, it has come +to the knowledge of the Grand Cyclops that evil-minded white men, and +deluded freedmen, are engaged in stirring up strife; and whereas it is +known that corruption is conspiring with ignorance-- + +"Therefore, this is to warn all and singular the persons who have made +or are now making incendiary propositions and threats, and all who are +banded together in secret political associations to forthwith cease +their activity. And let this warning be regarded as an order, the +violation of which will be followed by vengeance swift and sure. The +White Riders are abroad. + +"Thrice endorsed by the Venerable, the Grand Cyclops, in behalf of the +all-powerful Klan. (. (. (. K. K. K. .) .) .)" + +Now, if this document had been in writing, it might have passed for a +joke, but it was printed, and this fact, together with its grave and +formal style, gave it the dignity and importance of a genuine +proclamation from a real but an unseen and unknown authority. It had +the advantage of mystery, and there are few minds on which the +mysterious fails to have a real influence. In addition to this, the +spectacular performance at the Rev. Jeremiah's church the night before +gave substance to the proclamation. That event was well calculated to +awe the superstitious and frighten the timid. + +The White Riders had disappeared as mysteriously as they came. Only one +person was known to have seen them after they had left the church--it +was several days before the Rev. Jeremiah could be induced to relate his +experience--and that person was Mr. Sanders. What he claimed to have +witnessed was even more alarming than the brief episode that occurred at +the Rev. Jeremiah's church. Mr. Sanders was called on to repeat the +story many times during the next few weeks, but it was observed by a few +of the more thoughtful that he described what he had seen with greater +freedom and vividness when there was a negro within hearing. His +narrative was something like this: + +"Gus Tidwell sent arter me to go look at his sick hoss, an' I went an' +doctored him the best I know'd how, an' then started home ag'in. I had +but one thought on my mind; Gus had offered to pay me for my trouble +sech as it was, an' I was tryin' for to figger out in my mind what in +the name of goodness had come over Gus. I come mighty nigh whirlin' +roun' in my tracks, an' walkin' all the way back jest to see ef he +didn't need a little physic. He was cold sober at the time, an' all of a +sudden, when he seed that I had fetched his hoss through a mighty bad +case of the mollygrubs, he says to me, 'Mr. Sanders,' says he, 'you've +saved me a mighty fine hoss, an' I want to pay you for it. You've had +mighty hard work; what is it all wuth?' 'Gus,' says I, 'jest gi' me a +drink of cold water for to keep me from faintin', an' we'll say no more +about it.' + +"Well, I didn't turn back, though I was much of a mind to. I mosied +along wondering what had come over Gus. I had got as fur on my way home +as the big 'simmon tree--you-all know whar that is--when all of a +sudden, I felt the wind a-risin'. It puffed in my face, an' felt warm, +sorter like when the wind blows down the chimbley in the winter time. +Then I heard a purrin' sound, an' I looked up, an' right at me was a +gang of white hosses an' riders. They was right on me before I seed 'em, +an' I couldn't 'a' got out'n the'r way ef I'd 'a' had the wings of a +hummin'-bird. So I jest ketched my breath, an' bowed my head, an' tried +to say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep.' I couldn't think of the rest, an' +it wouldn't 'a' done no good nohow. I cast my eye aroun', findin' that I +wasn't trompled, an' the whole caboodle was gone. I didn't feel nothin' +but the wind they raised, as they went over me an' up into the elements. +Did you ever pass along by a pastur' at night, an' hear a cow fetch a +long sigh? Well, that's jest the kind of fuss they made as they passed +out'n sight." + +This story made a striking climax to the performances that the negroes +themselves had witnessed, and for a time they were subdued in their +demeanour. They even betrayed a tendency to renew their old familiar +relations with the whites. The situation was not without its pathetic +side, and if Mr. Sanders professed to find it simply humourous, it was +only because of the effort which men make--an effort that is only too +successful--to hide the tenderer side of their natures. But the episode +of the White Riders soon became a piece of history; the alarm that it +had engendered grew cold; and Hotchkiss, aided by Bridalbin, who called +himself Boring, soon had the breach between the two races wider than +ever. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY + +_Gabriel at the Big Poplar_ + + +Late one afternoon, at a date when the tension between the two races was +at its worst, Gabriel chanced to be sitting under the great poplar which +was for years, and no doubt is yet, one of the natural curiosities of +Shady Dale, on account of its size and height. He had been reading, but +the light had grown dim as the sun dipped behind the hills, and he now +sat with his eyes closed. His seat at the foot of the tree was not far +from the public highway, though that fact did not add to its attractions +from Gabriel's point of view. He preferred the seat for sentimental +reasons. He had played there when a little lad, and likewise Nan had +played there; and they had both played there together. The old poplar +was hollow, and on one side the bark and a part of the trunk had +sloughed away. Here Gabriel and Nan had played housekeeping, many and +many a day before the girl had grown tired of her dolls. The hollow +formed a comfortable playhouse, and the youngsters, in addition to +housekeeping, had enjoyed little make-believe parties and picnics there. + +As Gabriel sat leaning against the old poplar, his back to the road and +his eyes closed, he heard the sound of men's voices. The conversation +was evidently between country folk who had been spending a part of the +day in town. Turning his head, Gabriel saw that there were three +persons, one riding and two walking. Directly opposite the tree where +Gabriel sat, they met an acquaintance who was apparently making a +belated visit to town. + +"Hello, boys!" said the belated one by way of salutation. "I 'low'd I'd +find you in town, an' have company on my way home." + +"What's the matter, Sam?" asked one of the others. "This ain't no time +of day to be gwine away from home." + +"Well, I'm jest obliged to git some ammunition," replied Sam. "I've been +off to mill mighty nigh all day, an' this evenin', about four o'clock, +whilst my wife was out in the yard, a big buck nigger stopped at the +gate, an' looked at her. She took no notice of him one way or another, +an' presently, he ups an' says, 'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a feller +howdy?'" + +"_He did?_" cried the others. Gabriel could hear their gasps of +astonishment and indignation from where he sat. + +"He said them very words," replied Sam; "'Hello, Sissy! can't you tell a +feller howdy?'" + +"Did you leave anybody at home?" inquired one of the others. + +"You bet your sweet life!" replied Sam in the slang of the day. "Johnny +Bivins is there, an' he ain't no slouch, Johnny ain't. I says to Molly, +says I, 'Johnny will camp here till I can run to town, an' git me some +powder an' buckshot.'" + +"We have some," one of the others suggested. + +"Better let 'im go on an' git it," said another; "we can't have too much +in our neck of the woods when things look like they do now. We'll wait +for you, Sam, if you'll hurry up." + +"Good as wheat!" responded Sam, who went rapidly toward town. + +"I tell you what, boys, we didn't make up our minds about this business +a single minute too soon," remarked one of the three who were waiting +for the return of their neighbour. "Somethin's got to be done, an' the +sooner it's done, the sooner it'll be over with." + +"You're talkin' now with both hands and tongue!" declared one of the +others, in a tone of admiration. + +"You'll see," remarked the one who had proposed to wait, "that Sam is +jest as ripe as we are. We know what we know, an' Sam knows what he +knows. I don't know as I blame the niggers much. Look at it from their +side of the fence. They see these d--d white hellians goin' roun', +snortin' an' preachin' ag'in the whites, an' they see us settin' down, +hands folded and eyes shet, and they jest natchally think we're whipped +and cowed. Can you blame 'em? I hate 'em all right enough, but I don't +blame 'em." + +Gabriel knew that the man who was speaking was George Rivers, a small +farmer living a short distance in the country. His companions were Tom +Alford and Britt Hanson, and the man who had gone to town for the +ammunition was Sam Hathaway. + +"Are you right certain an' shore that this man Hotchkiss is stayin' wi' +Mahlon Butts?" George Rivers inquired. + +"He lopes out from there every mornin'," replied Tom Alford. + +"Mahlon allers was the biggest skunk in the woods," remarked Hanson. +"He's runnin' for ordinary. I happened to hear him talkin' to a lot of +niggers t'other day, and I went up and cussed him out. I wanted the +niggers to see how chicken-hearted he is. Well, sirs, he never turned a +feather. I never seed a more lamblike man in my life. I started to spit +in his face, and then I happened to think about his wife. Yes, sirs, it +seemed to me for about the space of a second or two that I was lookin' +right spang in Becky's big eyes, an' I couldn't 'a' said a word or done +a thing to save my life. I jest whirled in my tracks and went on about +my business. You-all know Becky Butts--well, there's a woman that comes +mighty nigh bein' a saint. Why she married sech a rapscallion as Mahlon, +I'll never tell you, an' I don't believe she knows herself. But she's +all that's saved Mahlon." + +"That's the Lord's truth," responded Tom Alford. + +"Why, when he first j'ined the stinkin' radicals," continued Britt +Hanson, "a passel of the boys, me among 'em, laid off to pay him a party +call, an' string him up. Well, the very day we'd fixed on, here comes +Becky over to my house; an' she fetched the baby, too. I knowed, time I +laid eyes on her, that she had done got wind of what we was up to. Says +she to me, 'Britt, I hear it whispered around that you are fixin' up to +do me next to the worst harm a man can do to a woman.' 'Why, Becky,' +says I, 'I wouldn't harm you for the world, and I wouldn't let anybody +else do it.' 'Oh, yes, you would, Britt,' says she. She laughed as she +said it, but when I looked in her big eyes, I could see trouble and pain +in 'em. I says to her, says I, 'What put that idee in your head, Becky?' +And says she, 'No matter how it got there, Britt, so long as it's there. +You're fixin' up to hurt me an' my baby.' + +"Well, sirs, you can see where she had me. I says, says I, 'Becky, +what's to hender you from takin' supper here to-night?' This kinder took +her by surprise. She says, 'I'd like it the best in the world, Britt; +but don't you think I'd better be at home--to-night?' 'No,' says I, 'a +passel of the boys'll be here d'reckly after supper, and I reckon maybe +they'd like to see you. You know yourself that they're all mighty fond +of you, Becky,' says I. She sorter studied awhile, an' then she says, +'I'll tell you what I'll do, Britt--I'll come over after supper an' set +awhile.' 'You ain't afeard to come?' says I. 'No, Britt,' says she; 'I +ain't afeard of nothin' in this world except my friends.' She was +laughin', but they ain't much diff'ence betwixt that kind of laughin' +an' cryin'. + +"About that time, mother come in. Says she, 'An' be shore an' fetch the +baby, Becky.' The minnit mother said that, I know'd that she was the one +that told Becky what we had laid off to do. You-all know what happened +after that." + +"We do that away," said George Rivers. "When I walked in on you, and +seen Becky an' the baby, I know'd purty well that the jig was up, but I +thought I'd set it out and see what'd happen." + +"I never seen a baby do like that'n done that night," remarked Tom +Alford. "It laughed an' it crowed, an' helt out its han's to go to ever' +blessed feller in the crowd; an' Becky looked like she was the happiest +creetur in the world. I was the fust feller to cave, an' I didn't feel a +bit sheepish about it, neither. I rose, I did, an' says, 'Well, boys, +it's about my bedtime, an' I reckon I'll toddle along,' an' so I handed +the baby to the next feller, an' mosied off home." + +"You did," said Britt Hanson, "an' by the time the boys got through +passin' the baby to the next feller, there wan't any feller left but me. +An' then the funniest thing happened that you ever seed. You know how +Becky was gwine on, laughin' an' talkin'. Well, the last man hadn't +hardly shet the door behind him, when Becky flopped down and put her +head in mother's lap, and cried like a baby. I'm mighty glad I ain't +married," Britt Hanson went on. "There ain't a man in the world that +knows a woman's mind. Why, Becky was runnin' on and laughin' jest like a +gal at picnic up to the minnit the last man slammed the door, and then, +down she went and began to boohoo. Now, what do you think of that?" + +"I know one thing," remarked George Rivers--"the meaner a man is, the +quicker he gits the pick of the flock. The biggest fool in the world +allers gits the best or the purtiest gal." + +Then there was a pause, as if the men were listening. "Well," said Tom +Alford, after awhile, "we ain't after the gals now. That Hotchkiss +feller goes out to Mahlon's by fust one road and then the other. You +know where Ike Varner lives; well, Ike's wife is a mighty good-lookin' +yaller gal, an' when Hotchkiss knows that Ike ain't at home, he goes by +that road. I got all that from a nigger that works for me. If Ike ain't +at home, he goes in for a drink of water, an' then he tells the yaller +gal how to convert Ike into bein' a radical--Ike, you know, don't flock +with that crowd. That's what the gal tells my nigger. Well, I put a flea +in Ike's ear t'other day, an' night before last, Ike comes to me to +borry my pistol. You know that short, single-barrel shebang? Well, I +loant it to him on the express understandin' that he wasn't to shoot any +spring doves nor wild pea-fowls." + +The men laughed, and then sat or stood silent, each occupied with his +own reflections, until Sam Hathaway returned. Whereupon, they moved on, +one of them singing, in a surprisingly sweet tenor, the ballad of "Nelly +Gray." + +It was now dark, and ordinarily, Gabriel would have gone to supper. But, +instead of doing that, he went on toward town, and met Hotchkiss and +Boring on the outskirts. They were engaged in a close discussion when +Gabriel met them. It would have been a great deal better for him and his +friends if he had passed on without a word; but Gabriel was Gabriel, and +he was compelled to act according to Gabriel's nature. So, without +hesitation, he walked up to the two men. + +"Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired. + +"That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone. + +"Are you going out to Butts's to-night?" + +"Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause--"a +very queer question. What is your name?" + +"Tolliver--Gabriel Tolliver." + +"Gabriel Tolliver--h'm--yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous +of knowing whether I go to Butts's to-night?" + +"Honestly," replied Gabriel, a little nettled at the man's airs, "I +don't want to know at all. I simply wanted to advise you not to go there +to-night." + +"Oh, you wanted to _advise_ me not to go. Now, then, let's go a little +further into the matter. _Why_ do you want to advise me?" Hotchkiss was +a man who was not only ripe for a discussion at all times, and upon any +subject, but made it a point to emphasise all the most trifling details. +"Have you any special interest in my welfare?" + +"I think not," replied Gabriel, bluntly. "I simply wanted to drop you a +hint. You can take it or not, just as you choose." With that, he turned +on his heel, and went home to supper, little dreaming that his kindness +of heart, and his sincere efforts to do a stranger a favour would +involve him in a tangled web of circumstances, from which he would find +it almost impossible to escape. + +Gabriel heard Hotchkiss laugh, but he did not hear the remark that +followed. + +"Why, even the children and the young men think I am a coward. They have +the idea that courage exists nowhere but among themselves. It is the +most peculiar mental delusion I ever heard, and it persists in the face +of facts. The probability is that the young man who has just delivered +this awful warning has laid a wager with some of his companions that he +can fill me full of fright and prevent my going to Butts's." + +"Now, I don't think that," replied Boring, or Bridalbin. "I know these +people to the core. I had their ideas and thought their thoughts until I +found that sentiment doesn't pay. That young man has probably heard some +threat made against you, and he thinks he is doing the chivalrous thing +to give you a warning. Chivalry! Why, I reckon that word has done more +harm to this section, first and last, than the war itself." + +"Or, more probable still," suggested Hotchkiss, his voice as smooth and +as flexible as a snake, "he was simply trying to find out whether I +propose to go to Butts's to-night. If I had some one to keep an eye on +him, we might be able to procure some important information, disclosing +a conspiracy against the officers of the Government. A few arrests in +this neighbourhood might have a wholesome and subduing effect." + +"Don't you believe it," said Bridalbin. "I know these people a great +deal better than you do." + +"I know them a great deal better than I care to," remarked Hotchkiss +drily. "I have not a doubt that this young Tolliver was one of that +marauding band of conspirators that surrounded the church recently, and +endeavoured to intimidate our coloured fellow-citizens. Nor do I doubt +that these same conspirators will make an effort to frighten me. I have +no doubt that they will make a strong effort to run me away. But they +can't do it, my friend. I feel that I have a mission here, and here I +propose to stay until there is no work for me to do." + +"Well, I can keep an eye on Tolliver if you think it best," Bridalbin +suggested somewhat doubtfully. "I know where he lives." + +"Do that, Boring," exclaimed Hotchkiss with grateful enthusiasm. "Come +to the lodge about nine or half-past, and report." The "lodge" was the +new name for the old school-house, and in that direction Hotchkiss +turned his steps. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + +_Bridalbin Follows Gabriel_ + + +Boring, or Bridalbin--no one ever discovered why he changed his name, +for he changed neither his nature nor his associations--followed along +after Gabriel, and was in time to see him enter the door and close it +behind him. The Lumsden Place was somewhat in the open, but the trees, +where Bridalbin took up his position of watcher, made such dense and +heavy shadows that it was almost impossible to distinguish objects more +than a few feet away. In these heavy shadows Bridalbin stood while +Gabriel was supposed to be eating his supper. + +A dog trotting along the walk shied and growled when he saw the +motionless figure, but after that, there was a long period of silence, +which was finally broken by voices on a veranda not far away. The owners +of the voices had evidently come out for a breath of fresh air, and were +carrying on a conversation which had begun inside. Bridalbin could see +neither the house nor the occupants of the veranda, but he could hear +every word that was said. One of the voices was soft and clear, while +the other was hard, almost harsh, yet it was the voice of a woman. If +Bridalbin had been at all familiar with Shady Dale, he would have known +that one of the speakers was Madame Awtry and the other Miss Puella +Gillum. + +"It was only a few weeks ago that they told the poor child about her +father," said Miss Puella. "Neighbour Tomlin couldn't muster up the +courage to do it, and so it became Fanny's duty. I know it nearly broke +her heart." + +"Why did they tell her at all? Why did they think it was necessary?" +inquired Madame Awtry. Her voice had in it the quality that attracts +attention and compels obedience. + +"Well, you know Margaret is of age now, and Neighbour Tomlin, who is +made up of heart and conscience, felt that it would be wrong to keep her +in ignorance, but he couldn't make up his mind to be the bearer of bad +news; so it fell to Fanny's lot. But it seems that Margaret already +knew, and on that occasion Fanny had to do all the crying that was done. +Margaret had known it all along, and had only feigned ignorance in order +not to worry her mother. 'I have known it from the first,' she said. +'Please don't tell Nan.' But Nan had known it all along, and Fanny told +Margaret so. It is a pity about her father. If he was what he should be, +he'd be very proud of Margaret." + +"His name was Bridlebin, or something of that kind, was it not?" Madame +Awtry asked. + +"Something like that," replied Miss Puella. "The world is full of +trouble," she said after awhile, and her voice was as gentle as the +cooing of a dove--"so very full of trouble. I sometimes think that we +should have as much pity for those who are the cause of it as for those +who are the victims." Alas! Miss Puella was thinking of Waldron Awtry, +whose stormy spirit had passed away. + +"That is the Christian spirit, certainly," said Waldron's mother, in her +firm, clear tones. "Let those live up to it who can!" + +"The girl is in good hands," remarked Miss Puella, after a pause, "and +she should be happy. Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny fairly worship her." + +"Yes, she's in good hands," responded Madame Awtry, "yet when she comes +here, which she is kind enough to do sometimes, it seems to me that I +can see trouble in her eyes. It is hard to describe, but it's such an +expression as you or I would have if we were dependent, and something +was wrong or going wrong with those on whom we depended. But it may be +merely my imagination." + +"It certainly must be," Miss Puella declared, "for there is nothing +wrong or going wrong with Neighbour Tomlin and Fanny." + +At this point the conversation ceased, and the two women sat silent, +each occupied with her own thoughts. Miss Puella wondered that Madame +Awtry could even imagine trouble at the Tomlin Place, while the Madame +was smiling grimly to herself, and pitying Miss Puella because she could +not perceive what the trouble really was. "What a world it is! what a +world!" Madame Awtry said to herself with a sigh. + +And Bridalbin stood wondering at the freak of chance or circumstance +that had enabled him to hear two persons unknown to him discussing the +dependence of his daughter. "Dependent" was the word that grated on his +ear. He never thought of Providence--how few of us do!--he never dreamed +that his presence at that particular place at that particular moment was +to be the means of providing a sure remedy for the most serious trouble, +short of bereavement, that his daughter would ever be called on to face. + +Bridalbin walked slowly in the direction of the Lumsden Place, which +having fewer trees around it could be dimly seen in the starlight. +Before he emerged from the denser shadows he heard the door open and +close, and then Gabriel came down the steps whistling, and was soon in +the thoroughfare. But, instead of going toward town, he turned and went +toward the fields. Following the road for a hundred yards or more he +soon came to the bars, which formed a sort of gateway to the rich +pastures of Bermuda, and, vaulting lightly over these, he was soon lost +to view, though the stars were shining as brightly as they could. He was +making his way toward his favourite Bermuda hill. + +Now, Bridalbin knew enough about the topography of Shady Dale to know +that the path or roadway, leading from the bars across the Bermuda +fields, was a short cut to one of the highways that led from town past +the door of Mahlon Butts. He paused a moment, and then, more sedate than +Gabriel, climbed the bars and followed the path across the field. He +walked rapidly, for he was anxious to discover what course Gabriel had +taken. He crossed the fields and saw no one; he reached the highway, +and followed it for a quarter of a mile or more, but he could see no +sign of Gabriel. + +And for a very good reason. That young man had followed the field-path +only a short distance. He had turned sharply, to the right, making for +the Bermuda hill, where, with no fear of the dewy dampness to disturb +him, he flung himself at full length on the velvety grass, and gulped +down great draughts of the cool, sweet air. He heard the sound of +Bridalbin's footsteps, as that worthy went rapidly along the path, and +he had a boy's mischievous impulse to hail the passer-by. But he was so +fond of the hill, and so jealous of his possession of the silence, the +night, and the remote stars, that he suppressed the impulse, and +Bridalbin went on his way, firm in the belief that Gabriel had crossed +the field to the public highway, and was now going in the direction of +Mahlon Butts's home. He believed it, and continued to believe it to his +dying day, though the only evidence he had was the hint conveyed in the +surmises of Hotchkiss. + +Bridalbin finally abandoned his wild-goose chase, and returned to the +neighbourhood of Gabriel's home, where he waited and watched until his +engagement with Hotchkiss compelled him to abandon his post. The +business of the Union League was not very pressing that night, or it had +been dispatched with unusual celerity, for when Bridalbin reached the +old school-house, the Rev. Jeremiah, who had taken upon himself the +duties of janitor, was in the act of closing the doors. + +"I been waitin' fer you, Mr. Borin'," said the Rev. Jeremiah, after he +had responded to Bridalbin's salutation. "De Honerbul Mr. Hotchkiss tol' +me ter tell you, in case I seed you, dat he gwine on home; an' he say +p'intedly dat dey's no need fer ter worry 'bout him, kaze eve'ything's +all right. Ez he gun it ter me, so I gin it ter you. You oughter been +here ter-night. Me an' Mr. Hotchkiss took an' put all de business thoo +'fo' you kin bat yo' eye; yes, suh, we did fer a fack." + +"I'm very sorry he didn't wait for me," said Bridalbin. + +As for Gabriel, he lay out on the Bermuda hill, contemplating himself +and the rest of the world. The stars rode overhead, all moving together +like some vast fleet of far-off ships. In the northwest, while Gabriel +was watching, a huge star seemed to break away from its companions and +rush hurtling toward the west, leaving a trail of white vapour behind +it. The illumination was but momentary. The Night was quick to snuff out +all lights but its own. Whatever might be taking place on the other side +of the world, Night had possession here, and proposed to maintain it as +long as possible. A bird might scream when Brother Fox seized it; a +mouse might squeak when Cousin Screech-Owl swooped down on noiseless +wing and seized it; Uncle Wind might rustle the green grass in search of +Brother Dust: nevertheless, the order of the hour was silence, and Night +was prompt to enforce it. + +It is a fine night, Gabriel thought--and the Silence might have +answered, "Yes, a fine night and a fateful." It was a night that was to +leave its mark on many lives. + +At supper, Gabriel's grandmother had informed him that three of his +friends had come by to invite him to accompany them to a country dance +on the further side of Murder Creek--a dance following a neighbouring +barbecue. These friends, his grandmother said, were Francis Bethune, +Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. They had searched the town over for +Gabriel, and were disappointed at not finding him at home. + +"Where do you hide yourself, Gabriel?" his grandmother had asked him. +"And why do you hide? This is not the first time by a dozen that your +friends have been unable to find you." + +Gabriel shook his curly head and laughed. "Let me see, grandmother: +directly after dinner, I said my Latin and Greek lessons to Mr. Clopton. +Bethune was upstairs in his own room, for I heard him singing. After +that, I went into the library, and read for an hour or more. Then I +selected a book and went over the hill to the big poplar--you know where +it is--and there I stayed until dark." + +"It is all very well to read and study, Gabriel, and I am sure I am glad +to know that you are doing both," said his grandmother, with a smile, +"but you must remember that there are social obligations which cannot be +ignored. You will have to go out into the world after awhile, and you +should begin to get in the habit of it now. You should not avoid your +friends. I don't mean, of course, that you should run after them, or +fling yourself at their heads; I wouldn't have you do that for the +world; but you shouldn't make a hermit of yourself. To be popular, you +should mix and mingle freely with your equals. I know how it was in my +day. I was not fond of society myself, but my mother always insisted +that I should sacrifice my own inclinations for the pleasure of others, +and in this way earn the only kind of popularity that is really +gratifying. And I really believe I was the most popular of all the +girls." The dear old lady tossed her head triumphantly. + +"That's what Mr. Clopton says," remarked Gabriel; "but you know, +grandmother, your time was different from our time"--oh, these +youngsters who persist in reminding us of our fogyism--"and you were a +girl in those days, while I am a boy in these. I am lazy, I know; I can +loaf with a book all day long; but for the life of me, I can't do as +Bethune does. He doesn't read, and he doesn't study; he just dawdles +around, and calls on the girls, and talks with them by the hour. He used +to be in love with Nan (so Mr. Sanders says) and now he's in love with +Margaret Bridalbin; he's just crazy about her. Now, I'm not in love with +anybody"--"oh, Gabriel!" protested a still, small voice in his +bosom--"and if I were, I wouldn't dawdle around, and whittle on +dry-goods boxes, and go and sit for hours at a time with Sally, and +Susy, and Bessy, and Molly." Decidedly, Gabriel was coming out; here he +was with strong views of his own. + +His grandmother laughed aloud at this, saying, "You are very much like +your grandfather, Gabriel. He was a very serious and masterful man. He +detested small-talk and tittle-tattle, and I was the only girl he ever +went with. But Francis Bethune is very foolish not to stick to Nan; she +is such a delightful girl. It would be very unfortunate indeed if those +two were not to marry." + +If the dear old lady had not been so loyal to her sex, she would have +told Gabriel that Nan had visited her that very day, and had asked a +thousand and one questions about her old-time comrade. Indeed, Nan, with +that delightful spirit of unconventionality that became her so well, had +made bold to rummage through Gabriel's books and papers. She found one +sheet on which he had evidently begun a letter. It started out well, and +then stopped suddenly: "Dear Nan: I hardly know----" Then the attempt +was abandoned in despair, and on the lower part of the sheet was +scrawled: "Dearest Nan: I hardly know, in fact I don't know, and you'll +never know till Gabriel blows his horn." This sheet the fair forager +promptly appropriated, saying to herself "Boys are such funny +creatures." + +The conversation between Gabriel and his grandmother, as has been said, +took place while they were eating their supper. The youngster was not +sorry that he was absent when his friends called for him. It was a long +ride to the Samples plantation, where the dance was to be, and a long, +long ride back home, when the fiddles were in their bags, the dancers +fagged out, and the fun and excitement all over and done with. The +Bermuda hill was good enough for Gabriel, unless he could arrange his +own dances, and have one partner--just one--from early candle-light till +the grey dawn of morning. + +It was late when Gabriel returned from the Bermuda hill, later than he +thought, for he had completely lost himself in the solemn imaginings +that overtake and overwhelm a young man who is just waking up to the +serious side of existence, and on whose mind are beginning to dawn the +possibilities and responsibilities of manhood. Ah, these young men! How +lovable they are when they are true to themselves--when they try boldly +to live up to their own ideals! + +Once in his room, Gabriel looked about for the book he had been reading +during the afternoon. It was his habit to read a quarter of an hour at +least--sometimes longer--before going to bed. But the book was not to be +found. This was surprising until he remembered that he had not entered +his bed-room since the dinner-hour; and then it suddenly dawned on his +mind that he had left the book at the foot of the big poplar. + +Well! that was a pretty come-off for a young man who was inclined to be +proud of his careful and systematic methods. And the book was a borrowed +one, and very valuable--one of the early editions of Franklin's +autobiography, bound in leather. What would Meriwether Clopton think, +if, through Gabriel's carelessness, the dampness and the dew had injured +the volume, which, after Horace and Virgil, was one of Mr. Clopton's +favourites? + +There was but one thing to be done, and that Gabriel was prompt to do. +He went softly downstairs, so as not to disturb his grandmother, and +made his way to the big poplar, where he was fortunate enough to find +the book. Thanks to the sheltering arms of the tree, and the +leaf-covered ground, the volume had sustained no damage. + +As Gabriel recovered the book, and while he was examining it, he heard a +chorus of whistlers coming along the road. Mingled with the whistling +chorus were the various sounds made by a waggon drawn by horses. Gabriel +judged that the waggon contained the young men who had been to the dance +at the Samples plantation, and in this his judgment turned out to be +correct. The young men were in a double-seated spring waggon, drawn by +two horses. They drew up in response to Gabriel's holla, and he climbed +into the waggon. + +"Well, what in the name of the seven stars are you doing out here in the +woods at this time of night?" cried Jesse Tidwell, and he laughed with +humourous scorn when Gabriel told him. + +"But the book belongs to Bethune's grandfather," explained Gabriel. "It +might have been ruined by rain, or by the damp night-air, if left out +until morning. If it had been my own book, perhaps I'd have trusted to +luck." + +"You missed it to-night, Tolliver," said Francis Bethune. "Feel +Samples"--his name was Felix--"was considerably put out because you +didn't come. And the girls--Tolliver, when did you get acquainted with +them? They all know you. Nelly Kendrick tossed her head and turned up +her nose, and said that a dance wasn't a dance unless Mr. Tolliver was +present. Tidwell, who was the red-headed girl that raved so about +Tolliver's curls?" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, "that was Amy Rowland. If she wasn't +the belle of the ball, I'll never want any more money in this world. +It's no use for Gabriel to blow his horn, when he has all the girls in +that part of the country to blow it for him. My son, when and where did +you come to know all these young ladies?" + +"Why, I used to go out there to church with Mr. Sanders, and sometimes +with Mrs. Absalom. There are some fine people in that settlement." + +"Fine!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, with real enthusiasm; "why, split silk +is as coarse as gunny-bagging by the side of those girls. I told 'em I +was coming back. 'You must!' they declared, 'and be sure and bring Mr. +Tolliver!'" Young Tidwell mimicked a girl's voice with such ridiculous +completeness that his companions shouted with laughter. "There's another +thing you missed, Tolliver," he went on. "Feel Samples has a cow that +gives apple-brandy, and old Burrel Bohannon, the one-legged fiddler, +must have milked her dry, for along about half-past ten he kind of +rolled his eyes, and fetched a gasp, and wobbled out of his chair, and +lay on the floor just as if he was stone dead." + +In a short time the young men had reached the tavern, where the team and +vehicle belonged. As they drew up in front of the door, Jesse Tidwell, +continuing and completing his description of the condition of Burrel +Bohannon, exclaimed: "Yes, sir, he fell and lay there. He may have +kicked a time or two, and I think he mumbled something, but he was as +good as dead." + +Bridalbin, restless and uneasy, had been wandering about the town, and +he came up just in time to hear this last remark. At that moment, a +negro issued from the tavern with a lantern, and Bridalbin was not at +all surprised to see Gabriel Tolliver with the rest; and he wondered +what mischief the young men had been engaged in. Some one had been badly +hurt or killed. That much he could gather from Tidwell's declaration; +but who? + +He went to his lodging and to bed in a very uncomfortable frame of +mind. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + +_The Fate of Mr. Hotchkiss_ + + +Mr. Hotchkiss, after leaving the Union League, had decided not to wait +for his co-worker, whom he knew as Boring. So far as he was concerned, +he had no fears. He knew, of course, that he was playing with fire, but +what of that? He had the Government behind him, and he had two companies +of troops within call. What more could any man ask? More than that, he +was doing what he conceived to be his duty. He belonged to that large +and pestiferous tribe of reformers, who go through the world without +fixed principles. He had been an abolitionist, but he was not of the +Garrison type. On the contrary, he thought that Garrison was a +time-server and a laggard who needed to be spurred and driven. He was +one of the men who urged John Brown to stir up an insurrection in which +innocent women and children would have been the chief sufferers; and he +would have rejoiced sincerely if John Brown had been successful. He +mistook his opinions for first principles, and went on the theory that +what he thought right could not by any possibility be wrong. He belonged +to the Peace Society, and yet nothing would have pleased him better +than an uprising of the blacks, followed by the shedding of innocent +blood. + +In short, there were never two sides to any question that interested +Hotchkiss. He held the Southern people responsible for American slavery, +and would have refused to listen to any statement of facts calculated to +upset his belief. He was narrow-minded, bigoted, and intensely in +earnest. Some writer, Newman, perhaps, has said that a man will not +become a martyr for the sake of an opinion; but Newman probably never +came in contact with the whipper-snappers of Exeter Hall, or their +prototypes in this country--the men who believe that philanthropy, and +reform, and progress generally are worthless unless it be accompanied by +strife, and hate, and, if possible, by bloodshed. You find the type +everywhere; it clings like a leech to the skirts of every great +movement. The Hotchkisses swarm wherever there is an opening for them, +and they always present the same general aspect. They are as productive +of isms as a fly is of maggots, and they live and die in the belief that +they are promoting the progress of the world; but if their success is to +be measured by their operations in the South during the reconstruction +period, the world would be much better off without them. They succeeded +in dedicating millions of human beings to misery and injustice, and +warped the minds of the whites to such an extent that they thought it +necessary to bring about peace and good order by means of various acute +forms of injustice and lawlessness. + +Mr. Hotchkiss was absolutely sincere in believing that the generation +of Southern whites who were his contemporaries were personally +responsible for slavery in this country, and for all the wrongs that he +supposed had been the result of that institution. He felt it in every +fibre of his cultivated but narrow mind, and he went about elated at the +idea that he was able to contribute his mite of information to the +negroes, and breed in their minds hatred of the people among whom they +were compelled to live. If there had been a Booker Washington in that +day, he would have been denounced by the Hotchkisses as a traitor to his +race, and an enemy of the Government, just as they denounced and +despised such negroes as Uncle Plato. + +Hotchkiss went along the road in high spirits. He had delivered a +blistering address to the negroes at the meeting of the league, and he +was feeling happy. His work, he thought, was succeeding. Before he +delivered his address, he had initiated Ike Varner, who was by all odds +the most notorious negro in all that region. Ike was a poet in his way; +if he had lived a few centuries earlier, he would have been called a +minstrel. He could stand up before a crowd of white men, and spin out +rhymes by the yard, embodying in this form of biography the weak points +of every citizen. Some of his rhymes were very apt, and there are men +living to-day who can repeat some of the extemporaneous satires composed +by this negro. He had the reputation among the blacks of being an +uncompromising friend of the whites. In the town, he was a privileged +character; he could do and say what he pleased. He was a fine cook, and +provided possum suppers for those who sat up late at night, and +ice-cream for those who went to bed early. He tidied up the rooms of the +young bachelors, he sold chicken-pies and ginger-cakes on public days, +and Cephas, whose name was mentioned at the beginning of this chronicle, +is willing to pay five dollars to the man or woman who can bake a +ginger-cake that will taste as well as those that Ike Varner made. He +was a happy-go-lucky negro, and spent his money as fast as he made it, +not on himself, but on Edie, his wife, who was young, and bright, and +handsome. She was almost white, and her face reminded you somehow of the +old paintings of the Magdalene, with her large eyes and the melancholy +droop of her mouth. Edie was the one creature in the world that Ike +really cared for, and he had sense enough to know that she cared for him +only when he could supply her with money. Yet he watched her like a +hawk, madly jealous of every glance she gave another man; and she gave +many, in all directions. Ike's jealousy was the talk of the town among +the male population, and was the subject for many a jest at his expense. +His nature was such that he could jest about it too, but far below the +jests, as any one could see, there was desperation. + +In spite of all this, Ike was the most popular negro in the town. His +wit and his good-humour commended him to the whole community. He had +moved his wife and his belongings into the country, two or three miles +from town, on the ground that the country is more conducive to health. +Ike's white friends laughed at him, but the negro couldn't see the joke. +Why should a negro be laughed at for taking precautions of this sort, +when there is a whole nation of whites that keeps its women hid, or +compels them to cover their faces when they go out for a breath of fresh +air? The fact is that Ike didn't know what else to do, and so he sent +his handsome wife into exile, and went along to keep her company. +Nevertheless, all his interests were within the corporate limits of +Shady Dale, and he was compelled by circumstances to leave Edie to pine +alone, sometimes till late at night. Whether Edie pined or not, or +whether she was lonely, is a question that this chronicler is not called +on to discuss. + +Now, the fact of Ike's popularity with the whites had struck Mr. +Hotchkiss as a very unfavourable sign, and he set himself to work to +bring about a change. He sent some of the negro leaders to talk with +Ike, who sent them about their business in short order. Then Mr. +Hotchkiss took the case in hand, and called on Ike at his house. The two +had an argument over the matter, Ike interspersing his remarks with +random rhymes which Hotchkiss thought very coarse and crude. At the +conclusion of the argument, Hotchkiss saw that the negro had been +laughing at him all the way through, and he resented this attitude more +than another would. He went away in a huff, resolved to leave the negro +with his idols. + +This would have been very well, if the matter had stopped there, but +Edie put her finger in the pie. One day when Ike was away, she called to +Hotchkiss as he was passing on his way to town, and invited him into the +house. There was something about the man that had attracted the wild +and untamed passions of the woman. He was not a very handsome man, but +his refinement of manner and speech stood for something, and Edie had +resolved to cultivate his acquaintance. He went in, in response to her +invitation, and found that she desired to ask his advice as to the best +and easiest method of converting Ike into a Union Leaguer. Hotchkiss +gave her such advice as he could in the most matter-of-fact way, and +went on about his business. Otherwise he paid no more attention to her +than if she had been a sign in front of a cigar-store. Edie was not +accustomed to this sort of thing, and it puzzled her. She went to her +looking-glass and studied her features, thinking that perhaps something +was wrong. But her beauty had not even begun to fade. A melancholy +tenderness shone in her lustrous eyes, her rosy lips curved archly, and +the glow of the peach-bloom was in her cheeks. + +"I didn't know the man was a preacher," she said, laughing at herself in +the glass. + +Time and again she called Mr. Hotchkiss in as he went by, and on some +occasions they held long consultations at the little gate in front of +her door. Ike was not at all blind to these things; if he had been, +there was more than one friendly white man to call his attention to +them. The negro was compelled to measure Hotchkiss by the standard of +the most of the white men he knew. He was well aware of Edie's purposes, +and he judged that Hotchkiss would presently find them agreeable. + +Ike listened to Edie's arguments in behalf of the Union League with a +great deal of patience. Prompted by Hotchkiss, she urged that +membership in that body would give him an opportunity to serve his race +politically; he might be able to go to the legislature, and, in that +event, Edie could go to Atlanta with him, where (she said to herself) +she would be able to cut a considerable shine. Moreover, membership in +the league, with his aptitude for making a speech, would give him +standing among the negro leaders all over the State. + +Ike argued a little, but not much, considering his feelings. He pointed +out that all his customers, the people who ate his cakes and his cream, +and so forth and so on, were white, and felt strongly about the +situation. Should they cease their patronage, what would he and Edie do +for victuals to eat and clothes to wear? + +"Oh, we'll git along somehow; don't you fret about that," said Edie with +a toss of her head. + +"Maybe you will, but not me," replied Ike. + +At last, however, he had consented to join the league, and appeared to +be very enthusiastic over the matter. As Mr. Hotchkiss went along home +that night--the night on which the young men had gone to the country +dance--he was feeling quite exultant over Ike's conversion, and the +enthusiasm he had displayed over the proceedings. After he had decided +to go home rather than wait for Bridalbin, he hunted about in the crowd +for Ike, but the negro was not to be found. As their roads lay in the +same direction Hotchkiss would have been glad of the negro's company +along the way, and he was somewhat disappointed when he was told that +Ike had started for home as soon as the meeting adjourned. Mr. Hotchkiss +thereupon took the road and went on his way, walking a little more +rapidly than usual, in the hope of overtaking Ike. At last, however, he +came to the conclusion that the negro had remained in town. He was +sorry, for there was nothing he liked better than to drop gall and venom +into the mind of a fairly intelligent negro. + +As for Ike, he had his own plans. He had told Edie that in all +probability he wouldn't come home that night, and advised her to get a +nearby negro woman to stay all night with her. This Edie promised to do. +When the league adjourned, Ike lost no time in taking to the road, and +for fear some one might overtake him he went in a dog-trot for the first +mile, and walked rapidly the rest of the way. Before he came to the +house, he stopped and pulled off his shoes, hiding them in a +fence-corner. He then left the road, and slipped through the woods until +he was close to the rear of the house. Here his wariness was redoubled. +He wormed himself along like a snake, and crept and crawled, until he +was close enough to see Edie sitting on the front step--there was but +one--of their little cabin. He was close enough to see that she had on +her Sunday clothes, and he thought he could smell the faint odour of +cologne; he had brought her a bottle home the night before. + +He lay concealed for some time, but finally he heard footsteps on the +road, and he rose warily to a standing position. Edie heard the +footsteps too, for she rose and shook out her pink frock, and went to +the gate. The lonely pedestrian came leisurely along the road, having no +need for haste. When he found that it was impossible to overtake Ike, +Mr. Hotchkiss ceased to walk rapidly, and regulated his pace by the +serenity of the hour and the deliberate movements of nature. The hour +was rapidly approaching when solitude would be at its meridian on this +side of the world, and a mocking-bird not far away was singing it in. + +Mr. Hotchkiss would have passed Ike's gate without turning his head, but +he heard a voice softly call his name. He paused, and looked around, and +at the gate he saw the figure of Edie. "Is that you, Mr. Hotchkiss? What +you do with Ike?" + +"Isn't he at home? He started before I did." + +"He ain't comin' home to-night, an' I was so lonesome that I had to set +on the step here to keep myse'f company," said Edie. "Won't you come in +an' rest? I know you must be tired; I got some cold water in here, fresh +from the well." + +"No, I'll not stop," replied Mr. Hotchkiss. "It is late, and I must be +up early in the morning." + +"Well, tell me 'bout Ike," said Edie. "You got 'im in the league all +right, I hope?" She came out of the gate, as she said this, and moved +nearer to Hotchkiss. In her hand she held a flower of some kind, and +with this she toyed in a shamefaced sort of way. + +"Mr. Varner is now a member in good standing," replied Hotchkiss, "and I +think he will do good work for his race and for the party." + +Edie moved a step or two nearer to him, toying with her flower. Now, Mr. +Hotchkiss was a genuine reformer of the most approved type, and, as +such, he was entitled to as many personal and private fads as he chose +to have. He was a vegetarian, holding to the theory that meat is a +poison, though he was not averse to pie for breakfast. His pet aversion, +leaving alcohol out of the question, was all forms of commercial +perfumes. As Edie came close to him, he caught a whiff of her +cologne-scented clothes, and his anger rose. + +"Why will you ladies," he said, "persist in putting that sort of stuff +on you?" + +"I dunner what you mean," replied Edie, edging still closer to +Hotchkiss. + +"Why that infernal----" + +He never finished the sentence. A pistol-shot rang out, and Hotchkiss +fell like a log. Edie, fearing a similar fate for herself, ran screaming +down the road, and never paused until she had reached the dwelling of +Mahlon Butts. She fell in the door when it was opened and lay on the +floor, moaning and groaning. When she could be persuaded to talk, her +voice could have been heard a mile. + +"They've killt him!" she screamed; "they've killt him! an' he was sech a +good man! Oh, he was sech a good man!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + +_Mr. Sanders Searches for Evidence_ + + +The news of the shooting of Hotchkiss spread like wildfire, and startled +the community, giving rise to various emotions. It created consternation +among the negroes, who ran to and fro, and hither and yonder, like wild +creatures. Many of the whites, especially the thoughtless and the +irresponsible, contemplated the tragedy with a certain degree of +satisfaction, feeling that a very dangerous man had been providentially +removed. On the other hand, the older and more conservative citizens +deplored it, knowing well that it would involve the whole community in +trouble, and give it a conspicuous place in the annals which radical +rage was daily preparing, in order still further to inflame the public +mind of the North. + +Bridalbin promptly disappeared from Shady Dale, but returned in a few +days, accompanied by a squad of soldiers. It was the opinion of the +community, when these fresh troops made their appearance, that they were +to be added to the detachment stationed in the town; but this proved to +be a mistake. Two nights after their arrival, when the officer in +charge, who was a member of the military commander's staff, had +investigated the killing, he gave orders for the arrest of Gabriel +Tolliver, Francis Bethune, Paul Tomlin, and Jesse Tidwell. The arrests +were made at night, and so quietly that when the town awoke to the +facts, and was ready to display its rage at such a high-handed +proceeding, the soldiers and their prisoners were well on their way to +Malvern. + +The people felt that something must be done, but what? One by one the +citizens instinctively assembled at the court-house. No call was issued; +the meeting was not preconcerted; there was no common understanding; but +all felt that there must be a conference, a consultation, and there was +no place more convenient than the old court-house, where for long years +justice had been simply and honestly administered. + +It was, indeed, a trying hour. Meriwether Clopton and his daughter Sarah +were the first to make their appearance at the court-house, and it was +perhaps owing to their initiative that a large part of the community +shortly assembled there. At first, there was some talk of a rescue, and +this would have been feasible, no doubt; but while Lawyer Tidwell was +violently advocating this course, Mr. Sanders mounted the judge's bench, +and rapped loudly for order. When this had been secured, he moved that +Meriwether Clopton be called to the chair. The motion had as many +seconds as there were men in the room, for the son of the First Settler +was as well-beloved and as influential as his father had been. + +"My friends," he said, after thanking the meeting for the honour +conferred upon him, "I feel as if we were all in the midst of a dream, +and therefore I am at a loss what to say to you. As it is all very +real, and far removed from the regions of dreams, the best that I can do +is to counsel moderation and calmness. The blow that has fallen on a few +of us strikes at all, for what has happened to some of our young men may +easily happen to the rest, especially if we meet this usurpation of +civil justice with measures that are violent and retaliatory. We can +only hope that the Hand that has led us into the sea of troubles by +which we have been overwhelmed of late will lead us safely out again. +For myself, I am fully persuaded that what now seems to be a calamity +will, in some shape or other, make us all stronger and better. I am an +old man, and this has been my experience. You need have no fears for the +welfare of the young men. They may be deprived for a time of the +comforts to which they are accustomed, but their safety is assured. They +will probably be tried before a military court, but if there is a spark +of justice in such a tribunal, our young men will shortly be restored to +us. We all know that these lads never dreamed of assassination, and this +is what the killing of this unfortunate man amounts to. We have met here +to-day, not to discuss measures of vengeance and retaliation, but to +consult together as to the best means of securing evidence of the +innocence of the young men. Speaking for myself, I think it would be +well to place the whole matter in the hands of Mr. Sanders, leaving him +to act as he thinks best." + +This was agreed to by the meeting, more than one of the audience +declaring loudly that Mr. Sanders was the very man for the occasion. By +unanimous agreement it was decided that one of the most distinguished +lawyers in the State should be retained to defend the young men and that +he should be authorised to employ such assistant counsel as he might +deem necessary. + +It was the personality of Meriwether Clopton, rather than his remarks, +that soothed and subdued the crowd which had assembled at the +court-house. He was serenity itself; his attitude breathed hope and +courage; and in the tones of his voice, in his very gestures, there was +a certainty that the young men would not be made the victims of +political necessity. In his own mind, however, he was not at all sure +that the radical leaders at Washington would not be driven by their +outrageous rancour to do the worst that could be done. + +As may be supposed, Mr. Sanders did not allow the grass to grow under +his feet. He was the first to leave the court-room, but he was followed +and overtaken by Silas Tomlin. + +"Be jigged, Silas, ef you don't look like you've seed a ghost!" +exclaimed Mr. Sanders, whose good-humour had been restored by the +prospect of prompt action. + +"Worse than that, Sanders; Paul has been carried off. If you'll fetch +him back, you may show me an army of ghosts. But I wanted to see you, +Sanders, about this business. You'll need money, and if you can't get it +anywhere else, come to me; I'll take it as a favour." + +Mr. Sanders frowned and pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle. +"You mean, Silas, that if I need money, and can't beg, nor borry, nor +steal it, maybe you'll loan me a handful of shinplasters. Why, man, I +wouldn't give you the wroppin's of my little finger for all the money +you eber seed or saved. Do you think that I'm tryin' to make money?" + +"But there'll be expenses, William, and money's none too plentiful among +our people." Silas spoke in a pleading tone, and his lips were trembling +from grief or excitement. + +Noticing this, Mr. Sanders relented a little in his attitude toward the +man. "Well, Silas, when I reely need money, I'll call on you. But don't +lose any sleep on account of that promise, for it'll be many a long day +before I call on you." + +With that, Mr. Sanders mounted his horse--known far and wide as the +Racking Roan--and was soon out of sight. His destination was the +residence of Mahlon Butts, and in no long time his horse had covered the +distance. + +Although the murder of Hotchkiss was more than a week old, a +considerable number of negroes were lounging about the premises of Judge +Butts--he had once been a Justice of the Peace--and in the road near by, +drawn to the spot by that curious fascination which murder or death +exerts on the ignorant. They moved about with something like awe, +talking in low tones or in whispers. Mr. Sanders tied his horse to a +swinging limb and went in. He was met at the door by Mahlon himself. + +"Why, come in, William; come in an' make yourself welcome. You uv heard +of the trouble, I make no doubt, or you wouldn't be here. It's turrible, +William, turrible, for a man to be overcome in this off-hand way, wi' no +time for to say his pra's or even so much as to be sorry for his +misdeeds." + +Judge Butts's dignity was of the heavy and oppressive kind. His +enunciation was slow and deliberate, and he had a way of looking over +his spectacles, and nodding his head to give emphasis to his words. This +dignity, which was fortified in ignorance, had received a considerable +reinforcement from the fact that he was a candidate for a county office +on the Republican ticket. + +Before Mr. Sanders could make any reply to Mahlon's opening remark, Mrs. +Becky Butts came into the room. She was not in a very good humour, and, +at first, she failed to see Mr. Sanders. + +"Mahlon, if you don't go and run that gang of niggers off, I'll take the +shot-gun to 'em. They've been hanging around--why, howdye, Mr. Sanders? +I certainly am glad to see you. I hope you'll stay to dinner; it looks +like old times to see you in the house." + +There was something about Mrs. Becky Butts that was eminently satisfying +to the eye. She was younger than her husband, who, at fifty, appeared to +be an old man. Her sympathies were so keen and persistent that they +played boldly in her face, running about over her features as the +sunshine ripples on a pond of clear water. + +"Set down, Becky," said Mr. Sanders, after he had responded to her +salutation. "I've come to find out about the killing of that feller +Hotchkiss." + +"You may well call it killin', William, bekaze Friend Hotchkiss was +stone dead a few hours arter the fatal shot was fired," declared Judge +Butts. + +"Where was the killin' done?" inquired Mr. Sanders. He addressed himself +to Mrs. Butts, but Mahlon made reply. + +"We found him, William, right spang in front of Ike Varner's +cabin--right thar, an' nowhar else. He war doin' his level best for to +git on his feet, an' he tried to talk, but not more than two or three +words did he say." + +"Well, what did he say?" inquired Mr. Sanders. + +"It was the same thing ever' time--'Why, Tolliver, Tolliver'--them was +his very words." + +"Are you right certain about that, Mahlon?" asked Mr. Sanders. + +"As certain an' shore, William, as I am that I'm settin' here. Ef he +said it once, he said it a dozen times." + +"I reckon maybe he had been talking with young Tolliver before he came +from town," remarked Mrs. Butts, noting Mr. Sanders's serious +countenance. + +"Whar was he wounded, Becky?" asked Mr. Sanders. + +"Between the left ear and the temple." + +"Becky's right, William," was the solemn comment of Mahlon. "Yes, sir, +he was hit betwixt the year an' the temple." + +"Did you have a doctor?" + +"We sent for one, but if he come, we never saw him," Mrs. Butts replied. + +"Would you uv believed it, William? An' yit it's the plain truth," said +Mahlon. + +"What time was Hotchkiss killed?" + +"'Bout half-past ten; maybe a little sooner." + +This was all the information Mr. Sanders could get, and it was a great +deal more than he wanted in one particular. He knew that Gabriel +Tolliver was innocent of the killing; but the fact that his name was +called by the dying man was almost as damaging as an ante-mortem +accusation would have been. + +Mr. Sanders rode to Ike Varner's cabin, a few hundred yards away. Tying +his horse to the fence on the opposite side of the road, he entered the +house without ceremony. + +"Who is that? La! Mr. Sanders, you sho did skeer me," exclaimed Edie. +"Why, when did you come? I would as soon have spected to see a ghost!" + +"You'll see 'em here before you're much older," replied Mr. Sanders, +grimly. "They ain't fur off. Wher's Ike?" + +"La! ef you know anything about Ike you know more than I does. I ain't +laid eyes on that nigger man, not sence----" She paused, and looked at +Mr. Sanders with a smile. + +"Not sence the night Hotchkiss was killed," said Mr. Sanders, completing +her sentence for her. + +"La, Mr. Sanders! how'd you know that? But it's the truth: I ain't never +seen Ike sence that night." + +"I know a heap more'n you think I do," Mr. Sanders remarked. "Hotchkiss +was talkin' to you at the gate thar when he was shot. What was he +sayin'?" + +The woman was a bright mulatto, and, remembering her own designs and +desires so far as Hotchkiss was concerned, her face flushed and she +turned her eyes away. "Why, he wan't sayin' a word, hardly; I was doin' +all the talkin'. I was settin' on the step there, an' I seen him +passin', an' hollad at him. I ast him if he wouldn't have a drink of +cold water, an' he said he would, an' I took it out to the gate, an' +while I was talkin', they shot him. They certainly did." + +"Did you ask Ike about it?" Mr. Sanders inquired. + +"La! I ain't seen Ike sence that night," exclaimed Edie, flirting her +apron with a coquettish air that was by no means unbecoming. + +"Now, Edie," said Mr. Sanders, with a frown to match the severity of his +voice, "you know as well as I do, that when you heard the pistol go off, +and saw what had happened, you run in the house an' flung your apern +over your head." It was a wild guess, but it was close to the truth. + +"La, Mr. Sanders! you talk like you was watchin' me. 'Twa'n't my apern, +'twas my han's. I didn't have on no apern that night; I had on my Sunday +frock." + +"An' you know jest as well as I do that Ike come in here an' stood over +you, an' said somethin' to you." + +"No, sir; he didn't stand over me; I was here"--she illustrated his +position by her movements--"an' when Ike come in, he stood over there." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said," replied Edie, smiling to show her pretty teeth, "'If you want +him, go out there an' git him.' Yes, sir, he said that. La! I never +heard of a nigger killin' a white man on _that_ account; did you, Mr. +Sanders?" + +"I don't know as I ever did," replied Mr. Sanders, regarding her with an +expression akin to pity. "But times has changed." + +"They certainly has," said Edie. "I tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I don't +b'live Mr. Hotchkiss was a man." She looked up at Mr. Sanders, as she +made the remark. Catching his eye, she exclaimed--"I don't; I declare I +don't! I never will believe it." She gave a chirruping laugh, as she +made the remark. + +It is to be doubted if, in the history of the world, a man ever had a +higher compliment paid to his devotion and his singleness of purpose. + +As Mr. Sanders mounted his horse, Edie watched him, and, as she stood +with her arms extended, each hand grasping a side of the doorway, +smiling and showing her white teeth, she presented a picture of wild and +irresponsible beauty that an artist would have admired. Finally, she +turned away with a laugh, saying, "I declare that Mr. Sanders is a +sight!" + +In due time the Racking Roan carried Mr. Sanders across Murder Creek to +the plantation of Felix Samples, where the news of the arrest of the +young men occasioned both grief and indignation. They had arrived at the +dance about nine o'clock, and had started home between eleven and +twelve. Gabriel, Mr. Samples said, was not one of the party. Indeed, he +remembered very well that when some of the young people asked for +Gabriel, Francis Bethune had said that the town had been searched for +Gabriel, and he was not to be found. + +Evidently, there was no case against the three young men who had gone to +the dance. They could prove an alibi by fifty persons. "Be jigged ef I +don't b'lieve Gabriel is in for it," said Mr. Sanders to himself as he +was going back to Shady Dale. "An' that's what comes of moonin' aroun' +an' loafin' about in the woods wi' the wild creeturs." + +Mr. Sanders went straight to the Lumsden Place to consult with Gabriel's +grandmother. Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny Tomlin were already +there, each having called for the purpose of offering her such comfort +and consolation as they could. This fine old gentlewoman had had the +care of Gabriel almost from the time he was born, for his birth left his +mother an invalid, the victim of one of those mysterious complaints that +sometimes seize on motherhood. It was well known in that community, +whose members knew whatever was to be known about one another, that Lucy +Lumsden's mind and heart were wholly centred on Gabriel and his affairs. +She was a frail, delicate woman, gentle in all her ways, and ever ready +to efface herself, as it were, and give precedence to others. Her +manners were so fine that they seemed to cling to her as the perfume +clings to the rose. + +So these old friends--Meriwether Clopton, and Miss Fanny +Tomlin--considered it to be their duty, as it was their pleasure, to +call on Lucy Lumsden in her trouble. They expected to find her in a +state of collapse, but they found her walking about the house, +apparently as calm as a June morning. + +"Good-morning, Meriwether," she said pleasantly; "it is a treat indeed, +and a rare one, to see you in this house. And here is Fanny! I am glad +to see you, my dear. It is very good of you to come to an old woman who +is in trouble. I think we are all in trouble together. No, don't sit +here, my dear; the library is cooler, and you must be warm. Come into +the library, Meriwether." + +"Upon my word, you look twenty years younger," said Miss Fanny Tomlin. + +"Do I, indeed? Then trouble must be good for me. Still, I don't +appreciate it. I am an old woman, my dear, and all the years of my life +I have had a contempt for those who fly into a rage, or lose their +tempers. And now, look at me! Never in all your days have you seen a +woman in such a rage as I have felt all day and still feel!" + +"The idea!" exclaimed Miss Fanny. "Why, you look as cool as a cucumber." + +"Yes, the idea!" echoed Mrs. Lumsden. "If I had those miserable +creatures in my power, do you know what I would do? Do you know, +Meriwether?" + +"I can't imagine, Lucy," he replied gently. He saw that the apparent +calmness of Gabriel's grandmother was simply the result of suppressed +excitement. + +"Well, I'll not tell you if you don't know." She seated herself, but +rose immediately, and went to the window, where she stood looking out, +and tapping gently on the pane with her fingers. She stood there only a +short time. "You may imagine that I am nervous," she said, turning away +from the window, "but I am not." She held out her hand to illustrate. It +was frail, but firm. "No," she went on, "I am not nervous; I am simply +furious. I know what you came for, my friends, and it is very kind of +you; but it is useless. I love you both well, and I know what you would +say. I have said such things to my friends, and thought I was performing +a duty." + +"Well, you know the old saying, Lucy," said Meriwether Clopton. "Misery +loves company. We are all in the same boat, and it seems to be a leaky +one. I have heard it said that a woman's wit is sometimes better than a +man's wisdom, and, for my part, I have not come to see if you needed to +be consoled, but to find out your views." + +"I have none," she said somewhat curtly. "Show me a piece of blue cloth, +and I'll tear it to pieces. That is the only thought or idea I have." + +"Well, that doesn't help us much," Meriwether Clopton remarked. + +At that moment, Mr. Sanders was announced, and word was sent to him to +come right in. "Howdy, everybody," he said in his informal way, as he +entered the room. He was warm, and instead of leaving his hat on the +hall-rack, he had kept it in his hand, and was using it as a fan. "Miss +Lucy," he said, "I won't take up two minutes of your time----" + +"Mr. Sanders, you may take up two hours of my time. Time!" Mrs. Lumsden +exclaimed bitterly--"why, time is about all I have left." + +"Oh, it ain't nigh as bad as you think," remarked Mr. Sanders, as +cheerfully as he could. "But I want to settle a p'int or two. Do you +remember what time it was when Gabriel come home the night Hotchkiss was +killed?" + +Mrs. Lumsden reflected a moment. "Why, he went out directly after +supper, and came in--well, I don't remember when he came in. I must have +been asleep." + +"Um-m," grunted Mr. Sanders. + +"Is it important?" Mrs. Lumsden asked. + +"It may turn out to be right down important," replied Mr. Sanders, and +then he said no more, but sat looking at the floor, and wondering how +Gabriel could be released from the tangled web that the spider, +Circumstance, had woven about him. + +As Mr. Sanders went out, he met Nan at the door, and he was amazed at +the change that had come over her. Perplexity and trouble looked forth +from her eyes, and there was that in her face that Mr. Sanders had never +seen there before. "Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "you look like you've +lost your best friend." + +"Well, perhaps I have. Who is in there?" And when Mr. Sanders told her, +she cried out, "Oh, why don't they leave her alone?" + +"Well, they ain't pesterin' her much, honey. Go right in. Lucy Lumsden +has got as much grit as a major gener'l, an' she'll be glad to see +you." + +But Nan stood staring at Mr. Sanders, as if she wanted to ask him a +question, and couldn't find words for it. Her face was pale, and she had +the appearance of one who is utterly forspent. + +"Why, honey, what ails you? I never seed you lookin' like this before." + +"You've never seen me ill before," answered Nan. "I thought the walk +would do me good, but the sun--oh, Mr. Sanders! please don't ask me +anything else." + +With that, she ran up the steps very rapidly for an ill person, and +stood a moment in the hallway. + +"Be jigged ef she ain't wuss hit than any on us!" declared Mr. Sanders, +to himself, as he turned away. "What a pity that she had to go an' git +grown!" + +Following the sound of voices, Nan went into the library. Mrs. Lumsden, +who was still walking about restlessly, paused and tried to smile when +she saw Nan; but it was only a make-believe smile. Nan went directly to +her, and stood looking in the old gentlewoman's eyes. Then she kissed +her quite suddenly and impulsively. + +"Nan, you must be ill," Miss Fanny Tomlin declared. + +"I am, Aunt Fanny; I am not feeling well at all." + +"Lie there on the sofa, child," Mrs. Lumsden insisted. Taking Nan by the +arm, she almost forced her to lie down. + +"If you-all are talking secrets, I'll go away," said Nan. + +"No, child," remarked Mrs. Lumsden; "we are talking about trouble, and +trouble is too common to be much of a secret in this world." She seated +herself on the edge of the sofa, and held Nan's hand, caressing it +softly. + +"This is the way I used to cure Gabriel, when he was ill or weary," she +said in a tone too low for the others to hear. + +"Did you?" whispered Nan, closing her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction. + +"This is the second time I have been able to sit down since breakfast," +remarked Mrs. Lumsden. + +"I have walked miles and miles," replied Nan, wearily. + +There was a noise in the hall, and presently Tasma Tid peeped cautiously +into the room. "Wey you done wit Honey Nan?" she asked. "She in dis +house; you ain' kin fool we." + +"Come in, and behave yourself if you know how," said Mrs. Lumsden. "Come +in, Tid." + +"How come we name Tid? How come we ain't name Tasma Tid?" + +No one thought it worth while to make any reply to this, and the African +came into the room, acting as if she were afraid some one would jump at +her. "Sit in the corner there at the foot of the sofa," said Mrs. +Lumsden. Tasma Tid complied very readily with this command, since it +enabled her to be near Nan. The African squatted on the floor, and sat +there motionless. + +Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny went away after awhile, but Mrs. +Lumsden continued to sit by Nan, caressing her hand. Not a word was said +for a long time, but the silence was finally broken by Nan, who spoke to +the African. + +"Tasma Tid, I want you to go home and tell Miss Johnny that I will spend +the rest of the day and the night with Grandmother Lumsden." + +"Don't keer; we comin' back," said Tasma Tid. + +"Yes, come back," said Mrs. Lumsden; whereupon, the African whisked out +of the room as quick as a flash. + +After Tasma Tid had gone, a silence fell on the house--a silence so +profound that Nan could hear the great clock ticking in the front hall, +and the bookshelves cracked just as they do in the middle of the night. + +"If I had known what was going to happen when Gabriel came and kissed me +good-bye," said Mrs. Lumsden, after awhile, "I would have gone out there +where those men were, and--well, I don't know what I wouldn't have +done!" + +"Didn't Gabriel tell you? Why----" Nan paused. + +"Not he! Not Gabriel!" cried Mrs. Lumsden in a voice full of pride. "He +wanted to spare his grandmother one night's worry, and he did." + +"Didn't you know when he kissed you good-night that something was +wrong?" Nan inquired. + +"How should I? Why, he sometimes comes and kisses me in the middle of +the night, even after he has gone to bed. He says he sleeps better +afterwards." + +What was there in this simple statement to cause Nan to catch her +breath, and seize the hand that was caressing her. For one thing, it +presented the tender side of Gabriel's nature in a new light; and for +the rest--well, who shall pretend to fathom a young woman's heart? + +"Yes, he was always doing something of that kind," remarked the +grandmother proudly; "and I have often thought that he should have been +a girl." + +"A girl!" cried Nan. + +"Yes; he will marry some woman who doesn't appreciate his finer +qualities--the tenderness and affection that he tries to hide from +everybody but his grandmother; and he will go about with a hungry heart, +and his wife will never suspect it. I am afraid I dislike her already." + +"Oh, don't say that!" Nan implored. + +"But if he was a girl," the grandmother went on, "he would be better +prepared to endure coldness and neglect. This is partly what we were +born for, my dear, as you will find out one day for yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + +_Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions_ + + +It was not often that Mr. Sanders had a surprise, but he found one +awaiting him when he left the Lumsden Place, and started in the +direction of home. He had not taken twenty steps before he met the young +Captain who had charge of the detachment of Federal troops stationed at +Shady Dale. + +"This is Mr. Sanders, I believe," he said without ceremony. "My name is +Falconer. I have just been to call on Mr. Clopton, but they tell me +there that he is at Mrs. Lumsden's." + +"Well, I wouldn't advise you to go there," said Mr. Sanders, bluntly. +"The lady is in a considerbul state of mind about her gran'son." + +"It is a miserable piece of business all the way through," remarked +Captain Falconer. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, which Mr. +Sanders could not fail to catch, and it interested him. + +"I called upon my cousin, Mrs. Claiborne, for the first time to-day," +the Captain went on. "She has invited me to tea often, but I have +refused the invitation on account of the state of feeling here. I know +how high it is. It is natural, of course, but it is not justifiable. +Take my case, for instance: I am a Democrat, and I come from a family of +Democrats, who have never voted anything else but the Democratic ticket, +except when Henry Clay was a candidate, and when Lincoln was running for +a second term." + +"You don't tell me!" cried Mr. Sanders, with genuine astonishment. + +"It is a fact," said Captain Falconer, with emphasis. "If you think that +I, or any of the men under me, or any of the men who fought at all, +intended to bring about such a condition as now exists in this part of +the country, you are doing us a great wrong. Don't mistake me! I am not +apologising for the part I took. I would do it all over again a hundred +times if necessary. Yet I do not believe in negro suffrage, and I abhor +and detest every exaction that the politicians in Washington have placed +upon the people of the South." + +Mr. Sanders was too much astonished to make appropriate comment. He +could only stare at the young man. And Captain Falconer was very good to +look upon. He was of the Kentucky type, tall, broad-shouldered and +handsome. His undress uniform became him well, and he had the +distinctive and pleasing marks that West Point leaves on all young men +who graduate at the academy there. + +"Well, as I told you, I called on my cousin to-day for the first time, +and after we had talked of various matters, especially the unfortunate +events that have recently occurred, she insisted that I make it my +business to see you or Mr. Clopton. She told me," the Captain said, +with a pleasant smile, "that you are the man that kidnapped Mr. +Lincoln." + +"She's wrong about that," replied Mr. Sanders; "I'm the man that didn't +kidnap him. But I want to ask you: ain't you some kin to John Barbour +Falconer?" + +"He was my father," the Captain replied. + +"Well, I've heard Meriwether Clopton talk about him hundreds of times. +They ripped around in Congress together before the war." + +"Now, that is very interesting to me," said the Captain, his face +brightening. + +He was silent for some time, as they walked slowly along, and during +this period of silence, Meriwether Clopton came up behind them. He would +have passed on, with a polite inclination of his head, but Mr. Sanders +drew his attention. + +"Mr. Clopton," he said, "here's a gentleman I reckon you'd like to +know--Captain Falconer. He's a son of John Barbour Falconer." + +"Is that so?" exclaimed Meriwether Clopton, a wonderful change passing +over his face. "Well, I am glad to see a son of my dear old friend, +anywhere and at any time." He shook hands very cordially with the +Captain. "Let me see--let me see: if I am not mistaken, your first name +is Garnett; you were named after your maternal grandfather." + +"That is true, sir," replied the Captain, with a boyish laugh that was +pleasing to the ear--he was not more than thirty. "But I am surprised +that you should remember these things so well." + +"Why, my dear sir, it is not surprising at all. I have dandled you on my +knee many and many a time; I know the very house, yes, the very room, in +which you were born. Some of the happiest hours of my manhood were spent +with your father and mother in Washington. Your father is dead, I +believe. Well, he was a good man; among the best I ever knew. What of +your mother?" + +"She has broken greatly," responded the Captain. "The war was a great +burden to her. She was a Virginian, you know." + +"Yes--yes!" said Meriwether Clopton. "The war has been a dreadful +nightmare to the people on both sides; and it seems to be still going on +disguised as politics. Only last night, as you perhaps know, a posse of +soldiers arrested and carried off four of our worthiest young men." + +"Yes, sir, I know of it and regret it," responded Captain Falconer. "And +I have no doubt that a majority of the people here are incensed at the +soldiers, forgetting that they are the mere instruments of their +superiors, and that their superiors themselves take their orders from +other superiors who are engaged in the game of politics. It is the duty +of a soldier to blindly obey orders. To pause to ask a question would be +charged to a spirit of insubordination. The army is at the beck and call +of what is called the Government, and to-day the Government happens to +be the radical contingent of the Republican Party. A soldier may detest +the service he is called on to perform, but he is bound to obey orders. +I can answer for the officer who was sent to arrest these young men. He +was boiling over with rage because he had been sent here on such an +errand." + +"I am glad to hear that," declared Meriwether Clopton, with great +heartiness. + +"His feelings were perfectly natural, sir," said Captain Falconer. "Take +the army as it stands to-day, and it would be hard, if not impossible, +to find a man in it who does not shrink from doing the dirty work of the +politicians. Can you imagine that my mission here is pleasant to me? I +can assure you, sir, it is the most disagreeable duty that ever fell to +my lot. I am glad you spoke of these arrests. At your convenience, I +should like to have a little conversation with you and Mr. Sanders on +this subject." + +"There is no time like the present," replied Meriwether Clopton. "Will +you come with me to my house?" + +"Certainly, sir; and with the more pleasure because I called on my +cousin Mrs. Claiborne to-day. I have forborne to call on her heretofore +on account of the prejudice against us. But these arrests made it +necessary for me to communicate with some of the influential friends of +the young men. I was afraid my visit to-day would prove to be +embarrassing to her. If I visit you at your invitation, the probability +is she will have no social penalty to pay. I know what the feeling is." + +Indeed, he knew too well. He had passed along the streets apparently +perfectly oblivious to the attitude and movements of those whom he +chanced to meet, but all his faculties had been awake, for he was a man +of the keenest sensibilities. He had seen women and young girls curl +their lips in a sneer, and toss their heads in scorn, as he passed them +by; and some of them pulled their skirts aside, lest his touch should +pollute them. He had observed all this, and he was wounded by it; and +yet he had no resentment. Being a Southerner himself, he knew that the +feelings which prompted such actions were perfectly natural, the fitting +accompaniment of the humiliation which the radical element compelled the +whites to endure. + +In the course of his long and frequent walks in the countryside, Captain +Falconer had made the acquaintance of Gabriel Tolliver, in whose nature +the spirit of a gypsy vagrant seemed to have full sway; and Gabriel was +the only person native to Shady Dale, except the ancient postmaster, +with whom the young officer had held communication. He seemed to be cut +off not only from all social intercourse, but even from +acquaintanceship. + +"You may rest assured," declared Meriwether Clopton, "that if I had +known you were the son of my old friend, I would have sought you out, +much as I detest the motives and purposes of those who have inaugurated +this era of bayonet rule. And you may be sure, too, that in my house you +will be a welcome guest." + +"I appreciate your kindness, sir, and I shall remember it," said Captain +Falconer. + +That portion of Shady Dale which was moving about the streets with its +eyes open was surprised and shocked--nay, wellnigh paralysed--to see the +"Yankee Captain" on parade, as it were, with Meriwether Clopton on one +side of him, and Mr. Sanders on the other. Yes, and the hand of the son +of the First Settler (could their eyes deceive them?) was resting +familiarly on the shoulder of the "Yankee!" Surely, here was food for +thought. Were Meriwether Clopton and Mr. Sanders about to join the +radicals? Well, well, well! At last one of the loungers, a man of middle +age, who had seen service, raised his voice and put an end to comment. + +"You can bet your sweet life," he declared, "that Billy Sanders knows +what he's up to. He may not git the game he's after, but he'll fetch +back a handful of feathers or hair. Mr. Clopton I don't know so well, +but I was in the war wi' Billy Sanders, and I wish you'd wake me up and +let me know when somebody fools him. There ain't a living man on the +continent, nor under it neither, that can git on his blind side." + +"Now you are whistlin'!" exclaimed one of his companions, and this +seemed to settle the matter. If Mr. Sanders didn't know what he was +about, why, then, everybody else in that neighbourhood might as well +give up, "and let natur' cut her caper." + +"I understand now why Mrs. Claiborne referred me to you," said Captain +Falconer, when Mr. Sanders had related the nature and extent of the +information which he had been able to gather during the morning. + +"The lady is kinder partial," remarked Mr. Sanders, "but she's as bright +as a new dollar, somethin' I ain't seed sence I cut my wisdom teeth." + +"You already know what I intended to tell you," said the Captain. But +it turned out, nevertheless, that he was able to give them some very +startling information. It was the general understanding in Shady Dale +that the prisoners were to be sent to Atlanta; but the military +authorities, fearing an attempt at rescue, perhaps, had ordered them to +be sent to Fort Pulaski, below Savannah. There were other reasons, the +Captain explained, for sending the young men there. They would be +isolated from their friends, and, so placed, might be induced to +confess; and if the circumstances surrounding them were not sufficient +to produce such a result then other measures were to be taken. + +Meanwhile, the circumstantial evidence against Gabriel was very +strong--stronger even than Mr. Sanders had imagined. Bridalbin, whom +Captain Falconer knew as Boring, had informed that officer of his own +supposed discoveries with respect to Gabriel's movements; and the +evidence he was prepared to give, coupled with the fact that Hotchkiss +had pronounced the lad's name with his last breath, made out a case of +exceptional strength. Urged on by the vindictiveness of the radical +leaders in Congress, it was more than probable that the military court +before which the young men were to be tried, would convict any or all of +them on much slighter evidence than that which had accumulated against +Gabriel. It was all circumstantial evidence of course, but even in the +civil courts, and before juries made up of their peers, men accused of +crime have frequently been convicted on circumstantial evidence +alone--that is to say, on probability. + +"Now, this is what I wanted to say," remarked Captain Falconer, as they +sat in the library at the Clopton Place, and after he had gone over the +evidence, item by item: "I was given to understand by the officer who +made the arrests that I would shortly be transferred to Savannah, or, +rather, to Fort Pulaski, and placed in charge of the prisoners, the idea +being that I, knowing something of the young men, would be able to +extract a confession from them by fair means. This failing, there are +others who could be depended on to employ foul. The officer, who is a +very fine soldier, and thoroughly in love with his profession, dropped a +hint that, all other means failing, the young men are to be put through +a course of sprouts in order to extort a confession." + +Mr. Sanders looked hard at the Captain; he was taking the young man's +measure. What he saw or divined must have been satisfactory, for his +face, which had been in a somewhat puckered condition, as he himself +would have expressed it, suddenly cleared up, and he rose from his chair +with a laugh. + +"Do you-all know what I've gone an' done?" he asked. + +"You do so many clever things, William, that we cannot possibly imagine +what the newest is," said Meriwether Clopton. + +"Well, sir, this is the cleverest yit. I've come off from Lucy Lumsden's +an' clean forgot my hoss. It's a wonder I didn't forgit my head. Now, +you might 'a' said, an' said truly, that I'd forgit a man, or a 'oman, +but when William H. Sanders, Esquire, walks off in the broad light of +day, an' forgits his hoss, an' that hoss the Rackin' Roan, you may know +that his thinkin' machine has slipped a cog. Ef you'll excuse me, I'll +go right arter that creetur. I'm mighty glad he can't talk--it's about +the only thing he can't do--bekaze he'd gi' me a long an' warm piece of +his mind." + +Captain Falconer rose also, but Meriwether Clopton protested. "I should +be glad if you would stay to dinner," he said. "I have several things to +show you--some interesting letters from your father, for instance." + +"But the ladies?" suggested the Captain, with a comically doubtful lift +of the eyebrows. He had no notion of bearding any of the Confederate +lionesses in their dens. "You know how they regard us here." + +"Only my daughter Sarah is here. She knew your father well, and has a +very lively remembrance of him. She was fifteen when you were three, and +many a day she was your volunteer nurse." + +So it was arranged that the Captain should remain to dinner, and it may +be said that he spent a very pleasant time, after his long period of +social isolation. "I shall call you Garnett, to begin with," said Sarah +Clopton, as she shook his hand, "but you must not expect me to be very +cordial to-day. It was only last night, you must remember, that some of +the people you associate with arrested and carried off a young man who +is very dear to me." + +"You may be very sure, Miss Clopton, that the officer who did that piece +of work had no relish for it. He simply obeyed orders. He had no +discretion in the matter whatever." + +"Well, I shall be very glad to think that, Garnett, for your sake. But +that fact doesn't restore our young men," she said with a sigh. "Oh, I +wonder when we'll all be at peace and happy again?" + +"In God's own time, and not before," declared Meriwether Clopton +solemnly. + +"Well, we'll try an' help that time to come," said Mr. Sanders, entering +the room at that moment. He was followed by Cephas, who was one of +Gabriel's favourites among the small boys. Cephas was bashful enough, +but he always felt at ease at the Clopton Place, where everything moved +along the lines of simplicity and perfect openness. The small boy had a +sort of chilly feeling when he saw the officer, but he soon got over +that. + +"I went an' got my hoss," said Mr. Sanders, "an' he paid me back for my +forgitfulness by purty nigh bitin' a piece out'n my arm; an' whilst I +was a-rubbin' the place, up comes Cephas for to find out somethin' about +the boys. When I got through makin' a few remarks sech as you don't hear +at church, a kinder blind idee popped in my head, an' so I tuck Cephas +up behind me, an' fetched him here." + +"Sit on the sofa, Cephas. Have a chair, William, and tell us about your +blind idea." + +"Ef you'll promise not to laugh," Mr. Sanders stipulated. "You know Mrs. +Ab's sayin' that ef the old sow knowed she was swallerin' a tree ev'ry +time she crunched an acorn, she'd grunt a heap louder'n she does: well, +I know what I'm fixin' for to swaller, and you won't hear much loud +gruntin' from me." + +"Well, we are ready to hear from you," said Meriwether Clopton. +Whereupon, Mr. Sanders threw his head back and laughed. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + +_Mr. Sanders's Riddle_ + + +"I tell you how it is," said Mr. Sanders: "The riddle is how to git a +message to Gabriel; I could git the Captain thar to take it, but the +Captain will have as much as he can attend to, an' for that matter, so +have I. Wi' this riddle I'm overcrapped. Sence I left here, I've gone +over the whole matter in my mind, ef you can call it a mind. I could go +down thar myself, an' I'd be glad to, but could I git to have a private +talk wi' Gabriel? I reckon not." + +The remark was really interrogative, and was addressed to Captain +Falconer, who made a prompt reply--"I hardly think the scheme would +work. My impression is that orders have been issued from Atlanta for +these young men to be isolated. If that is so they can hold +communication with no one but the sentinel on duty, or the officer who +has charge of them. They are to be treated as felons, though nothing has +been proved against them. I am not sure, but I think that is the +programme." + +"That is about what I thought," said Mr. Sanders, "an' that's what I +told Cephas here. When I was fetchin' my horse, Cephas, he comes up, an' +he says, 'Mr. Sanders, have you heard from Gabriel?' an' I says, 'No, +Cephas, we ain't had time for to git a word from 'em.' An' then he went +on to say, Cephas did, that he'd like mighty well to see Gabriel. I told +him that maybe we could fix it up so as he could see Gabriel. You can't +imagine how holp up the little chap was. To see him then, an' see him +now, you'd think it was another boy." + +Captain Falconer looked at Cephas, and could see no guile. On the +contrary, he saw a freckled lad who appeared to be about ten years old; +he was really nearly fourteen. Cephas was so ugly that he was ugly when +he laughed, as he was doing now; but there was something about him that +attracted the attention of those who were older. It was a fact much +talked about that this freckled little boy never went with children of +his own age, but was always to be found with those much older. He was +Gabriel's chum when Gabriel wanted a chum; he went hunting with Francis +Bethune; and he could often be found at the store in which Paul Tomlin +was the chief clerk. He knew all the secrets of these young men, and +kept them, and they frequently advised with him about the young ladies. + +But he was fonder of Gabriel than of all the rest, and he was also fond +of Nan, who had been kind to him in many ways. Cephas was one of those +ill-favoured little creatures, who astonish everybody by never +forgetting a favour. Gratitude ran riot in his small bosom, and he was +ever ready to sacrifice himself for his friends. + +Seeing that Captain Falconer continued to look at him, Cephas hung his +head. He was only too conscious of his ugliness, and was very sensitive +about it. He wanted to be large and strong and handsome like Gabriel, or +dark and romantic-looking like Francis Bethune; and sometimes he was +very miserable because of the unkindness of fate or Providence in this +matter. + +"And so you want to see your friends," said the Captain, very kindly. +Every feature of his face showed that his sympathies were keen. "They +are very far away, or will be when they get to their journey's end--too +far, I should think, for a little boy to travel." + +"Maybe so," said Cephas, "but Gabriel had to go." + +"I see," said the Captain; "wherever Gabriel goes, you are willing to +go?" + +"Yes, sir," replied Cephas very simply. + +"I hope Gabriel appreciates it," remarked Sarah Clopton. + +"Oh, he does!" exclaimed Cephas. "Gabriel knows. Why, one day----" Then, +remembering the company he was in, he blushed, and refused to go on with +what he intended to say. + +Seeing his embarrassment, Mr. Sanders came to his rescue. "What I want +to know, Captain, is this: if that little chap comes down to Savannah, +will you allow him to see Gabriel and talk to him?" + +Again the Captain looked at the boy, and Cephas, catching a certain +humourous gleam in the gentleman's eye, began to smile. "Now, then," +said Captain Falconer, with an answering smile, "how would you like to +go with me?" + +"I think I would like it," replied Cephas, with a broad grin; "I think +that would be fine." + +"And what does Mr. Sanders think of it?" the Captain asked. + +"Well, I hadn't looked at it from that p'int of view," said Mr. Sanders. +"I 'lowed maybe that the best an' cheapest plan would be for me to take +the little chap down an' fetch him back." + +"My opinion may not be worth much, Mr. Sanders," said Sarah Clopton, +"but I think it would be a shame to take that child so far away from +home. I don't believe his mother will allow him to go." + +"That is a matter that was jest fixin' for to worry me," remarked Mr. +Sanders. "I could feel it kinder fermentin' in my mind, like molasses +turnin' to vinegar, an' now that you've fetched it to the top, Sarah, +we'll settle it before we go any furder. Come, Cephas; we'll go an' see +your mammy, an' see ef we can't coax her into lettin' you go. You'll +have to do your best, my son; I'll coax, an' you must wheedle." + +As they went out, Cephas was laughing at Mr. Sanders's remark about +wheedling. The youngster was an expert in that business. He was his +mother's only child, and he had learned at a very early age just how to +manage her. + +"What troubles me, Cephas," said Mr. Sanders, "is how you can git a +message to Gabriel wi'out lettin' the cat out'n the bag. He'll be +surrounder'd in sech a way that you can't git a word wi' 'im wi'out +tellin' the whole caboodle." + +At that moment, Mr. Sanders heard a small voice cry out something like +this: "Phazasee! Phazasee! arawa ooya ingagog?" + +To which jabbering Cephas made prompt reply: "Iya ingagog ota annysavvy +ota eesa gibbleable!" + +"Ooya ibfa! Ooya ibfa!" jeered the small voice. + +Mr. Sanders looked at Cephas in astonishment. "What kinder lingo is +that?" he asked. + +"It's the way we school-children talk when we don't want anybody to know +what we are saying. Johnny asked me where I was going, and I told him I +was going to Savannah to see Gabriel." + +"Did he know what you said?" + +"Why, he couldn't help but know, but he didn't believe it; he said it +was a fib." + +"Well, I'll be jigged!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Call that boy over +here." + +Cephas turned around--they had passed the house where the little boy +lived--and called out: "Onnaja! Onnaja! Stermera Andersa antwasa ota +eesa ooya." + +The small boy came running, though there was a doubtful look on his +face. He had frequently been the victim of Cephas's practical jokes. + +Mr. Sanders questioned him closely, and he confirmed the interpretation +of the lingo which Cephas had given to Mr. Sanders. + +"Do you mean to tell me," said Mr. Sanders to Cephas when they had +dismissed the small boy, "that this kinder thing has been goin' on right +under my nose, an' I not knowin' a word about it? How'd you pick up the +lingo?" + +"Gabriel teached it to me," replied Cephas. "He talks it better than any +of the boys, and I come next." This last remark Cephas made with a +blush. + +"Do I look pale, my son?" inquired Mr. Sanders, mopping his red face +with his handkerchief. Cephas gave a negative reply by shaking his head. +"Well, I may not look pale, but I shorely feel pale. You'll have to loan +me your arm, Cephas; I feel like Christopher Columbus did when he +discovered Atlanta, Ga." + +"Why, he didn't discover Atlanta, Mr. Sanders," protested Cephas. + +"He didn't!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Well, it was his own fault ef he +didn't. All he had to do was to read the country newspapers. But that's +neither here nor thar. Here I've been buttin' my head ag'in trees, an' +walkin' in my sleep tryin' for to study up some plan to git word to +Gabriel, an' here you walk along the street an' make me a present of the +very thing I want, an' I ain't even thanked you for it." + +Cephas couldn't guess what Mr. Sanders was driving at, and he asked no +questions. His mind was too full of his proposed trip. When the +proposition was first broached to Cephas's mother, she scouted the idea +of allowing her boy to make the journey. He was all she had, and should +anything happen to him--well, the world wouldn't be the same world to +her. And it was so far away; why, she had heard some one say that +Savannah was right on the brink of the ocean--that great monster that +swallowed ships and men by the thousand, and was just as hungry +afterward as before. But Cephas began to cry, saying that he wanted to +see Gabriel; and Mr. Sanders told Gabriel's side of the story. Between +the two, the poor woman had no option but to say that she'd consider the +matter, and when a woman begins to consider--well, according to the +ancient philosophers, it's the same as saying yes. + +The truth is, a great deal of pressure was brought to bear on Cephas's +mother, in one way and another. Meriwether Clopton called on her, +bringing Captain Falconer. She was not at all pleased to see the +Captain, and she made no effort to conceal her prejudice. "I never did +think that I'd speak to a man in that uniform," she said with a very red +face. But she was better satisfied when Meriwether Clopton told her that +the Captain was the son of his dearest friend, and that he was utterly +opposed to the radical policy. + +The upshot of the matter was that, with many a sigh and some tears, she +gave her consent for her onliest, her dearest, and her bestest, to go on +the long journey. And then, after consenting, she was angry with herself +because she had consented. In short, she was as miserable and as anxious +as mother-love can make a woman, and poor Cephas never could understand +until he became a grown man, and had children of his own, how his mother +could make such a to-do over the opportunity that Providence had thrown +in his way. To tell the truth, he was almost irritated at the obstacles +and objections that the vivid imagination of his mother kept conjuring +up. She said he must be sure not to fall in the ocean, and he must keep +out of the way of the railroad trains. She cried silently all the time +she was packing his modest supply of clothes in a valise, and put some +tea-cakes in one corner, and a little Testament in the other. + +It is no wonder that children who do not understand such feelings should +be impatient of them, and Cephas is to be excused if he watched the +whole proceeding with something like contempt for woman's weakness. But +he has bitterly regretted, oh, tens of thousands of times, that, instead +of standing aloof from his mother's feelings, he did not throw his arms +around her, and tell how much he appreciated her love, and how every +tear she shed for him was worth to him a hundred times more than a +diamond. But Cephas was a boy, and, being a boy, he could not rise +superior to his boy's nature. + +It was arranged that Cephas was to go to Savannah with Captain Falconer, +and return with Mr. Sanders, who would take advantage of the occasion to +settle up some old business with the firm that had acted as factor for +Meriwether Clopton before the war. The arrangement took place when Mr. +Sanders returned home after his visit to Cephas's mother, and was of +course conditional on her consent, which was not obtained at once. + +Mr. Sanders was shrewd enough not to dwell too much on the plight of the +young men on his return. By some method of his own, he seemed to sweep +the whole matter from his mind, and both he and Meriwether Clopton +addressed themselves to such topics as they imagined the Federal Captain +would find interesting; and in this they were seconded by Sarah Clopton, +whom Robert Toombs declared to be one of the finest conversationalists +of her time when she chose to exert her powers. But for the softness +and fine harmony of her features, her face would have been called +masculine. Her countenance was entirely responsive to her emotions, and +it was delightful to watch the eloquent play of her features. Captain +Falconer fell quickly under the spell of her conversation, for one of +its chiefest charms was the ease with which she brought out the best +thoughts of his mind--thoughts and views that were a part of his inner +self. + +It was the same at dinner, where, without monopolising the talk, she led +it this way and that, but always in channels that were congenial and +pleasing to the Captain, and that enabled him to appear at his best. In +honour of his guest, Meriwether Clopton brought out some fine old claret +that had lain for many years undisturbed in the cellar. + +"Thank you, Sarah," said Mr. Sanders, when the hostess pressed him to +have a glass, "I'll not trouble you for any to-day. I've made the +acquaintance of that claret. It ain't sour enough for vinegar, nor +strong enough for liquor; it's a kind of a cross betwixt a second +drawin' of tea an' the syrup of squills; an' no matter how hard you hit +it it'll never hit you back. It's lots too mild for a Son of Temp'rance +like me. No; gi' me a full jug an' a shuck-pen to crawl into, an' you +may have all the wine, red or yaller." + +But the fine old claret was thoroughly enjoyed by those who could +appreciate the flower of its age and the flavour of its vintage; and +when dinner was over, and Captain Falconer was on his way to camp, he +felt that, outside of his own home, he had never had such a pleasant +experience. + +In the course of a few days orders came from Atlanta for Captain +Falconer to turn over the command of the detachment to the officer next +in rank, and proceed to Malvern, where he would find further +instructions awaiting him. When the time came for Cephas to be off with +the Captain, you may well believe that his mother saw all sorts of +trouble ahead for him. She had dreamed some very queer dreams, she said, +and she was very sure that no good would follow. And at the last moment, +she would have taken Cephas from the barouche which had come for him, if +the driver, following the instructions of Mr. Sanders, had not whipped +up his horses, and left the lady standing in the street. + +As for Cephas, he found that parting from his mother was not such a fine +thing after all. He watched her through a mist of tears, and waved his +handkerchief as long as he could see her; and then after that he was the +loneliest little fellow you have ever seen. He refused to eat the extra +tea-cake that his mother had put in the pocket of his jacket, and made +up his mind to be perfectly miserable until he got back home. But, after +all, boys are boys, and the feeling of loneliness and dejection wore +away after awhile, and before he had gone many miles, what with making +the acquaintance of the driver, who was a private soldier, and getting +on friendly terms with Captain Falconer, he soon arrived at the point +where he relished his tea-cake, and when this had been devoured, he felt +as if travelling was the most delightful thing in the world, especially +if a fellow has been intrusted with a tremendous secret that nobody else +in the world knew besides Mr. Sanders and himself. + +For as soon as Mr. Sanders discovered that the Captain would be willing +to have Cephas go along, he had taken the little chap in hand, and +thoroughly impressed upon his mind everything he wanted him to say to +Gabriel, and he was not satisfied until Cephas had written the message +out in the dog-latin of the school-children, and had learned it by +heart. Mr. Sanders also impressed on the little lad's mind the +probability that the Captain would be curious as to the nature of the +message; and he gave Cephas a plausible answer for every question that +an inquisitive person could put to him, and made him repeat these +answers over and over again. In fact, Cephas was compelled to study as +hard as if he had been in school, but he relished the part he was to +play, and learned it with a zest that was very pleasing to Mr. Sanders. +Only an hour before he was to leave with the Captain, Mr. Sanders went +to Cephas's home, and made him repeat over everything he had been +taught, and the glibness with which the little lad repeated the answers +to the questions was something wonderful in so small a chap. + +"Don't git lonesome, Cephas," was the parting injunction of Mr. Sanders. +"Don't forgit that I'll be on the train when the whistle blows. I'm +gwine to start right off. You may not see me, but I'll not be far off. +Keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't git into no panic. The whole thing is +gwine through like it was on skids, an' the skids greased." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + +_Cephas Has His Troubles_ + + +Usually there is a yawning gulf between youth and old age; but in the +case of Mrs. Lumsden and Nan Dorrington, it was spanned by the +simplicity and tenderness common to both. Whether any of the ancients or +moderns have mentioned the fact, it is hardly worth while to inquire, +but good-humour is a form of tenderness. Those who are easy to laugh are +likewise ready to be sorry, and they have a fund of sympathy to draw on +whenever the necessity arises. Simplicity and tenderness connect the +highest wisdom with the deepest ignorance, and find the elements of +brotherhood where the intellect is unable to discern it. It was +simplicity and tenderness that bridged the gulf of years that lay +between the old gentlewoman and the young girl. Age can find no comfort +for itself unless it can make terms with youth. Where it stands alone, +depending upon the respect that should belong to what is venerable, +there is something gruesome about it. It quenches the high spirits of +children and young people, and chills their enthusiasm. All that it does +for them is to give notorious advertisement to the complexion to which +they must all come at last. "You see these wrinkled and flabby +features, this gray hair, these faded and watery eyes, these shaking +limbs and trembling hands: well, this is what you must come to." And, +indeed, it is an object lesson well calculated to sober and subdue the +giddy. + +Now, age had dealt very gently with Gabriel's grandmother; it became her +well. Her white hair was even more beautiful now than it had been when +she was young, as Meriwether Clopton often declared. Her eyes were +bright, and all her sympathies were as keenly alive as they had been +fifty years before. She had kept in touch with Gabriel and the young +people about her, and none of her faculties had been impaired. She was +the gentlest of gentlewomen. + +Once Nan had asked her--"Grandmother Lumsden, what is the perfume I +smell every time I come here? You have it on your clothes." + +"Life Everlasting, my dear." For one brief and fleeting instant, Nan had +the odd feeling that she could see millions and millions of years into +the future. Life Everlasting! She caught her breath. But the vision or +feeling was swept away by the placid voice of Mrs. Lumsden. "I believe +you and Gabriel call it rabbit tobacco," she explained. + +Nan had a great longing to be with Mrs. Lumsden the moment she heard +that Gabriel had been spirited away by the strong arm of the Government. +She felt that she would be more comfortable there than at home. + +"My dear, what put it into that wise little head of yours to come and +comfort an old woman?" Mrs. Lumsden asked, when Meriwether Clopton and +Miss Fanny Tomlin had taken their departure. She was still sitting close +to Nan, caressing her hand. + +"I thought you would be lonely with Gabriel gone, and I just made up my +mind to come. I was afraid until I reached the door, and then I wasn't +afraid any more. If you don't want me, I'll soon find it out." + +"I can't tell you how glad I am, Nan, to have you here; and I can guess +your feelings. No doubt you were shocked to hear that Francis Bethune +had been taken with the rest." The dear old lady had the knack of +clinging to her ideas. + +"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Grandmother Lumsden. I care no +more for Mr. Bethune than I do for the others--perhaps not so much." + +"I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Lumsden, "but I have always looked +forward to the day when you and Francis would be married." + +"I've heard you talk that way before, and I've often wondered why you +did it." + +"Oh, well! perhaps it is one of my foolish dreams," said Mrs. Lumsden +with a sigh. + +"Your father's plantation and that of Francis's grandfather are side by +side, and I have thought it would be romantic for the heirs to join +hands and make the two places one." + +"I can't see anything romantic in that, Grandmother Lumsden. It's like a +sum in arithmetic." + +"Well, you must allow old people to indulge in their dreams, my dear. +When you are as old as I am, and have seen as much of life, you will +have different ideas about romance." + +"I hope, ma'am, that your next dream will be truer," said Nan, almost +playfully. + +That night, Nan lay awake for a long time. At last she slipped out of +bed, felt her way around it, and leaned over and kissed Gabriel's +grandmother. In an instant she felt the motherly arms of the old +gentlewoman around her. + +"Is that the way you do, when Gabriel comes and kisses you in the +night?" whispered Nan wistfully. + +"Yes, yes, my dear--many times." + +"Oh, I am so glad!" the words exhaled from the girl's lips in a +long-drawn, trembling sigh. Then she went back to her place in bed, and +soon both the comforter and the comforted were sound asleep. + +As has been hinted, the moment Mr. Sanders discovered there was some +slight chance of getting a message to Gabriel, he became one of the +busiest men in Shady Dale, though his industry was not immediately +apparent to his friends and neighbours. Among those whom he took +occasion to see was Mr. Tidwell, whose son Jesse was among the +prisoners. + +"Gus," said Mr. Sanders, without any ceremony, "you remember the row you +come mighty nigh havin' wi' Tomlin Perdue, not so many years ago?" + +"Yes; I remember something of it," replied Mr. Tidwell. He was a man who +ordinarily went with his head held low, as though engaged in deep +thought. When spoken to he straightened up, and thereby seemed to add +several inches to his height. + +"Well, it's got to be done over ag'in," remarked Mr. Sanders. "It +happened in Malvern, didn't it?" + +"Yes, in the depot," replied Mr. Tidwell. "We were both on our way to +Atlanta, and the Major misunderstood something I had said." + +"Egzackly! Well, it must be done over ag'in." + +Mr. Tidwell lowered his head and appeared to reflect. Then he +straightened up again, and his face was very serious. "Mr. Sanders, has +Tomlin Perdue been dropping his wing about that fuss? Has he been making +remarks?" + +"Oh, I reckon not," replied Mr. Sanders cheerfully. "But I've got a +mighty good reason for axin' you about it. Come in your office, Gus, an' +I'll tell you all I know, an' it won't take me two minnits." + +They went in and closed the door, and remained in consultation for some +time. While they were thus engaged, Silas Tomlin came to the door, tried +the bolt, and finding that it would not yield, walked restlessly up and +down, preyed upon by many strange and conflicting emotions. He had +evidently gone through much mental suffering. His face was drawn and +haggard, and his clothes were shabbier than ever. He took no account of +time, but walked up and down, waiting for Mr. Tidwell to come out, and +as he walked he was the victim both of his fears and his affections. One +moment, he heartily wished that he might never see his son again; the +next he would have given everything he possessed to have the boy back, +and hear once more the familiar, "Hello, father!" + +After awhile, Mr. Sanders and Mr. Tidwell came forth from the lawyer's +office. They appeared to be in fine humour, for both were laughing, as +though some side-splitting joke had just passed between them. + +"There's no doubt about it, Mr. Sanders," Lawyer Tidwell was saying, +"you ought to be a major-general!" + +"I declare, Tidwell!" exclaimed Silas, with something like indignation, +"I don't see how you can go around happy and laughing under the +circumstances. You do like you could fetch your son back with a laugh. I +wish I could fetch Paul back that way." + +"Well, he'd stay whar he is, Silas," said Mr. Sanders, with a benevolent +smile, "ef his comin' back had to be brung about by any hilarity from +you. Why, you ain't laughed but once sence you was a baby, an' when you +heard the sound of it you set up a howl that's lasted ever sence." + +"If you think, Silas, that crying will bring the boys back," said Mr. +Tidwell, "I'll join you in a crying-match, and stand here and boohoo +with you just as long as you want to." + +"I just called by to see if you had heard any news," remarked Silas, +taking no offence at the sarcastic utterances of the two men. "I am just +obliged to get some news. I am on pins: I can't sleep at night; and my +appetite is gone." + +Mr. Sanders looked at the man's haggard face, and immediately became +serious and sympathetic. "Well, I tell you, Silas, you needn't worry +another minnit. The only one amongst 'em that's in real trouble is +Gabriel Tolliver. I've looked into the case from A to Izzard, an' that's +the way it stan's." + +"That is perfectly true," assented Mr. Tidwell. "We can account for the +movements of all the boys on the night of the killing except those of +Tolliver; and he is in considerable danger. By the way, Silas, you said +some time ago--oh, ever so long ago--that you would bring me a copy of +_Blackwood's Magazine_. You remember there was a story in it you wanted +me to read." + +"No, I--well, I tried to find it; I hunted for it high and low; but I +haven't been able to put my hands on it. But I've had so much trouble of +one kind and another, that I clean forgot it. I'm glad you mentioned it; +I'll try to find it again." + +"Well, as a lawyer," said Mr. Tidwell, somewhat significantly--or so it +seemed to Silas--"I don't charge you a cent for telling you that your +case wouldn't stand a minnit." + +"My case--my case! What case? I have no case. Why, I don't know what you +are talking about." He shook his head and waved his hand nervously. + +"Oh, I remember now; your case was purely hypothetical," said Mr. +Tidwell. "Well, your _Blackwood_ was wrong about it." + +"That's what I thought," Silas assented with a grunt; and with that, he +turned abruptly away, and went in the direction of his house. + +"I'll tell you what's the fact," remarked Mr. Sanders, as he watched the +shabby and shrunken figure retreat; "I'm about to change my mind about +Silas. I used to think he was mean all through; but he's got a nice warm +place in his heart for that son of his'n. I declare I feel right sorry +for the man." + +Before Cephas went away, he was not too busy learning the lessons Mr. +Sanders had set for him to forget to hunt up Nan Dorrington and tell her +the wonderful news; to-wit, that he was about to go on a journey, and +that while he was gone he would most likely see Gabriel. + +"Well," said Nan, drawing herself up a little stiffly, "what is that to +me?" Unfortunately, Cephas had come upon the girl when she was talking +with Eugenia Claiborne, who had sought her out at the Lumsden Place. + +Cephas looked at her hard a moment, and then his freckled face turned +red. He was properly angry. "Well, whatever it may be to you, it's a +heap to me," he said. "I hope it's nothing to you." + +"Cephas, will you see Paul Tomlin?" asked Eugenia. "If you do, tell him +that one of his friends sent him her love." + +"Is it sure enough love?" inquired Cephas. + +"Yes, Cephas, it is," replied Eugenia simply and seriously--but her face +was very red. "Tell him that Eugenia Claiborne sent him her love." + +"All right," said Cephas, and turned away without looking at Nan. She +had hurt his feelings. + +This turn of affairs didn't suit Nan at all. She ran after Cephas, and +caught him by the arm. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Cephas, to treat +me so? How could I tell you anything before others? If you see Gabriel, +tell him--oh, I don't know what to say. If I was to tell you what I want +to, you'd say that Nan Dorrington had lost her mind. No, I'll not send +any word, Cephas. It wouldn't be proper in a young lady. If he asks +about me, just tell him that I am well and happy." + +She turned away, in response to a call from Eugenia Claiborne, but she +kept her eyes on Cephas for some time. Evidently she wished to send a +message, but was afraid to. "Don't be angry with me, Cephas," she said, +before the youngster got out of hearing. Cephas made no reply, but +trudged on stolidly. He was at the age when a boy is easily disgusted +with girls and young women. You may call them sweet creatures if you +want to, but a twelve-year-old boy is not to be deceived by fine words. +The sweet creatures are under no restraints when dealing with small +boys, and the small boys are well acquainted with all their worst +traits. What is most strange is that this intimate knowledge is of no +service to them when they grow a little older. They forget all about it +and fall into the first trap that love sets for them. + +Cephas was angry without knowing why. He felt that both Gabriel and +himself had been insulted, though he couldn't have explained the nature +of the insult; and he was all the angrier because he was fond of Nan. +She had been very kind to the little boy--kinder, perhaps, than he +deserved, for he had made the impulsive young lady the victim of many a +practical joke. + +As Cephas went along, it suddenly occurred to him that he had done wrong +to say anything about his proposed journey, and the thought took away +all his resentment. He whirled in his tracks, and ran back to where he +had left the girls. He saw Eugenia Claiborne sauntering along the +street, but Nan was nowhere in sight. He had no trouble in pledging Miss +Claiborne to secrecy, for she was very fond of all sorts of secrets, and +could keep them as well as another girl. + +Nan, she informed Cephas, had expressed a determination to visit him at +his own home, and, in fact, Cephas found her there. She was as sweet as +sugar, and was not at all the same Nan who had drawn herself up proudly +and as good as told Cephas that it was nothing to her that he was going +to see Gabriel. No; this was another Nan, and she had a troubled look in +her eyes that Cephas had never seen there before. + +"I came to see if you were still angry, Cephas," she said by way of +explanation. "I wasn't very nice to you, was I?" + +"Well, I hope you don't mind Cephas," said the lad's mother. "If you do, +he'll keep you guessing. Has he been rude to you, Nan?" + +And it was then that Cephas heard praise poured on his name in a steady +stream. Cephas rude! Cephas saucy! A thousand times no! Why, he was the +best, the kindest, and the brightest child in the town. Nan was so much +in earnest that Cephas had to blush. + +"I didn't know," said his mother. "He has been going with those large +boys so much that I was afraid he was getting too big for his breeches." +She loved her son, but she had no illusions about the nature of boys; +she knew them well. + +"Are you still angry, Cephas?" Nan asked. She appeared very anxious to +be sure on that score. + +"N-o-o," replied Cephas, somewhat doubtfully; he hesitated to surrender +the advantage that he saw he had. + +"Yes, you are," said Nan, "and I think it is very unkind of you. I am +sorry you misunderstood me; if you only knew how I really feel, and how +much trouble I have, you would be sorry instead of angry." + +"I'm the one to blame," said Cephas penitently. "Gabriel says you +dislike him, and I thought he was only guessing. But he knew better than +I did. I had no business to bother you." + +Nan caught her breath. "Did Gabriel say I disliked him?" + +"He didn't say that word," replied Cephas. "I think he said you detested +him, and I told him he didn't know what he was talking about. But he +did; he knew a great deal better than I did, because I didn't really +know until just now." + +"But, Cephas!" cried Nan; "what could have put such an idea in his +head?" Cephas's mother was now busy about the house. + +"I didn't know then, but I know now," remarked the boy stolidly. + +"Don't be unkind, Cephas. If you knew me better, you'd be sorry for me. +You and Gabriel are terribly mistaken. I'm very fond of both of you." + +"Oh, _I_ don't count in this game," Cephas declared. + +"Oh, yes, you do," said Nan. "You are one of my dearest friends, and so +is Gabriel." + +"All right," said Cephas. "If you treat all your dearest friends as you +do Gabriel, I'm very sorry for them." + +"Cephas, if you tell Gabriel what I said while Eugenia Claiborne was +standing there, all ears, I'll never forgive you." Nan was at her wit's +end. + +"Tell him that!" cried Cephas; "why, I wouldn't tell him that, not for +all the world. I'll tell him nothing." + +"Please, Cephas," said Nan. "Tell him"--she paused, and threw her hair +away from her pale face--"tell him that if he doesn't come home soon, I +shall die!" Then her face turned from pale to red, and she laughed +loudly. + +"Well, I certainly sha'n't tell him that," said Cephas. + +"I didn't think you would," said Nan. "You are a nice little boy, and I +am going to kiss you good-bye. If you don't have something sweet to tell +me when you come back, I'll think you detest me--wasn't that Gabriel's +word? Poor Gabriel! he's in prison, and here we are joking about him." + +"I'm not joking about him!" exclaimed Cephas. + +"Just as much as I am," said Nan; and then she leaned over and kissed +Cephas's freckled face, leaving it very red after the operation. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + +_Mr. Sanders Visits Some of His Old Friends_ + + +It will be observed by those who are accustomed to make note of trifles, +that the chronicler, after packing Cephas off in a barouche with the +handsome Captain Falconer, still manages to retain him in Shady Dale. +For the sake of those who may be puzzled over the matter, let us say +that it is a mistake of the reporter. That is the way our public men +dispose of their unimportant inconsistencies--and the reporter, for his +part, can say that the trouble is due to a typographical error. The +truth is, however, that when a cornfield chronicler finds himself +entangled in a rush of events, even if they are minor ones, he feels +compelled to resort to that pattern of the "P. S." which is so +comforting to the lady writers, and so captivating to their readers. + +Mr. Sanders is supposed to be on his way to Savannah on the same train +with Cephas and Captain Falconer, supposing the train to be on time. +Nevertheless, it is necessary to give a further account of his movements +before he started on the journey that was to prove to be such an +important event in Gabriel's career. + +On the third morning after the arrest of the young men, Mrs. Lumsden +expressed a desire to see Mr. Sanders, but he was nowhere to be found. +Many sympathetic persons, including Nan Dorrington, joined in the +search, but it proved to be a fruitless one. As a matter of fact, Mr. +Sanders had gone to bed early the night before, but a little after +midnight he awoke with a start. This was such an unusual experience that +he permitted it to worry him. He had had no dream, he had heard no +noise; yet he had suddenly come out of a sound and refreshing sleep with +every faculty alert. He struck a match, and looked at his watch. It was +a quarter to one. + +"I wish, plague take 'em!" he said with a snort, "that somebody would +whirl in an' make a match that wouldn't smifflicate the whole house an' +lot." + +He lit the candle, and then proceeded to draw on his clothes. In the +course of this proceeding, he lay back on the bed with his hands under +his head. He lay thus for some minutes, and then suddenly jumped to his +feet with an exclamation. He put on his clothes in a hurry, and went out +to the stables, where he gave his horse a good feed--seventeen ears of +corn and two bundles of fodder. + +Then he returned to the house, and rummaged around until he found a +pitcher of buttermilk and a pone of corn-bread, which he disposed of +deliberately, and with great relish. This done, he changed his clothes, +substituting for those he wore every day the suit he wore on Sundays and +holidays. When all these preparations were complete, the hands of his +watch stood at quarter past three. He had delayed and dillydallied in +order to give his horse time to eat. The animal had taken advantage of +the opportunity, for when Mr. Sanders went to the stables, the Racking +Roan was playfully tossing the bare cobs about in the trough with his +flexible upper lip. + +"Be jigged ef your appetite ain't mighty nigh as good as mine," he +remarked, whereupon the roan playfully bit at him. "Don't do that, my +son," protested Mr. Sanders. "Can't you see I've got on my Sunday duds?" + +To bridle and saddle the horse was a matter of a few moments only, and +when Mr. Sanders mounted, the spirited horse was so evidently in for a +frolic that he was going at a three-minute gait by the time the rider +had thrown a leg over the saddle. + +A horseback ride, when the weather is fine and the sun is shining, is a +very pleasing experience, but it is not to be compared to a ride in the +dark, provided you are on good terms with your horse, and are familiar +with the country. You surrender yourself entirely to the creature's +movements, and if he is a horse equipped with courage, common-sense and +energy, you are lifted entirely out of your everyday life into the +regions of romance and derring-do--whatever that may be. There is no +other feeling like it, no other pleasure to be compared to it; all the +rest smell of the earth. + +"I'm sorter glad I lit that match," Mr. Sanders remarked to the horse. +"It's like gittin' a whiff of the Bad Place, an' then breathin' the +fresh air of heav'n." The reply of the roan was a sharp affirmative +snort. + +The sun was just rising when Mr. Sanders rode into Halcyondale. +Coincident with his arrival, the train from Atlanta came in with a +tremendous clatter. There was much creaking and clanking as it slowed up +at the modest station. It paused just long enough for the mail-bag and a +trunk to be thrown off with a bang, and then it went puffing away. Short +as the pause had been, one of the passengers, in the person of Colonel +Bolivar Blasengame, had managed to escape from it. The Colonel, with his +valise in his hand, paused to watch the train out of sight, and then +leisurely made his way toward his home. To reach that point, he was +compelled to cross the public square, and as he emerged from the side +street leading to the station, he met Mr. Sanders, who had also been +watching the train. + +"Hello, Colonel, how are you? We belong apparently to the early bird +society." + +"Good-morning, Mr. Sanders," replied the Colonel, with a smile of +friendly welcome. "What wind has blown you over here?" + +"Why, I want to see Major Perdue. You know we have had trouble in our +settlement." + +"And you want to see Tomlin because you have had trouble; but why is it, +Mr. Sanders, that your people never think of me when you have trouble? +Am I losing caste in your community?" + +"Well, you know, Colonel, you haven't been over sence the year one; an' +then the Major is kinder kin to one of the chaps that's been took off." + +"Exactly; but did it ever occur to you that whoever is kin to Tomlin is +a little kin to me," remarked the Colonel. "Tomlin is my +brother-in-law--But where are you going now?" + +"Well, I thought I would go to the tavern, have my hoss put up an' fed, +git a snack of somethin' to eat, an' then call on the Major." + +"You hadn't heard, I reckon, that the tavern is closed, and the +livery-stable broke up," said the Colonel, by way of giving the visitor +some useful information. + +At that moment a negro came out on the veranda of the hotel--only the +older people called it a tavern--and rang the bell that meant breakfast +in half an hour. + +"What's that?" inquired Mr. Sanders, though he knew well enough. + +"It's pure habit," replied the Colonel. "That nigger has been ringing +the bell so long that he can't quit it. Anyhow, you can't go to the +tavern, and you can't go to Tomlin's. He's got a mighty big family to +support, Tomlin has. He's fixin' up to have a son-in-law, and he's +already got a daughter, and old Minervy Ann, who brags that she can eat +as much as she can cook. No, you can't impose on Tomlin." + +"Then, what in the world will I do?" Mr. Sanders asked with a laugh. He +was perfectly familiar with the tactics of the Colonel. + +"Well, there wasn't any small-pox or measles at my house when I left day +before yesterday. Suppose we go there, and see if there's anything the +matter. If the stable hasn't blown away or burned down, maybe you'll +find a place for your horse, and then we can scuffle around maybe, and +find something to eat. That's a fine animal you're on. He's the one, I +reckon, that walked the stringer, after the bridge had been washed away. +I never could swallow that tale, Mr. Sanders." + +"Nor me nuther," replied Mr. Sanders. "All I know is that he took me +across the river one dark night after a fresh, an' some folks on t'other +side wouldn't believe I had come across. They got to the place whar the +bridge ought to 'a' been long before dark, and they found it all gone +except one stringer. I seed the stringer arterwards, but I never could +make up my mind that my hoss walked it wi' me a-straddle of his back." + +"Still, if he was my horse," Colonel Blasengame remarked, "I wouldn't +take a thousand dollars for him, and I reckon you've heard it rumoured +around that I haven't got any more money than two good steers could +pull." + +Mr. Sanders turned his horse's head in the direction that Colonel +Blasengame was going, and when they arrived at his home, he stopped at +the gate. "Mr. Sanders," he said, taking out his watch, "I'll bet you +two dollars and a half to a horn button that breakfast will be ready in +ten minutes, and that everything will be fixed as if company was +expected." + +And it was true. By the time the horse had been put in the stable and +fed, breakfast was ready, and when Mr. Sanders was ushered into the +room, Mrs. Blasengame was sitting in her place at the table pouring out +coffee. She was a frail little woman, but her eyes were bright with +energy, and she greeted the unexpected guest as cordially as if he had +come on her express invitation. She had little to say at any time, but +when she spoke her words were always to the purpose. + +"What did you accomplish?" she asked her husband, after Mr. Sanders, as +in duty bound, had praised the coffee and the biscuit, and the meal was +well under way. + +"Nothing, honey; not a thing in the world. I thought the boys had been +carried to Atlanta, but they are at Fort Pulaski." + +Mrs. Blasengame said nothing more, and the Colonel was for talking about +something else, but the curiosity of Mr. Sanders was aroused. + +"What boys was you referrin' to, Colonel?" he asked. + +"I don't like to tell you, Mr. Sanders," replied Colonel Blasengame, +"but if you'll take no offence, I'll say that the boys are from a little +one-horse country settlement called Shady Dale, a place where the people +are asleep day and night. A parcel of Yankees went over there the other +night, snatched four boys out of their beds, and walked off with them." + +"That's so," Mr. Sanders assented. + +"Yes, it's so," cried the Colonel hotly. "And it's a----" He caught the +eye of his wife and subsided. "Excuse me, honey; I'm rather wrought up +over this thing. What worries me," he went on, "is that the boys were +yerked out of bed, and carried off, and then their own families went to +sleep again. But suppose they didn't turn over and go back to sleep: +doesn't that make matters worse? I can't understand it to save my life. +Why, if it had happened here, the whole town would have been wide awake +in ten minutes, and the boys would never have been carried across the +corporation line. Tomlin is mighty near wild about it. If I hadn't gone +to Atlanta, he would have gone; and you know how he is, honey. Somebody +would have got hurt." + +Yet, strange to say, Major Tomlin Perdue was far cooler and more +deliberate than his brother-in-law, Colonel Blasengame. It was the +peculiarity of each that he was anxious to assume all the dangerous +responsibilities with which the other might be confronted; and the only +serious dispute between the two men was in the shape of a hot +controversy as to which should call to account the writer of a card in +which Major Perdue was criticised somewhat more freely than politeness +warranted. + +"You are correct in your statement about the four boys bein' took away," +said Mr. Sanders, "but you'll have to remember that the woods ain't so +full of Blasengames an' Perdues as they used to be; an' you ain't got in +this town a big, heavy balance-wheel the size an' shape of Meriwether +Clopton." + +"Yes, dear, you were about to be too hasty in your remarks," suggested +Mrs. Blasengame. Her soft voice had a strangely soothing effect on her +husband. "If some of our young men had been seized, all of us, including +you, my dear, would have been in a state of paralysis, just as our +friends in Shady Dale were." + +"The only man in town that know'd it," Mr. Sanders explained, "was Silas +Tomlin. He was sleepin' in the same room wi' Paul, an' they rousted him +out, an' took him along. They carried him four or five mile. He had to +walk back, an' by the time he got home, the sun was up." + +"That puts a new light on it," said the Colonel, "and Tomlin will be as +glad to hear it as I am. But I wonder what the rest of the State will +think of us." + +"My dear, didn't these young men, and the Yankees who arrested them, +take the train here?" inquired Mrs. Blasengame. She nodded to Mr. +Sanders, and a peculiar smile began to play over that worthy's features. + +"By George! I believe they did, honey!" exclaimed the Colonel. + +"And in broad daylight?" persisted the lady. + +To this the Colonel made no reply, and Mr. Sanders became the +complainant. "I dunner what we're comin' to," he declared, "when a +passel of Yankees can yerk four of our best young men on a train in this +town in broad daylight, an' all the folks a-stanin' aroun' gapin' at +'em, an' wonderin' what they're gwine to do next." + +"Say no more, Mr. Sanders; say no more--the mule is yours." This in the +slang of the day meant that the point at issue had been surrendered. + +"I suppose Lucy Lumsden is utterly crushed on Gabriel's account," +remarked Mrs. Blasengame. + +"Crushed!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "no, ma'am! not much, if any. She's +fightin' mad." + +"I know well how she feels," said the pale, bright-eyed little woman. +"It is a pity the men can't have the same feeling." + +"Why, honey, what good would it do?" the Colonel asked, somewhat +querulously. + +"It would do no good; it would do harm--to some people." + +"And yet," said the Colonel, turning to Mr. Sanders with a protesting +frown on his face, "when I want to show some fellow that I'm still on +top of the ground, or when Tomlin takes down his gun and goes after some +rascal, she makes such a racket that you'd think the world was coming to +an end." + +"A racket! I make a racket? Why, Mr. Blasengame, I'm ashamed of you! the +idea!" + +"Well, racket ain't the word, I reckon; but you look so sorry, honey, +that to me it's the same as making a racket. It takes all the grit out +of me when I know that you are sitting here, wondering what minute I'll +be brought home cut into jiblets, or shot full of holes." + +Mrs. Blasengame laughed, as she rose from the table. She stood tiptoe to +pin a flower in her husband's button-hole. + +"You've missed a good deal, Mr. Sanders," said the Colonel, stooping to +kiss his wife. "You don't know what a comfort it is to have a little bit +of a woman to boss you, and cuss you out with her eyes when you git on +the wrong track." + +"Yes," said Mr. Sanders, "I allers feel like a widower when I see a man +reely in love wi' his wife. It's a sight that ain't as common as it used +to be. We'll go now, if you're ready, an' see the Major. I ain't got +much time to tarry." + +"Oh, you want me to go too?" said the Colonel eagerly. "Well, I'm your +man; you can just count on me, no matter what scheme you've got on +hand." + +They went to Major Perdue's, and were ushered in by Minervy Ann. "I'm +mighty glad you come," said she; "kaze 'taint been ten minnits sence +Marse Tomlin wuz talkin' 'bout gwine over dar whar you live at; an' he +ain't got no mo' business in de hot sun dan a rabbit is got in a blazin' +brushpile. Miss Vallie done tole 'im so, an' I done tole 'im so. He went +ter bed wid de headache, an' he got up wid it; an' what you call dat, ef +'taint bein' sick? But, sick er well, he'll be mighty glad ter see you." + +Aunt Minervy Ann made haste to inform the Major that he had visitors. "I +tuck 'em in de settin'-room," she said, "kaze dat parlour look ez cold +ez a funer'l. It give me de shivers eve'y time I go in dar. De cheers +set dar like dey waitin' fer ter make somebody feel like dey ain't +welcome, an' dat ar sofy look like a coolin'-board." + +Mr. Sanders was very much at home in the Major's house; he had dandled +Vallie on his knee when she was a baby; and he had made the Major's +troubles his own as far as he could. Consequently the greeting he +received was as cordial as he could have desired. "Major," he said, when +he found opportunity to state the nature of his business, "do you know +young Gabe Tolliver?" + +"Mighty well--mighty well," responded Major Perdue, "and a fine boy he +is. He'll make his mark some day." + +"Not onless we do somethin' to help him out. They ain't no way in the +world he can prove that he didn't kill that feller Hotchkiss. Ike Varner +done the killin', but he's gone, an' I think his wife is fixin' to go to +Atlanta. They've got the dead wood on Gabriel. They ain't no case at all +ag'in the rest; but you know how Gabriel is--he goes moonin' about in +the fields both day an' night, an' it's mighty hard for to put your +finger on him when you want him. An' to make it wuss, Hotchkiss called +his name more'n once before he died. It looks black for Gabriel, an' we +must do somethin' for him." + +Major Perdue leaned forward a little, a frown on his face, and stretched +forth his left hand, in the palm of which he placed the forefinger of +his right. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Sanders, I'm just as much obliged to +you for coming to me as if you had saved me from drowning. I have come +to the point where I can't hold in much longer, and maybe you'll keep me +from making a fool of myself. I'll say beforehand, I don't care what +your plan is; I don't care to know it--just count on me." + +"And where do I come in?" Colonel Blasengame inquired. + +"Right by my side," responded Major Perdue. + +Without further preliminaries, Mr. Sanders set forth the details of the +programme that had arranged itself in his mind, and when he was through, +Major Perdue leaned back in his chair, and gazed with admiration at the +bland and child-like countenance of this Georgia cracker. The innocence +of childhood shone in Mr. Sanders's blue eyes. + +"I swear, Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of serving +with you in Virginia. If there is anything in this world that I like +it's a man with a head on him, and that's what you've got. You can count +on us if we are alive. I don't know how Bolivar feels about it, but I +feel that you have done me a great favour in thinking of me in +connection with this business. You couldn't pay either of us a higher +compliment." + +"Tomlin expresses my views exactly," said Colonel Blasengame; "yet I +feel that one of us will be enough. It may be that your scheme will +fail, and that those who are engaged in it will have to take the +consequence. Now, I'd rather take 'em alone than to have Tumlin mixed up +with it." + +"Fiddlesticks, Bolivar! you couldn't keep me out of it unless you had a +bench-warrant served on me five minutes before the train left, and if +you try that, I'll have one served on you. Now, don't forget to tell +Tidwell that I'll be glad to renew that dispute. I bear no malice, but +when it comes to a row, I don't need malice to keep my mind and my gun +in working order. I'm going down to Malvern to-morrow, and before I come +away, I'll have everything fixed. There are some details, you know, that +never occurred to you: the police, for instance. Well, the chief of +police is a very good friend of mine, and the major was Bolivar's +adjutant." + +"Well, I thank the Lord for all his mercies!" cried Mr. Sanders; and he +meant what he said. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + +_Nan and Margaret_ + + +It was hinted in some of the early chapters of this chronicle that none +of the characters would turn out to be very heroic, but this was a +mistake. The chronicler had forgotten a few episodes that grew out of +the expedition of Cephas to Fort Pulaski--episodes that should have +stood out clear in his memory from the first. Cephas was very meek and +humble when he started on his expedition, so much so that there were +long moments when he would have given a large fortune, if he had +possessed it, to be safe at home with his mother. A hundred times he +asked himself why he had been foolish enough to come away from home, and +trust himself to the cold mercy of the world; and he promised himself +faithfully that if he ever got back home alive, he would never leave +there again. + +Captain Falconer was very kind and attentive to the lad, but he was also +very inquisitive. He asked Cephas a great many artful questions, all +leading up to the message he was to deliver to Gabriel; but the +instructions he had received from Mr. Sanders made Cephas more than a +match for the Captain. When the lad came to the years of maturity, he +often wondered how a plain and comparatively ignorant countryman could +foresee the questions that were to be asked, and provide simple and +satisfactory answers to them; and the matter is still a mystery. + +Well, Cephas was not a hero when he started, and if the truth is to be +told, he developed none of the symptoms until he had returned home +safely, accompanied by Mr. Sanders. Then he became the lion of the +village, and was sought after by old and young. All wanted to hear the +story of his wonderful adventures. He speedily became a celebrated +Cephas, and when he found that he was really regarded as a hero by his +schoolmates, and by some of the young women, he was quick to appropriate +the character. He became reticent; he went about with a sort of weary +and travel-worn look, as if he had seen everything that was worth +seeing, and heard everything that was worth hearing. + +Now, what Cephas had seen and heard was bad enough. He could hardly be +brought to believe that the haggard and wild-eyed young fellow who +answered to Gabriel's name at the fort was the Gabriel that he had +known, and when he made up his mind that it really was Gabriel, he +couldn't hold the tears back. "Brace up, old man," said Gabriel. It was +then in a choking voice that Cephas delivered Mr. Sanders's message, +using the dog-latin which they both knew so well. And in that tongue +Gabriel told Cephas of the tortures to which he and his fellow-prisoners +had been subjected, of the horrors of the sweat-boxes, and the terrors +of the wrist-rack. So effective was the narrative that Gabriel rattled +off in the school tongue, that when he was ordered back to his solitary +cell, Cephas turned away weeping. He was no hero then; he was simply a +small boy with a tender heart. + +There were grave faces at Shady Dale when Cephas told what he had seen +and heard. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, became almost savage +when he heard of the indignities to which the unfortunate young men had +been subjected. He wrote a card and published it in the _Malvern +Recorder_, and the card was so much to the purpose, and created such +indignation in the State, that the authorities at Washington took +cognisance thereof, and issued orders that there was to be no more +torture of the prisoners. This fact, however, was not known until months +afterward, and, meanwhile, the newspapers of Georgia were giving a wide +publicity to the cruelties which had been practised on the young men, +and radicalism became the synonym of everything that was loathsome and +detestable. Reprisals were made in all parts of the State, and as was to +be expected, the negroes were compelled to bear the brunt of all the +excitement and indignation. + +The tale that Cephas told to Mr. Sanders was modest when compared to the +inventions that occurred to his mind after he found how easy it was to +be a hero. Though he pretended to be heartily tired of the whole +subject, there was nothing that tickled him more than to be cornered by +a crowd of his schoolmates and comrades, all intent on hearing anew the +awful recital which Cephas had prepared after his return. + +One of the first to seek Cephas out was Nan Dorrington, and this was +precisely what the young hero wanted. He was very cold and indifferent +when Nan besought him to tell her all about his trip. How did he enjoy +himself? and didn't he wish he was back at home many a time? And what +did Paul and Jesse have to say? Ah, Cephas had his innings now! + +"I didn't see Paul and Jesse," replied Cephas, "and I didn't see Francis +Bethune." + +"Did they have them hid?" asked Nan. + +"I don't know. The one I saw was in a black dungeon. I couldn't hardly +see his face, and when I did see it, I was sorry I saw it." Cephas +leaned back against the fence with the air of a fellow who has seen too +much. Nan was dying to ask a hundred questions about the one Cephas had +seen, but she resented his indifferent and placid attitude. All heroes +are placid and indifferent when they discuss their deeds, but they +wouldn't be if the public in general felt toward them as Nan felt toward +Cephas. The only reason she didn't seize the little fellow and give him +a good shaking was the fact that she was dying to hear all he had to say +about his visit, and all about Gabriel. + +Gradually Cephas thawed out. One or the other had to surrender, and the +small boy had no such incentive to silence as Nan had. His pride was not +involved, whereas Nan would have gone to the rack and suffered herself +to be pulled to pieces before she would have asked any direct questions +about Gabriel. + +"I'm mighty sorry I went," said Cephas finally, and then he stopped +short. + +"Why?" inquired Nan. + +"Oh, well--I don't know exactly. I thought I would find everybody just +like they were before they went away, but the one I saw looked like a +drove of mules had trompled on him. He didn't have on any coat, and his +shirt was torn and dirty, and his face looked like he had been sick a +month. His eyes were hollow, and had black circles around them." + +"Did he say anything?" asked Nan in a low tone. + +"Yes, he said, 'Brace up, old man.'" + +"Was that all?" + +"And then he asked if anybody had sent him any word, and I said, 'Nobody +but Mr. Sanders'; and then he said, 'I might have known that he wouldn't +forget me.'" Cephas could see Nan crushing her handkerchief in her hand, +and he enjoyed it immensely. + +"Was he angry with any one?" Nan asked. + +"Why, when did anybody ever hear of his being angry with any one he +thought was a friend?" exclaimed Cephas scornfully. Nan writhed at this, +and Cephas went on. "He had been tied up by the wrists, and then he had +been put in a sweat-box, and nearly roasted--yes, by grabs! pretty nigh +cooked." + +"Why, you didn't tell his grandmother that," said Nan. + +"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Cephas. "What do you take me for? Do +you reckon I'd tell that to anybody that cared anything for him? Why, I +wouldn't tell his grandmother that for anything in the world, and if she +was to ask me about it, I'd deny it." + +This arrow went home. Cephas had the unmixed pleasure of seeing Nan turn +pale. "I think you are simply awful," she gasped. "You are cruel, and +you are unkind. You know very well that I care something for Gabriel. +Haven't we been friends since we were children together? Do you suppose +I have no feelings?" + +"I know what you said when I told you I was going to see Gabriel." + +"What was that?" inquired Nan. + +"Why, you said, 'Well, what is that to me?'" exclaimed Cephas. He +twisted his face awry, and mimicked Nan's voice with considerable +success, only he made it more spiteful than that charming young woman +could have done. + +"Yes, I did say that, but didn't I go to your house, and tell you what +to say to Gabriel?" + +Cephas laughed scornfully. "Did you think I was going to swallow the +joke that you and that Claiborne girl hatched up between you? Do you +reckon I'm fool enough to tell Gabriel that you'll die if he don't come +home soon?" + +"You didn't tell him, then?" + +"No, I didn't," replied Cephas. "I would cut off one of my fingers +before I'd let him know that there were people here at home making fun +of him." + +Nan gazed at Cephas as if she suspected him of a joke. But she saw that +he was very much in earnest. "I'm glad you didn't tell him," she said +finally. Then she laughed, saying, "Cephas, I really did think you had a +little sense." + +"I have sense enough not to hurt the feelings of them that like me," the +boy replied. And he went on his way, trying to reconcile the Nan +Dorrington who used to be so kind to him with the Nan Dorrington who was +flirting and flitting around with long skirts on. He failed, as older +and more experienced persons have failed. + +But you may be sure that he felt himself no less a hero because Nan +Dorrington had hinted that he had no sense. He knew where the lack of +sense was. After awhile, when interested persons ceased to run after him +to get all the particulars of his visit to Fort Pulaski, he threw +himself in their way, and when the details of his journey began to pall +on the appetite of his friends, he invented new ones, and in this way +managed to keep the centre of the stage for some time. When he could no +longer interest the older folk, he had the school-children to fall back +upon, and you may believe that he caused the youngsters to sit with +open-mouthed wonder at the tales he told. The fact that he stammered a +little, and sometimes hesitated for a word, made not the slightest +difference with his audience of young people. + +There was one fact that bothered Cephas. He had been told that Francis +Bethune was in love with Margaret Gaither, and he knew that the young +man was a constant caller at Neighbour Tomlin's, where Margaret lived. +Indeed, he had carried notes to her from the young man, and had +faithfully delivered the replies. He judged, therefore, as well as a +small boy can judge, that there was some sort of an understanding +between the two, and he itched for the opportunity to pour the tale of +his adventures into Margaret's ears. He loitered around the house, and +threw himself in Margaret's way when she went out visiting or shopping. +She greeted him very kindly on each particular occasion, but not once +did she betray any interest in Francis Bethune or his fellow-prisoners. + +When Nan met Cephas, on the occasion of the interview which has just +been reported, she was on her way to Neighbour Tomlin's to pay a visit +to Margaret, and thither she went, after giving Cephas the benefit of +her views as to his mental capacity. Margaret happened to be out at the +moment, but Miss Fanny insisted that Nan should come in anyhow. + +"Margaret will be back directly," Miss Fanny said; "she has only gone to +the stores to match a piece of ribbon. Besides, I want to talk to you a +little while. But good gracious! what is the matter with you? I expected +cheerfulness from you at least, but what do I find? Well, you and +Margaret should live in the same house; they say misery loves company. +Here I was about to ask you why Margaret is unhappy, and I find you +looking out of Margaret's eyes. Are you unhappy, too?" + +"No, Aunt Fanny, I'm not unhappy; I'm angry. I don't see why girls +should become grown. Why, I was always in a good humour until I put on +long skirts, and then my troubles began. I can neither run nor play; I +must be on my dignity all the time for fear some one will raise her +hands and say, 'Do look at that Nan Dorrington! Isn't she a bold piece?' +I never was so tired of anything in my life as I am of being grown. I +never will get used to it." + +"Oh, you'll get in the habit of it after awhile, child," said Miss +Fanny. "But I never would have believed that Nan Dorrington would care +very much for what people said." + +"Oh, it isn't on my account that I care," remarked Nan, with a toss of +her head, "but I don't want my friends to have their feelings hurt by +what other people say. If there is anything in this world I detest it is +dignity--I don't mean Margaret's kind, because she was born so and can't +help it--but the kind that is put on and taken off like a summer bonnet. +If I can't be myself, I'll do like Leese Clopton did, I'll go into a +convent." + +"Well, you certainly would astonish the nuns when you began to cut some +of your capers," Miss Fanny declared. + +"Am I as bad as all that? Tell me honestly, Aunt Fanny, now while I am +in the humour to hear it, what do I do that is so terrible?" + +"Honestly, Nan, you do nothing terrible at all. Not even Miss Puella +Gillum could criticise you." + +"Why, Miss Puella never criticises any one. She's just as sweet as she +can be." + +"Well, she's an old maid, you know, and old maids are supposed to be +critical," said Miss Fanny. "I'll tell you where all the trouble is, +Nan: you are sensitive, and you have an idea that you must behave as +some of the other girls do--that you must hold your hands and your head +just so. If you would be yourself, and forget all about etiquette and +manners, you'd satisfy everybody, especially yourself." + +"Why, that is what worries me now; I do forget all about those things, +and then, all of a sudden, I realise that I am acting like a child, and +a very noisy child at that, and then I'm afraid some one will make +remarks. It is all very miserable and disagreeable, and I wish there +wasn't a long skirt in the world." + +"Well, when you get as old as I am," sighed Miss Fanny, "you won't mind +little things like that. Margaret is coming now. I'll leave you with +her. Try to find out why she is unhappy. Pulaski is nearly worried to +death about it, and so am I." + +Margaret Gaither came in as sedately as an old woman. She was very fond +of Nan, and greeted her accordingly. Whatever her trouble was, it had +made no attack on her health. She had a fine color, and her eyes were +bright; but there was the little frown between her eyebrows that had +attracted the attention of Gabriel, and it gave her a troubled look. + +"If you'll tell me something nice and pleasant," she said to Nan, "I'll +be under many obligations to you. Tell me something funny, or if you +don't know anything funny, tell me something horrible--anything for a +change. I saw Cephas downtown; that child has been trying for days to +tell me of his adventures, and I have been dying to hear them. But I +keep out of his way; I am so perverse that I refuse to give myself that +much pleasure. Oh, if you only knew how mean I am, you wouldn't sit +there smiling. I hear that the dear boys are having a good deal of +trouble. Well, it serves them right; they had no business to be boys. +They should have been girls; then they would have been perfectly happy +all the time. Don't you think so, sweet child?" + +Nan regarded her friend with astonishment. She had never heard her talk +in such a strain before. "Why, what is the matter with you, Margaret? +You know that girls can be as unhappy as boys; yes, and a thousand times +more so." + +"Oh, I'll never believe it! never!" cried Margaret. "Why, do you mean to +tell me that any girl can be unhappy? You'll have to prove it, Nan; +you'll have to give the name, and furnish dates, and then you'll have to +give the reason. Do you mean to insinuate that you intend to offer +yourself as the horrible example? Fie on you, Nan! You're in love, and +you mistake that state for unhappiness. Why, that is the height of +bliss. Look at me! I'm in love, and see how happy I am!" + +"I know one thing," said Nan, and her voice was low and subdued, "if you +go on like that, you'll frighten me away. Do you want to make your best +friends miserable?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Margaret. "What are friends for? I should +dislike very much to have a friend that I couldn't make miserable. But +if you think you are going to run away, come up to my room and we'll +lock ourselves in, and then I know you can't get away." + +"Now, what is the matter?" Nan insisted, when they had gone upstairs, +and were safe in Margaret's room. She had seized her friend in her arms, +and her tone was imploring. + +"I don't think I can tell you, Nan; you would consider me a fool, and I +want to keep your good opinion. But I can tell you a part of my +troubles. He wants me to marry Francis Bethune! Think of that!" She +paused and looked at Nan. "Well, why don't you congratulate me?" + +"I'll never believe that," said Nan, decisively. "Did he say that he +wanted you to marry Frank Bethune?" The "he" in this case was Pulaski +Tomlin. + +"Well, he didn't insist on it; he's too kind for that. But Francis has +been coming here very often, until our friends in blue gave him a +much-needed rest, and I suppose I must have been going around looking +somewhat gloomy; you know how I am--I can't be gay; and then he asked me +what the trouble was, and finally said that Francis would make me a good +husband. Why, I could have killed myself! Think of me, in this house, +and occupying the position I do!" + +Such heat and fury Nan had never seen her friend display before. "Why, +Margaret!" she cried, "you don't know what you are saying. Why, if he or +Aunt Fanny could hear you, they would be perfectly miserable. I don't +see how you can feel that way." + +"No, you don't, and I hope you never will!" exclaimed Margaret. "Nobody +knows how I feel. If I could, I would tell you--but I can't, I can't!" + +"Margaret," said Nan, in a most serious tone, "has he or Aunt Fanny +ever treated you unkindly?" Nan was prepared to hear the worst. + +"Unkindly!" cried Margaret, bursting into tears; "oh, I wish they would! +I wish they would treat me as I deserve to be treated. Oh, if he would +treat me cruelly, or do something to wound my feelings, I would bless +him." + +Margaret had led Nan into a strange country, so to speak, and she knew +not which way to turn or what to say. Something was wrong, but what? Of +all Nan's acquaintances, Margaret was the most self-contained, the most +evenly balanced. Many and many a time Nan had envied Margaret's +serenity, and now here she was in tears, after talking as wildly as some +hysterical person. + +"Come home with me, Margaret," cried Nan. "Maybe the change would do you +good." + +"I thank you, Nan. You are as good as you can be; you are almost as good +as the people here; but I can't go. I can't leave this house for any +length of time until I leave it for good. I'd be wild to get back; my +misery fascinates me; I hate it and hug it." + +"I am sure that I don't understand you at all," said Nan, in a tone of +despair. + +"No, and you never will," Margaret affirmed. "To understand you would +have to feel as I do, and I hope you may be spared that experience all +the days of your life." + +After awhile Nan decided that Margaret would be more comfortable if she +were alone, and so she bade her friend good-bye, and went downstairs, +where she found Miss Fanny awaiting her somewhat impatiently. + +"Well, what is the trouble, child?" she asked. + +Nan shook her head. "I don't know, Aunt Fanny, and I don't believe she +knows herself." + +"But didn't she give you some hint--some intimation? I don't want to be +inquisitive, child; but if she's in trouble, I want to find some remedy +for it. Pulaski is in a terrible state of mind about her, and I am +considerably worried myself. We love her just as much as if she were our +own, and yet we can't go to her and make a serious effort to discover +what is worrying her. She is proud and sensitive, and we have to be very +careful. Oh, I hope we have done nothing to wound that child's +feelings." + +"It isn't that," replied Nan. "I asked her, and she said that you +treated her too kindly." + +"Well," sighed Miss Fanny, "if she won't confide in us, she'll have to +bear her troubles alone. It is a pity, but sometimes it is best." + +And then there came a knock on the door, and it was so sudden and +unexpected that Nan gave a jump. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + +_Bridalbin Finds His Daughter_ + + +"They's a gentleman out there what says he wanter see Miss Bridalbin," +said the house-girl who had gone to the door. "I tol' him they wan't no +sech lady here, but he say they is. It's that there Mr. Borin'," the +girl went on, "an' I didn't know if you'd let him go in the parlour." + +"Yes, ask him in the parlour," said Miss Fanny, "and then go upstairs +and tell Miss Margaret that some one wants to see her." + +"Oh, yessum!" said the house-girl with a laugh; "it's Miss Marg'ret; I +clean forgot her yuther name." + +"The rascal certainly has impudence," remarked Miss Fanny. "Pulaski +should know about this." Whereupon, she promptly called Neighbour Tomlin +out of the library, and he came into the room just as Margaret came +downstairs. + +"Wait one moment, Margaret," he said. "It may be well for me to see what +this man wants--unless----" He paused. "Do you know this Boring?" + +"No; I have heard of him. I have never even seen him that I know of." + +"Then I'll see him first," said Neighbour Tomlin. He went into the +parlour, and those who were listening heard a subdued murmur of voices. + +"What is your business with Miss Bridalbin?" Neighbour Tomlin asked, +ignoring the proffered hand of the visitor. + +"I am her father." + +Neighbour Tomlin stood staring at the man as if he were dazed. +Bridalbin's face bore the unmistakable marks of alcoholism, and he had +evidently prepared himself for this interview by touching the bottle, +for he held himself with a swagger. + +Neighbour Tomlin said not a word in reply to the man's declaration. He +stared at him, and turned and went back into the sitting-room where he +had left the others. + +"Why, Pulaski, what on earth is the matter?" cried Miss Fanny, as he +entered the room. "You look as if you had seen a ghost." And indeed his +face was white, and there was an expression in his eyes that Nan thought +was most piteous. + +"Go in, my dear," he said to Margaret. "The man has business with you." +And then, when Margaret had gone out, he turned to Miss Fanny. "It is +her father," he said. + +"Well, I wonder what's he up to?" remarked Miss Fanny. There was a touch +of anger in her voice. "She shan't go a step away from here with such a +creature as that." + +"She is her own mistress, sister. She is twenty years old," replied +Neighbour Tomlin. + +"Well, she'll be very ungrateful if she leaves us," said Miss Fanny, +with some emphasis. + +"Don't, sister; never use that word again; to me it has an ugly sound. +We have had no thought of gratitude in the matter. If there is any debt +in the matter, we are the debtors. We have not been at all happy in the +way we have managed things. I have seen for some time that Margaret is +unhappy; and we have no business to permit unhappiness to creep into +this house." So said Neighbour Tomlin, and the tones of his voice seemed +to issue from the fountains of grief. + +"Well, I am sure I have done all I could to make the poor child happy," +Miss Fanny declared. + +"I am sure of that," said Neighbour Tomlin. "If any mistake has been +made it is mine. And yet I have never had any other thought than to make +Margaret happy." + +"I know that well enough, Pulaski," Miss Fanny assented, "and I have +sometimes had an idea that you thought too much about her for your own +good." + +"That is true," he replied. He was a merciless critic of himself in +matters both great and small, and he had no concealments to make. He was +open as the day, except where openness might render others unhappy or +uncomfortable. "Yes, you are right," he insisted; "I have thought too +much about her happiness for my own good, and now I see myself on the +verge of great trouble." + +"If Margaret understood the situation," said Miss Fanny, "I think she +would feel differently." + +"On the contrary, I think she understands the situation perfectly well; +that is the only explanation of her troubles which she has not sought to +conceal." + +At that moment Margaret came to the door. Her face was very pale, almost +ghastly, indeed, but whatever trouble may have looked from her eyes +before, they were clear now. She came into the room with a little smile +hovering around her mouth. She had no eyes for any one but Pulaski +Tomlin, and to him she spoke. + +"My father has come," she said. "He is not such a father as I would have +selected; still, he is my father. I knew him the moment I opened the +door. He wants me to go with him; he says he is able to provide for me. +He has claims on me." + +"Have we none?" Miss Fanny asked. + +"More than anybody in the world," replied Margaret, turning to her; +"more than all the rest of the world put together. But I have always +said to myself," she addressed Neighbour Tomlin again, "that if it +should ever happen that I found myself unable to carry out your wishes, +sir, it would be best for me to leave your roof, where all my happiness +has come to me." She was very humble, both in speech and demeanour. + +Neighbour Tomlin looked at her with a puzzled and a grieved expression. +"Why, I don't understand you, Margaret," said Neighbour Tomlin. "What +wish of mine have you found yourself unable to carry out?" + +"Only one, sir; but that was a very important one; you desired me to +marry Mr. Bethune." + +"I? Why, you were never more mistaken in your life," replied Neighbour +Tomlin, with what Miss Fanny thought was unnecessary energy. "I may have +suggested it; I saw you gloomy and unhappy, and I had observed the +devotion of the young man. What more natural than for me to suggest +that--Margaret! you are giving me a terrible wound!" He turned and went +into the library, and Margaret ran after him. + +It is probable that Nan knows better than any outsider what occurred +then. It seems that Margaret, in her excitement, forgot to close the +door after her, and Nan was sitting where she could see pretty much +everything that happened; and she had a delicious little tale to tell +her dear Johnny when she went home, a tale so impossible and romantic +that she forgot her own troubles, and fairly glowed with happiness. But +it is best not to depend too much on what Nan saw, though her sight was +fairly good where her interests were enlisted. + +Margaret ran after Neighbour Tomlin and seized him by the arm. "Oh, I +never meant to wound you," she cried--"you who have been so kind, and so +good! Oh, if you could only read my heart, you would forgive me, +instantly and forever." + +"I can read my own heart," said Neighbour Tomlin, "and it has but one +feeling for you." + +"Then kiss me good-bye," she said. "I am going with my father." + +"If I kiss you," he replied, "you'll not go." + +She looked at him, and he at her, and she found herself in the focus of +a light that enabled her to see everything more clearly. She caught his +secret and he hers, and there was no longer any room for +misunderstanding. Her father, weak as he was, had been strong enough to +provide his daughter with a remedy for the only serious trouble, short +of bereavement, that his daughter was ever to know. She refused to +return to the parlour, where he awaited her. + +"Shall I go?" said Neighbour Tomlin. + +"If you please, sir," said Margaret, with a faint smile. She could +hardly realise the change that had so suddenly taken place in her hopes +and her plans, so swift and unexpected had it been. + +Neighbour Tomlin went into the parlour, and made Bridalbin acquainted +with the facts. + +"Margaret has changed her mind," said Neighbour Tomlin. "She thinks it +is best to remain under the care and protection of those whom she knows +better than she knows her father." + +"Why, she seemed eager to go a moment ago," said Bridalbin; "and you +must remember that she is my daughter." + +"Her friends couldn't forget that under all the circumstances," +Neighbour Tomlin remarked drily. + +"I believe her mind has been poisoned against me," Bridalbin declared. + +"That is quite possible," replied Neighbour Tomlin; "and I think you +could easily guess the name of the poisoner." + +"May I see my daughter?" + +"That rests entirely with her," said Neighbor Tomlin. + +But Margaret refused to see him again. Since her own troubles had been +so completely swept away, her memory reverted to all the troubles her +mother had to endure, as the result of Bridalbin's lack of fixed +principles, and she sent him word that she would prefer not to see him +then or ever afterward; and so the man went away, more bent on doing +mischief than ever, though he was compelled to change his field of +operations. + +And then, after he was gone, a silence fell on the company. Nan appeared +to be in a dazed condition, while Miss Fanny sat looking out of the +window. Margaret, very much subdued, was clinging to Nan, and Neighbour +Tomlin was pacing up and down in the library in a glow of happiness. All +his early dreams had come back to him, and they were true. The romance +of his youth had been changed into a reality. + +Margaret was the first to break the silence. She left Nan, and went +slowly to Miss Fanny, and stood by her chair. "What do you think of me?" +she said, in a low voice. + +For answer, Miss Fanny rose and placed her arms around the girl, and +held her tightly for a moment, and then kissed her. + +"But I do think, my dear," she said with an effort to laugh, "that the +matter might have been arranged without frightening us to death." + +"I had no thought of frightening you. Oh, I am afraid I had no thought +for anything but my own troubles. Did you know? Did you guess?" + +"I knew about Pulaski, but I had to go away from home to learn the news +about you. Madame Awtry called my attention to it, and then with my +eyes upon, I could see a great many things that were not visible +before." + +"Why, how could she know?" cried Margaret. "I have talked with her not +more than a half dozen times." + +"She is a very wise woman," Miss Fanny remarked, by way of explanation. + +"Well, when I get in love, I'll not visit Madame Awtry," said Nan. + +"My dear, you have been there once too often," Miss Fanny declared. + +"Why, what has she been telling you?" inquired Nan, blushing very red. + +"I'll not disclose your secrets, Nan," answered Miss Fanny. + +"I would thank you kindly, if I had any," said Nan. + +And then, suddenly, while Margaret was standing with her arms around +Miss Fanny, she began to blush and show signs of embarrassment. + +"Nan," she said, "will you take a boarder for--for--for I don't know how +long?" + +"Not for long, Nan. Say a couple of weeks." It was Neighbour Tomlin who +spoke, as he came out of the library. + +"Oh, for longer than that," protested Margaret. + +"You must remember that I am getting old, child," he said very solemnly. + +"So am I, sir," she said archly. "I am quite as old as you are, I +think." + +"This is the first quarrel," Nan declared, "and who knows how it will +all end? You are to come and stay as long as you please, and then after +that, you are to stay as long as I please." + +"I declare, Nan, you talk like an old woman!" exclaimed Miss Fanny; +whereupon Nan laughed and said she had to be serious sometimes. + +And so it was arranged that Margaret was to stay with Nan for an +indefinite period. "I hope you will come to see me occasionally, Mr. +Tomlin, and you too, Aunt Fanny," she said with mock formality. "We +shall have days for receiving company, just as the fine ladies do in the +cities; and you'll have to send in your cards." + +The two young women refused to go in the carriage. + +"It is so small and stuffy," said Margaret to Neighbour Tomlin, "and +to-day I want to be in the fresh air. If you please, sir, don't look at +me like that, or I can never go." She went close to him. "Oh, is it all +true? Is it really and truly true, or is it a dream?" + +"It is true," he said, kissing her. "It is a dream, but it is my dream +come true." + +"I didn't think," she said, as she went along with Nan, "that the world +was as beautiful as it seems to be to-day." + +"Mr. Sanders says," replied Nan, "that it is the most comfortable world +he has ever found; but somehow--well, you know we can't all be happy the +same way at the same time." + +"Your day is still to come," said Margaret, "and when it does, I want to +be there." + +"You say that," remarked Nan, "but you know you would have felt better +if you hadn't had so much company. For a wonder Tasma Tid wouldn't go in +the house with me. She said something was happening in there. Now, how +did she know?" Tasma Tid had joined them as they came through the gate, +and now Nan turned to her with the question. + +"Huh! we know dem trouble w'en we see um. Dee ain't no trouble now. She +done gone--dem trouble. But yan' come mo'." She pointed to Miss Polly +Gaither, who came toddling along with her work-bag and her turkey-tail +fan. + +"Howdy, girls? I'm truly glad to see you. You are looking well both of +you, and health is a great blessing. I have just been to Lucy Lumsden's, +Nan, and she thinks a great deal of you. I could tell you things that +would turn your head. But I'm really sorry for Lucy; she's almost as +lonely as I am. They say Gabriel is sure to be dealt with; I'm told +there is no other way out of it. Have you two heard anything?" Margaret +and Nan shook their heads, but gestures of that kind were not at all +satisfactory to Miss Polly. "They say that little Cephas was sent down +to prepare Gabriel for the worst. But I didn't say a word about that to +Lucy, and if you two girls go there, you must be very careful not to +drop a word about it. Lucy is getting old, and she can't bear up under +trouble as she used to could. She has aged wonderfully in the past few +weeks. Don't you think so, Nan?" + +She held up her ear-trumpet as she spoke, and Nan made a great pretence +of yelling into it, though not a sound issued from her lips. Miss Polly +frowned. "Don't talk so loud, my dear; you will make people think I'm a +great deal deafer than I am. But you always would yell at me, though I +have asked you a dozen times to speak only in ordinary tones. Well, I +don't agree with you about Lucy. She has broken terribly since Gabriel +was carried off; she is not the same woman, she takes no interest in +affairs at all. I told her a piece of astonishing news, and she paid no +more attention to it than if she hadn't heard it; and she didn't use to +be that way. Well, we all have our troubles, and you two will have yours +when you grow a little older. That is one thing of which there is always +enough left to go around. The supply is never exhausted." + +After delivering this truism, Miss Polly waved her turkey-tail fan as +majestically as she knew how, and went toddling along home. Miss Polly +was a kind-hearted woman, but she couldn't resist the inclination to +gossip and tattle. Her tattle did no harm, for her weakness was well +advertised in that community; but, unfortunately, her deafness had made +her both suspicious and irritable. When in company, for instance, she +insisted on feeling that people were talking about her when the +conversation was not carried on loud enough for her to hear the sound of +the voices, if not the substance of what was said, and she had a way of +turning to the one closest at hand, with the remark, "They should have +better manners than to talk of the afflictions of an old woman, for it +is not at all certain that they will escape." Naturally this would call +out a protest on the part of all present, whereupon Miss Polly would +shake her head, and remark that she was not as deaf as many people +supposed; that, in fact, there were days when she could hear almost as +well as she heard before the affliction overtook her. + +"I wonder," said Nan, whose curiosity was always ready to be aroused, +"what piece of astonishing news Miss Polly has been telling Grandmother +Lumsden. Perhaps she has told her of the events of the morning at Mr. +Tomlin's." + +"That is absurd, Nan," Margaret declared. "Still, it would make no +difference to me. He was the only person that I ever wanted to hide my +feelings from. I never so much as dreamed that he could care for +me--and, oh, Nan! suppose that he should be pretending simply to please +me!" + +"You goose!" cried Nan. "Whoever heard of that man pretending, or trying +to deceive any one? If he was a young man, now, it would be different." + +"Not with all young men," Margaret asserted. "There is Gabriel +Tolliver--I don't believe he would deceive any one." + +"Oh, Gabriel--but why do you mention Gabriel?" + +"Because his eyes are so beautiful and honest," answered Margaret. + +But Nan tossed her head; she would never believe anything good about +Gabriel unless she said it herself--or thought it, for she could think +hundreds, yes, thousands, of things about Gabriel that she wouldn't dare +to breathe aloud, even though there was no living soul within a hundred +miles. And that fact needn't make Gabriel feel so awfully proud, for +there were other persons and things she could think about. + +Ah, well! love is such a restless, suspicious thing, such an irritating, +foolish, freakish, solemn affair, that it is not surprising the two +young women were somewhat afraid of it when they found themselves in its +clutches. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY + +_Miss Polly Has Some News_ + + +The news which Miss Polly had laid as a social offering at Mrs. Lucy +Lumsden's feet, and which she boasted was very astonishing, had the +appearance of absurdity on the face of it. Miss Polly, with her work-bag +and her turkey-tail fan, had paid a very early visit to the Lumsden +Place. She went in very quietly, greeted her old friend in a subdued +manner, and then sat staring at her with an expression that Mrs. Lumsden +failed to understand. It might have been the result of special and +unmitigated woe, or of physical pain, or of severe fatigue. Whatever the +cause, it was unnatural, and so Gabriel's grandmother made haste to +inquire about it. + +"Why, what in the world is the matter, Polly? Are you ill?" + +At this Miss Polly acted as if she had been aroused from a dream or a +revery. Her work-bag slid from her lap, and her turkey-tail fan would +have fallen had it not been attached to her wrist by a piece of faded +ribbon. "I declare, Lucy, I don't know that I ought to tell you; and I +wouldn't if I thought you would repeat it to a living soul. It is more +than marvellous; it is, indeed, Lucy"--leaning a little nearer, and +lowering her voice, which was never very loud--"I honestly believe that +Ritta Claiborne is in love with old Silas Tomlin! I certainly do." + +"You must have some reason for believing that," said Mrs. Lumsden, with +a benevolent smile, the cause of which the ear-trumpet could not +interpret. + +"Reasons! I have any number, Lucy. I'm certain you won't believe me, but +it has come to that pass that old Silas calls on her every night, and +they sit in the parlour there and talk by the hour, sometimes with +Eugenia, and sometimes without her. It would be no exaggeration at all +if I were to tell you that they are talking together in that parlour +five nights out of the seven. Now, what do they mean by that?" + +"Why, there's nothing in that, Polly. I have heard that they are old +acquaintances. Surely old acquaintances can talk together, and be +interested in one another, without being in love. Why, very frequently +of late Meriwether Clopton comes here. I hope you don't think I'm in +love with him." + +"Certainly not, Lucy, most certainly not. But do you have Meriwether's +portrait hanging in your parlour? And do you go and sit before it, and +study it, and sometimes shake your finger at it playfully? I tell you, +Lucy, there are some queer people in this world, and Ritta Claiborne is +one of them." + +"She is excellent company," said Mrs. Lumsden. + +"She is, she is," Miss Polly assented. "She is full of life and fun; she +sees the ridiculous side of everything; and that is why I can't +understand her fondness for old Silas. It is away beyond me. Why, Lucy, +she treats that portrait as if it were alive. What she says to it, I +can't tell you, for my hearing is not as good now as it was before my +ears were affected. But she says something, for I can see her lips move, +and I can see her smile. My eyesight is as good now as ever it was. I'm +telling you what I saw, not what I heard. The way she went on over that +portrait was what first attracted my attention; but for that I would +never have had a suspicion. Now, what do you think of it, Lucy?" + +"Nothing in particular. If it is true, it would be a good thing for +Silas. He is not as mean as a great many people think he is." + +"He may not be, Lucy," responded Miss Polly, "but he brings a bad taste +in my mouth every time I see him." + +"Well, directly after Sherman passed through," said Mrs. Lumsden, "and +when few of us had anything left, Silas came to me, and asked if I +needed anything, and he was ready to supply me with sufficient funds for +my needs." + +"Well, he didn't come to me," Miss Polly declared with emphasis, "and if +anybody in this world had needs, I did. You remember Robert Gaither? +Well, Silas loaned him some money during the war, and although Robert +was in a bad way, old Silas collected every cent down to the very last, +and Robert had to go to Texas. Oh, I could tell you of numberless +instances where he took advantage of those who had borrowed from him." + +"I suppose that Mr. Lumsden had been kind to Silas when he was sowing +his wild oats; indeed, I think my husband advanced him money when he had +exhausted the supply allowed him by the executors of the Tomlin estate." + +"And just think of it, Lucy--Ritta Claiborne sits there and plays the +piano for old Silas, and sometimes Eugenia goes in and sings, and she +has a beautiful voice; I'm not too deaf to know that." + +It was then that Mrs. Lumsden leaned over and gave the ear-trumpet some +very good advice. "If I were in your place, Polly, I wouldn't tell this +to any one else. Mrs. Claiborne is an excellent woman; she comes of a +good family, and she is cultured and refined. No doubt she is sensitive, +and if she heard that you were spreading your suspicions abroad, she +would hardly feel like staying in a house where----" Mrs. Lumsden +paused. She had it on her tongue's-end to say, "in a house where she is +spied upon," but she had no desire in the world to offend that +simple-minded old soul, who, behind all her peculiarities and +afflictions, had a very tender heart. + +"I know what you mean, Lucy," said Miss Polly, "and your advice is good; +but I can't help seeing what goes on under my eyes, and I thought there +could be no harm in telling you about it. I am very fond of Ritta +Claiborne, and as for Eugenia, why she is simply angelic. I love that +child as well as if she were my own. If there's a flaw in her character, +I have never found it. I'll say that much." + +The explanation of Miss Polly's suspicions is not as simple as her +recital of them. No one can account for some of the impulses of the +human heart, or the vagaries of the human mind. It is easy to say that +after Silas Tomlin had his last interview with Mrs. Claiborne, he +permitted his mind to dwell on her personality and surroundings, and so +fell gradually under a spell. Such an explanation is not only easy to +imagine, but it is plausible; nevertheless, it would not be true. There +is a sort of tradition among the brethren who deal with character in +fiction that it must be consistent with itself. This may be necessary in +books, for it sweeps away at one stroke ten thousand mysteries and +problems that play around the actions of every individual, no matter how +high, no matter how humble. How often do we hear it remarked in real +life that the actions of such and such an individual are a source of +surprise and regret to his friends; and how often in our own experience +have we been shocked by the unexpected as it crops out in the actions of +our friends and acquaintances! + +For this and other reasons this chronicler does not propose to explain +Silas's motives and movements and try to show that they are all +consistent with his character, and that, therefore, they were all to be +predicated from the beginning. What is certainly true is that Silas was +one day stopped in the street by Eugenia, who inquired about Paul. He +looked at the girl very gloomily at first, but when he began to talk +about the troubles of his son, he thawed out considerably. In this case +Eugenia's sympathies abounded, in fact were unlimited, and she listened +with dewy eyes to everything Silas would tell her about Paul. + +"You mustn't think too much about Paul," remarked Silas grimly, as they +were about to part. + +"Thank you, sir," replied Eugenia, with a smile, "I'll think just enough +and no more. But it was my mother that told me to ask about him if I saw +you. She is very fond of him. You never come to see us now," the sly +creature suggested. + +Silas stared at her before replying, and tried to find the gleam of +mockery in her eyes, or in her smile. He failed, and his glances became +shifty again. "Why, I reckon she'd kick me down the steps if I called +without having some business with her. If you were to ask her who her +worst enemy is, she'd tell you that I am the man." + +"Well, sir," replied Eugenia archly, "I have been knowing mother a good +many years, but I've never seen her put any one out of the house yet. We +were talking about you to-day, and she said you must be very lonely, now +that Paul is away, and I know she sympathises with those who are lonely; +I've heard her say so many a time." + +"Yes; that may be true," remarked Silas, "but she has special reasons +for not sympathising with me. She knows me a great deal better than you +do." + +"I'm afraid you misjudge us both," said Eugenia demurely. "If you knew +us better, you'd like us better. I'm sure of that." + +"Humph!" grunted Silas. Then looking hard at the girl, he bluntly asked, +"Is there anything between you and Paul?" + +"A good many miles, sir, just now," she answered, making one of those +retorts that Paul thought so fine. + +"H-m-m; yes, you are right, a good many miles. Well, there can't be too +many." + +"I think you are cruel, sir. Is Paul not to come home any more? Paul is +a very good friend of mine, and I could wish him well wherever he might +be; but how would you feel, sir, if he were never to return?" + +"Well, I must go," said Silas somewhat bluntly. When Beauty has a glib +tongue, abler men than Silas find themselves without weapons to cope +with it. + +"Shall I tell mother that you have given your promise to call soon?" +Eugenia asked. + +"Now, I hope you are not making fun of me," cried Silas with some +irritation. + +"How could that be, sir? Don't you think it would be extremely pert in a +young girl to make fun of a gentleman old enough to be her father?" + +Silas winced at the comparison. "Well, I have seen some very pert ones," +he insisted, and with that he bade her good-day with a very ill grace, +and went on about his business, of which he had a good deal of one kind +and another. + +"Mother," said Eugenia, after she had given an account of her encounter +with Silas, "I believe the man has a good heart and is ashamed of it." + +"Why, I think the same may be said of most of the grand rascals that we +read about in history; and the pity of it is that they would have all +been good men if they had had the right kind of women to deal with them +and direct their careers." + +"Do you really think so, mother?" the daughter inquired. + +"I'm sure of it," said the lady. + +Then after all there might be some hope for old Silas Tomlin. And his +instinct may have given him an inkling of the remedy for his particular +form of the whimsies, for it was not many days before he came knocking +at the lady's door, where he was very graciously received, and most +delightfully entertained. Both mother and daughter did their utmost to +make the hours pass pleasantly, and they succeeded to some extent. For +awhile Silas was suspicious, then he would resign himself to the +temptations of good music and bright conversation. Presently he would +remember his suspicions, and straighten himself up in his chair, and +assume an attitude of defiance; and so the first evening passed. When +Silas found himself in the street on his way home, he stopped still and +reflected. + +"Now, what in the ding-nation is that woman up to? What is she trying to +do, I wonder? Why, she's as different from what she was when I first +knew her as a butterfly is from a caterpillar. Why, there ain't a +pearter woman on the continent. No wonder Paul lost his head in that +house! She's up to something, and I'll find out what it is." + +Silas was always suspicious, but on this occasion he bethought himself +of the fact that he had not been dragged into the house; he had been +under no compulsion to knock at the door; indeed, he had taken advantage +of the slightest hint on the part of the daughter--a hint that may have +been a mere form of politeness. He remembered, too, that he had +frequently gone by the house at night, and had heard the piano going, +accompanied by the singing of one or the other of the ladies. His +reflections would have made him ashamed of himself, but he had never +cultivated such feelings. He left that sort of thing to the women and +children. + +In no long time he repeated his visit, and met with the same pleasurable +experience. On this occasion, Eugenia remained in the parlour only a +short time. For a diversion, the mother played a few of the old-time +tunes on the piano, and sang some of the songs that Silas had loved in +his youth. This done, she wheeled around on the stool, and began to talk +about Paul. + +"If I had a son like that," she said, "I should be immensely proud of +him." + +"You have a fine daughter," Silas suggested, by way of consolation. + +She shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, but you know we always want that which +we have not. Yet they say that envy is among the mortal sins." + +"Well, a sin's a sin, I reckon," remarked Silas. + +"Oh, no! there are degrees in sin. I used to know a preacher who could +run the scale of evil-doing and thinking, just as I can trip along the +notes on the piano." + +"They once tried to make a preacher out of me," remarked Silas, "but +when I slipped in the church one day and went up into the pulpit, I +found it was a great deal too big for me." + +"They make them larger now," said the lady, "so that they will hold the +exhorter and the horrible example at the same time." + +"Did Paul ever see my picture there?" asked Silas, changing the +conversation into a more congenial channel. + +"Why, I think so," replied the lady placidly. "I think he asked about +it, and I told him that we had known each other long ago, which was not +at all the truth." + +"What did Paul say to that?" asked Silas eagerly. + +"He said that while some people might think you were queer, you had been +a good dad to him. I think he said dad, but I'll not be sure." + +"Yes, yes, he said it," cried Silas, all in a glow. "That's Paul all +over; but what will the poor boy think when he finds out what you know?" + +"Why, he'll enjoy the situation," said the lady, laughing. "As you +Georgians say, he'll be tickled to death." + +Silas regarded her with astonishment, his hands clenched and his thin +lips pressed together. "Do you think, Madam, that it is a matter for a +joke? You women----" + +"Can't I have my own views? You have yours, and I make no objection." + +"But think of what a serious matter it is to me. Do you realise that +there is nothing but a whim betwixt me and disgrace--betwixt Paul and +disgrace?" + +"A whim? Why, you are another Daniel O'Connell! Call me a hyperbole, a +rectangled triangle, a parenthesis, or a hyphen." She was laughing, and +yet it was plain to be seen that she had no relish for the term which +Silas had unintentionally applied to her. + +"I meant to say that if the notion seized you, you would fetch us down +as a hunter bags a brace of doves." + +"Doves!" exclaimed Mrs. Claiborne, with a comical lift of the eyebrows. + +"Buzzards, then!" said Silas with some heat. + +"Oh, you overdo everything," laughed the lady. + +"Well, there's nobody hurt but me," was Silas's gruff reply. + +"And Paul," suggested the lady, with a peculiar smile. + +"Well, when I say Paul, I mean myself. I've been called worse names than +buzzard by people who were trying to walk off with my money. Oh, they +didn't call me that to my face," said Silas, noticing a queer expression +in the lady's eyes. "And people who should have known better have hated +me because I didn't fling my money away after I had saved it." + +"Well, you needn't worry about that," Mrs. Claiborne remarked. "You will +have plenty of company in the money-grabbing business before long. I can +see signs of it now, and every time I think of it I feel sorry for our +young men, yes, and our young women, and the long generations that are +to come after them. In the course of a very few years you will find your +business to be more respectable than any of the professions. You +remember how, before the war, we used to sneer at the Yankees for their +money-making proclivities? Well, it won't be very long before we'll beat +them at their own game; and then our politicians will thrive, for each +and all of them will have their principles dictated by Shylock and his +partners." + +"Why, you talk as if you were a politician yourself. But why are you +sorry for our young women?" + +"That was a hasty remark. I am sorry for those who will grow weary and +fall by the wayside. The majority of them, and the best of them, will +make themselves useful in thousands of ways, and new industries will +spring up for their benefit. They will become workers, and, being +workers, they will be independent of the men, and finally begin to look +down on them as they should." + +"Well!" exclaimed Silas, and then he sat and gazed at the lady for the +first time with admiration. "Where'd you learn all that?" he asked after +awhile. + +"Oh, I read the newspapers, and such books as I can lay my hands on, and +I remember what I read. Didn't you notice that I recited my piece much +as a school-boy would?" + +"No, I didn't," replied Silas. "I do a good deal of reading myself, but +all those ideas are new to me." + +"Well, they'll be familiar to you just as soon as our people can look +around and get their bearings. As for me, I propose to become an +advanced woman, and go on the stage; there's nothing like being the +first in the field. I always told my husband that if he died and left +me without money, I proposed to earn my own living." + +"You told your husband that? When did you tell him?" inquired Silas with +some eagerness. + +"Oh, long before he died," replied the lady. + +Silas sat like one stunned. "Do you mean to tell me that your husband is +dead?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Mrs. Claiborne. "What possible reason could I +have for denying or concealing the fact?" + +Silas straightened himself in his chair, and frowned. "Then why did you +come here and pretend--pretend--ain't you Ritta Rozelle, that used to +be?" + +"There were two of them," the lady replied. "They were twins. One was +named Clarita, and the other Floretta, but both were called Ritta by +those who could not distinguish them apart. I had reason to believe that +you hadn't treated my sister as you should have done, and I came here to +see if you would take the bait. You snapped it up before the line +touched the water. It was not even necessary for me to try to deceive +you. You simply shut your eyes and declared that I was your wife and +that I had come." + +"You are the sister who was going to school in--wasn't it Boston?" + +"Yes; that is why I am broad-minded and free from guile," remarked the +lady with a laugh so merry that it irritated Silas. + +"Then you have never been married to me," Silas suggested, still +frowning. + +"I thank you kindly, sir, I never have been." + +"Well, you never denied it," he said. + +"You never gave me an opportunity," she retorted. + +"You simply sat back, and watched me make a fool of myself." + +"You express it very well." + +Silas squirmed on his chair. "Why, you knew me the minute you saw me!" +he cried. + +"Therefore you are still sure I am the woman you married in Louisiana. +Well, the man who was driving the hack the day of my arrival, saw you in +the fields, and he made a remark I have never forgotten. He said--she +mimicked Mr. Goodlett as well as she could--'Well, dang my hide! ef thar +ain't old Silas Tomlin out huntin'! Ef he shoots an' misses he'll pull +all his ha'r out.' 'Why?' I asked. 'Bekaze he can't afford to waste a +load of powder an' shot.'" + +Silas tried to smile. He knew that the point of Mr. Goodlett's joke was +lost on the lady. + +Silas tried to smile, but the effort was too much for him, and he +frowned instead. "You did all you could to humour my mistake," he +declared. + +"I certainly did," said Mrs. Claiborne, very seriously. "I had good +reason to believe that your treatment of my sister was not what it +should have been." + +"Good Lord! she wouldn't let me treat her well. Why, we hadn't been +married three months before she took a dislike to me, and she never got +over it. The truth is, she couldn't bear the sight of me. I did what any +other young man would have done. I packed up my things and came back +home. I told Dorrington about it when I came back, and he said the +trouble was a form of hysterics that finally develops into insanity." + +"Yes, that was what happened to my poor sister," said Mrs. Claiborne, +"and I never knew the facts until a few months ago. Our aunt, you know, +always contended that you were the cause of it all. But Judge Vardeman, +quite by accident, met the physician who had charge of the case, and I +have a letter from him which clearly explains the whole matter." + +Silas Tomlin sat silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the floor. +"Well, well! here I have been going on for years under the impression +that I was partly responsible for that poor girl's troubles; and it has +been a nightmare riding me every minute that I had time to think." He +stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and drew a long breath. "I +thank you for laying my ghost, and I'll bid you good-night." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + +_Mr. Sanders Receives a Message_ + + +The demeanour of Mr. Sanders about this time was a seven days' wonder in +Shady Dale. As Mrs. Absalom declared, he had tucked his good-humour +under the bed, and was now going about in a state of gloom. This at +least was the general impression; but Mr. Sanders was not gloomy. He was +filled to the brim with impatience, and was to be seen constantly +walking the streets, or occupying his favourite seat on the court-house +steps, the seat that had always attracted him when he was communing with +John Barleycorn. But he and John Barleycorn were strangers now; they +were not on speaking terms. He avoided the companionship of those who +were in the habit of seeking him out to enjoy his drolleries; and +various rumours flew about as to the cause of his apparent troubles. He +was on the point of joining the church, having had enough of the world's +sinfulness; he had lost the money he made by selling cotton directly +after the war; he had been jilted by some buxom country girl. In short, +when a man is as prominent in a community as Mr. Sanders was in Shady +Dale, he must pay such penalty as gossip levies when his conduct becomes +puzzling or problematical. + +The tittle-tattle of the town ran in a different direction when some one +discovered that the Racking Roan was tied every day to the rack behind +the court-house. Then the gossips were certain that the Yankees were +after Mr. Sanders, and his horse was placed close at hand in order to +give him an opportunity to escape. Mr. Sanders apparently confirmed this +rumour when he told Cephas to take the horse to Clopton's, should he +find the animal standing at the rack after sundown. + +As Mr. Sanders walked about, or sat on the court-house steps, he +wondered if he had made all the arrangements necessary to the scheme he +had in view. Hundreds and hundreds of times he went over the ground in +his mind, and reviewed every step he had taken, trying to discover if +anything had been omitted, or if there were any flaw in the plan he +proposed to follow. He had made all his arrangements beforehand. He had +made a visit to Malvern, and remained there several days. He had met the +Mayor of the city, the Chief of Police, and the latter had casually +introduced him to the Chief of the Fire Department. + +Mr. Sanders accounted himself very fortunate in making the acquaintance +of the Fire Chief, who was what might be termed one of the +unreconstructed. He was something more than that, he was an +irreconcilable, who would have been glad of an opportunity to take up +arms again. This official took an eager interest in the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had in view; in fact, as he said himself, it was a personal +interest. He invited Mr. Sanders to the head-quarters of the Fire +Department. + +"I'll tell you why I want you to come," he said. "There's a man in my +office, or he will be there when we arrive, who is likely to take as +much interest in this thing as I do--he couldn't take more--and I want +him to hear your plan. Have you ever heard of Captain Buck Sanford?" + +Mr. Sanders paused in the street, and stared at the Fire Chief. "Heard +of him? Well, I should say! He's the feller that fights a duel before +breakfast to git up an appetite. Well, well! How many men has Buck +Sanford winged?" + +"Oh, quite a number, but not as many as he gets credit for. He comes in +my private office every morning, and he's a great help to me. He was +rather down at the heels right after the war, and then I happened to +find out that he had a great talent in getting the truth out of +criminals. We sometimes arrest a man against whom there is no direct +evidence of guilt, and if we didn't have some one skilful enough to make +him own up, we could do nothing. Buck always knows whether a fellow is +guilty or not, and we turn over the suspects to him, and whatever he +says goes. He sits in my office like a piece of furniture, and you'd +think he was a wooden man. Now you go down with me, and go over your +scheme so that Buck can hear you, and whatever he says do, will be the +thing to do." + +When Mr. Sanders and the Chief arrived at the head-quarters of the +department, and entered the private office, they found a pale and +somewhat emaciated young man sitting in a chair, which was leaned +against the wall at a somewhat dangerous angle. He was apparently +asleep; his eyes were closed, and he held between his teeth a short but +handsome pipe. He made no movement whatever when the two entered the +room. His hat was on the floor at the side of his chair, and had +evidently fallen from his head. If Mr. Sanders had been called on to +describe the young man, he would have said that he was a weasly looking +creature, half gristle and half ghost. His hands were small and thin, +and the skin of his face had the appearance of parchment. + +At the request of the Chief, Mr. Sanders went over the details of his +plan from beginning to end, and at the close the young man, who had +apparently been asleep, remarked in a thin, smooth voice, "Won't it be a +fine day for a parade!" + +His eyes remained closed; he had not even taken the pipe out of his +mouth. There was a silence of many long seconds. But the weasly looking +man made no movement, nor did he add anything to his remark. Evidently, +he had no more to say. + +"Buck is right," said the Chief. + +"What does he mean?" Mr. Sanders inquired. + +"Why, he means that it will be a fine day for a general turn-out of the +department," replied the Chief. + +Mr. Sanders reflected a moment, and then made one of his characteristic +comments. "Be jigged ef he ain't saved my life!" + +"Captain Sanford, this is Mr. Sanders, of Shady Dale," said the Chief, +by way of introducing the two men. Both rose, and Mr. Sanders found +himself looking into the eyes of one of the most interesting characters +that Georgia ever produced. Captain Buck Sanford was one of the last of +the knights-errant, the self-constituted champion of all women, old or +young, good or bad. He said of himself, with some drollery, that he was +one of the scavengers of society, and he declared that the job was +important enough to command a good salary. + +No man in his hearing ever used the name of a woman too freely without +answering for it; and it made no difference whether the woman was rich +or poor, good or bad. Otherwise he was the friendliest and simplest of +men, as modest as a woman, and entirely unobtrusive. His duel with +Colonel Conrad Asbury, one of the most sensational events in the annals +of duelling, owing to the fact that the weapons were shot-guns at ten +paces, was the result of a remark the Colonel had made about a lady whom +Sanford had never seen. But so far as the general public knew, it grew +out of the fact that the Colonel had spilled some water on Sanford's +pantaloons. + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Sanders, "I've heard tell of you many a time, an' +I'm right down glad to see you." + +"You haven't heard much good of me, I reckon," Captain Sanford remarked. + +"Yes; not so very long ago I heard a fine old lady say that if they was +more Buck Sanfords, the wimmen would be better off." + +A faint colour came into the face of the duellist. "Is that so?" he +asked with some eagerness. + +"It's jest like I tell you, an' the lady was Lucy Lumsden, the +grandmother of this chap that we're tryin' to git out'n trouble." + +"I wonder if Tomlin Perdue wouldn't let me into the row?" inquired +Captain Sanford. "You see, it's this way: If the boy can't break away, +it would be well for a serious accident to happen, and in that case, +you'll need a man that's perfectly willing to bear the brunt of such an +accident." + +"We'll see about that," said Mr. Sanders. + +"Suppose it's a rainy day, Buck; what then?" asked the Chief. + +"And you a grown man!" exclaimed Mr. Sanford, sarcastically. "Did you +ever hear of a false alarm? Or were you at a Sunday-school picnic when +it was rung in? Oh, I'm going to get a blacksmith and have your head +worked on," and with that, Captain Buck Sanford turned on his heel and +went out. + +"I know Buck was pleased with your plan," the Chief declared. "He nodded +at me a time or two when you wasn't looking. If you can work him into +the row, it will tickle him mightily. He ain't flighty; he never gets +mad; and he always knows just what to do, and when to shoot." + +Thus, long before he became impatient enough to walk the streets, or +seek consolation on the court-house steps, which he called his +liquor-post, Mr. Sanders had made all the arrangements necessary to the +success of his scheme. He had sent a suit of clothes to a friend in +Malvern, he had shipped three bales of cotton to the firm of Vardeman & +Stark, who had been informed of the use to which Mr. Sanders desired to +put it; he had hired an ox-cart, and made a covered waggon of it; and +the yoke of oxen he proposed to use had been driven through the country +and were now at Malvern. + +In short, no matter how deeply Mr. Sanders might ponder over the matter, +there was nothing he could think of to add to the details of the +arrangement that he had already made. + +One morning, while Nan, who was on her way to borrow a book from Eugenia +Claiborne, was leaning on the court-house fence talking to Mr. Sanders, +Tasma Tid cried out, "Yonner dee come! yonner dee come!" The African, +who had heard the rumour that the Yankees were after Mr. Sanders, +concluded that this was the advance guard, and she therefore sounded the +alarm. But only a solitary rider was in sight, and he was coming as fast +as a tired horse could fetch him. By the time this rider had reached the +public square, Mr. Sanders had mounted the Racking Roan, and was +awaiting him. The rider was no other than Colonel Blasengame, who had +insisted on bringing the message himself. + +He was the bearer of a telegram addressed to Major Perdue. "Consignment +will be shipped to-morrow night. Reach Malvern next morning. Invoice by +mail." This was signed by the firm of factors with whom Meriwether +Clopton had had dealings for many years. It was the form of announcement +that had been agreed on, and to Mr. Sanders the message read, "The +prisoners will go to Atlanta to-morrow night, and they will reach +Malvern the next morning. This information can be relied on." + +"It's a joy to see you, Colonel," cried Mr. Sanders. "One more day of +waitin' would 'a' pulled the rivets out. You know Miss Nan Dorrington, +don't you, Colonel Blasengame? I lay you used to dandle her on your knee +when she was a baby." + +The Colonel bowed lower to Nan than if she had been a queen. "You are +not to go to the tavern," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Meriwether Clopton +wants the messenger to go straight to his house, an' he'll be all the +gladder bekaze it's you. Gus Tidwell will drive you home in his buggy in +the cool of the evenin', an' you can leave your hoss at Clopton's for a +day or two. Ef you see Tidwell, Nan, please tell him that the Colonel is +at Clopton's. I reckon you'll be willin' to buss me, honey, the next +time you see me." + +"If you have earned it, Mr. Sanders," said Nan, trying to smile. + +Thereupon, Mr. Sanders waved his hand miscellaneously, as he would have +described it, and moved away at a clipping gait, stirring up quite a +cloud of dust as he went. He reached Halcyondale, and at once sought out +Major Tomlin Perdue, and found that a telegram had already been sent to +Captain Buck Sanford, whose prompt reply over the wire had been. "All +skue vee," which was as satisfactory as any other form of reply would +have been--more so, perhaps, for it showed that the Captain was in high +good-humour. + +Mr. Tidwell and Colonel Blasengame arrived in time to eat a late +supper, and the next morning found them all ready to take the train for +Malvern. Major Perdue and Mr. Sanders were in high feather. Somehow +their spirits always rose when a doubtful issue was to be faced. On the +other hand, Colonel Blasengame and Mr. Tidwell were somewhat +thoughtful--the Colonel because he had an idea that they were trying to +"crowd him into a back seat," as he expressed it, and Mr. Tidwell +because it had occurred to him that his presence might tend to +jeopardise the case of his son. They were not gloomy; on the contrary +they were cheerful; but their spirits failed to run as high as those of +Mr. Sanders and Major Perdue, who were engaged all the way to Malvern in +relating anecdotes and narrating humourous stories. It seemed that +everything either one of them said reminded the other of a story or a +humourous incident, and they kept the car in a roar until Malvern was +reached. + +Mr. Sanders did not go at once to the hotel, but turned his attention to +the various details which he had arranged for. Mr. Tidwell went to the +hotel opposite the railway station, while Major Perdue and Colonel +Blasengame, for obvious reasons, went to the rival hotel. There they +found Captain Buck Sanford lounging about with a Winchester rifle slung +across his shoulder. A great many people were interested when this pale +and weary-looking little man appeared in public with a gun in his hands, +and he was compelled to answer many questions in regard to the event. To +all he made the same reply, namely, that he had been out practising at a +target. + +"I'm getting so I can't miss," he said to Major Perdue. "I wasted +twenty-four cartridges trying to miss the bull's eye, but I couldn't do +it. I don't know what to make of it," he complained. "There must be +something wrong with me. That kind of shooting don't look reasonable. +I'm afraid something is going to happen to me. It may be a sign that I'm +going to fall over a cellar-door and break my neck, or tumble downstairs +and injure my spine." + +Then he left his gun with a clerk in the hotel, and, taking Major Perdue +by the arm, went into a corner and discussed the scheme which Mr. +Sanders had mapped out. They were joined presently by Colonel +Blasengame; and as they sat there, whispering together, and making many +emphatic gestures, they were the centre of observation, and word went +around that some personal difficulty, in which these noted men were to +act together, was imminent. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + +_Malvern Has a Holiday_ + + +Very early the next morning Malvern aroused itself to the fact that the +firemen and the police, and a very large crowd of the rag, tag and +bobtail that hangs on the edge of all holiday occasions, were out for a +frolic. A band was playing, and the old-fashioned apparatus with which +fire departments were provided in that day and time, was showing the +amazed and amused crowd how to put out an imaginary conflagration. And +it succeeded, too. Worked as it was by hand-power, it sent a famously +strong stream into the very midst of the imaginary conflagration; and +when the fire raged no longer, the gallant firemen turned the stream on +the rag, tag and bobtail, and such screams and such a scattering as +ensued has no parallel in the history of Malvern, which is a long and +varied one. + +But what did it all mean? It was some kind of a celebration, of course, +but why then did the _Malvern Recorder_, one of the most enterprising +newspapers in the State, as its editors and proprietors were willing to +admit, why, then, did the _Recorder_ fail to have an appropriate +announcement of an event so interesting and important? Was our public +press, the palladium of our liberties, losing its prestige and +influence? Certainly it seemed so, when such an affair as this could be +devised and carried out without an adequate announcement in the organ of +public opinion. + +After awhile there was a lull in the display. The Chief, who was +stationed near the depot, received authoritative information that the +train from Savannah was approaching. He waved his trumpet, and the +firemen formed themselves into a procession, and passed twice in review +before their Chief, and then halted, with their hose reels, and their +hook and ladder waggons almost completely blocking up the entrance to +the station. The crowd had followed them, but the police managed to keep +the street clear, so that vehicles might effect a passage. + +It was well that the officers of the law had been thus thoughtful in the +matter, otherwise a countryman who chanced to be coming along just then +would have found it difficult to drive his team even half way through +the jam. He was a typical Georgia farmer in his appearance. He wore a +wide straw hat to preserve his complexion, a homespun shirt and jeans +trousers, the latter being held in place by a dirty pair of home-made +suspenders. He drove what is called a spike-team, two oxen at the +wheels, and a mule in the lead. The day was warm, but he was warmer. The +crowd had flurried him, and he was perspiring more profusely than usual. +He was also inclined to use heated language, as those nearest him had no +difficulty in discovering. In fact, he was willing to make a speech, as +the crowd into which he was wedging his team grew denser and denser. It +was observed that when the crowd really impeded the movements of his +team, he had a way of touching the mule in the flank with the long whip +he carried. This was invariably the signal for such gyrations on the +part of the mule as were calculated to make the spectators pay due +respect to the animal's heels. + +"I don't see," said the countryman, "why you fellers don't get out +some'rs an' go to work. They's enough men in this crowd to make a crop +big enough to feed a whole county, ef they'd git out in the field an' +buckle down to it stidder loafin' roun' watchin' 'em spurt water at +nothin'. It's a dad-blamed shame that the courts don't take a han' in +the matter. Ef you lived in my county, you'd have to work or go to the +poor-house. Whoa, Beck! Gee, Buck! Why don't you gee, contrive your +hide!" + +At a touch from the whip, the rearing, plunging, and kicking of the mule +were renewed, and the team managed to fight its way to a point opposite +where the chief officials of the Police and Fire Department were +standing. The waggon to which the team was attached was a ramshackle +affair apparently, but was strong enough, nevertheless, to sustain the +weight of three bales of cotton, one of the bales being somewhat larger +than the others. + +"My friend," said the Chief of Police, elevating his voice so that the +countryman could hear him distinctly, "this is not a warehouse. If you +want to sell your cotton, carry it around the corner yonder, and there +you'll find the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark." + +"If I want to sell my cotton? Well, you don't reckon I want to give it +away, do you? Way over yander in the fur eend of town, they told me that +the cotton warehouse was down here some'rs, an' that it was made of +brick. This shebang is down yander, an' it's made of brick. How fur is +t'other place?" + +"Right around the corner," said one in the crowd. + +"Humph--yes; that's the way wi' ever'thing in this blamed town; it's +uther down yander, or right around the corner. But ef it was right here, +how could I git to it? Deliver me from places whar they celebrate +Christmas in the hottest part of June! Ef I ever git out'n the town +you'll never ketch me here ag'in--I'll promise you that." + +"Oh, Mister, please don't say that!" wailed some humourist in the crowd. +"There's hundreds of us that couldn't live without you." + +"Oh, is that you?" cried the countryman. "Tell your sister Molly that +I'll be down as soon as I sell my cotton." This set the crowd in a roar, +for though the humourist had no sister Molly, the retort was accepted as +a very neat method of putting an end to impertinence. + +Inside the station another scene was in the full swing of action. +Certain well-known citizens of Halcyondale had been pacing up and down +the planked floor of the station apparently awaiting with some +impatience for the moment to come when the train for Atlanta would be +ready to leave. But the train itself seemed to be in no particular +hurry. The locomotive was not panting and snorting with suppressed +energy, as the moguls do in our day, but stood in its place with the +blue smoke curling peacefully from its black chimney. Presently an +access of energy among the employees of the station gave notice to those +who were familiar with their movements that the train from Savannah was +crossing the "Y." + +Mr. Tidwell, of Shady Dale, who was also among those who were apparently +anxious to take the train for Atlanta, ceased his restless walking, and +stood leaning against one of the brick pillars supporting the rear end +of the structure. Major Tomlin Perdue, on the other hand, leaned +confidently on the counter of the little restaurant, where a weary +traveller could get a cup of hasty and very nasty coffee for a dime. The +Major was acquainted with the vendor of these luxuries, and he informed +the man confidentially that he was simply waiting a fair opportunity to +put a few lead plugs into the carcass of the person at the far end of +the station, who was no other than Mr. Tidwell. + +"Is that so?" asked the clerk breathlessly. "Well, I don't mind telling +you that he has been having some of the same kind of talk about you, and +you'd better keep your eye on him. They say he's 'most as handy with his +pistol as Buck Sanford." + +Slowly the Savannah train backed in, and slowly and carelessly Major +Perdue sauntered along the raised floor. They had decided that the +prisoners would most likely be in the second-class coach, and they +purposed to make that coach the scene of their sham duel. It was a very +delicate matter to decide just when to begin operations. A moment too +soon or too late would be decisive. When this point was referred to Mr. +Sanders, he settled it at once. "What's your mouth for, Gus? Shoot wi' +that tell the time comes to use your gun. And the Major has got about as +much mouth as you. Talk over the rough places, an' talk loud. Don't +whisper; rip out a few damns an' then cut your caper. This is about the +only chance you'll have to cuss the Major out wi'out gittin' hurt. I +wisht I was in your shoes; I'd rake him up one side an' down the other. +You can stand to be cussed out in a good cause, I reckon, Major." + +"Yes--oh, yes! It'll make my flesh crawl, but I'll stand it like a +baby." + +"Don't narry one on you try to be too polite," said Mr. Sanders, and +this was his parting injunction. + +The two men were the length of the car apart when the Savannah train +came to a standstill. "Perdue! they tell me that you have been hunting +for me all over the city," said Mr. Tidwell. He was a trained speaker, +and his voice had great carrying power. The firemen of both trains heard +it distinctly, caught the note of passion in it and looked curiously out +of their cabs. + +"Yes, I've been hunting you, and now that I've found you you'll not get +away until you apologise to me for the language you have used about me," +cried Major Perdue. He was not as loud a talker as Mr. Tidwell, but his +voice penetrated to every part of the building. + +"What I've said I'll stand to," declared Mr. Tidwell, "and if you think +I have been trying to keep out of your way, you will find out +differently, you blustering blackguard!" (The Major insisted afterward +that Tidwell took advantage of the occasion to give his real views.) + +"Are you ready, you cowardly hellian?" cried the Major, apparently in a +rage. + +"As ready as you will ever be," replied Tidwell hotly. He was the better +actor of the two. + +And then just as the prisoners were coming out of the coach--as soon as +Gabriel, lean and haggard, had reached the floor of the station, Major +Perdue whipped out his pistol and a shot rang out, clear and distinct, +and it was immediately reproduced from the further end of the car by Mr. +Tidwell, and then the shooting became a regular fusillade. There was a +wild scattering on the part of the crowd assembled in the station, a +scuffling, scurrying panic, and in the midst of it all Gabriel ducked +his head, and made a rush with the rest. He had been handcuffed, but his +wrist was nearly as large as his hand, and he had found early in his +experience with these bracelets that by placing his thumb in the palm of +his hand, he would have no difficulty in freeing himself from the irons. +This he had accomplished without much trouble, as soon as he started out +of the car, and when he ducked his head and ran, he had nothing to +impede his movements. + +And Gabriel was always swift of foot, as Cephas will tell you. On the +present occasion, he brought all his strength, and energy, and will to +bear on his efforts to escape. Running half-bent, he was afraid the +crowd which he saw all about him, pushing and shoving, and apparently +making frantic efforts to escape, would give him some trouble. But +strangely enough, this struggling crowd seemed to help him along. He saw +men all around him with uniforms on, and wearing queerly shaped hats. +They opened a way before him and closed in behind him. He heard a sharp +cry, "Prisoner escaped!" and he heard the energetic commands of the +officer in charge, but still the crowd opened a way in front of him, and +closed up behind him. This pathway, formed of struggling firemen, led +Gabriel away from the main entrance, and conducted him to the side, +where there was an opening between the pillars. Not twenty feet away was +the countryman with his queer-looking team. He was still complaining of +the way he had been taken in by the town fellers who had told him that +the station was a cotton warehouse. + +Gabriel recognised the voice and ran toward it, jumped into the waggon, +and crawled under the cover. "Now here--now here!" cried the countryman, +"you kin rob me of my money, an' make a fool out'n me about your cotton +warehouses, but be jigged ef I'll let you take my waggin an' team. I +dunner what you're up to, but you'll have to git out'n my waggin." With +that he stripped the cover from the top, and, lo! there was no one +there! + +He turned to the astonished crowd with open mouth. "Wher' in the nation +did he go?" he cried. There was no answer to this, for the spectators +were as much astonished as Mr. Sanders professed to be. The man who had +crawled under the waggon-cover had disappeared. + +He turned to the astonished crowd with a face on which amazement was +depicted, crying out, "Now, you see, gentlemen, what honest men have to +endyore when they come to your blame town. Whoever he is, an' wharsoever +he may be, that chap ain't up to no good." Then he looked under the +waggon and between the bales of cotton, and, finally, took the cover and +shook it out, as if it might be possible for one of the "slick city +fellers" to hide in any impossible place. + +There was a tremendous uproar in the station, caused by the soldiers +trying to run over the firemen and the efforts of the firemen to prevent +them. In a short time, however, a squad of soldiers had forced +themselves through the crowd, and as they made their appearance, Mr. +Sanders gave the word to old Beck, saying as he moved off, "Ef you gents +will excuse me, I'll mosey along, an' the next time I have a crap of +cotton to sell, I'll waggin it to some place or other wher' w'arhouses +ain't depots, an' wher' jugglers don't jump on you an' make the'r +disappearance in broad daylight. This is my fust trip to this great +town, an' it'll be my last ef I know myself, an' I ruther reckon I do." + +As he spoke, his team Was moving slowly off, and the soldiers who were +in pursuit of Gabriel had no idea that it was worth their while to give +the countryman and his superannuated equipment more than a passing +glance. It was providential that Captain Falconer, who was to have +conveyed the prisoners to Atlanta, should have been confined to his bed +with an attack of malarial fever when the order for their removal came. +The Captain would surely have recognised the countryman as Mr. Sanders, +and the probability is that Gabriel would have been recaptured, though +Captain Buck Sanford, who was sitting in an upper window of the hotel, +with his Winchester across his lap, says not. + +The officer in charge did all that he could have been expected to do +under the circumstances. By a stroke of good-luck, as he supposed, he +found the Chief of Police near the entrance of the station and +interested that official in his effort to recapture the prisoner who had +escaped. By order of the military commander in Atlanta, the train was +held a couple of hours while the search for Gabriel proceeded. The whole +town was searched and researched, but all to no purpose. Gabriel had +disappeared, and was not to be found by any person hostile to his +interests. + +Mr. Sanders drove his team around to the warehouse of Vardeman & Stark, +where he was met by Colonel Tom Vardeman, who, besides being a cotton +factor, was one of the political leaders of the day, and as popular a +man as there was in the State. + +"I heard a terrible fusillade in the direction of the depot," he said to +Mr. Sanders, as the latter drove up. "I hope nobody's hurt." + +"Well, they ain't much damage done, I reckon. Gus Tidwell an' Major +Perdue took a notion to play a game of tag wi' pistols. They're doin' it +jest for fun, I reckon. They want to show you city fellers that all the +public sperrit an' enterprise ain't knocked out'n the country chaps." + +"Well, they're almost certain to get in the lock-up," remarked Colonel +Tom Vardeman. + +"It reely looks that away," said Mr. Sanders, drily; "the Chief of +Police was standin' in front of the depot, an' ev'ry time a gun'd go off +he'd wink at me." + +Colonel Tom laughed, and then turned to Mr. Sanders with a serious air. +"What did I tell you about that wild plan of yours to rescue one of the +prisoners? You've had all your trouble for nothing, and the probability +is that you are out considerable cash first and last. You don't catch +grown men asleep any more. Why, if the officer in charge of those poor +boys were to permit one of them to escape, he'd be court-martialled, and +it would serve him right." + +"So it would," replied Mr. Sanders, "an' I'm mighty glad it wa'n't +Captain Falconer. This feller that had the boys in tow is a stranger to +me, an' I'm glad of it. He'll never know who lost him his job. He's a +right nice-lookin' feller, too, but when he run out'n the depot awhile +ago, his face kinder spoke up an' said he had had a dram too much some +time endyorin' of the night; or his colour mought 'a' been high bekaze +he was flurried or skeered. Now, then, Colonel Tom, ef you've done what +you laid off to do, an' I don't misdoubt it in the least, you've got a +safe place wher' I kin store a bale of long-staple cotton, ag'in a rise +in prices. Ef you've got it fixed, I'll drive right in, bekaze the kind +of cotton I'm dealin' in will spile ef it lays in the sun too long." + +"Do you mean to tell me----" + +"I'm mean enough for anything, Colonel Tom; but right now, I want to +git wher' I can drench a long-sufferin' friend of mine wi' a big +gourdful of cold water." + +"But, Mr. Sanders----" + +"Ef you'd 'a' stuck in the William H., you'd 'a' purty nigh had my whole +name," remarked Mr. Sanders with a solemn air. + +"Why, dash it, man! you've taken my breath away. Drive right in there. +John! Henry! come here, you lazy rascals, and take this team out! I told +you," said Colonel Tom to Mr. Sanders as the negroes came forward, "that +you couldn't get any better prices for your cotton than I offered you. +We treat everybody right over here, and that's the way we keep our +trade." + +The two negroes were detailed to convey the mule and the oxen to the +stable where Mr. Sanders had arranged for their "keep," as he termed it, +and as soon as they were out of sight, Mr. Sanders went to the rear of +the waggon, and said playfully, "Peep eye, Gabriel!" Receiving no +answer, he was suddenly seized with the idea that the young man had +suffocated behind the loose cotton which was intended to conceal him. +But no such thing had happened. Gabriel had plenty of breathing-room, +and the practical and unromantic rascal was sound asleep. His quarters +were warm, but the sweat-boxes at Fort Pulaski were hotter. It was very +fortunate for Gabriel that the reaction from the strain under which he +had been, took the blessed shape of sleep. + +Gabriel's place of concealment was simplicity itself. With his own hands +Mr. Sanders had constructed a stout box of oak boards, and around this +he had packed cotton until the affair, when complete, had the +appearance of an extra large bale of cotton, covered with bagging, and +roped as the majority of cotton-bales were in those days. The only way +to discover the sham was to pull out the cotton that concealed the +opening in the end of the box. In delivering his message to Cephas, Mr. +Sanders had called this loose cotton a plug, and the fact that the word +was new to the vocabulary of the school-children gave great trouble to +Gabriel, causing him to lose considerable sleep in the effort to +translate it satisfactorily to himself. The meaning dawned on him one +night when he had practically abandoned all hope of discovering it, and +then the whole scheme became so clear to him that he could have shouted +for joy. + +It was thought that a search would be made for Gabriel in the +neighbourhood of Shady Dale, and it was decided that it would be best +for him to remain in the city until all noise of the pursuit had died +away. But no pursuit was ever made, and it soon became apparent to the +public at large that radicalism was burning itself out at last, after a +weary time. When rage has nothing to feed upon it consumes itself, +especially when various chronic maladies common to mankind take a hand +in the game. + +Not only was no pursuit made of Gabriel, but the detachment of Federal +troops which had been stationed at Shady Dale was withdrawn. The young +men who had been arrested with Gabriel were placed on trial before a +military court, but with the connivance of counsel for the prosecution, +the trial dragged along until the military commander issued a +proclamation announcing that civil government had been restored in the +State, and the prisoners were turned over to the State courts. And as +there was not the shadow of a case against them, they were never brought +to trial, a fact which caused some one to suggest to Mr. Sanders that +all his work in behalf of Gabriel had been useless. + +"Well, it didn't do Gabriel no good, maybe," remarked the veteran, "but +it holp me up mightily. It gi' me somethin' to think about, an' it holp +me acrosst some mighty rough places. You have to pass the time away +anyhow, an' what better way is they than workin' for them you like? Why, +I knowed a gal, an' a mighty fine one she was, who knit socks for a +feller she had took a fancy to. The feller died, but she went right +ahead wi' her knittin' just the same. Now, that didn't do the feller a +mite of good, but it holp the gal up might'ly." + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + +_Gabriel as an Orator_ + + +The _Malvern Recorder_ was very kind to Gabriel, and said nothing in +regard to his escape. This was due to a timely suggestion on the part of +Colonel Tom Vardeman, who rightly guessed that the Government +authorities would be more willing to permit the affair to blow over, +provided the details were not made notorious in the newspapers. As the +result of the Colonel's discretion, there was not a hint in the public +press that one of the prisoners had eluded the vigilance of those who +had charge of him. There was a paragraph or two in the _Recorder_, +stating that the Shady Dale prisoners--"the victims of Federal +tyranny"--had passed through the city on their way to Atlanta, and a +long account was given of their sufferings in Fort Pulaski. The facts +were supplied by Gabriel, but the printed account went far beyond +anything he had said. "They are not the first martyrs that have suffered +in the cause of liberty," said the editor of the _Recorder_, in +commenting on the account in the local columns, "and they will not be +the last. Let the radicals do their worst; on the old red hills of +Georgia, the camp-fires of Democracy have been kindled, and they will +continue to burn and blaze long after the tyrants and corruptionists +have been driven from power." + +Gabriel read this eloquent declaration somewhat uneasily. There was +something in it, and something in the exaggeration of the facts that he +had given to the representative of the paper that jarred upon him. He +had already in his own mind separated the Government and its real +interests from the selfish aims and desires of those who were +temporarily clothed with authority, and he had begun to suspect that +there might also be something selfish behind the utterances of those who +made such vigorous protests against tyranny. The matter is hardly worth +referring to in these days when shams and humbugs appear before the +public in all their nakedness; but it was worth a great deal to Gabriel +to be able to suspect that the champions of constitutional liberty, and +the defenders of popular rights, in the great majority of instances had +their eyes on the flesh-pots. The suspicions he entertained put him on +his guard at a time when he was in danger of falling a victim to the +rhetoric of orators and editors, and they preserved him from many a +mistaken belief. + +During the period that intervened between his escape and the +announcement of the restoration of civil government in Georgia, Gabriel +settled down to a course of reading in the law office of Judge Vardeman, +Colonel Tom's brother. He did this on the advice of those who were old +enough to know that idleness does not agree with a healthy youngster, +especially in a large city. His experience in Judge Vardeman's office +decided his career. He was fascinated from the very beginning. He found +the dullest law-book interesting; and he became so absorbed in his +reading that the genial Judge was obliged to warn him that too much +study was sometimes as bad as none. + +Yet the lad's appetite grew by what it fed on. A new field had been +opened up to him, and he entered it with delight. Here was what he had +been longing for, and there were moments when he felt sure that he had +heard delivered from the bench, or had dreamed, the grave and sober +maxims and precepts that confronted him on the printed page. He pursued +his studies in a state of exaltation that caused the days to fly by +unnoted. He thought of home, and of his grandmother, and a vision of Nan +sometimes disturbed his slumbers; but for the time being there was +nothing real but the grim commentators and expounders of the common law. + +When Mr. Sanders returned home, bearing the news of Gabriel's escape, +Nan Dorrington laid siege to his patience, and insisted that he go over +every detail of the event, not once but a dozen times. To her it was a +remarkable adventure, which fitted in well with the romances which she +had been weaving all her life. How did Gabriel look when he ran from the +depot at Malvern? Was he frightened? And how in the world did he manage +to get in the waggon, and crawl on the inside of the sham bale of cotton +and hide so that nobody could see him? And what did he say and how did +he look when Mr. Sanders found him asleep in the cotton-bale box, or the +cotton-box bale, whichever you might call it? + +"Why, honey, I've told you all I know an' a whole lot more," protested +Mr. Sanders. "Ef ever'body was name Nan, I'd be the most populous man in +the whole county." + +"Well, tell me this," Nan insisted; "what did he talk about when he woke +up? Did he ask about any of the home-folks?" + +"Lemme see," said Mr. Sanders, pretending to reflect; "he turned over in +his box, an' got his ha'r ketched in a rough plank, an' then he bust out +cryin' jest like you use to do when you got hurt. I kinder muched him +up, an' then he up an' tol' me a whole lot of stuff about a young lady: +how he was gwine to win her ef he had to stop chawin' tobacco, an' +cussin'. I'll name no names, bekaze I promised him I wouldn't." + +"I think that is disgusting," Nan declared. "Do you mean to tell me he +never asked about his grandmother?" + +"Fiddlesticks, Nan! he looked at me like he was hungry, an' I told him +all about his grandmother, an' he kep' on a-lookin' hungry, an' I told +him all about her neighbours. What he said I couldn't tell you no more +than the man in the moon. He done jest like any other healthy boy would +'a' done, an' that's all I know about it." + +"That's what I thought," said Nan wearily; "boys are so tiresome!" + +"Well, Gabriel didn't look much like a boy when I seed him last. He +hadn't shaved in a month of Sundays, and his beard was purty nigh as +long as my little finger. He couldn't go to a barber-shop in Malvern +for fear some of the niggers might know him an' report him to the +commander of the post there. I begged him not to shave the beard off. He +looks mighty well wi' it." + +"His beard!" cried Nan. "If he comes home with a beard I'll never speak +to him again. Gabriel with a beard! It is too ridiculous!" + +"Don't worry," Mr. Sanders remarked soothingly. "Ef I git word of his +comin' I'll git me a pa'r of shears, an' meet him outside the +corporation line, an' lop his whiskers off for him; but I tell you now, +it won't make him look a bit purtier--not a bit." + +"You needn't trouble yourself," said Nan, with considerable dignity. "I +have no interest in the matter at all." + +"Well, I thought maybe you'd be glad to git Gabriel's beard an' make it +in a sofy pillow." + +"Why, whoever heard of such a thing?" cried Nan. In common with many +others, she was not always sure when Mr. Sanders was to be taken +seriously. + +"I knowed a man once," replied Mr. Sanders, by way of making a practical +application of his suggestion, "that vowed he'd never shave his beard +off till Henry Clay was elected President. Well, it growed an' growed, +an' bimeby it got so long that he had to wrop it around his body a time +or two for to keep it from draggin' the ground. It went on that away for +a considerbul spell, till one day, whilst he was takin' a nap, his wife +took her scissors an' whacked it off. The reason she give was that she +wanted to make four or five sofy pillows; but I heard afterwards that +she changed her mind, an' made a good big mattress." + +Nan looked hard at the solemn countenance of Mr. Sanders, trying to +discover whether he was in earnest, but older and wiser eyes than hers +had often failed to penetrate behind the veil of child-like serenity +that sometimes clothed his features. + +One day while Gabriel was deep in a law-book, Colonel Tom Vardeman came +in smiling. He had a telegram in his hand, which he tossed to Gabriel. +It was from Major Tomlin Perdue, and contained an urgent request for +Gabriel to take the next train for Halcyondale, where he would meet the +prisoners who had been released pending their trial by the State courts, +an event that never came off. Gabriel had seen in the morning paper that +the prisoners were to be released in a day or two; but undoubtedly Major +Perdue had the latest information, for he was in communication with +Meriwether Clopton and other friends of the prisoners who were in +Atlanta watching the progress of the case. + +Gabriel lost no time in making his arrangements to leave, and he was in +Halcyondale some hours before the Atlanta train was due. When all had +arrived, they were for going home at once; but the citizens of +Halcyondale, led by Major Perdue and Colonel Blasengame, would not hear +of such a thing. + +"No, sirs!" exclaimed Major Perdue. "You young ones have been away from +home long enough to be weaned, and a day or two won't make any +difference to anybody's feelings. We have long been wanting a red-letter +day in this section, and now that we've got the excuse for making one, +we're not going to let it go by. Everything is fixed, or will be by day +after to-morrow. We're going to have a barbecue half-way between this +town and Shady Dale. The time was ripe for it anyhow, and you fellows +make it more binding. The people of the two counties haven't had a +jollification since the war, and they couldn't have one while it was +going on. They haven't had an excuse for it; and now that we have the +excuse we're not going to turn it loose until the jollification is +over." + +And so it was arranged. Notice was given to the people in the +old-fashioned way, and nearly everybody in the two counties not only +contributed something to the barbecue, but came to enjoy it, and when +they were assembled they made up the largest crowd that had been seen +together in that section since the day when Alexander Stephens and Judge +Cone had their famous debate--a debate which finally ended in a personal +encounter between the two. + +The details of the barbecue were in the hands of Mr. Sanders, who was +famous in those days for his skill in such matters. The fires had been +lighted the night before, and when the sun rose, long lines of carcasses +were slowly roasting over the red coals, contributing to the breezes an +aroma so persistent and penetrating that it could be recognised miles +away, and so delicious that, as Mr. Sanders remarked, "it would make a +sick man's mouth water." + +A speaker's stand had been erected, and everything was arranged just as +it would have been for a political meeting. There was a good deal of +formality too. Major Perdue prided himself on doing such things in +style. He was a great hand to preside at political meetings, in which +there is considerable formality. As the Major managed the affair, the +friends of the young men caught their first glimpse of them as they went +upon the stand. By some accident, or it may have been arranged by Major +Perdue, Gabriel was the first to make his appearance, but he was closely +followed by the rest. A tremendous shout went up from the immense +audience, which was assembled in front of the stand, and this was what +the Major had arranged for. The shouts and cheers of a great assemblage +were as music in his ears. He comported himself with as much pride as if +all the applause were a tribute to him. He advanced to the front, and +stood drinking it in greedily, not because he was a vain man, but +because he was fond of the excitement with which the presence of a crowd +inspired him. It made his blood tingle; it warmed him as a glass of +spiced wine warms a sick person. + +When the applause had subsided, the Major made quite a little speech, in +which he referred to the spirit of martyrdom betrayed by the young +patriots, who had been seized and carried into captivity by the strong +hand of a tyrannical Government, and he managed to stir the crowd to a +great pitch of excitement. He brought his remarks to a close by +introducing his young friend, Gabriel Tolliver. + +There was tremendous cheering at this, and all of a sudden Gabriel woke +up to the fact that his name had been called, and he looked around with +a dazed expression on his face. He had been trying to see if he could +find the face of Nan Dorrington in the crowd, but so far he had failed, +and he woke out of a dream to hear a multitude of voices shouting his +name. "Why, what do they mean?" he asked. + +"Get up there and face 'em," said Major Perdue. + +Now, Nan was not so very far from the stand, so close, indeed, that she +had not been in Gabriel's field of vision while he was sitting down; but +when he rose to his feet she was the first person he saw, and he +observed that she was very pale. In fact, Nan had shrunk back when the +Major announced that Gabriel would speak for his fellow-martyrs, and for +a moment or two she fairly hated the man. She might not be very fond of +Gabriel, but she didn't want to see him made a fool of before so many +people. + +Somehow or other, the young fellow divined her thought, and he smiled in +spite of himself. He had no notion what to say, but he had the gift of +saying something, very strongly developed in him; and he knew the moment +he saw Nan's scared face that he must acquit himself with credit. So he +looked at her and smiled, and she tried to smile in return, but it was a +very pitiful little smile. Gabriel walked to the small table and leaned +one hand on it, and his composure was so reassuring to everybody but +Nan, that the cheering was renewed and kept up while the youngster was +trying to put his poor thoughts together. + +He began by thanking Major Perdue for his sympathetic remarks, and then +proceeded to take sharp issue with the whole spirit of the Major's +speech, using as the basis of his address an idea that had been put into +his head by Judge Vardeman. The day before he left Malvern, the Judge +had asked him this question: "Why should a parcel of politicians turn us +against a Government under which we are compelled to live?" + +This was the basis of Gabriel's remarks. He elaborated it, and was +perhaps the first person in the country to ask if there was any +Confederate soldier who had feelings of hatred against the soldiers of +the Union. He had not gone far before he had the audience completely +under his control. Almost every statement he made was received with +shouts of approval, and in some instances the applause was such that he +had time to stand and gaze at Nan, whose colour had returned, and who +occasionally waved the little patch of lace-bordered muslin that she +called a handkerchief. + +She was almost frightened at Gabriel's composure. The last time she had +seen him, he was an awkward young man, whose hands and feet were always +in his way. She felt that she was his superior then; but how would she +feel in the presence of this grave young man, who was as composed while +addressing an immense crowd as if he had been talking to Cephas, and who +was dealing out advice to his seniors right and left? Nan was very sure +in her own mind that she would never understand Gabriel again, and the +thought robbed the occasion of a part of its enjoyment. She allowed her +thoughts to wander to such an extent that she forgot the speech, and +had her mind recalled to it only when the frantic screams of the +audience split her ears, and she saw Gabriel, flushed and triumphant, +returning to his seat. Then the real nature of his triumph dawned on +her, as she saw Meriwether Clopton and all the others on the stand +crowding around Gabriel and shaking his hand. She sat very quiet and +subdued until she felt some one touch her shoulder. It was Cephas, and +he wanted to know what she thought of it all. Wasn't it splendiferous? + +Nan made no reply, but gave the little lad a message for Gabriel, which +he delivered with promptness. He edged his way through the crowd, +crawled upon the stand, and pulled at Gabriel's coat-tails. The great +orator--that's what Cephas thought he was--seized the little fellow and +hugged him before all the crowd; and though many years have passed, +Cephas has never had a triumph of any kind that was quite equal to the +pride he felt while Gabriel held him in his arms. The little fellow took +this occasion to deliver his message, which was to the effect that +Gabriel was to ride home in the Dorrington carriage with Nan. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + +_Nan Surrenders_ + + +It was all over at last, and Gabriel found himself seated in the +carriage, side by side with the demurest and the quietest young lady he +had ever seen. He had shaken hands until his arm was sore, and he had +hunted for Nan everywhere; and finally, when he had given up the search, +he heard her calling him and saw her beckoning him from a carriage. +There was not much of a greeting between them, and he saw at once that, +while this was the Nan he had known all his life, she had changed +greatly. What he didn't know was that the change had taken place while +he was in the midst of his speech. She was just as beautiful as ever; in +fact, her loveliness seemed to be enhanced by some new light in her +eyes--or was it the way her head drooped?--or a touch of new-born +humility in her attitude? Whatever it was, Gabriel found it very +charming. + +To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The +change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You +used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of +you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained. + +"If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage +and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the +firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever +he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk. +Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of +Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his +character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every +way--strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet +there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way +that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet +she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully. + +"I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile. +"I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid----" + +"Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm +the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not." + +"I was feeling very bold when I was mouthing to those people; and every +time I looked into your eyes, I said to myself, 'You are mine; you are +mine! and you know it!' And I thought all the time that you could hear +me. It was a very queer impression. Please don't make fun of me to-day; +wait till to-morrow." + +"I couldn't hear you," said Nan, "but I could feel what you said." + +"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps +you were angry, too." + +"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the +actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I +couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was +bold to send for you?" + +"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel. + +"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh. +"Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more." + +"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel. + +"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found +it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested--well, +it is all a dream to me. I didn't know before that one could be +perfectly happy and completely miserable at the same time." + +Then, for the first time since he had entered the carriage she looked at +him. Her eyes met his, and--well, nothing more was said for some time. +Nan had as much as she could do to straighten her hat, and get her hair +smoothed out as it should be, so that people wouldn't know that she and +Gabriel were engaged. That was what she said, and she was so cute and +lovely, so sweet and gentle that Gabriel threatened to crush the hat and +get the hair out of order again. And they were very happy. + +When they arrived at Shady Dale, Gabriel insisted that Nan go home with +him, and he gave what seemed to the young woman a very good reason. "You +know, Nan, my grandmother has been Bethuning me every time I mentioned +your name, and I have heard her Bethuning you. We'll just go in hand in +hand and tell her the facts in the case." + +"Hand in hand, Gabriel? Wouldn't she think I was very bold?" + +"No, Nan," replied Gabriel, very emphatically. "There are two things my +grandmother believes in. She believes in her Bible, and she believes in +love." + +"And she believes in you, Gabriel. Oh, if you only knew how much she +loves you!" cried Nan. + +They didn't go in to the dear old lady hand in hand, for when they +reached the Lumsden Place, they found Miss Polly Gaither there, and they +interrupted her right in the midst of some very interesting gossip. Miss +Polly, after greeting Gabriel as cordially as her lonely nature would +permit, looked at Nan very critically. There was a question in her eyes, +and Nan answered it with a blush. + +"I thought as much," said Miss Polly, oracularly. "I declare I believe +there's an epidemic in the town. There's Pulaski Tomlin, Silas Tomlin, +Paul Tomlin, and now Gabriel Tolliver. Well, I wish them well, +especially you, Gabriel. Nan is a little frivolous now, but she'll +settle down." + +"She isn't frivolous," said Gabriel, speaking in the ear-trumpet; "she +is simply young." + +"Is that the trouble?" inquired Miss Polly, with a smile, "well, she'll +soon recover from that." And then she turned to Gabriel's grandmother, +and took up the thread of her gossip where it had been broken by the +arrival of Nan and Gabriel. + +"I declare, Lucy, if anybody had told me, and I couldn't see for +myself, I never would have believed it. Why, Silas Tomlin is a changed +man. He looks better than he did twenty-five years ago. He goes about +smiling, and while he isn't handsome--he never could be handsome, you +know--he is very pleasant-looking. Yes, he is a changed man. He was +going into the house just now as I came out, and he stopped and shook +hands with me, and asked about my health, something he never did before. +Honestly I don't know what to make of it; I'm clean put out. Why, the +man had two or three quarrels with Ritta Claiborne when she first came +here, and now he is going to marry her, or she him--I don't know which +one did the courting, but I'll never believe it was old Silas. I am +really and truly sorry for Ritta Claiborne. We who know Silas Tomlin +better than she does ought to warn her of the step she is about to take. +I have been on the point of doing so several times; but really, Lucy, I +haven't the heart. She is one of the finest characters I ever knew--she +is perfectly lovely. She is all heart, and I am afraid Silas Tomlin has +imposed on her in some way. But she is perfectly happy, and so is Silas. +If I thought such a thing was possible, I'd say they were very much in +love with each other." + +"Possible!" cried Gabriel's grandmother; "why, love is the only thing +worth thinking about in this world. Even the Old Testament is full of +it, and there is hardly anything else in the New Testament. Read it, +Polly, and you'll find that all the sacrifice and devotion are based on +love--real love, and unselfish because it is real." + +"It may be so, Lucy; I'll not deny it," and then, after some more gossip +less interesting, Miss Polly Gaither took her leave, saying, "I'll +leave you with your grand-children, Lucy." + +When she was gone, Gabriel stood up and beckoned to Nan, and she went to +him without a word. He placed his arm around her, and then called the +attention of his grandmother. + +"You've been Bethuning Nan and me for ever so long, grandmother: what do +you think of this?" + +"Why, I think it is very pretty, if it is real. I have known it all +along; I mean since the night you were carried away. Nan told me." + +"Why, Grandmother Lumsden! I never said a word to you about it; I +wouldn't have dared." + +"I knew it when you came in the door that day--the day that Meriwether +Clopton was here. Do you suppose I would have sat by you on the sofa, +and held your hand if I had not known it?" + +"I'm glad you knew it," said Nan. "I wanted you to know it, but I didn't +dare to tell you in so many words. I am going home now, Gabriel, and you +mustn't call on me to-day or to-night. I want to be alone. I am so +happy," she said to Mrs. Lumsden, as she kissed her, "that I don't want +to talk to any one, not even to Gabriel." + +And this was Gabriel's thought too. He saw none of his friends that day, +and when night fell he went out to the old Bermuda hill, and lay upon +the warm damp grass, the happiest person in the world. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Gabriel Tolliver, by Joel Chandler Harris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GABRIEL TOLLIVER *** + +***** This file should be named 33058.txt or 33058.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/5/33058/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain material +produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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