diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:07 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:07 -0700 |
| commit | 920a475c067f2056b3856dded76b90b790661ed8 (patch) | |
| tree | eb83e44f3755c39e4193399037394b1a65692329 /4746-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '4746-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 4746-h/4746-h.htm | 15947 |
1 files changed, 15947 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/4746-h/4746-h.htm b/4746-h/4746-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee6e957 --- /dev/null +++ b/4746-h/4746-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15947 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Kennedy Square, by F. Hopkinson Smith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kennedy Square, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +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: Kennedy Square + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Release Date: January 6, 2010 [EBook #4746] +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KENNEDY SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by Duncan Harrod, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + KENNEDY SQUARE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By F. Hopkinson Smith + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Author's Preface </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>KENNEDY SQUARE</b> </a><br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Author's Preface + </h2> + <p> + “Kennedy Square, in the late fifties, was a place of birds and trees and + flowers; of rude stone benches, sagging arbors smothered in vines, and + cool dirt paths bordered by sweet-smelling box. Giant magnolias filled the + air with their fragrance, and climbing roses played hide-and-seek among + the railings of the rotting fence. Along the shaded walks laughing boys + and girls romped all day, with hoop and ball, attended by old black + mammies in white aprons and gayly colored bandannas; while in the more + secluded corners, sheltered by protecting shrubs, happy lovers sat and + talked, tired wayfarers rested with hats off, and staid old gentlemen read + by the hour, their noses in their books. + </p> + <p> + “Outside of all this color, perfume, and old-time charm; outside the + grass-line and the rickety wooden fence that framed them in, ran an uneven + pavement splashed with cool shadows and stained with green mould. Here, in + summer, the watermelon man stopped his cart; and there, in winter, upon + its broken bricks, old Moses unhooked his bucket of oysters and ceased for + a moment his droning call. + </p> + <p> + “On the shady side of the square, and half hidden in ivy, was a Noah's Ark + church, topped by a quaint belfry holding a bell that had not rung for + years, and faced by a clock-dial all weather-stains and cracks, around + which travelled a single rusty hand. In its shadow to the right lay the + home of the archdeacon, a stately mansion with Corinthian columns reaching + to the roof and surrounded by a spacious garden filled with damask roses + and bushes of sweet syringa. To the left crouched a row of dingy houses + built of brick, their iron balconies hung in flowering vines, the windows + glistening with panes of wavy glass purpled by age. + </p> + <p> + “On the sunny side of the square, opposite the church, were more houses, + high and low: one all garden, filled with broken-nosed statues hiding + behind still more magnolias; and another all veranda and honeysuckle, big + rocking-chairs and swinging hammocks; and still others with porticos + curtained by white jasmine or Virginia creeper.”—From “The Fortunes + of Oliver Horn.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + KENNEDY SQUARE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + On the precise day on which this story opens—some sixty or more + years ago, to be exact—a bullet-headed, merry-eyed, mahogany-colored + young darky stood on the top step of an old-fashioned, high-stoop house, + craning his head up and down and across Kennedy Square in the effort to + get the first glimpse of his master, St. George Wilmot Temple, attorney + and counsellor-at-law, who was expected home from a ducking trip down the + bay. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was the need of this very diet, or whether St. George had felt + a sudden longing for the out-of-doors, is a matter of doubt, but certain + it is that some weeks before the very best shot in the county had betaken + himself to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, accompanied by his guns, his + four dogs, and two or three choice men of fashion—young bloods of + the time—men with whom we shall become better acquainted as these + chronicles go on—there to search for the toothsome and elusive + canvas-back for which his State was famous. + </p> + <p> + That the darky was without a hat and in his shirt-sleeves, and it winter—the + middle of January, really—the only warm thing about him being the + green baize apron tied about his waist, his customary livery when + attending to his morning duties—did not trouble him in the least. + Marse George might come any minute, and he wanted to be the first to + welcome him. + </p> + <p> + For the past few weeks Todd had had the house to himself. Coal-black Aunt + Jemima, with her knotted pig-tails, capacious bosom, and unconfined waist, + forty years his senior and ten shades darker in color, it is true, looked + after the pots and pans, to say nothing of a particular spit on which her + master's joints and game were roasted; but the upper part of the house, + which covered the drawing-room, dining-room, bedroom, and dressing-room in + the rear, as well as the outside of the dwelling, including even the + green-painted front door and the slant of white marble steps that dropped + to the brick sidewalk, were the especial property of the chocolate-colored + darky. + </p> + <p> + To these duties was added the exclusive care of the master himself—a + care which gave the boy the keenest delight, and which embraced every + service from the drawing off of St. George Wilmot Temple's boots to the + shortening of that gentleman's slightly gray hair; the supervision of his + linen, clothes, and table, with such side issues as the custody of his + well-stocked cellar, to say nothing of the compounding of various + combinations, sweet, sour, and strong, the betrayal of whose secrets would + have cost the darky his place. + </p> + <p> + “Place” is the word, for Todd was not St. George's slave, but the property + of a well-born, if slightly impoverished, gentleman who lived on the + Eastern Shore, and whose chief source of income was the hiring out to his + friends and acquaintances of just such likely young darkies as Todd—a + custom common to the impecunious of those days. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Temple, however, did not come under either one of the + above-mentioned classes—the “slightly impoverished gentleman” never + having laid eyes on him in his life—the negotiations had to be + conducted with a certain formality. Todd had therefore, on his arrival, + unpinned from the inside of his jacket a portentous document signed with + his owner's name and sealed with a red wafer, which after such felicitous + phrases as—“I have the distinguished honor,” etc.—gave the + boy's age (21), weight (140 pounds), and height (5 feet 10 inches)—all + valuable data for identification in case the chattel conceived a notion of + moving further north (an unnecessary precaution in Todd's case). To this + was added the further information that the boy had been raised under his + master's heels, that he therefore knew his pedigree, and that his sole and + only reason for sparing him from his own immediate service was his own + poverty and the fact that while under St. George's care the boy could + learn how “to wait on quality.” + </p> + <p> + As to the house itself—the “Temple Mansion,” as it was called—that + was as much a part of Kennedy Square as the giant magnolias gracing the + park, or the Noah's Ark church, with its quaint belfry and cracked bell, + which faced its shady walks. Nobody, of course, remembered how long it had + been built—that is, nobody then alive—I mean the very date. + Such authorities as Major Clayton were positive that the bricks had been + brought from Holland; while Richard Horn, the rising young scientist, was + sure that all the iron and brass work outside were the product of + Sheffield; but in what year they had all been put together had always been + a disputed question. + </p> + <p> + That, however, which was certain and beyond doubt, was that St. George's + father, old General Dorsey Temple, had purchased the property near the + close of the preceding century; that he had, with his characteristic + vehemence, pushed up the roof, thrust in two dormer windows, and smashed + out the rear wall, thus enlarging the dining-room and giving increased + space for a glass-covered porch ending in a broad flight of wooden steps + descending to a rose-garden surrounded by a high brick wall; that thus + encouraged he had widened the fireplaces, wainscoted the hall, built a new + mahogany spider-web staircase leading to his library on the second floor, + and had otherwise disported himself after the manner of a man who, having + suddenly fallen heir to a big pot of money, had ever after continued + oblivious to the fact that the more holes he punched in its bottom the + less water would spill over its top. The alterations complete, balls, + routs, and dinners followed to such distinguished people as Count + Rochambeau, the Marquis de Castellux, Marquis de Lafayette, and other high + dignitaries, coming-of-age parties for the young bloods—quite + English in his tastes was the old gentleman—not to mention many + other extravagances which were still discussed by the gossips of the day. + </p> + <p> + With the general's death—it had occurred some twenty years before—the + expected had happened. Not only was the pot nearly empty, but the various + drains which it had sustained had so undermined the family rent-roll that + an equally disastrous effect had been produced on the mansion itself (one + of the few pieces of property, by the way, that the father had left to his + only son and heir unencumbered, with the exception of a suit in chancery + from which nobody ever expected a penny), the only dry spots in St. + George's finances being the few ground rents remaining from his + grandmother's legacy and the little he could pick up at the law. + </p> + <p> + It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that certain changes and + deteriorations had taken place inside and out of the historic building—changes + which never in the slightest degree affected the even-tempered St. George, + who had retained his own private apartments regardless of the rest of the + house—but changes which, in all justice to the irascible old + spendthrift, would have lifted that gentleman out of his grave could he + have realized their effect and extent. What a shock, for instance, would + the most punctilious man of his time have received when he found his front + basement rented for a law office, to say nothing of a disreputable tin + sign nailed to a shutter—where in the olden time he and his cronies + had toasted their shins before blazing logs, the toddies kept hot on the + hearth! And what a row would he have raised had he known that the + rose-garden was entirely neglected and given over to the dogs and their + kennels; the library in the second story stripped of its books and turned + into a guest-chamber, and the books themselves consigned to the basement; + the oak-panelled dining-room transformed into a bedchamber for St. George, + and the white-and-gold drawing-room fronting the street reduced to a mere + living-room where his son and heir made merry with his friends! And then + the shrinkages all about! When a room could be dispensed with, it was + locked up. When a shingle broke loose, it stayed loose; and so did the + bricks capping the chimneys, and the leaky rain-spouts that spattered the + dingy bricks, as well as the cracks and crannies that marred the ceilings + and walls. + </p> + <p> + And yet so great was Todd's care over the outside fittings of the house—details + which were necessarily in evidence, and which determined at a glance the + quality of the folks inside—that these several crumblings, + shake-downs, and shrinkages were seldom noticed by the passer-by. The old + adage that a well-brushed hat, a clean collar, polished shoes, and + immaculate gloves—all terminal details—make the well-dressed + man, no matter how shabby or how ill-fitting his intermediate apparel, + applied, according to Todd's standards, to houses as well as Brummels. He + it was who soused the windows of purple glass, polished the brass knobs, + rubbed bright the brass knocker and brass balls at the top and bottom of + the delightful iron railings, to say nothing of the white marble steps, + which he attacked with a slab of sandstone and cake of fuller's-earth, + bringing them to so high a state of perfection that one wanted to + apologize for stepping on them. Thus it was that the weather-beaten + rainspouts, stained bricks, sagging roof, and blistered window-sashes were + no longer in evidence. Indeed, their very shabbiness so enhanced the + brilliancy of Todd's handiwork that the most casual passers-by were + convinced at a glance that gentlefolk lived within. + </p> + <p> + On this particular morning, then, Todd had spent most of the time since + daylight—it was now eight o'clock—in the effort to descry his + master making his way along the street, either afoot or by some + conveyance, his eyes dancing, his ears alert as a rabbit's, his restless + feet marking the limit of his eagerness. In his impatience he had + practised every step known to darkydom in single and double shuffle; had + patted juba on one and both knees, keeping time with his heels to the + rhythm; had slid down and climbed up the railings a dozen times, his eyes + on the turn in the street, and had otherwise conducted himself as would + any other boy, black or white, who was at his wits' end to know what to do + with the next second of his time. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Jemima had listened to the racket until she had lost all patience, + and at last threw up the basement window: + </p> + <p> + “Go in an' shet dat do'—'fo' I come up dar an' smack ye—'nough + ter make a body deef ter hear ye,” she called, her black shining face + dividing the curtains. “How you know he's a-comin'?” + </p> + <p> + Todd leaned over the railing and peered down: “Mister Harry Rutter done + tol' me—said dey all 's a-comin'—de jedge an' Doctor Teackle + an' Marse George an' de hull kit an' bilin'. Dey's been gone mos' two + weeks now,—dey's a-comin' I tell ye—be yere any minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I b'liebe dat when I sees it. Fool nigger like you b'liebe anything. You + better go inside 'fo' you catch yo' dea'f. I gin ye fair warnin' right now + dat I ain't gwineter nuss ye,—d'ye yere?—standin' out dar like + a tarr-pin wid yo' haid out. Go in I tell ye!” and she shut the window + with a bang and made her way to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Todd kept up his double shuffle with everything going—hands, feet, + and knees—thrashed his arms about his chest and back to keep up the + circulation and with a final grimace in the direction of the old cook + maintained his watch. + </p> + <p> + “I spec's it's de fog dat's kep' 'em,” he muttered anxiously, his feet + still in action. “Dat bay boat's mos' allus late,—can't tell when + she'll git in. Only las' week—Golly!—dar he is—DAT'S + HIM!” + </p> + <p> + A mud-bespattered gig was swinging around the corner into the Square, and + with a swerve in its course was heading to where Todd stood. + </p> + <p> + The boy sprang down the steps: + </p> + <p> + “Yere he is, Aunt Jemima!” he shouted, as if the old cook could have heard + him through three brick walls. + </p> + <p> + The gig came to a stand-still and began to unload: first the dogs, who had + been stowed under their master's feet since they left the steamboat wharf, + and who with a clear bound to the sidewalk began scouring in mad circles, + one after another, up and down Todd's immaculate steps, the four in full + cry until the entire neighborhood was aroused, the late sleepers turning + over with the remark—“Temple's at home,” and the early risers + sticking their heads out of the windows to count the ducks as they were + passed out. Next the master: One shapely leg encased in an English-made + ducking boot, then its mate, until the whole of his handsome, well-knit, + perfectly healthy and perfectly delightful body was clear of the cramped + conveyance. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Todd!” he burst out, his face aglow with his drive from the + boat-landing—“glad to see you! Here, take hold of these guns—-easy + now, they won't hurt you; one at a time, you lunkhead! And now pull those + ducks from under the seat. How's Aunt Jemima?—Oh, is that you + aunty?” She had come on the run as soon as she heard the dogs. “Everything + all right, aunty—howdy—” and he shook her hand heartily. + </p> + <p> + The old woman had made a feint to pull her sleeves down over her plump + black arms and then, begrudging the delay, had grasped his outstretched + hand, her face in a broad grin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, dat's me. Clar' to goodness, Marse George, I's glad ter git ye + home. Lawd-a-massy, see dem ducks! Purty fat, ain't dey, sah? My!—dat + pair's jes' a-bustin'! G'long you fool nigger an' let me hab 'em! G'way + f'om dere I tell ye!” + </p> + <p> + “No,—you pick them up, Todd—they're too heavy for you, aunty. + You go back to your kitchen and hurry up breakfast—waffles, + remember,—and some corn pone and a scallop shell or two—I'm as + hungry as a bear.” + </p> + <p> + The whole party were mounting the steps now, St. George carrying the guns, + Todd loaded down with the game—ten brace of canvas-backs and + redheads strung together by their bills—the driver of the gig + following with the master's big ducking overcoat and smaller traps—the + four dogs crowding up trying to nose past for a dash into the wide hall as + soon as Todd opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody been here lately, Todd?” his master asked, stopping for a moment + to get a better grip of his heaviest duck gun. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't nobody been yere partic'ler 'cept Mister Harry Rutter. Dey alls + knowed you was away. Been yere mos' ev'ry day—come ag'in yisterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Rutter been here!—Well, what did he want?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno, sah,—didn't say. Seemed consid'ble shook up when he foun' + you warn't to home. I done tol' him you might be back to-day an' den ag'in + you mightn't—'pended on de way de ducks was flyin'. Spec' he'll be + roun' ag'in purty soon—seemed ter hab sumpin' on his min'. I'll tu'n + de knob, sah. Yere—git down, you imp o' darkness,—you Floe!—you + Dandy! Drat dem dogs!—Yere, YERE!” but all four dogs were inside + now, making a sweepstakes of the living-room, the rugs and cushions flying + in every direction. + </p> + <p> + Although Todd had spent most of the minutes since daylight peering up and + down the Square, eager for the first sight of the man whom he loved with + an idolatry only to be found in the negro for a white man whom he + respects, and who is kind to him, he had not neglected any of his other + duties. There was a roaring wood fire behind brass andirons and fender. + There was a breakfast table set for two—St. George's invariable + custom. “Somebody might drop in, you know, Todd.” There was a big + easy-chair moved up within warming distance of the cheery blaze; there + were pipes and tobacco within reach of the master's hand; there was the + weekly newspaper folded neatly on the mantel, and a tray holding an + old-fashioned squat decanter and the necessary glasses—in fact, all + the comforts possible and necessary for a man who having at twenty-five + given up all hope of wedded life, found himself at fifty becoming + accustomed to its loss. + </p> + <p> + St. George seized the nearest dog by the collar, cuffed him into obedience + as an example to the others, ordered the four to the hearth rug, ran his + eye along the mantel to see what letters had arrived in his absence, and + disappeared into his bedroom. From thence he emerged half an hour later + attired in the costume of the day—a jaunty brown velveteen jacket, + loose red scarf, speckled white waistcoat—single-breasted and of his + own pattern and cut—dove-gray trousers, and white gaiters. No town + clothes for St. George as long as his measure was in London and his + friends were good enough to bring him a trunk full every year or two. + “Well-cut garments may not make a gentleman,” he would often say to the + youngsters about him, “but slip-shod clothes can spoil one.” + </p> + <p> + He had drawn up to the table now, Todd in white jacket hovering about him, + bringing relays of waffles, hot coffee, and more particularly the first of + a series of great scallop-shells filled with oysters which he had placed + on the well-brushed hearth to keep hot while his master was dressing. + </p> + <p> + Fifty he was by the almanac, and by the old family Bible as well, and yet + he did not look it. Six feet and an inch; straight, ruddy-checked, + broad-shouldered, well-rounded, but with his waist measure still under + control; slightly gray at the temples, with clean-shaven face, laughing + eyes, white teeth, and finely moulded nose, brow, and chin, he was + everything his friends claimed—the perfect embodiment of all that + was best in his class and station, and of all that his blood had + bequeathed him. + </p> + <p> + And fine old fellows they were if we can believe the historians of the + seventeenth century: “Wearing the falchion and the rapier, the cloth coat + lined with plush and embroidered belt, the gold hat-band and the feathers, + silk stockings and garters, besides signet rings and other jewels; + wainscoting the walls of their principal rooms in black oak and loading + their sideboards with a deal of rich and massive silver plate upon which + was carved the arms of their ancestors;—drinking, too, strong punch + and sack from 'silver sack-cups'—(sack being their favorite)—and + feasting upon oysters and the most delicious of all the ducks of the + world.” + </p> + <p> + And in none of their other distinguishing qualities was their descendant + lacking. In the very lift of his head and brace of his shoulders; in the + grace and ease with which he crossed the room, one could see at a glance + something of the dash and often the repose of the cavalier from whom he + had sprung. And the sympathy, kindness, and courtesy of the man that + showed in every glance of his eye and every movement of his body—despite + his occasional explosive temper—a sympathy that drifted in to an + ungovernable impulse to divide everything he owned into two parts, and his + own half into two once more if the other fellow needed it; a kindness that + made every man his friend, and a courtesy which, even in a time when men + lifted their hats to men, as well as to women, had gained for him, the + town over, the soubriquet of “Gentleman George”; while to every young girl + and youth under twenty he was just “dear Uncle George”—the one man + in all Kennedy Square who held their secrets. + </p> + <p> + But to our breakfast once more. All four dogs were on their feet now, + their tails wagging expectantly, their noses at each of his knees, where + they were regaled at regular intervals with choice bits from his plate, + the snapping of their solemn jaws expressing their thanks. A second + scallop-shell was next lifted from the hearth with the tongs, and + deposited sizzling hot on a plate beside the master, the aroma of the + oysters filling the room. These having disappeared, as had the former one, + together with the waffles and coffee, and the master's appetite being now + on the wane, general conversation became possible. + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Rutter look ill, Todd?” he continued, picking up the thread of + the talk where he had left it. “He wasn't very well when I left.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sah,—neber see him look better. Been up a li'l' late I reckon,—Marse + Harry mos' gen'ally is a li'l' mite late, sah—” Todd chuckled. “But + dat ain't nuthin' to dese gemmans. But he sho' do wanter see ye. Maybe he + stayed all night at Mister Seymour's. If he did an' he yered de rumpus + dese rapscallions kicked up—yes—dat's you I'm talkin' to”—and + he looked toward the dogs—“he'll be roun' yere 'fo' ye gits fru yo' + bre'kfus'. Dey do say as how Marse Harry's mighty sweet in dat quarter. + Mister Langdon Willits's snoopin' roun' too, but Miss Kate ain't got no + use fer him. He ain't quality dey say.” + </p> + <p> + His master let him run on; Aunt Jemima was Todd's only outlet during his + master's absence, and as this was sometimes clogged by an uplifted broom, + he made the best use he could of the opportunities when he and his master + were alone. When “comp'ny” were present he was as close-mouthed as a clam + and as noiseless as a crab. + </p> + <p> + “Who told you all this gossip, Todd?” exclaimed St. George with a smile, + laying down his knife and fork. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't nary one tol' me—ain't no use bein' tol'. All ye got to do is + to keep yo' eyes open. Be a weddin' dar 'fo' spring. Look out, sah—dat + shell's still a-sizzlin'. Mo' coffee, sah? Wait till I gits some hot + waffles—won't take a minute!” and he was out of the room and + downstairs before his master could answer. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he slammed the kitchen door behind him when the clatter and + stamp of a horse's hoofs were heard Outside, followed by an impatient + rat-a-tat-tat on the knocker. + </p> + <p> + The boy dropped his dishes: “Fo' Gawd, dat's Mister Harry!” he cried as he + started on a run for the door. “Don't nobody bang de do' down like dat but + him.” + </p> + <p> + A slender, thoroughly graceful young fellow of twenty-one or two, booted + and spurred, his dark eyes flashing, his face tingling with the sting of + the early morning air, dashed past the obsequious darky and burst into + Temple's presence with the rush of a north-west breeze. He had ridden ten + miles since he vaulted into the saddle, had never drawn rein uphill or + down, and neither he nor the thoroughbred pawing the mud outside had + turned a hair. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Uncle George!” Temple, as has been said, was Uncle George to every + girl and youth in Kennedy Square. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Harry!” He had sprung from his seat, napkin in hand and had him by + both shoulders, looking into his eyes as if he wanted to hug him, and + would the first thing he knew. “Where are you from—Moorlands? What a + rollicking chap you are, and you look so well and handsome, you dog! And + now tell me of your dear mother and your father. But first down with you—here—right + opposite—always your place, my dear Harry. Todd, another shell of + oysters and more waffles and coffee—everything, Todd, and blazing + hot: two shells, Todd—the sight of you, Harry, makes me ravenous + again, and I could have eaten my boots, when I got home an hour ago, I was + so hungry. But the mare”—here he moved to the window—“is she + all right? Spitfire, I suppose—you'd kill anything else, you rascal! + But you haven't tied her!” + </p> + <p> + “No—never tie her—break her heart if I did. Todd, hang up this + coat and hat in the hall before you go.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what you said of that horse you bought of Hampson—ran away, + didn't he?” persisted his host, his eyes on the mare, which had now become + quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and broke his leg. But Spitfire's all right—she'll stand. + Where will I sit—here? And now what kind of a time did you have, and + who were with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Clayton, Doctor Teackle, and the judge.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many ducks did you get?” and he dropped into his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-one,” answered St. George, dry-washing his white shapely hands, as + he took his seat—a habit of his when greatly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “All canvas-backs?” + </p> + <p> + “No—five redheads and a mallard.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you put up?” echoed Harry, loosening his riding-jacket to give + his knife and fork freer play. + </p> + <p> + “I spent a week at Tom Coston's and a week at Craddock. Another lump of + sugar, Todd.” + </p> + <p> + The boy laughed gently: “Lazy Tom's?” + </p> + <p> + “Lazy Tom's—and the best-hearted fellow in the world. They're going + to make him a judge, they say and—” + </p> + <p> + “—What of—peach brandy? No cream in mine, Todd.” + </p> + <p> + “No—you scurrilous dog—of the Common Court,” retorted St. + George, looking at him over the top of his cup. “Very good lawyer is Tom—got + horse sense and can speak the truth—make a very good judge.” + </p> + <p> + Again Harry laughed—rather a forced laugh this time, as if he were + trying to make himself agreeable but with so anxious a ring through it + that Todd busied himself about the table before going below for fresh + supplies, making excuse of collecting the used dishes. If there were to be + any revelations concerning the situation at the Seymour house, he did not + intend to miss any part of them. + </p> + <p> + “Better put Mrs. Coston on the bench and set Tom to rocking the cradle,” + said the young man, reaching for the plate of corn pone. “She's a + thoroughbred if ever I saw one, and does credit to her blood. But go on—tell + me about the birds. Are they flying high?—and the duck blinds; have + they fixed them up? They were all going to pot when I was there last.” + </p> + <p> + “Birds out of range, most of them—hard work getting what I did. As + to the blinds, they are still half full of water—got soaking wet + trying to use one. I shot most of mine from the boat just as the day + broke,” and then followed a full account of what the party had bagged, + with details of every day's adventures. This done, St. George pushed back + his chair and faced the young man. + </p> + <p> + “And now you take the witness-stand, sir—look me in the eyes, put + your hand on your fob-pocket and tell me the truth. Todd says you have + been here every day for a week looking as if you had lost your last + fip-penny-bit and wild to see me. What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Todd has a vivid imagination.” He turned in his seat, stretched out his + hand, and catching one of the dogs by the nose rubbed his head vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “Go on—all of it—no dodging the king's counsellor. What's the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + The young man glanced furtively at Todd, grabbed another dog, rubbed their + two ears together in play, and in a lowered voice, through which a tinge + of sadness was only too apparent, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Kate—we've had a falling out.” + </p> + <p> + St. George lowered his head suddenly and gave a low whistle:—“Falling + out?—what about?” + </p> + <p> + Again young Rutter glanced at Todd, whose back was turned, but whose ears + were stretched to splitting point. His host nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “There, Todd—that will do; now go down and get your breakfast. No + more waffles, tell Aunt Jemima. Bring the pipes over here and throw on + another log... that's right.” A great sputtering of sparks followed—a + spider-legged, mahogany table was wheeled into place, and the dejected + darky left the room for the regions below. + </p> + <p> + “So you two have had a quarrel! Oh, Harry!—when will you learn to + think twice before you speak? Whose fault was it?” sighed St. George, + filling the bowl of his pipe with his slender fingers, slowly tucking in + each shred and grain. + </p> + <p> + “Mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” (Puff-puff.) + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—I couldn't. She came in and saw it all.” The boy had his + elbows on the table now, his cheeks sunk in his hands. + </p> + <p> + St. George looked up: “Drunk, were you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At Mrs. Cheston's ball last week.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her since?” + </p> + <p> + “No—she won't let me come near her. Mr. Seymour passed me yesterday + and hardly spoke to me.” + </p> + <p> + St. George canted his chair and zigzagged it toward the blazing hearth; + then he said thoughtfully, without looking at the young man: + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish! Have you told your father?” + </p> + <p> + “No—he wouldn't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know you didn't tell your mother.” This came with the tone of + positive conviction. + </p> + <p> + “No—and don't you. Mother is daft on the subject. If she had her + way, father would never put a drop of wine on the table. She says it is + ruining the county—but that's mother's way.” + </p> + <p> + St. George stooped over, fondled one of the dogs for a moment—two + had followed Todd out of the room—settled back in his chair again, + and still looking into the fire, said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Bad business—bad business, Harry! Kate is as proud as Lucifer and + dislikes nothing on earth so much as being made conspicuous. Tell me + exactly what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there isn't anything to tell,” replied the young fellow, raising + his head and leaning back in his chair, his face the picture of despair. + “We were all in the library and the place was boiling-hot, and they had + two big bowls, one full of eggnog and the other full of apple-toddy: and + the next thing I knew I was out in the hall and met Kate on the stairs. + She gave a little smothered scream, and moaned—'Oh, Harry!—and + you promised me!'—and then she put her hands to her face, as if to + shut me out of her sight. That sobered me somewhat, and after I got out on + the porch into the night air and had pulled myself together, I tried to + find her and apologize, but she had gone home, although the ball wasn't + half over. + </p> + <p> + “Then this was not the first time?” He was still at the hot coals, both + hands outfanned, to screen his face from the blaze. + </p> + <p> + “No—I'm sorry to say it wasn't. I told her I would never fail her + again, and she forgave me, but I don't know what she'll do now. She never + forgives anybody who breaks his word—she's very queer about it. + That's what I came to see you about. I haven't slept much nights, thinking + it over, and so I had the mare saddled, as soon as it got light, hoping + you would be home. Todd thought you might be—he saw Dr. Teackle's + Joe, who said you were all coming to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a long pause, during which Temple continued to study the + coals through his open fingers, the young man sitting hunched up in his + chair, his handsome head dropped between his shoulders, his glossy + chestnut hair, a-frouze with his morning ride, fringing his collar behind. + </p> + <p> + “Harry,” said St. George, knocking the ashes slowly from his pipe on the + edge of the fender, and turning his face for the first time toward him,—“didn't + I hear something before I went away about a ball at your father's—or + a dance—or something, when your engagement was to be announced?” + </p> + <p> + The boy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And was it not to be something out of the ordinary?” he continued, + looking at the boy from under his eyelids—“Teackle certainly told me + so—said that your mother had already begun to get the house in order—” + </p> + <p> + Again Harry nodded—as if he had been listening to an indictment, + every word of which he knew was true. + </p> + <p> + St. George roused himself and faced his guest: “And yet you took this + time, Harry, to—” + </p> + <p> + The boy threw up both hands in protest: + </p> + <p> + “Don't!—DON'T! Uncle George! It's the ball that makes it all the + worse. That's why I've got no time to lose; that's why I've haunted this + place waiting for you to get back. Mother will be heart-broken if she + finds out and I don't know what father would do.” + </p> + <p> + St. George laid his empty pipe on the table and straightened his body in + the chair until his broad shoulders filled the back. Then his brow + darkened; his indignation was getting the better of him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what has come over you young fellows, Harry!” he at last + broke out, his eyes searching the boy's. “You don't seem to know how to + live. You've got to pull a shoat out of a trough to keep it from + overeating itself, but you shouldn't be obliged to pull a gentleman away + from his glass. Good wine is good food and should be treated as such. My + cellar is stocked with old Madeira—some port—some fine + sherries—so is your father's. Have you ever seen him abuse them?—have + you ever seen Mr. Horn or Mr. Kennedy, or any of our gentlemen around + here, abuse them? It's scandalous, Harry! damnable! I love you, my son—love + you in a way you know nothing of, but you've got to stop this sort of + thing right off. And so have these young roysterers you associate with. + It's getting worse every day. I don't wonder your dear mother feels about + it as she does. But she's always been that way, and she's always been + right about it, too, although I didn't use to think so.” This last came + with a lowered voice and a deep, indrawn sigh, and for the moment checked + the flow of his wrath. + </p> + <p> + Harry hung his head still lower, but he did not attempt to defend himself. + </p> + <p> + “Who else were making vulgarians of themselves at Mrs. Cheston's?” St. + George continued in a calmer tone, stretching his shapely legs until the + soles of his shoes touched the fender. + </p> + <p> + “Mark Gilbert, Tom Murdoch, Langdon Willits, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Willits, eh?—Well, I should expect it of Willits. He wasn't born a + gentleman—that is, his grandfather wasn't a gentleman—married + his overseer's daughter, if I remember right:—but you come of the + best blood in the State,—egad!—none better! You have something + to maintain—some standard to keep up. A Rutter should never be found + guilty of anything that would degrade his name. You seem to forget that—you—damn + me, Harry!—when I think of it all—and of Kate—my sweet, + lovely Kate,—and how you have made her suffer—for she loves + you—no question of that—I feel like wringing your neck! What + the devil do you mean, Sir?” He was up on his feet now, pacing the room, + the dogs following his every movement with their brown agate eyes, their + soft, silky ears straightening and falling. + </p> + <p> + So far the young fellow had not moved nor had he offered a word in + defence. He knew his Uncle George—better let him blow it all out, + then the two could come together. At last he said in a contrite tone—his + hands upraised: + </p> + <p> + “Don't scold me, Uncle George. I've scolded myself enough—just say + something to help me. I can't give Kate up—I'd sooner die. I've + always made a fool of myself—maybe I'll quit doing it after this. + Tell me how I can straighten this out. She won't see me—maybe her + father won't. He and my father—so Tom Warfield told me yesterday—had + a talk at the club. What they said I don't know, but Mr. Seymour was + pretty mad—that is, for him—so Tom thought from the way he + spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “And he ought to be mad—raging mad! He's only got one daughter, and + she the proudest and loveliest thing on earth, and that one he intends to + give to you”—Harry looked up in surprise—“Yes—he told me + so. And here you are breaking her heart before he has announced it to the + world. It's worse than damnable, Harry—it's a CRIME!” + </p> + <p> + For some minutes he continued his walk, stopping to look out of the + window, his eyes on the mare who, with head up and restless eyes, was on + the watch for her master's return; then he picked up his pipe from the + table, threw himself into his chair again, and broke into one of his + ringing laughs. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's because you're twenty, Harry, I forgot that. Hot blood—hot + temper,—madcap dare-devil that you are—not a grain of + common-sense. But what can you expect?—I was just like you at your + age. Come, now, what shall we do first?” + </p> + <p> + The young fellow rose and a smile of intense relief crept over his face. + He had had many such overhaulings from his uncle, and always with this + ending. Whenever St. George let out one of those big, spontaneous, + bubbling laughs straight from his heart, the trouble, no matter how + serious, was over. What some men gained by anger and invective St. George + gained by good humor, ranging from the faint smile of toleration to the + roar of merriment. One reason why he had so few enemies—none, + practically—was that he could invariably disarm an adversary with a + laugh. It was a fine old blade that he wielded; only a few times in his + life had he been called upon to use any other—when some under-dog + was maltreated, or his own good name or that of a friend was traduced, or + some wrong had to be righted—then his face would become as hot steel + and there would belch out a flame of denunciation that would scorch and + blind in its intensity. None of these fiercer moods did the boy know;—what + he knew was his uncle's merry side—his sympathetic, loving side,—and + so, following up his advantage, he strode across the room, settled down on + the arm of his uncle's chair, and put his arm about his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you go and see her, please?” he pleaded, patting his back, + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “What good will that do? Hand me a match, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything—that's what I came for.” + </p> + <p> + “Not with Kate! She isn't a child—she's a woman,” he echoed back + between the puffs, his indignation again on the rise. “And she is + different from the girls about here,” he added, tossing the burned match + in the fire. “When she once makes up her mind it stays made up.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let her make it up! Go and see her and tell her how I love her and + how miserable I am. Tell her I'll never break another promise to her as + long as I live. Nobody ever holds out against you. Please, Uncle George! + I'll never come to you for anything else in the world if you'll help me + this time. And I won't drink another drop of anything you don't want me to + drink—I don't care what father or anybody else says. Oh, you've GOT + to go to her!—I can't stand it any longer! Every time I think of + Kate hidden away over there where I can't get at her, it drives me wild. I + wouldn't ask you to go if I could go myself and talk it out with her—but + she won't let me near her—I've tried, and tried; and Ben says she + isn't at home, and knows he lies when he says it! You will go, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + The smoke from his uncle's pipe was coming freer now—most of it + escaping up the throat of the chimney with a gentle swoop. + </p> + <p> + “When do you want me to go?” He had already surrendered. When had he ever + held out when a love affair was to be patched up? + </p> + <p> + “Now, right away.” + </p> + <p> + “No,—I'll go to-night,—she will be at home then,” he said at + last, as if he had just made up his mind, the pipe having helped—“and + do you come in about nine and—let me know when you are there, or—better + still, wait in the hall until I come for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't I steal in while you are talking?” + </p> + <p> + “No—you do just as I tell you. Not a sound out of you, remember, + until I call you.” + </p> + <p> + “But how am I to know? She might go out the other door and—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll know when I come for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think it will be all right, don't you?” he pleaded. “You'll tell + her what an awful time I've had, won't you, Uncle George?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, every word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And that I haven't slept a wink since—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and that you are going to drown yourself and blow your head off + and swallow poison. Now off with you and let me think how I am to begin + straightening out this idiotic mess. Nine o'clock, remember, and in the + hall until I come for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—nine o'clock! Oh!—you good Uncle George! I'll never + forget you for it,” and with a grasp of St. George's hand and another + outpouring of gratitude, the young fellow swung wide the door, clattered + down the steps, threw his leg over Spitfire, and dashed up the street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + If Kate's ancestors had wasted any part of their substance in too lavish a + hospitality, after the manner of the spendthrift whose extravagances were + recounted in the preceding chapter, there was nothing to indicate it in + the home of their descendants. No loose shutters, crumbling chimneys, or + blistered woodwork defaced the Seymour mansion:—the touch of the + restorer was too apparent. No sooner did a shutter sag or a hinge give way + than away it went to the carpenter or the blacksmith; no sooner did a + banister wabble, or a table crack, or an andiron lose a leg, than up came + somebody with a kit, or a bag, or a box of tools, and they were as good as + new before you could wink your eye. Indeed, so great was the desire to + keep things up that it was only necessary (so a wag said) to scratch a + match on old Seymour's front door to have its panels repainted the next + morning. + </p> + <p> + And then its seclusion:—while its neighbors—the Temple mansion + among them—had been placed boldly out to the full building line + where they could see and be seen, the Seymours, with that spirit of + aloofness which had marked the family for generations, had set their + dwelling back ten paces, thrown up a hedge of sweet-smelling box to screen + the inmates from the gaze of passers-by, planted three or four big trees + as protection for the upper windows, and, to insure still greater privacy, + had put up a swinging wooden gate, kept shut by a ball and chain, its + clang announcing the entrance of each and every visitor. + </p> + <p> + And this same spirit was manifest the moment you stepped into the wide + hall, glanced at the old family portraits marching steadily, one after + another, up the side of the spacious stairs (revarnished every other year)—entered + the great drawing-room hung with yellow satin and decorated with quaint + mirrors, and took a scat in one of the all-embracing arm-chairs, there to + await the arrival of either the master of the house or his charming + daughter. + </p> + <p> + If it were the master to whom you wished to pay your respects, one glance + at the Honorable Howard Douglass Seymour would have convinced you that he + was precisely the kind of man who should have had charge of so + well-ordered a home: so well brushed was he—so clean-shaven—so + immaculately upholstered—the two points of his collar pinching his + cheeks at the same precise angle; his faultless black stock fitting to + perfection, the lapels of his high-rolled coat matching exactly. And then + the correct parting of the thin gray hair and the two little gray + brush-tails of lovelocks that were combed in front of his ears, there to + become a part of the two little dabs of gray whiskers that stretched from + his temples to his bleached cheekbones. Yes—a most carefully + preserved, prim, and well-ordered person was Kate's father. + </p> + <p> + As to the great man's career, apart from his service in the legislature, + which won him his title, there was no other act of his life which marked + him apart from his fellows. Suffice it to say that he was born a gentleman + without a penny to his name; that he married Kate's mother when she was + twenty and he forty (and here is another story, and a sad one)—she + the belle of her time—and sole heir to the estate of her + grandfather, Captain Hugh Barkeley, the rich ship-owner—and that the + alliance had made him a gentleman of unlimited leisure, she, at her death, + having left all her property to her daughter Kate, with the Honorable Prim + as custodian. + </p> + <p> + And this trust, to his credit be it said—for Seymour was of Scotch + descent, a point in his favor with old Captain Barkeley, who was Scotch on + his mother's side, and, therefore, somewhat canny—was most + religiously kept, he living within his ample means—or Kate's, which + was the same thing—discharging the duties of father, citizen, and + friend, with the regularity of a clock—so many hours with his + daughter, so many hours at his club, so many hours at his office; the + intermediate minutes being given over to resting, dressing, breakfasting, + dining, sleeping, and no doubt praying; the precise moment that marked the + beginning and ending of each task having been fixed years in advance by + this most exemplary, highly respectable, and utterly colorless old + gentleman of sixty. + </p> + <p> + That this dry shell of a man could be the father of our spontaneous lovely + Kate was one of the things that none of the younger people around Kennedy + Square could understand—but then few of them had known her beautiful + mother with her proud step and flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + But it is not the punctilious, methodical Prim whom St. George wishes to + see to-night; nor does he go through any of the formalities customary to + the house. There is no waiting until old Ben, the family butler in + snuff-colored coat and silver buttons, shuffles upstairs or into the + library, or wherever the inmates were to be found, there to announce + “Massa George Temple.” Nor did he send in his card, or wait until his + knock was answered. He simply swung back the gate until the old chain and + ball, shocked at his familiarity, rattled itself into a rage, strode past + the neatly trimmed, fragrant box, pushed open the door—no front door + was ever locked in the daytime in Kennedy Square, and few at night—and + halting at the bottom step, called up the silent stairs in a voice that + was a joyous greeting in itself: + </p> + <p> + “Kate, you darling! come down as quick as your dear little feet will carry + you! It's Uncle George, do you hear?—or shall I come up and bring + you down in my arms, you bunch of roses? It won't be the first time.” The + first time was when she was a year old. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—is that you, Uncle George? Yes,—just as soon as I do up + my back hair.” The voice came from the top of the stairs—a lark's + voice singing down from high up. “Father's out and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I know he's out; I met him on his way to the club. Hurry now—I've + got the best news in the world for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He knew her minutes, and how long they could be, and in his impatience + roamed about the wide hall examining the old English engravings and + colored prints decorating the panels until he heard her step overhead and + looking up watched her cross the upper hall, her well-poised, aristocratic + head high in air, her full, well-rounded, blossoming body imaged in the + loose embroidered scarf wound about her sloping shoulders. Soon he caught + the wealth of her blue-black hair in whose folds her negro mammy had + pinned a rose that matched the brilliancy of her cheeks, two stray curls + wandering over her neck; her broad forehead, with clearly marked eyebrows, + arching black lashes shading lustrous, slumbering eyes; and as she drew + nearer, her warm red lips, exquisite teeth, and delicate chin, and last, + the little feet that played hide and seek beneath her quilted petticoat: a + tall, dark, full-blooded, handsome girl of eighteen with an air of command + and distinction tempered by a certain sweet dignity and delicious coquetry—a + woman to be loved even when she ruled and to be reverenced even when she + trifled. + </p> + <p> + She had reached the floor now, and the two arm in arm, he patting her + hand, she laughing beside him, had entered the small library followed by + the old butler bringing another big candelabra newly lighted. + </p> + <p> + “It's so good of you to come,” she cried, her face alight with the joy of + seeing him—“and you look so happy and well—your trip down the + bay has done you a world of good. Ben says the ducks you sent father are + the best we have had this winter. Now tell me, dear Uncle George”—she + had him in one of the deep arm-chairs by this time, with a cushion behind + his shoulders—“I am dying to hear all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you 'dear Uncle George' me until you've heard what I've got to + say.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said you had the best news in the world for me,” she laughed, + looking at him from under her lashes. + </p> + <p> + “So I have.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Harry.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's face clouded and her lips quivered. Then she sat bolt upright. + </p> + <p> + “I won't hear a word about him. He's broken his promise to me and I will + never trust him again. If I thought you'd come to talk about Harry, I + wouldn't have come down.” + </p> + <p> + St. George lay back in his chair, shrugged his shoulders, stole a look at + her from beneath his bushy eyebrows, and said with an assumed dignity, a + smile playing about his lips: + </p> + <p> + “All right, off goes his head—exit the scoundrel. Much as I could do + to keep him out of Jones Falls this morning, but of course now it's all + over we can let Spitfire break his neck. That's the way a gentleman should + die of love—and not be fished out of a dirty stream with his clothes + all bespattered with mud.” + </p> + <p> + “But he won't die for love. He doesn't know what love means or he wouldn't + behave as he does. Do you know what really happened, Uncle George?” Her + brown eyes were flashing, her cheeks aflame with her indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know exactly what happened. Harry told me with the tears running + down his cheeks. It was dreadful—INEXCUSABLE—BARBAROUS! I've + been that way myself—tumbled half-way down these same stairs before + you were born and had to be put to bed, which accounts for the miserable + scapegrace I am to-day.” His face was in a broad smile, but his voice + never wavered. + </p> + <p> + Kate looked at him and put out her hand. “You never did—I won't + believe a word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask your father, my dear. He helped carry me upstairs, and Ben pulled off + my boots. Oh, it was most disgraceful! I'm just beginning to live it + down,” and he reached over and patted the girl's cheek, his hearty laugh + ringing through the room. + </p> + <p> + Kate was smiling now—her Uncle George was always irresistible when + he was like this. + </p> + <p> + “But Harry isn't you,” she pouted. + </p> + <p> + “ISN'T ME!—why I was ten times worse! He's only twenty-one and I was + twenty-five. He's got four years the better of me in which to reform.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll NEVER be like you—you never broke a promise in your life. He + gave me his word of honor he would never get—yes—I'm just + going to say it—drunk—again: yes—that's the very word—DRUNK! + I don't care—I won't have it! I won't have anything to do with + anybody who breaks his promise, and who can't keep sober. My father was + never so in his life, and Harry shall never come near me again if he—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!—HOLD ON! Oh, what an unforgiving minx! You Seymours are + all like tinder boxes—your mother was just like you and so was—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not father,” she bridled, with a toss of her head. + </p> + <p> + St. George smiled queerly—Prim was one of his jokes. “Your father, + my dear Kate, has the milk of human kindness in his veins, not red + fighting blood. That makes a whole lot of difference. Now listen to me:—you + love Harry—” + </p> + <p> + “No! I DESPISE him! I told him so!” She had risen from her seat and had + moved to the mantel, where she stood looking into the fire, her back + toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you interrupt me, you blessed girl—just you listen to Uncle + George for a minute. You DO love Harry—you can't help it—nobody + can. If you had seen him this morning you would have thrown your arms + around him in a minute—I came near doing it myself. Of course he's + wild, reckless, and hot-headed like all the Rutters and does no end of + foolish things, but you wouldn't love him if he was different. He's just + like Spitfire—never keeps still a minute—restless, pawing the + ground, or all four feet in the air—then away she goes! You can't + reason with her—you don't wish to; you get impatient when she chafes + at the bit because you are determined she shall keep still, but if you + wanted her to go like the wind and she couldn't, you'd be more + dissatisfied than ever. The pawing and chafing is of no matter; it is her + temperament that counts. So it is with Harry. He wouldn't be the lovable, + dashing, high-spirited young fellow he is if he didn't kick over the + traces once in a while and break everything to pieces—his promises + among them. And it isn't his fault—it's the Spanish and Dutch blood + in his veins—the blood of that old hidalgo and his Dutch ancestor, + De Ruyter—that crops out once in a while. Harry would be a pirate + and sweep the Spanish main if he had lived in those days, instead of being + a gentleman who values nothing in life so much as the woman he loves.” + </p> + <p> + He had been speaking to her back all this time, the girl never moving, the + outlines of her graceful body in silhouette against the blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Then why doesn't he prove it?” she sighed. She liked old hidalgos and had + no aversion to pirates if they were manly and brave about their work. + </p> + <p> + “He does—and he lives up to his standard except in this one failing + for which I am truly sorry. Abominable I grant you—but there are + many things which are worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't think of anything worse,” she echoed with a deep sigh, walking + slowly toward him and regaining her chair, all her anger gone, only the + pain in her heart left. “I don't want Harry to be like the others, and he + can't live their lives if he's going to be my husband. I want him to be + different,—to be big and fine and strong,—like the men who + have made the world better for their having lived in it—that old De + Ruyter, for instance, that his father is always bragging about—not a + weak, foolish boy whom everybody can turn around their fingers. Some of my + girl friends don't mind what the young men do, or how often they break + their word to them so that they are sure of their love. I do, and I won't + have it, and I have told Harry so over and over again. It's such a + cowardly thing—not to be man enough to stand up and say 'No—I + won't drink with you!' That's why I say I can't think of his doing + anything worse.” + </p> + <p> + St. George fixed his eyes upon her. He had thought he knew the girl's + heart, but this was a revelation to him. Perhaps her sorrow, like that of + her mother, was making a well-rounded woman of her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can think of a dozen things worse,” he rejoined with some + positiveness. “Harry might lie; Harry might be a coward; Harry might stand + by and hear a friend defamed; Harry might be discourteous to a woman, or + allow another man to be—a thing he'd rather die than permit. None of + these things could he be or do. I'd shut my door in his face if he did any + one of them, and so should you. And then he is so penitent when he has + done anything wrong. 'It was my fault—I would rather hang myself + than lose Kate. I haven't slept a wink, Uncle George.' And he was so + handsome when he came in this morning—his big black eyes flashing, + his cheeks like two roses—so straight and strong, and so graceful + and wholesome and lovable. I wouldn't care, if I were you, if he did slip + once in a while—not any more than I would if Spitfire stumbled. And + then again”—here he moved his chair close to her own so he could get + his hand on hers the easier—“if Spitfire does stumble, there is the + bridle to pull her up, but for this she might break her neck. That's where + you come in, Kate. Harry's in your hands—has been since the hour he + loved you. Don't let him go headlong to the devil—and he will if you + turn him loose without a bridle.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do him any good—he won't mind anything I say. And what + dependence can I place on him after this?” her voice sank to a tone of + helpless tenderness. “It isn't his being drunk altogether; he will outgrow + that, perhaps, as you say you did, and be man enough to say no next time; + but it's because he broke his promise to me. That he will never outgrow! + Oh, it's wicked!—wicked for him to treat me so. I have never done + anything he didn't want me to do! and he has no right to—Oh, Uncle + George, it's—” + </p> + <p> + St. George leaned nearer and covered her limp fingers with his own tender + grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Try him once more, Kate. Let me send him to you. It will be all over in a + minute and you will be so happy—both of you! Nothing like making up—it + really pays for the pain of a quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + The outside door shut gently and there was a slight movement in the hall + behind them, but neither of them noticed it. Kate sat with her head up, + her mind at work, her eyes watching the firelight. It was her future she + was looking into. She had positive, fixed ideas of what her station in + life as a married woman should be;—not what her own or Harry's birth + and position could bring her. With that will-o'-the-wisp she had no + sympathy. Her grandfather in his early days had been a plain, seafaring + man even if his ancestry did go back to the time of James I, and her + mother had been a lady, and that too without the admixture of a single + drop of the blood of any Kennedy Square aristocrat. That Harry was well + born and well bred was as it should be, but there was something more;—the + man himself. That was why she hesitated. Yes—it WOULD “all be over + in a minute,” just as Uncle George said, but when would the next break + come? And then again there was her mother's life with all the misery that + a broken promise had caused her. Uncle George was not the only young + gallant who had been put to bed in her grandfather's house. Her mother had + loved too—just as much as she loved Harry—loved with her whole + soul—until grandpa Barkeley put his foot down. + </p> + <p> + St. George waited in silence as he read her mind. Breaches between most of + the boys and girls were easily patched up—a hearty cry, an + outstretched hand—“I am so sorry,” and they were in each other's + arms. Not so with Kate. Her reason, as well as her heart, had to be + satisfied. This was one of the things that made her different from all the + other girls about her, and this too was what had given her first place in + the affections and respect of all who knew her. Her heart he saw was + uppermost to-night, but reason still lurked in the background. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think made him do it again?” she murmured at last in a voice + barely audible, her fingers tightening in his palm. “He knows how I suffer + and he knows too WHY I suffer. Oh, Uncle George!—won't you please + talk to him! I love him so, and I can't marry him if he's like this. I + can't!—<i>I</i> CAN'T!” + </p> + <p> + A restrained smile played over St. George's face. The tide was setting his + way. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do a bit of good,” he said calmly, smothering his joy. “I've + talked to him until I'm tired, and the longer I talk the more wild he is + to see you. Now it's your turn and there's no time to lose. I'll have him + here in five minutes,” and he glanced at the clock. She raised her hand in + alarm: + </p> + <p> + “I don't want him yet. You must see him first—you must—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't see him first, and I'm not going to wait a minute. Talk to + him yourself; put your arms around him and tell him everything you have + told me—now—to-night. I'm going for him,” and he sprang to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “No!—you must not! You SHALL not!” she cried, clutching nervously at + his arm, but he was out of the room before she could stop him. + </p> + <p> + In the silent hall, hat in hand, his whole body tense with expectancy, + stood Harry. He had killed time by walking up and down the long strip of + carpet between the front door and the staircase, measuring his nervous + steps to the length of the pattern, his mind distracted by his fears for + the outcome—his heart thumping away at his throat, a dull fright + gripping him when he thought of losing her altogether. + </p> + <p> + St. George's quick step, followed by his firm clutch of the inside knob, + awoke him to consciousness. He sprang forward to catch his first word. + </p> + <p> + “Can I go in?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + St. George grabbed him by the shoulder, wheeled him around, and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you reprobate, and when you get in go down on your knees and beg her + pardon, and if I ever catch you causing her another heartache I'll break + your damned neck!—do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + With the shutting of the swinging gate the wily old diplomat regained his + normal good-humored poise, his face beaming, his whole body tingling at + his success. He knew what was going on behind the closed curtains, and + just how contrite and humble the boy would be, and how Kate would scold + and draw herself up—proud duchess that she was—and how Harry + would swear by the nine gods, and an extra one if need be—and then + there would come a long, long silence, broken by meaningless, half-spoken + words—and then another silence—so deep and absorbing that a + full choir of angels might have started an anthem above their heads and + neither of them would have heard a word or note. + </p> + <p> + And so he kept on his way, picking his steps between the moist places in + the path to avoid soiling his freshly varnished boots; tightening the + lower button of his snug-fitting plum-colored coat as a bracing to his + waist-line; throwing open the collar of his overcoat the wider to give his + shoulders the more room—very happy—very well satisfied with + himself, with the world, and with everybody who lived in it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Moorlands was ablaze! + </p> + <p> + From the great entrance gate flanked by moss-stained brick posts capped + with stone balls, along the avenue of oaks to the wide portico leading to + the great hall and spacious rooms, there flared one continuous burst of + light. On either side of the oak-bordered driveway, between the + tree-trunks, crackled torches of pine knots, the glow of their curling + flames bringing into high relief the black faces of innumerable + field-hands from the Rutter and neighboring plantations, lined up on + either side of the gravel road—teeth and eyeballs flashing white + against the blackness of the night. Under the porches hung festoons of + lanterns of every conceivable form and color, while inside the wide + baronial hall, and in the great drawing-room with the apartments beyond, + the light of countless candles, clustered together in silver candelabras, + shed a soft glow over the groups of waiting guests. + </p> + <p> + To-night Colonel Talbot Rutter of Moorlands, direct descendant of the + house of De Ruyter, with an ancestry dating back to the Spanish Invasion, + was to bid official welcome to a daughter of the house of Seymour, equally + distinguished by flood and field in the service of its king. These two—God + be thanked—loved each other, and now that the young heir to + Moorlands was to bring home his affianced bride, soon to become his wedded + wife, no honor could be too great, no expense too lavish, no welcome too + joyful. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, that this young princess of the blood might be accorded all the + honors due her birth, lineage, and rank, the colonel's own coach-and-four, + with two postilions and old Matthew on the box—twenty years in the + service—his whip tied with forget-me-nots, the horses' ears + streaming with white ribbons—each flank as smooth as satin and each + panel bright as a mirror—had been trundled off to Kennedy Square, + there to receive the fairest of all her daughters, together with such + other members of her royal suite—including His Supreme Excellency + the Honorable Prim—not forgetting, of course, Kate's old black + mammy, Henny, who was as much a part of the fair lady's belongings when + she went afield as her ostrich-plume fan, her white gloves, or the wee + slippers that covered her enchanting feet. + </p> + <p> + Every detail of harness, wheel, and brake—even the horn itself—had + passed under the colonel's personal supervision; Matthew on the box + straight as a hitching-post and bursting with pride, reins gathered, whip + balanced, the leaders steady and the wheel horses in line. Then the word + had been given, and away they had swept round the circle and so on down + the long driveway to the outer gate and Kennedy Square. Ten miles an hour + were the colonel's orders and ten miles an hour must Matthew make, + including the loading and unloading of his fair passenger and her + companions, or there would be the devil to pay on his return. + </p> + <p> + And the inside of the house offered no less a welcome. Drawn up in the + wide hall, under the direct command of old Alec, the head butler, were the + house servants;—mulatto maids in caps, snuff-colored second butlers + in livery, jet-black mammies in new bandannas and white aprons—all + in a flutter of excitement, and each one determined to get the first + glimpse of Marse Harry's young lady, no matter at what risk. + </p> + <p> + Alec himself was a joy to look upon—eyeballs and teeth gleaming, his + face one wide, encircling smile. Marse Harry was the apple of his eye, and + had been ever since the day of his birth. He had carried him on his back + when a boy; had taught him to fish and hunt and to ride to hounds; had + nursed him when he fell ill at the University in his college days, and + would gladly have laid down his life for him had any such necessity + arisen. To-night, in honor of the occasion, he was rigged out in a new + bottle-green coat with shiny brass buttons, white waistcoat, white gloves + three sizes too big for him, and a huge white cravat flaring out almost to + the tips of his ears. Nothing was too good for Alec—so his mistress + thought—and for the best of reasons. Not only was he the ideal + servant of the old school, but he was the pivot on which the whole + establishment moved. If a particular brand or vintage was needed, or a key + was missing, or did a hair trunk, or a pair of spurs, or last week's + Miscellany, go astray—or even were his mistress's spectacles mislaid—Alec + could put his hand upon each and every item in so short a space of time + that the loser was convinced the old man had hidden them on purpose, to + enjoy their refinding. Moorlands without old Alec would hive been a wheel + without a hub. + </p> + <p> + As a distinct feature of all these preparations—and this was the + best part of the programme—Harry was to meet Kate at the outer gate + supported by half a dozen of his young friends and hers—Dr. Teackle, + Mark Gilbert, Langdon Willits, and one or two others—while Mrs. + Rutter, Mrs. Cheston, Mrs. Richard Horn, and a bevy of younger women and + girls were to welcome her with open arms the moment her dainty feet + cleared the coach's step. This was the way princesses of the blood had + been welcomed from time immemorial to palaces and castles high, and this + was the way their beloved Kate was to make entry into the home of her + lord. + </p> + <p> + Soon the flash of the coach lamps was seen outside the far gate. Then + there came the wind of a horn—a rollicking, rolling, gladsome sound, + and in the wink of an eyelid every one was out on the portico straining + their eyes, listening eagerly. A joyous shout now went up from the negroes + lining the fences; from the groups about the steps and along the driveway. + </p> + <p> + “Here she comes!” + </p> + <p> + The leaders with a swing pranced into view as they cleared the gate posts. + There came a moment's halt at the end of the driveway; a postilion vaulted + down, threw wide the coach door and a young man sprang in. It was + Harry!... Snap!! Crack!! Toot—toot!!—and they were off again, + heading straight for the waiting group. Another prolonged, winding note—louder—nearer—one + of triumph this time!—a galloping, circling dash toward the porch + crowded with guests—the reining in of panting leaders—the + sudden gathering up of the wheel horses, back on their haunches—the + coach door flung wide and out stepped Kate—Harry's hand in hers, her + old mammy behind, her father last of all. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, such a lovely drive! and it was so kind of you, dear colonel, to send + for me! Oh, it was splendid! And Matthew galloped most all the way.” She + had come as a royal princess, but she was still our Kate. “And you are all + out here to meet me!” Here she kissed Harry's mother—“and you too, + Uncle George—and Sue—Oh, how fine you all look!”—and + with a curtsy and a joyous laugh and a hand-clasp here and there, she bent + her head and stepped into the wide hall under the blaze of the clustered + candles. + </p> + <p> + It was then that they caught their breaths, for no such vision of beauty + had ever before stood in the wide hall of Moorlands, her eyes shining like + two stars above the rosy hue of her cheek; her skin like a shell, her + throat and neck a lily in color and curves. And her poise; her + gladsomeness; her joy at being alive and at finding everybody else alive; + the way she moved and laughed and bent her pretty head; the ripples of gay + laughter and the low-pitched tone of the warm greetings that fell from her + lips! + </p> + <p> + No wonder Harry was bursting with pride; no wonder Langdon Willits heaved + a deep sigh when he caught the glance that Kate flashed at Harry and went + out on the porch to get a breath of fresh air; no wonder St. George's + heart throbbed as he watched them both and thought how near all this + happiness had come to being wrecked; no wonder the servants tumbled over + each other in their eagerness to get a view of her face and gown, and no + wonder, too, that the proud, old colonel who ruled his house with a rod of + iron, determined for the first time in his life to lay down the sceptre + and give Kate and Harry full sway to do whatever popped into their two + silly heads. + </p> + <p> + And our young Lochinvar was fully her match in bearing, dress, and + manners,—every inch a prince and every inch a Rutter,—and with + such grace of movement as he stepped beside her, that even punctilious, + outspoken old Mrs. Cheston—who had forgiven him his escapade, and + who was always laughing at what she called the pump-handle shakes of some + of the underdone aristocrats about her, had to whisper to the nearest + guest—“Watch Harry, my dear, if you would see how a thoroughbred + manages his legs and arms when he wishes to do honor to a woman. + Admirable!—charming! No young man of my time ever did better.” And + Mrs. Cheston knew, for she had hobnobbed with kings and queens, her + husband having represented his government at the Court of St. James—which + fact, however, never prevented her from calling a spade a spade; nor was + she ever very particular as to what the spade unearthed. + </p> + <p> + Yes—a very gallant and handsome young man was our prince as he + handed Kate up the stairs on her way to the dressing-room, and looked it + in his pearl-gray coat with buttons of silver, fluffy white silk scarf, + high dog-eared collar, ivory-white waistcoat, and tight-fitting trousers + of nankeen yellow, held close to the pumps with invisible straps. And a + very gallant and handsome young fellow he felt himself to be on this night + of his triumph, and so thought Kate—in fact she had fallen in love + with him over again—and so too did every one of the young girls who + crowded about them, as well as the dominating, erect aristocrat of a + father, and the anxious gentle mother, who worshipped the ground on which + he walked. + </p> + <p> + Kate had noted every expression that crossed his face, absorbing him in + one comprehensive glance as he stood in the full blaze of the candles, her + gaze lingering on his mouth and laughing eyes and the soft sheen of his + brown hair, its curved-in ends brushing the high velvet collar of his coat—and + so on down his shapely body to his shapely feet. Never had she seen him so + adorable—and he was all her own, and for life! + </p> + <p> + As for our dear St. George Temple, who had never taken his eyes off them, + he thought they were the goodliest pair the stars ever shone upon, and + this his happiest night. There would be no more stumbling after this. Kate + had the bridle well in hand now; all she needed was a clear road, and that + was ahead of both horse and rider. + </p> + <p> + “Makes your blood jump in your veins, just to look at them, doesn't it, + Talbot?” cried St. George to Harry's father when Kate disappeared—laying + his hand as he spoke on the shoulder of the man with whom he had grown up + from a boy. “Is there anything so good as the love of a good woman?—the + wise old prophet places her beyond the price of rubies.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one thing, St. George—the love of a good man—one like + yourself, you dear old fellow. And why the devil you haven't found that + out years ago is more than I can understand. Here you are my age, and you + might have had a Kate and Harry of your own by this time, and yet you live + a stupid old—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't hear you talk so, colonel!” cried a bride of a year. “Uncle + George is never stupid, and he couldn't be old. What would all these young + girls do—what would I have done” (another love affair with St. + George as healer and mender!)—“what would anybody have done without + him? Come, Miss Lavinia—do you hear the colonel abusing Uncle George + because he isn't married? Speak up for him—it's wicked of you, + colonel, to talk so.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia Clendenning, who was one of St. George's very own, in spite + of her forty-odd years, threw back her head until the feathers in her + slightly gray hair shook defiantly: + </p> + <p> + “No—I won't say a word for him, Sue. I've given him up forever. He's + a disgrace to everybody who knows him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you renegade!” exclaimed St. George in mock alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—a positive disgrace! He'll never marry anybody, Sue, until he + marries me. I've begged him on my knees until I'm tired, to name the day, + and he won't! Just like all you shiftless Marylanders, sir—never + know when to make up your minds.” + </p> + <p> + “But you threw me over, Lavinia, and broke my heart,” laughed Temple with + a low bow, his palms flattened against his waistcoat in assumed humility. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my goodness gracious! Of course I threw you over then;—you were + just a baby in arms and I was old enough to be your mother—but now + it's different. I'm dying to get married and nobody wants me. If you were + a Virginian instead of a doubting Marylander, you would have asked me a + hundred times and kept on asking until I gave in. Now it's too late. I + always intended to give in, but you were so stupid you couldn't or + wouldn't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “It's never too late to mend, Lavinia,” he prayed with hands extended. + </p> + <p> + “It's too late to mend you, St. George! You are cracked all over, and as + for me—I'm ready to fall to pieces any minute. I'm all tied up now + with corset laces and stays and goodness knows what else. No—I'm + done with you.” + </p> + <p> + While this merry badinage was going on, the young people crowding the + closer so as not to lose a word, or making room for the constant stream of + fresh arrivals on their way toward the dressing-rooms above, their eyes + now and then searching the top of the stairs in the hope of getting the + first glimpse of Kate, our heroine was receiving the final touches from + her old black mammy. It took many minutes. The curl must be adjusted, the + full skirts pulled out or shaken loose, the rare jewels arranged before + she was dismissed with—“Dah, honey chile, now go-long. Ain't nary + one on 'em ain't pizen hongry for ye—any mos' on 'em 'll drown + derselves 'fo' mawnin' becos dey can't git ye.” + </p> + <p> + She is ready now, Harry beside her, her lace scarf embroidered with pink + rosebuds floating from her lovely shoulders, her satin skirt held firmly + in both hands that she might step the freer, her dainty silk stockings + with the ribbons crossed about her ankles showing below its edge. + </p> + <p> + But it was the colonel who took possession of her when she reached the + floor of the great hall, and not her father nor her lover. + </p> + <p> + “No, Harry—stand aside, sir. Out with you! Kate goes in with me! + Seymour, please give your arm to Mrs. Rutter.” And with the manner of a + courtier leading a princess into the presence of her sovereign, the Lord + of Moorlands swept our Lady of Kennedy Square into the brilliant + drawing-room crowded with guests. + </p> + <p> + It was a great ball and it was a great ballroom—in spaciousness, + color, and appointments. No one had ever dreamed of its possibilities + before, although everybody knew it was the largest in the county. The + gentle hostess, with old Alec as head of the pulling-out-and-moving-off + department, had wrought the change. All the chairs, tables, sofas, and + screens, little and big, had either been spirited away or pushed back + against the wall for tired dancers. Over the wide floor was stretched a + linen crash; from the ceiling and bracketed against the white walls, + relieved here and there by long silken curtains of gold-yellow, blazed + clusters of candles, looking for all the world like so many bursting + sky-rockets, while at one end, behind a mass of flowering plants, sat a + quartette of musicians, led by an old darky with a cotton-batting head, + who had come all the way from Philadelphia a-purpose. + </p> + <p> + Nor had the inner man been forgotten: bowls of hot apple toddy steamed + away in the dining-room; bowls of eggnog frothed away in the library; + ladlings of punch, and the contents of several old cut-glass decanters, + flanked by companies of pipe-stem glasses, were being served in the + dressing-rooms; while relays of hot terrapin, canvas-back duck, sizzling + hot; olio, cold joints; together with every conceivable treatment and + condition of oysters—in scallop shells, on silver platters and in + wooden plates—raw, roasted, fried, broiled, baked, and stewed—everything + in fact that could carry out the colonel's watchword, “Eat, drink, and be + merry,” were within the beck and call of each and every guest. + </p> + <p> + And there were to be no interludes of hunger and thirst if the host could + help it. No dull pauses nor recesses, but one continued round, lasting + until midnight, at which hour the final banquet in the dining-room was to + be served, and the great surprise of the evening reached—the formal + announcement of Harry and Kate's engagement, followed by the opening of + the celebrated bottle of the Jefferson 1800 Monticello Madeira, recorked + at our young hero's birth. + </p> + <p> + And it goes without saying that there were no interludes. The fun began at + once, a long line of merry talk and laughter following the wake of the + procession, led by the host and Kate, the colonel signalling at last to + the cotton-batting with the goggle spectacles, who at once struck up a + polka and away they all went, Harry and Kate in the lead, the whole room + in a whirl. + </p> + <p> + This over and the dancers out of breath, Goggles announced a quadrille—the + colonel and St. George helping to form the sets. Then followed the + schottische, then another polka until everybody was tired out, and then + with one accord the young couples rushed from the hot room, hazy with the + dust of lint from the linen crash, and stampeded for the cool wide stairs + that led from the great hall. For while in summer the shadows on some + vine-covered porch swallowed the lovers, in winter the stairs were + generally the trysting-place—and the top step the one most sought—because + there was nobody behind to see. This was the roost for which Kate and + Harry scampered, and there they intended to sit until the music struck up + again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Kate, you precious darling, how lovely you look!” burst out Harry for + the hundredth time when she had nestled down beside him—“and what a + wonderful gown! I never saw that one before, did I?” + </p> + <p> + “No—you never have,” she panted, her breath gone from her dance and + the dash for the staircase. “It's my dear mother's dress, and her scarf + too. I had very little done to it—only the skirt made wider. Isn't + it soft and rich? Grandpa used to bring these satins from China.” + </p> + <p> + “And the pearls—are they the ones you told me about?” He was + adjusting them to her throat as he spoke—somehow he could not keep + his hands from her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—mother's jewels. Father got them out of his strong-box for me + this morning. He wanted me to wear them to-night. He says I can have them + all now. She must have been very beautiful, Harry—and just think, + dear—she was only a few years older than I am when she died. + Sometimes when I wear her things and get to thinking about her, and + remember how young and beautiful she was and how unhappy her life, it + seems as if I must be unhappy myself—somehow as if it were not right + to have all this happiness when she had none.” There was a note of + infinite pathos in her voice—a note one always heard when she spoke + of her mother. Had Harry looked deeper into her eyes he might have found + the edges of two tears trembling on their lids. + </p> + <p> + “She never was as beautiful as you, my darling—nobody ever was—nobody + ever could be!” he cried, ignoring all allusion to her mother. Nothing + else counted with the young fellow to-night—all he knew and cared + for was that Kate was his very own, and that all the world would soon know + it. + </p> + <p> + “That's because you love me, Harry. You have only to look at her portrait + in father's room to see how exquisite she was. I can never be like her—never + so gracious, so patient, no matter how hard I try.” + </p> + <p> + He put his fingers on her lips: “I won't have you say it. I won't let + anybody say it. I could hardly speak when I saw you in the full light of + the hall. It was so dark in the coach I didn't know how you looked, and I + didn't care; I was so glad to get hold of you. But when your cloak slipped + from your shoulders and you—Oh!—you darling Kate!” His eye + caught the round of her throat and the taper of her lovely arm—“I am + going to kiss you right here—I will—I don't care who—” + </p> + <p> + She threw up her hands with a little laugh. She liked him the better for + daring, although she was afraid to yield. + </p> + <p> + “No—NO—Harry! They will see us—don't—you mustn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Mustn't what! I tell you, Kate, I am going to kiss you—I don't care + what you say or who sees me. It's been a year since I kissed you in the + coach—forty years—now, you precious Kate, what difference does + it make? I will, I tell you—no—don't turn your head away.” + </p> + <p> + She was struggling feebly, her elbow across her face as a shield, meaning + all the time to raise her lips to his, when her eyes fell on the figure of + a young man making his way toward them. Instantly her back straightened. + </p> + <p> + “There's Langdon Willits at the bottom of the stairs talking to Mark + Gilbert,” she whispered in dismay. “See—he is coming up. I wonder + what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + Harry gathered himself together and his face clouded. “I wish he was at + the bottom of the sea. I don't like Willits—I never did. Neither + does Uncle George. Besides, he's in love with you, and he always has + been.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense, Harry,” she answered, opening her fan and waving it + slowly. She knew her lover was right—knew more indeed than her lover + could ever know: she had used all the arts of which she was mistress to + keep Willits from proposing. + </p> + <p> + “But he IS in love with you,” Harry insisted stiffly. “Won't he be + fighting mad, though, when he hears father announce our engagement at + supper?” Then some tone in her voice recalled that night on the sofa when + she still held out against his pleading, and with it came the thought that + while she could be persuaded she could never be driven. Instantly his + voice changed to its most coaxing tones: “You won't dance with him, will + you, Kate darling? I can't bear to see you in anybody else's arms but my + own.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand grasped his wrist with a certain meaning in the pressure. + </p> + <p> + “Now don't be a goose, Harry. I must be polite to everybody, especially + to-night—and you wouldn't have me otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not to him.” + </p> + <p> + “But what difference does it make? You are too sensible not to understand, + and I am too happy, anyway, to want to be rude to anybody. And then you + should never be jealous of Langdon Willits.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, not a round dance, please, Kate.” He dare not oppose her + further. “I couldn't stand a round dance. I won't have his arm touch you, + my darling.” And he bent his cheek close to hers. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him from under her shadowed lids as she had looked at St. + George when she greeted him at the foot of the stairs; a gleam of + coquetry, of allurement, of joy shining through her glances like delicate + antennae searching to feel where her power lay. Should she venture, as her + Uncle George had suggested, to take the reins in her own hands and guide + this restive, mettlesome thoroughbred, or should she surrender to him? + Then a certain mischievous coquetry possessed her. With a light, bubbling + laugh she drew her cheek away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, any kind of a dance that he or anybody else wants that I can give + him,” she burst out with a coquettish twist of her head, her eyes brimming + with fun. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm on your card for every single dance,” he demanded, his eyes again + flashing. “Look at it—I filled it up myself,” and he held up his own + bit of paste-board so she could read the list. “I tell you I won't have + his arm around you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he sha'n't touch even the tips of my fingers, you dreadful + Mr. Bluebeard.” She had surrendered now. He was never so compelling as + when determined to have his own way. Again her whole manner changed; she + was once more the sweetheart: “Don't let us bother about cards, my + darling, or dances, or anything. Let us talk of how lovely it is to be + together again. Don't you think so, Harry?” and she snuggled the closer to + his arm, her soft cheek against his coat. + </p> + <p> + Before Harry could answer, young Willits, who had been edging his way up + the stairs two steps at a time, avoiding the skirts of the girls, reaching + over the knees of the men as he clung to the hand-rail, stood on the step + below them. + </p> + <p> + “It's my next dance, Miss Kate, isn't it?” he asked eagerly, scanning her + face—wondering why she looked so happy. + </p> + <p> + “What is it to be, Mr. Willits?” she rejoined in perfunctory tones, + glancing at her own blank card hanging to her wrist: he was the last man + in the world she wanted to see at this moment. + </p> + <p> + “The schottische, I think—yes, the schottische,” he replied + nervously, noticing her lack of warmth and not understanding the cause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm all out of breath—if you don't mind,” she continued + evasively; “we'll wait for the next one.” She dared not invite him to sit + down, knowing it would make Harry furious—and then again she + couldn't stand one discordant note to-night—she was too blissfully + happy. + </p> + <p> + “But the next one is mine,” exclaimed Harry suddenly, examining his own + dancing-card. He had not shifted his position a hair's breadth, nor did he + intend to—although he had been outwardly polite to the intruder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—they'd all be yours, Harry, if you had your way,” this in a + thin, dry tone—“but you mustn't forget that Miss Kate's free, white, + and twenty-one, and can do as she pleases.” + </p> + <p> + Harry's lips straightened. He did not like Willits's manner and he was + somewhat shocked at his expression; it seemed to smack more of the cabin + than of the boudoir—especially the boudoir of a princess like his + precious Kate. He noticed, too, that the young man's face was flushed and + his utterance unusually rapid, and he knew what had caused it. + </p> + <p> + “They will be just what Miss Seymour wants them to be, Willits.” The words + came in hard, gritting tones through half-closed lips, and the tightening + of his throat muscles. This phase of the Rutter blood was dangerous. + </p> + <p> + Kate was startled. Harry must not lose his self-control. There must be no + misunderstandings on this the happiest night of her life. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said sweetly, with a gracious bend of her head—“but I do + want to dance with Mr. Willits, only I don't know which one to give him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then give me the Virginia reel, Miss Kate, the one that comes just before + supper, and we can go all in together—you too, Harry,” Willits + insisted eagerly. “See, Miss Kate—your card is still empty,” and he + turned toward her the face of the one hanging to her wrist. + </p> + <p> + “No, never the reel, Kate, that is mine!” burst out Harry determinedly, as + a final dismissal to Willits. He lowered his voice, and in a beseeching + tone said—“Father's set his heart on our dancing the reel together—please + don't give him the reel!” + </p> + <p> + Kate, intent on restoring harmony, arched her neck coyly, and said in her + most bewitching tones—the notes of a robin after a shower: “Well, I + can't tell yet, Mr. Willits, but you shall have one or the other; just + leave it to me—either the reel or the schottische. We will talk it + over when I come down.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's the reel, Miss Kate, is it not?” he cried, ignoring Harry + completely, backing away as he retraced his steps, a look of triumph on + his face. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head at him, but she did not answer. She wanted to get rid + of him as quickly as possible. Willits had spoiled everything. She was so + happy before he came, and Harry was so adorable. She wished now she had + not drawn away her cheek when he tried to kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be angry, Harry, dear,” she pleaded coaxingly, determined to get + her lover back once more. “He didn't mean anything—he only wanted to + be polite.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't want to be polite,” the angry lover retorted. “He meant to + force himself in between us; that is what he meant, and he's always at it, + every chance he gets. He tried it at Mrs. Cheston's the other night until + I put a stop to it, but there's one thing certain—he'll stop it when + our engagement is announced after supper or I'll know the reason why.” + </p> + <p> + Kate caught her breath. A new disturbing thought entered her mind. It was + at Mrs. Cheston's that both Willits and Harry had misbehaved themselves, + and it was Harry's part in the sequel which she had forgiven. The least + said about that night the better. + </p> + <p> + “But he is your guest, Harry,” she urged at last, still determined to + divert his thoughts from Willits and the loss of the dance—“OUR + guest,” she went on—“so is everybody else here to-night, and we must + do what everybody wants us to, not be selfish about it. Now, my darling—you + couldn't be impolite to anybody—don't you know you couldn't? Mrs. + Cheston calls you 'My Lord Chesterfield'—I heard her say so + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, Kate”—he softened—“that's what father said about + my being polite to him—but all the same I didn't want Willits + invited, and it's only because father insisted that he's here. Of course, + I'm going to be just as polite to him as I can, but even father would feel + differently about him if he had heard what he said to you a minute ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” She knew, but she loved to hear him defend her. This, + too, was a way out—in a minute he would be her old Harry again. + </p> + <p> + “I won't even repeat it,” he answered doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “You mean about my being twenty-one? That was rather ungallant, wasn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Again that long look from under her eyelids—he would have succumbed + at once could he have seen it. + </p> + <p> + “No, the other part of it. That's not the way to speak to a lady. That's + what I dislike him for. He never was born a gentleman. He isn't a + gentleman and never can be a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Kate drew herself up—the unreasonableness of the objection jarred + upon her. He had touched one of her tender spots—pride of birth was + something she detested. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk nonsense, Harry,” she replied in a slightly impatient voice. + Moods changed with our Kate as unexpectedly as April showers. “What + difference should it make to you or anybody else whether Langdon Willits's + grandmother was a countess or a country girl, so she was honest and a + lady?” Her head went up with a toss as she spoke, for this was one of + Kate's pet theories. + </p> + <p> + “But he's not of my class, Kate, and he shouldn't be here. I told father + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then make him one,” she answered stoutly, “if only for to-night, by being + extra polite and courteous to him and never letting him feel that he is + outside of what you call 'your class.' I like Mr. Willits, and have always + liked him. He is invariably polite to me, and he can be very kind and + sympathetic at times. Listen! they are calling us, and there goes the + music—come along, darling—it's a schottische and we'll dance + it together.” + </p> + <p> + Harry sprang up, slipped his arm around Kate's waist, lifted her to her + feet, held her close, and kissed her squarely on the mouth. + </p> + <p> + “There, you darling! and another one—two—three! Oh, you + precious! What do I care about Willits or any other red-headed lower + county man that ever lived? He can have fifty grandmothers if he pleases + and I won't say a word—kiss me—kiss me again. Quick now or + we'll lose the dance,” and, utterly oblivious as to whether any one had + seen them or not, the two raced down the wide stairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + While all this gayety was going on in the ballroom another and equally + joyous gathering was besieging the serving tables in the colonel's private + den—a room leading out of the larger supper room, where he kept his + guns and shooting togs, and which had been pressed into service for this + one night. + </p> + <p> + These thirsty gentlemen were of all ages and tastes, from the young men + just entering society to the few wrinkled bald-pates whose legs had given + out and who, therefore, preferred the colonel's Madeira and terrapin to + the lighter pleasures of the dance. + </p> + <p> + In and out of the groups, his ruddy, handsome face radiant with the joy + that welled up in his heart, moved St. George Temple. Never had he been in + finer form or feather—never had he looked so well—(not all the + clothes that Poole of London cut came to Moorlands). Something of the same + glow filtered through him that he had felt on the night when the two + lovers had settled their difficulties, and he had swung back through the + park at peace with all the world. + </p> + <p> + All this could be seen in the way he threw back his head, smiling right + and left; the way he moved his hands—using them as some men do words + or their eyebrows—now uplifting them in surprise at the first + glimpse of some unexpected face, his long delicate fingers outspread in + exclamations of delight; now closing them tight when he had those of the + new arrival in his grasp—now curving them, palms up, as he lifted to + his lips the fingers of a grande dame. “Keep your eyes on St. George,” + whispered Mrs. Cheston, who never missed a point in friend or foe and + whose fun at a festivity often lay in commenting on her neighbors, praise + or blame being impartially mixed as her fancy was touched. “And by all + means watch his hands, my dear. They are like the baton of an orchestra + leader and tell the whole story. Only men whose blood and lineage have + earned them freedom from toil, or men whose brains throb clear to their + finger-tips, have such hands. Yes! St. George is very happy to-night, and + I know why. He has something on his mind that he means to tell us later + on.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cheston was right: she generally was—St. George did have + something on his mind—something very particular on his mind—a + little speech really which was a dead secret to everybody except prying + Mrs. Cheston—one which was to precede the uncorking of that + wonderful old Madeira, and the final announcement of the engagement—a + little speech in which he meant to refer to their two dear mothers when + they were girls, recalling traits and episodes forgotten by most, but + which from their very loveliness had always lingered in his heart and + memory. + </p> + <p> + Before this important event took place, however, there were some matters + which he intended to look after himself, one of them being the bowl of + punch and its contiguous beverages in the colonel's den. This seemed to be + the storm centre to-night, and here he determined, even at the risk of + offending his host, to set up danger-signals at the first puff of wind. + The old fellows, if they chose, might empty innumerable ladles full of + apple toddy or compounds of Santa Cruz rum and pineapples into their own + persons, but not the younger bloods! His beloved Kate had suffered enough + because of these roysterers. There should be one ball around Kennedy + Square in which everybody would behave themselves, and he did not intend + to mince his words when the time came. He had discussed the matter with + the colonel when the ball opened, but little encouragement came from that + quarter. + </p> + <p> + “So far as these young sprigs are concerned, St. George,” Rutter had + flashed back, “they must look out for themselves. I can't curtail my + hospitality to suit their babyships. As for Harry, you're only wasting + your time. He is made of different stuff—it's not in his blood and + couldn't be. Whatever else he may become he will never be a sot. Let him + have his fling: once a Rutter, always a Rutter,” and then, with a ring in + his voice, “when my son ceases to be a gentleman, St. George, I will show + him the door, but drink will never do it.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Teackle had also been on the alert. He was a young physician just + coming into practice, many of the younger set being his patients, and he + often acted as a curb when they broke loose. He, with St. George's + whispered caution in his ears, had also tried to frame a word of protest + to the colonel, suggesting in the mildest way that that particular bowl of + apple toddy be not replenished—but the Lord of the Manor had + silenced him with a withering glance before he had completed his sentence. + In this dilemma he had again sought out St. George. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for Willits, Uncle George. He'll be staggering in among the + ladies if he gets another crack at that toddy. It's an infernal shame to + bring these relays of punch in here. I tried to warn the colonel, but he + came near eating me up. Willits has had very little experience in this + sort of thing and is mixing his eggnog with everything within his reach. + That will split his head wide open in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and find him, Teackle, and bring him to me,” cried St. George; “I'll + stay here until you get him. Tell him I want to see him—and Alec”—this + to the old butler who was skimming past, his hands laden with dishes—“don't + you bring another drop of punch into this room until you see me.” + </p> + <p> + “But de colonel say dat—” + </p> + <p> + “—I don't care what the colonel says; if he wants to know why, tell + him I ordered it. I'm not going to have this night spoiled by any + tomfoolery of Talbot's, I don't care what he says. You hear me, Alec? Not + a drop. Take out those half-empty bowls and don't you serve another + thimbleful of anything until I say so.” Here he turned to the young + doctor, who seemed rather surprised at St. George's dictatorial air—one + rarely seen in him. “Yes—brutal, I know, Teackle, and perhaps a + little ill-mannered, this interfering with another man's hospitality, but + if you knew how Kate has suffered over this same stupidity you would say I + was right. Talbot never thinks—never cares. Because he's got a head + as steady as a town clock and can put away a bottle of port without + winking an eyelid, he believes anybody else can do the same. I tell you + this sort of thing has got to stop or sooner or later these young bloods + will break the hearts of half the girls in town.... Careful! here comes + Willits—not another word.... Oh, Mr. Willits, here you are! I was + just going to send for you. I want to talk to you about that mare of yours—is + she still for sale?” His nonchalance was delightful. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Temple; I had thought of keeping her, sir,” the young man + rejoined blandly, greatly flattered at having been specially singled out + by the distinguished Mr. Temple. “But if you are thinking of buying my + mare, I should be most delighted to consider it. If you will permit me—I + will call upon you in the morning.” This last came with elaborate + effusiveness. “But you haven't a drop of anything to drink, Mr. Temple, + nor you either, doctor! Egad! What am I thinking of! Come, won't you join + me? The colonel's mixtures are—” + </p> + <p> + “Better wait, Mr. Willits,” interrupted St. George calmly and with the air + of one conversant with the resources of the house. “Alec has just taken + out a half-emptied bowl of toddy.” He had seen at a glance that Teackle's + diagnosis of the young man's condition was correct. + </p> + <p> + “Then let us have a swig at the colonel's port—it's the best in the + county.” + </p> + <p> + “No, hold on till the punch comes. You young fellows don't know how to + take care of your stomachs. You ought to stick to your tipple as you do to + your sweetheart—you should only have one.” + </p> + <p> + “—At a time,” laughed Teackle. + </p> + <p> + “No, one ALL the time, you dog! When I was your age, Mr. Willits, if I + drank Madeira I continued to drink Madeira, not to mix it up with + everything on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, you're right, Mr. Temple! I'm sticking to one girl—Miss + Kate's my girl to-night. I'm going to dance the Virginia reel with her.” + </p> + <p> + St. George eyed him steadily. He saw that the liquor had already reached + his head or he would not have spoken of Kate as he did. “Your choice is + most admirable, Mr. Willits,” he said suavely, “but let Harry have Miss + Kate to-night,” adding, as he laid his hand confidingly on the young man's + shoulder—“they were made to step that dance together.” + </p> + <p> + “But she said she would dance it with me!” he flung back—he did not + mean to be defrauded. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” It was wonderful how soft St. George's voice could be. Teackle + could not have handled a refractory patient the better. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is,” rejoined Willits, modified by Temple's tone—“she is + to let me know—that was the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Still another soft cadence crept into St. George's voice: “Well, even if + she did say she would let you know, do be a little generous. Miss Seymour + is always so obliging; but she ought really to dance the reel with Harry + to-night.” He used Kate's full name, but Willits's head was buzzing too + loudly for him to notice the delicately suggested rebuke. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't see that, and I'm not going to see it, either. Harry's + always coming in between us; he tried to get Miss Kate away from me a + little while ago, but he didn't succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Noblesse oblige, my dear Mr. Willits,” rejoined St. George in a more + positive tone. “He is host, you know, and the ball is given to Miss + Seymour, and Harry can do nothing else but be attentive.” He felt like + strangling the cub, but it was neither the time nor place—nothing + should disturb Kate's triumph if he could help it. One way was to keep + Willits sober, and this he intended to do whether the young man liked it + or not—if he talked to him all night. + </p> + <p> + “But it is my dance,” Willits broke out. “You ask him if it isn't my dance—he + heard what Miss Kate said. Here comes Harry now.” + </p> + <p> + Like a breath of west wind our young prince blew in, his face radiant, his + eyes sparkling. He had entirely forgotten the incident on the stairs in + the rapture of Kate's kisses, and Willits was once more one of the many + guests he was ready to serve and be courteous to. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, gentlemen—I hope you have everything you want!” he cried with a + joyous wave of his hand. “Where will I get an ice for Kate, Uncle George? + We are just about beginning the Virginia reel and she is so warm. Oh, we + have had such a lovely waltz! Why are you fellows not dancing? Send them + in, Uncle George.” He was brimming over with happiness. + </p> + <p> + Willits moved closer: “What did you say? The Virginia reel? Has it begun?” + His head was too muddled for quick thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, Willits, but it will right away—everybody is on the floor + now,” returned Harry, his eyes in search of something to hold Kate's + refreshment. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is my dance, Harry. I thought the reel was to be just before + supper or I would have hunted Miss Kate up.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” laughed Harry, catching up an empty plate from the serving + table and moving to where the ices were spread. “You ought to know, for + you told her yourself. It is about to begin. They were taking their + partners when I left.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that's MY reel,” Willits insisted. “You heard what Miss Kate said, + Harry—that's what I told you too, Mr. Temple,” and he turned to St. + George for confirmation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you are mistaken, Langdon,” continued Harry, bending over the + dish. “She said she would decide later on whether to give you the reel or + a schottische—and she has. Miss Kate dances this reel with me.” + There was a flash in his eye as he spoke, but he was still the host. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose you will want the one after supper too,” snapped Willits. + He had edged closer and was now speaking to Harry's bent back. + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, if Miss Kate is willing and wishes it,” rejoined Harry + simply, still too intent on having the ice reach his sweetheart at the + earliest possible moment to notice either Willits's condition or his tone + of voice. + </p> + <p> + Willits sprang forward just as Harry regained his erect position. “No you + won't, sir!” he cried angrily. “I've got some rights here and I'm going to + protect them. I'll ask Miss Kate myself and find out whether I am to be + made a fool of like this,” and before St. George could prevent started for + the door. + </p> + <p> + Harry dropped the plate on the table and blocked the enraged man's exit + with his outstretched arm. He was awake now—wide awake—and to + the cause. + </p> + <p> + “You'll do nothing of the kind, Langdon—not in your present state. + Pull yourself together, man! Miss Seymour is not accustomed to be spoken + of in that way and you know it. Now don't be foolish—stay here with + Uncle George and the doctor until you cool down. There are the best of + reasons why I should dance the reel with Miss Kate, but I can't explain + them now.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither am I, Mr. Harry Rutter, accustomed to be spoken to in that way by + you or anybody else. I don't care a rap for your explanations. Get out of + my way, or you'll be sorry,” and he sprang one side and flung himself out + of the room before Harry could realize the full meaning of his words. + </p> + <p> + St. George saw the flash in the boy's eyes, and stretching out his hand + laid it on Harry's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, my boy! Let him go—Kate will take care of him.” + </p> + <p> + “No! I'll take care of him!—and now!” He was out of the room and the + door shut behind him before Temple could frame a reply. + </p> + <p> + St. George shot an anxious, inquiring look at Teackle, who nodded his head + in assent, and the two hurried from the room and across the expanse of + white crash, Willits striding ahead, Harry at his heels, St. George and + the doctor following close behind. + </p> + <p> + Kate stood near the far door, her radiant eyes fixed on Harry's + approaching figure—the others she did not see. Willits reached her + first: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Kate, isn't this my dance?” he burst out—“didn't you promise + me?” + </p> + <p> + Kate started and for a moment her face flushed. If she had forgotten any + promise she had made it certainly was not intentional. Then her mind + acted. There must be no bad blood here—certainly not between Harry + and Willits. + </p> + <p> + “No, not quite that, Mr. Willits,” she answered in her sweetest voice, a + certain roguish coquetry in its tones. “I said I'd think it over, and you + never came near me, and so Harry and I are—” + </p> + <p> + “But you DID promise me.” His voice could be heard all over the room—even + the colonel, who was talking to a group of ladies, raised his head to + listen, his companions thinking the commotion was due to the proper + arranging of the dance. + </p> + <p> + Harry's eyes flashed; angry blood was mounting to his cheeks. He was + amazed at Willits's outburst. + </p> + <p> + “You mean to contradict Miss Kate! Are you crazy, Willits?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am entirely sane,” he retorted, an ugly ring in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Everybody had ceased talking now. Good-natured disputes over the young + girls were not uncommon among the young men, but this one seemed to have + an ominous sound. Colonel Rutter evidently thought so, for he had now + risen from his seat and was crossing the room to where Harry and the group + stood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you neither act nor talk as if you were sane,” rejoined Harry in + cold, incisive tones, inching his way nearer Kate, as if to be the better + prepared to defend her. + </p> + <p> + Willits's lip curled. “I am not beholden to you, sir, for my conduct, + although I can be later on for my words. Let me see your dancing-card, + Miss Kate,” and he caught it from her unresisting hand. “There—what + did I tell you!” This came with a flare of indignation. “It was a blank + when I saw it last and you've filled it in, sir, of your own accord!” Here + he faced Harry. “That's your handwriting—I'll leave it to you, Mr. + Temple, if it isn't his handwriting.” + </p> + <p> + Harry flushed scarlet and his eyes blazed as he stepped toward the + speaker. Kate shrank back in alarm—she had read Harry's face and + knew what was behind it. + </p> + <p> + “Take that back, Langdon—quick! You are my guest, but you mustn't + say things like that here. I put my name on the card because Miss Kate + asked me to. Take it back, sir—NOW!—and then make an humble + apology to Miss Seymour. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take back nothing! I've been cheated out of a dance. Here—take + her—and take this with her!” and he tore Kate's card in half and + threw the pieces in his host's face. + </p> + <p> + With the spring of a cat, Harry lunged forward and raised his arm as if to + strike Willits in the face: Willits drew himself up to his full height and + confronted him: Kate shrivelled within herself, all the color gone from + her cheeks. Whether to call out for help or withdraw quietly, was what + puzzled her. Both would concentrate the attention of the whole room on the + dispute. + </p> + <p> + St. George, who was boiling with indignation and disgust, but still cool + and himself, pushed his way into the middle of the group. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word, Harry,” he whispered in low, frigid tones. “This can be + settled in another way.” Then in his kindest voice, so loud that all could + hear—“Teackle, will you and Mr. Willits please meet me in the + colonel's den—that, perhaps, is the best place after all to + straighten out these tangles. I'll join you there as soon as I have Miss + Kate safely settled.” He bent over her: “Kate, dear, perhaps you had + better sit alongside of Mrs. Rutter until I can get these young fellows + cooled off”—and in a still lower key—“you behaved admirably, + my girl—admirably. I'm proud of you. Mr. Willits has had too much to + drink—that is what is the matter with him, but it will be all over + in a minute—and, Harry, my boy, suppose you help me look up + Teackle,” and he laid his hand with an authoritative pressure on the boy's + arm. + </p> + <p> + The colonel had by this time reached the group and stood trying to catch + the cue. He had heard the closing sentence of St. George's instructions, + but he had missed the provocation, although he had seen Harry's uplifted + fist. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, St. George?” he inquired nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Just a little misunderstanding, Talbot, as to who was to dance with our + precious Kate,” St. George answered with a laugh, as he gripped Harry's + arm the tighter. “She is such a darling that it is as much as I can do to + keep these young Romeos from running each other through the body, they are + so madly in love with her. I am thinking of making off with her myself as + the only way to keep the peace. Yes, you dear girl, I'll come back. Hold + the music up for a little while, Talbot, until I can straighten them all + out,” and with his arm still tight through Harry's, the two walked the + length of the room and closed the far door behind them. + </p> + <p> + Kate looked after them and her heart sank all the lower. She knew the + feeling between the two men, and she knew Harry's hot, ungovernable temper—the + temper of the Rutters. Patient as he often was, and tender-hearted as he + could be, there flashed into his eyes now and then something that + frightened her—something that recalled an incident in the history of + his house. He had learned from his gentle mother to forgive affronts to + himself; she had seen him do it many times, overlooking what another man + would have resented, but an affront to herself or any other woman was a + different matter: that he would never forgive. She knew, too, that he had + just cause to be offended, for in all her life no one had ever been so + rude to her. That she herself was partly to blame only intensified her + anxiety. Willits loved her, for he had told her so, not once, but several + times, although she had answered him only with laughter. She should have + been honest and not played the coquette: and yet, although the fault was + partly her own, never had she been more astonished than at his outburst. + In all her acquaintance with him he had never lost his temper. Harry, of + course, would lay it to Willits's lack of breeding—to the taint in + his blood. But she knew better—it was the insanity produced by + drink, combined with his jealousy of Harry, which had caused the gross + outrage. If she had only told Willits herself of her betrothal and not + waited to surprise him before the assembled guests, it would have been + fairer and spared every one this scene. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts coursed through her mind as with head still proudly + erect she crossed the room on the colonel's arm, to a seat beside her + future mother-in-law, who had noticed nothing, and to whom not a syllable + of the affair would have been mentioned, all such matters being invariably + concealed from the dear lady. + </p> + <p> + Old Mrs. Cheston, however, was more alert; not only had she caught the + anger in Harry's eyes, but she had followed the flight of the torn card as + its pieces fell to the floor. She had once been present at a reception + given by a prime minister when a similar fracas had occurred. Then it was + a lady's glove and not a dancing-card which was thrown in a rival's face, + and it was a rapier that flashed and not a clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter over there, Talbot?” she demanded, speaking from + behind her fan when the colonel came within hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Some little disagreement about who should lead the Virginia reel + with Kate. I have stopped the music until they fix it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk nonsense, Talbot Rutter, not to me. There was bad blood over + there—you better look after them. There'll be trouble if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel tucked the edge of a rebellious ruffle inside his embroidered + waistcoat and with a quiet laugh said: “St. George is attending to them.” + </p> + <p> + “St. George is as big a fool as you are about such things. Go, I tell you, + and see what they are doing in there with the door shut.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Mrs. Cheston,” echoed her host with a deprecating wave of + his hand—“my Harry would no more attack a man under his own roof + than you would cut off your right hand. He's not born that way—none + of us are.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a perfect idiot, Talbot!” she retorted angrily. “You seem + to have forgotten everything you knew. These young fellows here are so + many tinder boxes. There will be trouble I tell you—go out there and + find out what is going on,” she reiterated, her voice increasing in + intensity. “They've had time enough to fix up a dozen Virginia reels—and + besides, Kate is waiting, and they know it. Look! there's some one coming + out—it's that young Teackle. Call him over here and find out!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who had halted at the door, was now scrutinizing the faces of + the guests as if in search of some one. Then he moved swiftly to the far + side of the room, touched Mark Gilbert, Harry's most intimate friend, on + the shoulder, and the two left the floor. + </p> + <p> + Kate sat silent, a fixed smile on her face that ill concealed her anxiety. + She had heard every word of the talk between Mrs. Cheston and the colonel, + but she did not share the old lady's alarm as to any actual conflict. She + would trust Uncle George to avoid that. But what kept Harry? Why leave her + thus abruptly and send no word back? In her dilemma she leaned forward and + touched the colonel's arm. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think anything is the matter, dear colonel, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “With whom, Kate?” + </p> + <p> + “Between Harry and Mr. Willits. Harry might resent it—he was very + angry.” Her lips were quivering, her eyes strained. She could hide her + anxiety from her immediate companions, but the colonel was Harry's father. + </p> + <p> + The colonel turned quickly: “Resent it here! under his own roof, and the + man his guest? That is one thing, my dear, a Rutter never violates, no + matter what the provocation. I have made a special exception in Mr. + Willits's favor to-night and Harry knows it. It was at your dear father's + request that I invited the young fellow. And then again, I hear the most + delightful things about his own father, who though a plain man is of great + service to his county—one of Mr. Clay's warmest adherents. All this, + you see, makes it all the more incumbent that both my son and myself + should treat him with the utmost consideration, and, as I have said, Harry + understands this perfectly. You don't know my boy; I would disown him, + Kate, if he laid a hand on Mr. Willits—and so should you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + When Dr. Teackle shut the door of the ballroom upon himself and Mark + Gilbert the two did not tarry long in the colonel's den, which was still + occupied by half a dozen of the older men, who were being beguiled by a + relay of hot terrapin that Alec had just served. On the contrary, they + continued on past the serving tables, past old Cobden Dorsey, who was + steeped to the eyes in Santa Cruz rum punch; past John Purviance, and + Gatchell and Murdoch, smacking their lips over the colonel's Madeira, + dived through a door leading first to a dark passage, mounted to a short + flight of steps leading to another dark passage, and so on through a + second door until they reached a small room level with the ground. This + was the colonel's business office, where he conducted the affairs of the + estate—a room remote from the great house and never entered except + on the colonel's special invitation and only then when business of + importance necessitated its use. + </p> + <p> + That business of the very highest importance—not in any way + connected with the colonel, though of the very gravest moment—was + being enacted here to-night, could be seen the instant Teackle, with + Gilbert at his heels, threw open the door. St. George and Harry were in + one corner—Harry backed against the wall. The boy was pale, but + perfectly calm and silent. On his face was the look of a man who had a + duty to perform and who intended to go through with it come what might. On + the opposite side of the room stood Willits with two young men, his most + intimate friends. They had followed him out of the ballroom to learn the + cause of his sudden outburst, and so far had only heard Willits's side of + the affair. He was now perfectly sober and seemed to feel his position, + but he showed no fear. On the desk lay a mahogany case containing the + colonel's duelling pistols. Harry had taken them from his father's closet + as he passed through the colonel's den. + </p> + <p> + St. George turned to the young doctor. His face was calm and thoughtful, + and he seemed to realize fully the gravity of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, Teackle,” St. George said with an expressive lift of his + fingers. “I have done everything a man could, but there is only one way + out of it. I have tried my best to save Kate from every unhappiness + to-night, but this is something much more important than woman's tears, + and that is her lover's honor.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to tell me, Uncle George, that you can't stop this!” Teackle + whispered with some heat, his eyes strained, his lips twitching. Here he + faced Harry. “You sha'n't go on with this affair, I tell you, Harry. What + will Kate say? Do you think she wants you murdered for a foolish thing + like this!—and that's about what will happen.” + </p> + <p> + The boy made no reply, except to shake his head. He knew what Kate would + say—knew what she would do, and knew what she would command him to + do, could she have heard Willits's continued insults in this very room but + a moment before while St. George was trying to make him apologize to his + host and so end the disgraceful incident. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go and bring in the colonel and see what he can do!” burst out + Teackle, starting for the door. “It's an outrage that—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay here, Teackle,” commanded St. George—“right where you + stand! This is no place for a father. Harry is of age.” + </p> + <p> + “But what an ending to a night like this!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it—horrible!—frightful!—but I would rather see + the boy lying dead at my feet than not defend the woman he loves.” This + came in a decisive tone, as if he had long since made up his mind to this + phase of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “But Langdon is Harry's guest,” Teackle pleaded, dropping his voice still + lower to escape being heard by the group at the opposite end of the room—“and + he is still under his roof. It is never done—it is against the code. + Besides”—and his voice became a whisper—“Harry never levelled + a pistol at a man in his life, and this is not Langdon's first meeting. We + can fix it in the morning. I tell you we must fix it.” + </p> + <p> + Harry, who had been listening quietly, reached across the table, picked up + the case of pistols, handed it to Gilbert, whom he had chosen as his + second, and in a calm, clear, staccato tone—each word a bullet + rammed home—said: + </p> + <p> + “No—Teackle, there will be no delay until to-morrow. Mr. Willits has + forfeited every claim to being my guest and I will fight him here and now. + I could never look Kate in the face, nor would she ever speak to me again, + if I took any other course. You forget that he virtually told Kate she + lied,” and he gazed steadily at Willits as if waiting for the effect of + his shot. + </p> + <p> + St. George's eyes kindled. There was the ring of a man in the boy's words. + He had seen the same look on the elder Rutter's face in a similar + situation twenty years before. As a last resort he walked toward where + Willits stood conferring with his second. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you once more, Mr. Willits”—he spoke in his most courteous + tones (Willits's pluck had greatly raised him in his estimation)—“to + apologize like a man and a gentleman. There is no question in my mind that + you have insulted your host in his own house and been discourteous to the + woman he expects to marry, and that the amende honorable should come from + you. I am twice your age and have had many experiences of this kind, and I + would neither ask you to do a dishonorable thing nor would I permit you to + do it if I could prevent it. Make a square, manly apology to Harry.” + </p> + <p> + Willits gazed at him with a certain ill-concealed contempt on his face. He + was at the time loosening the white silk scarf about his throat in + preparation for the expected encounter. He evidently did not believe a + word of that part of the statement which referred to Harry's engagement. + If Kate had been engaged to Harry she would have told him so. + </p> + <p> + “You are only wasting your time, Mr. Temple,” he answered with an + impatient lift of his chin as he stripped his coat from his broad + shoulders. “You have just said there is only one way to settle this—I + am ready—so are my friends. You will please meet me outside—there + is plenty of firelight under the trees, and the sooner we get through this + the better. The apology should not come from me, and will not. Come, + gentlemen,” and he stepped out into the now drizzling night, the glare of + the torches falling on his determined face and white shirt as he strode + down the path followed by his seconds. + </p> + <p> + Seven gentlemen hurriedly gathered together, one a doctor and another in + full possession of a mahogany case containing two duelling pistols with + their accompanying ammunition, G. D. gun caps, powder-horn, swabs and + rammers, and it past eleven o'clock at night, would have excited but + little interest to the average darky—especially one unaccustomed to + the portents and outcomes of such proceedings. + </p> + <p> + Not so Alec, who had absorbed the situation at a glance. He had + accompanied his master on two such occasions—one at Bladensburg and + the other on a neighboring estate, when the same suggestive tokens had + been visible, except that those fights took place at daybreak, and after + every requirement of the code had been complied with, instead of under the + flare of smoking pine torches and within a step of the contestant's front + door. He had, besides, a most intimate knowledge of the contents of the + mahogany case, it being part of his duty to see that these defenders of + the honor of all the Rutters—and they had been in frequent use—were + kept constantly oiled and cleaned. He had even cast some bullets the month + before under the colonel's direction. That he was present to-night was + entirely due to the fact that having made a short cut to the kitchen door + in order to hurry some dishes, he had by the merest chance, and at the + precise psychological moment, run bump up against the warlike party just + before they had reached the duelling ground. This was a well-lighted path + but a stone's throw from the porch, and sufficiently hidden by shrubbery + to be out of sight of the ballroom windows. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the old man was in full cry to the house. He had heard the + beginning of the trouble while he was carrying out St. George's orders + regarding the two half-emptied bowls of punch and understood exactly what + was going to happen, and why. + </p> + <p> + “Got de colonel's pistols!” he choked as he sped along the gravel walk + toward the front door the quicker to reach the ballroom—“and Marse + Harry nothin' but a baby! Gor-a-Mighty! Gor-a-Mighty!” Had they all been + grown-ups he might not have minded—but his “Marse Harry,” the child + he brought up, his idol—his chum!—“Fo' Gawd, dey sha'n't kill + 'im—dey sha'n't!—DEY SHA'N'T!!” + </p> + <p> + He had reached the porch now, swung back the door, and with a sudden + spring—it was wonderful how quick he moved—had dashed into the + ballroom, now a maze of whirling figures—a polka having struck up to + keep everybody occupied until the reel was finally made up. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Talbot!—Marse Talbot!” All domestic training was cast aside, + not a moment could be lost—“All on ye!—dey's murder outside—somebody + go git de colonel!—Oh, Gawd!—somebody git 'im quick!” + </p> + <p> + Few heard him and nobody paid any attention to his entreaties; nor could + anybody, when they did listen, understand what he wanted—the men + swearing under their breath, the girls indignant that he had blocked their + way. Mrs. Rutter, who had seen his in-rush, sat aghast. Had Alec, too, + given way, she wondered—old Alec who had had full charge of the wine + cellar for years! But the old man pressed on, still shouting, his voice + almost gone, his eyes bursting from his head. + </p> + <p> + “Dey's gwineter murder Marse Harry—I seen 'em! Oh!—whar's de + colonel! Won't somebody please—Oh, my Gawd!—dis is awful! + Don't I tell ye dey's gwineter kill Marse Harry!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cheston, sitting beside Kate, was the only one who seemed to + understand. + </p> + <p> + “Alec!” she called in her imperious voice—“Alec!—come to me at + once! What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The old butler shambled forward and stood trembling, the tears streaming + down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mum—I'm yere! Oh, can't ye git de colonel—ain't nobody + else'll do—” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a duel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mum! I jes' done see 'em! Dey's gwineter kill my Marse Harry!” + </p> + <p> + Kate sprang up. “Where are they?” she cried, shivering with fear. The old + man's face had told the story. + </p> + <p> + “Out by de greenhouse—dey was measurin' off de groun'—dey's + got de colonel's pistols—you kin see 'em from de winder!” + </p> + <p> + In an instant she had parted the heavy silk curtains and lifted the sash. + She would have thrown herself from it if Mrs. Cheston had not held her, + although it was but a few feet from the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Harry!” she shrieked—an agonizing shriek that reverberated through + the ballroom, bringing everybody and everything to a stand-still. The + dancers looked at each other in astonishment. What had happened? Who had + fainted? + </p> + <p> + The colonel now passed through the room. He had been looking after the + proper handling of the famous Madeira, and had just heard that Alec wanted + him, and was uncertain as to the cause of the disturbance. A woman's + scream had reached his ears, but he did not know it was Kate's or he would + have quickened his steps. + </p> + <p> + Again Kate's voice pierced the room: + </p> + <p> + “Harry! HARRY!”—this time in helpless agony. She had peered into the + darkness made denser by the light rain, and had caught a glimpse of a man + standing erect without his coat, the light of the torches bringing his + figure into high relief—whose she could not tell, the bushes were so + thick. + </p> + <p> + The colonel brushed everybody aside and pulled Kate, half fainting, into + the room. Then he faced Mrs. Cheston. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” he asked sharply. “What is going on outside?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I told you. Those fools are out there trying to murder each + other!” + </p> + <p> + Two shots in rapid succession rang clear on the night air. + </p> + <p> + The colonel stood perfectly still. No need to tell him now what had + happened, and worse yet, no need to tell him what WOULD happen if he + showed the slightest agitation. He was a cool man, accustomed to critical + situations, and one who never lost his head in an emergency. Only a few + years before he had stopped a runaway hunter, with a girl clinging to a + stirrup, by springing straight at the horse's head and bringing them both + to the ground unhurt. It only required the same instantaneous + concentration of all his forces, he said to himself, as he gazed into old + Alec's terror-stricken face framed by the open window. Once let the truth + be known and the house would be in a panic—women fainting, men + rushing out, taking sides with the combatants, with perhaps other duels to + follow—Mrs. Rutter frantic, the ball suddenly broken up, and this, + too, near midnight, with most of his guests ten miles and more from home. + </p> + <p> + Murmurs of alarm were already reaching his ears: What was it?—who + had fainted?—did the scream come from inside or outside the room?—what + was the firing about? + </p> + <p> + He turned to allay Kate's anxiety, but she had cleared the open window at + a bound and was already speeding toward where she had seen the light on + the man's shirt. For an instant he peered after her into the darkness, and + then, his mind made up, closed the sash with a quick movement, flung + together the silk curtains and raised his hand to command attention. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on with the dance, my friends; I'll go and find out what has + happened—but it's nothing that need worry anybody—only a + little burnt powder. Alec, go and tell Mr. Grant, the overseer, to keep + better order outside. In the meantime let everybody get ready for the + Virginia reel; supper will be served in a few minutes. Will you young + gentlemen please choose your partners, and will some one of you kindly ask + the music to start up?” + </p> + <p> + Slowly, and quite as if he had been called to the front door to welcome + some belated guest, he walked the length of the room preceded by Alec, + who, agonized at his master's measured delay, had forged ahead to open the + door. This closed and they out of sight, the two hurried down the path. + </p> + <p> + Willits lay flat on the ground, one arm stretched above his head. He had + measured his full length, the weight of his shoulder breaking some + flower-pots as he fell. Over his right eye gaped an ugly wound from which + oozed a stream of blood that stained his cheek and throat. Dr. Teackle, on + one knee, was searching the patient's heart, while Kate, her pretty frock + soiled with mud, her hair dishevelled, sat crouched in the dirt rubbing + his hands—sobbing bitterly—crying out whenever Harry, who was + kneeling beside her, tried to soothe her:—“No!—No!—My + heart's broken—don't speak to me—go away!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel, towering above them, looked the scene over, then he + confronted Harry, who had straightened to his feet on seeing his father. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty piece of work—and on a night like this! A damnable piece + of work, I should say, sir!... Has he killed him, Teackle?” + </p> + <p> + The young doctor shook his head ominously. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell yet—his heart is still beating.” + </p> + <p> + St. George now joined the group. He and Gilbert and the other seconds had, + in order to maintain secrecy, been rounding up the few negroes who had + seen the encounter, or who had been attracted to the spot by the firing. + </p> + <p> + “Harry had my full consent, Talbot—there was really nothing else to + do. Only an ounce of cold lead will do in some cases, and this was one of + them.” He was grave and deliberate in manner, but there was an infinite + sadness in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “He did—did he?” retorted the colonel bitterly. “YOUR full consent! + YOURS! and I in the next room!” Here he beckoned to one of the negroes + who, with staring eyeballs, stood gazing from one to the other. “Come + closer, Eph—not a whisper, remember, or I'll cut the hide off your + back in strips. Tell the others what I say—if a word of this gets + into the big house or around the cabins I'll know who to punish. Now two + or three of you go into the greenhouse, pick up one of those wide planks, + and lift this gentleman onto it so we can carry him. Take him into my + office, doctor, and lay him on my lounge. He'd better die there than here. + Come, Kate—do you go with me. Not a syllable of this, remember, + Kate, to Mrs. Rutter, or anybody else. As for you, sir”—and he + looked Harry squarely in the face—“you will hear from me later on.” + </p> + <p> + With the same calm determination, he entered the ballroom, walked to the + group forming the reel, and, with a set smile on this face indicating how + idle had been everybody's fears, said loud enough to be heard by every one + about him: + </p> + <p> + “Only one of the men, my dear young people, who has been hurt in the too + careless use of some firearms. As to dear Kate—she has been so upset—she + happened unfortunately to see the affair from the window—that she + has gone to her room and so you must excuse her for a little while. Now + everybody keep on with the dance.” + </p> + <p> + With his wife he was even more at ease. “The same old root of all evil, my + dear,” he said with a dry laugh—“too much peach brandy, and this + time down the wrong throats—and so in their joy they must celebrate + by firing off pistols and wasting my good ammunition,” an explanation + which completely satisfied the dear lady—peach brandy being capable + of producing any calamity, great or small. + </p> + <p> + But this would not do for Mrs. Cheston. She was a woman who could be + trusted and who never, on any occasion, lost her nerve. He saw from the + way she lifted her eyebrows in inquiry, instead of framing her question in + words, that she fully realized the gravity of the situation. The colonel + looked at her significantly, made excuse to step in front of her, his back + to the room, and with his forefinger tapping his forehead, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Willits.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady paled, but she did not change her expression. + </p> + <p> + “And Harry?” she murmured in return. + </p> + <p> + The colonel kept his eyes upon her, but he made no answer. A hard, cold + look settled on his face—one she knew—one his negroes feared + when he grew angry. + </p> + <p> + Again she repeated Harry's name, this time in alarm: + </p> + <p> + “Quick!—tell me—not killed?” + </p> + <p> + “No—I wish to God he were!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The wounded man lay on a lounge in the office room, which was dimly + lighted by the dying glow of the outside torches and an oil lamp hurriedly + brought in. No one was present except St. George, Harry, the doctor, and a + negro woman who had brought in some pillows and hot water. All that could + be done for him had been done; he was unconscious and his life hung by a + thread. Harry, now that the mysterious thing called his “honor” had been + satisfied, was helping Teackle wash the wound prior to an attempt to probe + for the ball. + </p> + <p> + The boy was crying quietly—the tears streaming unbidden down his + cheeks—it was his first experience at this sort of thing. He had + been brought up to know that some day it might come and that he must then + face it, but he had never before realized the horror of what might follow. + And yet he had not reached the stage of regret; he was sorry for the + wounded man and for his suffering, but he was not sorry for his own share + in causing it. He had only done his duty, and but for a stroke of good + luck he and Willits might have exchanged places. Uncle George had + expressed his feelings exactly when he said that only a bit of cold lead + could settle some insults, and what insult could have been greater than + the one for which he had shot Willits? What was a gentleman to do? Go + around meeting his antagonist every day?—the two ignoring each + other? Or was he to turn stable boy, and pound him with his fists?—or, + more ridiculous still, have him bound over to keep the peace, or bring an + action for—Bah!—for what?—Yes—for what? Willits + hadn't struck him, or wounded him, or robbed him. It had been his life or + Willits's. No—there was no other way—couldn't be any other + way. Willits knew it when he tore up Kate's card—knew what would + follow. There was no deception—nothing underhand. And he had got + precisely what he deserved, sorry as he felt for his sufferings. + </p> + <p> + Then Kate's face rose before him—haunted him. Why hadn't she seen it + this way? Why had she refused to look at him—refused to answer him—driven + him away from her side, in fact?—he who had risked his life to save + her from insult! Why wouldn't she allow him to even touch her hand? Why + did she treat Willits—drunken vulgarian as he was—differently + from the way she had treated him? She had broken off her engagement with + him because he was drunk at Mrs. Cheston's ball, where nobody had been + hurt but himself, and here she was sympathizing with another drunken man + who had not only outraged all sense of decency toward her, but had + jeopardized the life of her affianced husband who defended her against his + insults; none of which would have happened had the man been sober. All + this staggered him. + </p> + <p> + More astounding still was her indifference. She had not even asked if he + had escaped unhurt, but had concentrated all her interest upon the man who + had insulted her. As to his own father's wrath—that he had expected. + It was his way to break out, and this he knew would continue until he + realized the enormity of the insult to Kate and heard how he and St. + George had tried to ward off the catastrophe. Then he would not only + change his opinion, but would commend him for his courage. + </p> + <p> + Outside the sick-room such guests as could be trusted were gathered + together in the colonel's den, where they talked in whispers. All agreed + that the ladies and the older men must be sent home as soon as possible, + and in complete ignorance of what had occurred. If Willits lived—of + which there was little hope—his home would be at the colonel's until + he fully recovered, the colonel having declared that neither expense nor + care would be spared to hasten his recovery. If he died, the body would be + sent to his father's house later on. + </p> + <p> + With this object in view the dance was adroitly shortened, the supper + hurried through, and within an hour after midnight the last carriage and + carryall of those kept in ignorance of the duel had departed, the only + change in the programme being the non-opening of the rare old bottle of + Madeira and the announcement of Harry's and Kate's engagement—an + omission which provoked little comment, as it had been known to but few. + </p> + <p> + Kate remained. She had tottered upstairs holding on to the hand-rail and + had thrown herself on a bed in the room leading out of the dressing-room, + where she lay in her mud-stained dress, the silken petticoat torn and + bedraggled in her leap from the window. She was weeping bitterly, her old + black mammy sitting beside her trying to comfort her as best she could. + </p> + <p> + With the departure of the last guest—Mr. Seymour among them; the + colonel doing the honors; standing bare-headed on the porch, his face all + smiles as he bade them good-by—the head of the house of Rutter + turned quickly on his heel, passed down the corridor, made his way along + the long narrow hall, and entered his office, where the wounded man lay. + Harry, the negro woman, and Dr. Teackle alone were with him. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any change?” he asked in a perfectly even voice. Every vestige + of the set smile of the host had left his face. Harry he did not even + notice. + </p> + <p> + “Not much—he is still alive,” replied the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Have you found the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “No—I have not looked for it—I will presently.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel moved out a chair and sat down beside the dying man, his eyes + fixed on the lifeless face. Some wave of feeling must have swept through + him, for after a half-stifled sigh, he said in a low voice, as if to + himself: + </p> + <p> + “This will be a fine story to tell his father, won't it?—and here + too—under my roof. My God!—was there ever anything more + disgraceful!” He paused for a moment, his eyes still on the sufferer, and + then went on—this time to the doctor—“His living so long gives + me some hope—am I right, Teackle?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded, but he made no audible reply. He had bent closer to the + man's chest and was at the moment listening intently to the labored + breathing, which seemed to have increased. + </p> + <p> + Harry edged nearer to the patient, his eyes seeking for some move of life. + All his anger had faded. Willits, his face ablaze with drink and rage, his + eyes flashing, his strident voice ringing out—even Kate's shocked, + dazed face, no longer filled his mind. It was the suffering man—trembling + on the verge of eternity, shot to death by his own ball—that + appealed to him. And then the suddenness of it all—less than an hour + had passed since this tall, robust young fellow stood before him on the + stairs, hanging upon every word that fell from Kate's lips—and here + he lay weltering in his own blood. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his father's hopeful word to the doctor sounded in his ears. + Suppose, after all, Willits SHOULD get well! Then Kate would understand + and forgive him! As this thought developed in his mind his spirits rose. + He scanned the sufferer the more intently, straining his neck, persuading + himself that a slight twitching had crossed the dying man's face. Almost + instantaneously the doctor rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Harry!—hand me that brandy! It's just as I hoped—the + ball has ploughed outside the skull—the brain is untouched. It was + the shock that stunned him. Leave the room everybody—you too, + colonel—he'll come to in a minute and must not be excited.” + </p> + <p> + Harry sprang from his chair, a great surge of thankfulness rising in his + heart, caught up the decanter, filled a glass and pressed it to the + sufferer's lips. The colonel sat silent and unmoved. He had seen too many + wounded men revive and then die to be unduly excited. That Willets still + breathed was the only feature of his case that gave him any hope. + </p> + <p> + Harry shot an inquiring glance at his father, and receiving only a cold + stare in return, hurried from the room, his steps growing lighter as he + ran. Kate must hear the good news and with the least possible delay. He + would not send a message—he would go himself; then he could explain + and relieve her mind. She would listen to his pleading. It was natural she + should have been shocked. He himself had been moved to sympathy by the + sufferer's condition—how much more dreadful, then, must have been + the sight of the wounded man lying there among the flower-pots to a woman + nurtured so carefully and one so sensitive in spirit! But it was all over—Willits + would live—there would be a reconciliation—everything would be + forgiven and everything forgotten. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts crowded close in his mind as he rushed up the stairs + two steps at a time to where his sweetheart lay moaning out her heart. He + tapped lightly and her old black mammy opened the door on a crack. + </p> + <p> + “It's Marse Harry, mistis,” she called back over her shoulder—“shall + I let him come in?” + </p> + <p> + “No!—no!—I don't want to see him; I don't want to see anybody—my + heart is broken!” came the reply in half-stifled sobs. + </p> + <p> + Harry, held at bay, rested his forehead against the edge of the door so + his voice could reach her the better. + </p> + <p> + “But Willits isn't going to die, Kate dear. I have just left him; it's + only a scalp wound. Dr. Teackle says he's all right. The shock stunned him + into unconsciousness.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't care what Dr. Teackle says! It's you, Harry!—You! You + never once thought of me—Oh, why did you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I did think of you, Kate! I never thought of anything else—I am not + thinking of anything else now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to think you tried to murder him! You, Harry—whom I loved so!” + she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “It was for you, Kate! You heard what he said—you saw it all. It was + for you—for nobody else—for you, my darling! Let me come in—let + me hold you close to me and tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “No!—NO—NO! My heart is broken! Come to me, mammy!” + </p> + <p> + The door shut gently and left him on the outside, dazed at the outcry, his + heart throbbing with tenderness and an intense, almost ungovernable + impulse to force his way into the room, take her in his arms, and comfort + her. + </p> + <p> + The closed door brought him to his senses. To-morrow, after all, would be + better, he confessed to himself humbly. Nothing more could be done + to-night. Yes—to-morrow he would tell her all. He turned to descend + the stairs and ran almost into Alec's arms. The old man was trembling with + excitement and seemed hardly able to control himself. He had come in + search of him, and had waited patiently at Kate's door for the outcome of + the interview, every word of which he had overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Talbot done sont me fer ye, Marse Harry,” he said in a low voice; + “he wants ye in his li'l' room. Don't ye take no notice what de young + mistis says; she ain't griebin' fer dat man. Dat Willits blood ain't no + 'count, nohow; dey's po' white trash, dey is—eve'ybody knows dat. + Let Miss Kate cry herse'f out; dat's de on'y help now. Mammy Henny'll look + arter her till de mawnin'”—to none of which did Harry make answer. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the bottom step leading to the long hall the old man + stopped and laid his hand on his young master's shoulder. His voice was + barely audible and two tears stood in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you take no notice ob what happens to-night, son,” he whispered. + “'Member ye kin count on ol' Alec. Ain't neber gwineter be nothin' come + 'twixt me an' you, son. I ain't neber gwineter git tired lovin' ye—you + won't fergit dat, will ye?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Alec, but Mr. Willits will recover. Dr. Teackle has just said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dat ain't it, son—it's you, Marse Harry. Don't let 'em down ye—stand + up an' fight 'em back.” + </p> + <p> + Harry patted the old servant tenderly on the arm to calm his fears. His + words had made but little impression on him. If he had heard them at all + he certainly did not grasp their import. What he was wanted for he could + not surmise—nor did he much care. Now that Kate had refused to see + him he almost wished that Willits's bullet had found its target. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you say my father was, Alec?” he asked in a listless voice. + </p> + <p> + “In his li'l' room, son; dey's all in dar, Marse George Temple, Mister + Gilbert—dem two gemmans who stood up wid Mister Willits—dey's + all dar. Don't mind what dey say, honey—jes' you fall back on ol' + Alec. I dassent go in; maybe I'll be yere in de pantry so ye kin git hold + o' me. I'se mos' crazy, Marse Harry—let me git hold oh yo' hand once + mo', son. Oh, my Gawd!—dey sha'n't do nothin' to ye!” + </p> + <p> + The boy took the old man's hand in his, patted it gently and resumed his + walk. The least said the better when Alec felt like this. It was Kate's + voice that pierced his ears—Kate's sobs that wrenched his heart: + “You never thought of me!” Nothing else counted. + </p> + <p> + Harry turned the handle of the door and stepped boldly in, his head erect, + his eyes searching the room. It was filled with gentlemen, some sitting, + some standing; not only those who had taken part in the duel, but three or + four others who were in possession of the secret that lay heavy on + everybody's mind. + </p> + <p> + He looked about him: most of the candles had burned low in the socket; + some had gone out. The few that still flickered cast a dim, ghostly light. + The remains of the night's revel lay on the larger table and the serving + tables:—a half empty silver dish of terrapin, caked over with cold + grease; portion of a ham with the bone showing; empty and partly filled + glasses and china cups from which the toddies and eggnog had been drunk. + The smell of rum and lemons intermingled with the smoke of snuffed-out + candle wicks greeted his nostrils—a smell he remembered for years + and always with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + There had evidently been a heated discussion, for his father was walking + up and down the room, his face flushed, his black eyes blazing with + suppressed anger, his plum-colored coat unbuttoned as if to give him more + breathing space, his silk scarf slightly awry. St. George Temple must have + been the cause of his wrath, for the latter's voice was reverberating + through the room as Harry stepped in. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Talbot, you shall not—you DARE not!” St. George was + exclaiming, his voice rising in the intensity of his indignation. His face + was set, his eyes blazing; all his muscles taut. He stood like an avenging + knight guarding some pathway. Harry looked on in amazement—he had + never seen his uncle like this before. + </p> + <p> + The colonel wheeled about suddenly and raised his clenched hand. He seemed + to be nervously unstrung and for a moment to have lost his self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, St. George!” he thundered. “Stop instantly! Not another word, do + you hear me? Don't strain a friendship that has lasted from boyhood or I + may forget myself as you have done. No man can tell me what I shall or + shall not do when my honor is at stake. Never before has a Rutter + disgraced himself and his blood. I am done with him, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “But the man will get well!” hissed St. George, striding forward and + confronting him. “Teackle has just said so—you heard him; we all + heard him!” + </p> + <p> + “That makes no difference; that does not relieve my son.” + </p> + <p> + Rutter had now become aware of Harry's presence. So had the others, who + turned their heads in the boy's direction, but no one spoke. They had not + the lifelong friendship that made St. George immune, and few of them would + have dared to disagree with Talbot Rutter in anything. + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir”—here the colonel made a step towards where Harry + stood, the words falling as drops of water fall on a bared head—“I + have sent for you to tell you just what I have told these gentlemen. I + have informed them openly because I do not wish either my sense of honor + or my motives to be misunderstood. Your performances to-night have been so + dastardly and so ill-bred as to make it impossible for me ever to live + under the same roof with you again.” Harry started and his lips parted as + if to speak, but he made no sound. “You have disgraced your blood and + violated every law of hospitality. Mr. Willits should have been as safe + here as you would have been under his father's roof. If he misbehaved + himself you could have ordered his carriage and settled the affair next + day, as any gentleman of your standing would have done. I have sent for a + conveyance to take you wherever you may wish to go.” Then, turning to St. + George, “I must ask you, Temple, to fill my place and see that these + gentlemen get their proper carriages, as I must join Mrs. Rutter, who has + sent for me. Good-night,” and he strode from the room. + </p> + <p> + Harry stared blankly into the faces of the men about him: first at St. + George and then at the others—one after another—as if trying + to read what was passing in their minds. No one spoke or moved. His + father's intentions had evidently been discussed before the boy's arrival + and the final denunciation had, therefore, been received with less of the + deadening effect than it had produced on himself. Nor was it a surprise to + old Alec, who despite his fears had followed Harry noiselessly into the + room, and who had also overheard the colonel's previous outbreak as to his + intended disposition of his young master. + </p> + <p> + St. George, who during the outburst had stood leaning against the mantel, + his eyes riveted on Harry, broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “That, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, straightening to his feet, one hand held + high above his head, “is the most idiotic and unjust utterance that ever + fell from Talbot Rutter's lips! and one he will regret to his dying day. + This boy you all know—most of you have known him from childhood, and + you know him, as I do, to be the embodiment of all that is brave and + truthful. He is just of age—without knowledge of the world, his + engagement to Kate Seymour, as some of you are aware, was to be made known + to-night. Willits was drunk or he would not have acted as he did. I saw it + coming and tried to stop him. That he was drunk was Rutter's own fault, + with his damned notions of drowning everybody in drink every minute of the + day and night. I saw the whole affair and heard the insult, and it was + wholly unprovoked. Harry did just what was right, and if he hadn't I'd + either have made Willits apologize or I would have shot him myself the + moment the affair could have been arranged, no matter where we were. I + know perfectly well”—here he swept his eyes around—“that there + is not a man in this room who does not feel as I do about Rutter's + treatment of this boy, and so I shall not comment further upon it.” He + dropped his clenched hand and turned to Harry, his voice still clear and + distinct but with a note of tenderness through it. “And now, that + pronunciamentos are in order, my boy, here is one which has less of the + Bombastes Furioso in it than the one you have just listened to—but + it's a damned sight more humane and a damned sight more fatherly, and it + is this:—hereafter you belong to me—you are my son, my + comrade, and, if I ever have a dollar to give to any one, my heir. And now + one thing more, and I don't want any one of you gentlemen within sound of + my voice ever to forget it: When hereafter any one of you reckon with + Harry you will please remember that you reckon with me.” + </p> + <p> + He turned suddenly. “Excuse me one moment, gentlemen, and I will then see + that you get your several carriages. Alec!—where's Alec?” + </p> + <p> + The old darky stepped out of the shadow. “I'm yere, sah.” + </p> + <p> + “Alec, go and tell Matthew to bring my gig to the front porch—and be + sure you see that your young master's heavy driving-coat is put inside. + Mr. Harry spends the night with me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The secrecy enjoined upon everybody conversant with the happenings at + Moorlands did not last many hours. At the club, across dinner tables, at + tea, on the street, and in the libraries of Kennedy Square, each detail + was gone over, each motive discussed. None of the facts were exaggerated, + nor was the gravity of the situation lightly dismissed. Duels were not so + common as to blunt the sensibilities. On the contrary, they had begun to + be generally deplored and condemned, a fact largely due to the bitterness + resulting from a famous encounter which had taken place a year or so + before between young Mr. Cocheran, the son of a rich landowner, and Mr. + May—the circumstances being somewhat similar, the misunderstanding + having arisen at a ball in Washington over a reigning belle, during which + Mr. May had thrown his card in Cocheran's face. In this instance all the + requirements of the code were complied with. The duel was fought in an + open space behind Nelson's Hotel, near the Capitol, Mr. Cocheran arriving + at half-past five in the morning in a magnificent coach drawn by four + white horses, his antagonist reaching the grounds in an ordinary + conveyance, the seconds and the two surgeons on horseback. Both fired + simultaneously, with the result that May escaped unhurt, while Cocheran + was shot through the head and instantly killed. + </p> + <p> + Public opinion, indeed, around Kennedy Square, was, if the truth be told, + undergoing many and serious changes. For not only the duel but some other + of the traditional customs dear to the old regime were falling into + disrepute—especially the open sideboards, synonymous with the lavish + hospitality of the best houses. While most of the older heads, brought up + on the finer and rarer wines, knew to a glass the limit of their + endurance, the younger bloods were constantly losing control of + themselves, a fact which was causing the greatest anxiety among the + mothers of Kennedy Square. + </p> + <p> + This growing antipathy had been hastened and solidified by another tragedy + quite as widely discussed as the Cocheran and May duel—more so, in + fact, since this particular victim of too many toddies had been the heir + of one of the oldest residents about Kennedy Square—a brilliant + young surgeon, self-exiled because of his habits, who had been thrown from + his horse on the Indian frontier—an Iowa town, really—shattering + his leg and making its amputation necessary. There being but one other man + in the rough camp who had ever seen a knife used—and he but a + student—the wounded surgeon had directed the amputation himself, + even to the tying of the arteries and the bandages and splints. Only then + did he collapse. The hero—and he was a hero to every one who knew of + his coolness and pluck, in spite of his recognized weakness—had + returned to his father's house on Kennedy Square on crutches, there to + consult some specialists, the leg still troubling him. As the cripple's + bedroom was at the top of the first flight of stairs, the steps of which—it + being summer—were covered with China matting, he was obliged to drag + himself up its incline whenever he was in want of something he must fetch + himself. One of these necessities was a certain squat bottle like those + which had graced the old sideboards. Half a dozen times a day would he + adjust his crutches, their steel points preventing his slipping, and mount + the stairs to his room, one step at a time. + </p> + <p> + Some months after, when the matting was taken up, the mother took her + youngest boy—he was then fifteen—to the steps: + </p> + <p> + “Do you see the dents of your brother's crutches?—count them. Every + one was a nail in his coffin.” They were—for the invalid died that + winter. + </p> + <p> + These marked changes in public opinion, imperceptible as they had been at + first, were gradually paving the way, it may be said, for the dawn of that + new order of things which only the wiser and more farsighted men—men + like Richard Horn—were able to discern. While many of the old regime + were willing to admit that the patriarchal life, with the negro as the + worker and the master as the spender, had seen its best days, but few of + them, at the period of these chronicles, realized that the genius of + Morse, Hoe, and McCormick, and a dozen others, whose inventions were just + beginning to be criticised, and often condemned, were really the chief + factors in the making of a new and greater democracy: that the cog, the + drill, the grate-bar, and the flying shuttle would ere long supplant the + hoe and the scythe; and that when the full flood of this new era was + reached their old-time standards of family pride, reckless hospitality, + and even their old-fashioned courtesy would well-nigh be swept into space. + The storm raised over this and the preceding duel had they but known it, + was but a notch in the tide-gauge of this flood. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, St. George, that you could have stopped that disgraceful + affair the other night if you had raised your hand,” Judge Pancoast had + blurted out in an angry tone at the club the week following. “I did raise + it, judge,” replied St. George, calmly drawing off his gloves. + </p> + <p> + “They don't say so—they say you stood by and encouraged it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” he answered in his dryest voice. “When I raised my hand it + was to drop my handkerchief. They fired as it fell.” + </p> + <p> + “And a barbarous and altogether foolish piece of business, Temple. There + is no justification for that sort of thing, and if Rutter wasn't a feudal + king up in his own county there would be trouble over it. It's God's mercy + the poor fellow wasn't killed. Fine beginning, isn't it, for a happy + married life?” + </p> + <p> + “Better not have any wife at all, judge, than wed a woman whose good name + you are afraid to defend with your life. There are some of us who can + stand anything but that, and Harry is built along the same lines. A fine, + noble, young fellow—did just right and has my entire confidence and + my love. Think it over, judge,” and he strolled into the card-room, picked + up the morning paper, and buried his face in its columns, his teeth set, + his face aflame with suppressed disgust at the kind of blood running in + the judge's veins. + </p> + <p> + The colonel's treatment of his son also came in for heated discussion. + Mrs. Cheston was particularly outspoken. Such quixotic action on the + ground of safeguarding the rights of a young drunkard like Willits, who + didn't know when he had had enough, might very well do for a + self-appointed autocrat like Rutter, she maintained, but some equally + respectable people would have him know that they disagreed with him. + </p> + <p> + “Just like Talbot Rutter,” she exclaimed in her outspoken, decided way—“no + sense of proportion. High-tempered, obstinate as a mule, and a hundred + years—yes, five hundred years behind his time. And he—could + have stopped it all too if he had listened to me. Did you ever hear + anything so stupid as his turning Harry—the sweetest boy who ever + lived—out of doors, and in a pouring rain, for doing what he would + have done himself! Oh, this is too ridiculous—too farcical. Why, you + can't conceive of the absurdity of it all—nobody can! Gilbert was + there and told me every word of it. You would have thought he was a grand + duke or a pasha punishing a slave—and the funniest thing about it is + that he believes he is a pasha. Oh—I have no patience with such + contemptible family pride, and that's what is at the bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the back county aristocrats, on the other hand—men who lived + by themselves, who took their cue from Alexander Hamilton, Lee, and Webb, + and believed in the code as the only means of arbitrating a difficulty of + any kind between gentlemen—stoutly defended the Lord of Moorlands. + </p> + <p> + “Rutter did perfectly right to chuck the young whelp out of doors. + Outrageous, sir—never is done—nothing less than murder. Ought + to be prosecuted for challenging a man under his own roof—and at + night too. No toss-up for position, no seconds except a parcel of boys. + Vulgar, sir—infernally vulgar, sir. I haven't the honor of Colonel + Rutter's acquaintance—but if I had I'd tell him so—served the + brat right—damn him!” + </p> + <p> + Richard Horn was equally emphatic, but in a far different way. Indeed he + could hardly restrain himself when discussing it. + </p> + <p> + “I can think of nothing my young boy Oliver would or could do when he + grows up,” he exclaimed fiercely—his eyes flashing, “which would + shut him out of his home and his dear mother's care. The duel is a relic + of barbarism and should be no longer tolerated; it is mob law, really, and + indefensible, with two persons defying the statutes instead of a thousand. + But Rutter is the last man in the world to take the stand he has, and I + sincerely regret his action. There are many bitter days ahead of him.” + </p> + <p> + Nor were the present conditions, aspirations, and future welfare of the + two combatants, and of the lovely girl over whom they had quarrelled, + neglected by the gossipers. No day passed without an extended discussion + of their affairs. Bearers of fresh news were eagerly welcomed both to + toddy and tea tables. + </p> + <p> + Old Morris Murdoch, who knew Willits's father intimately, being a strong + Clay man himself, arrived at one of these functions with the astounding + information that Willits had called on Miss Seymour, wearing his hat in + her presence to conceal his much-beplastered head. That he had then and + there not only made her a most humble apology for his ill-tempered + outbreak, which he explained was due entirely to a combination of + egg-and-brandy, with a dash of apple-toddy thrown in, but had declared + upon his honor as a gentleman that he would never again touch the flowing + bowl. Whereupon—(and this excited still greater astonishment)—the + delighted young lady had not only expressed her sympathy for his + misfortunes, but had blamed herself for what had occurred! + </p> + <p> + Tom Tilghman, a famous cross-country rider, who had ridden in post haste + from his country seat near Moorlands to tell the tale—as could be + seen from his boots, which were still covered with mud—boldly + asserted of his own knowledge that the wounded man, instead of seeking his + native shore, as was generally believed, would betake himself to the Red + Sulphur Springs (where Kate always spent the summer)—accompanied by + three saddle horses, two servants, some extra bandages, and his devoted + sister, there to regain what was left of his health and strength. At which + Judge Pancoast had retorted—and with some heat—that Willits + might take a dozen saddle horses and an equal number of sisters, and a + bale of bandages if he were so minded, to the Springs, or any other place, + but he would save time and money if he stayed at home and looked after his + addled head, as no woman of Miss Seymour's blood and breeding could + possibly marry a man whose family escutcheon needed polishing as badly as + did his manners. That the fact—the plain, bold fact—and here + the judge's voice rose to a high pitch—was that Willits was boiling + drunk until Harry's challenge sobered him, and that Kate hated drunkenness + as much as did Harry's mother and the other women who had started out to + revolutionize society. + </p> + <p> + What that young lady herself thought of it all not even the best-posted + gossip in the club dared to venture an opinion. Moreover, such was the + respect and reverence in which she was held, and so great was the sympathy + felt for her situation, that she was seldom referred to in connection with + Harry or the affair except with a sigh, followed by a “Too bad, isn't it?—enough + to break your heart,” and such like expressions. + </p> + <p> + What the Honorable Prim thought of it all was apparent the next day at the + club when he sputtered out with: + </p> + <p> + “Here's a nice mess for a man of my position to find himself in! Do you + know that I am now pointed out as the prospective father-in-law of a young + jackanapes who goes about with a glass of grog in one hand and a pistol in + the other. I am not accustomed to having my name bandied about and I won't + have it—I live a life of great simplicity, minding my own business, + and I want everybody else to mind theirs. The whole affair is most + contemptible and ridiculous and smacks of the tin-armor age. Willits + should have been led quietly out of the room and put to bed and young + Rutter should have been reprimanded publicly by his father. Disgraceful on + a night like that when my daughter's name was on everybody's lips.” + </p> + <p> + After which outburst he had shut himself up in his house, where, so he + told one of his intimates, he intended to remain until he left for the Red + Sulphur Springs, which he would do several weeks earlier than was his + custom—a piece of news which not only confirmed Tom Tilghman's + gossip, but lifted several eyebrows in astonishment and set one or two + loose tongues to wagging. + </p> + <p> + Out at Moorlands, the point of view varied as the aftermath of the tragedy + developed, the colonel alone pursuing his daily life without comment, + although deep down in his heart a very maelstrom was boiling and seething. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rutter, as fate would have it, on hearing that Kate was too ill to go + back to town, had gone the next morning to her bedside, where she learned + for the first time not only of the duel—which greatly shocked her, + leaving her at first perfectly limp and helpless—but of Harry's + expulsion from his father's house—(Alec owned the private wire)—a + piece of news which at first terrified and then keyed her up as tight as + an overstrung violin. Like many another Southern woman, she might shrink + from a cut on a child's finger and only regain her mental poise by a + liberal application of smelling salts, but once touch that boy of hers—the + child she had nourished and lived for—and all the rage of the + she-wolf fighting for her cub was aroused. What took place behind the + closed doors of her bedroom when she faced the colonel and flamed out, no + one but themselves knew. That the colonel was dumfounded—never + having seen her in any such state of mind—goes without saying. That + he was proud of her and liked her the better for it, is also true—nothing + delighted him so much as courage;—but nothing of all this, + impressive as it was, either weakened or altered his resolve. + </p> + <p> + Nor did he change front to his friends and acquaintances: his honorable + name, he maintained, had been trailed in the mud; his boasted hospitality + betrayed; his house turned into a common shamble. That his own son was the + culprit made the pain and mortification the greater, but it did not lessen + his responsibility to his blood. Had not Foscari, to save his honor, in + the days of the great republic, condemned his own son Jacopo to exile and + death? Had not Virginius slain his daughter? Should he not protect his own + honor as well? Furthermore, was not the young man's father a gentleman of + standing—a prominent man in the State—a friend not only of his + own friend, Henry Clay, but of the governor as well? He, of course, would + not have Harry marry into the family had there been a marriageable + daughter, but that was no reason why Mr. Willits's only son should not be + treated with every consideration. He, Talbot Rutter, was alone responsible + for the honor of his house. When your right hand offends you cut it off. + His right hand HAD offended him, and he HAD cut it off. Away, then, with + the spinning of fine phrases! + </p> + <p> + And so he let the hornets buzz—and they did swarm and buzz and + sting. As long as his wrath lasted he was proof against their assaults—in + fact their attacks only confirmed him in his position. It was when all + this ceased, for few continued to remonstrate with him after they had + heard his final: “I decline to discuss it with you, madame,” or the more + significant: “How dare you, sir, refer to my private affairs without my + permission?”—it was, I say, when all this ceased, and when neither + his wife, who after her first savage outbreak had purposely held her + peace, nor any of the servants—not even old Alec, who went about + with streaming eyes and a great lump in his throat—dared renew their + entreaties for Marse Harry's return, that he began to reflect on his + course. + </p> + <p> + Soon the great silences overawed him—periods of loneliness when he + sat confronting his soul, his conscience on the bench as judge; his + affections a special attorney:—silences of the night, in which he + would listen for the strong, quick, manly footstep and the closing of the + door in the corridor beyond:—silences of the dawn, when no clatter + of hoofs followed by a cheery call rang out for some one to take Spitfire:—silences + of the breakfast table, when he drank his coffee alone, Alec tip-toeing + about like a lost spirit. Sometimes his heart would triumph and he begin + to think out ways and means by which the past could be effaced. Then again + the flag of his pride would be raised aloft so that he and all the people + could see, and the old hard look would once more settle in his face, the + lips straighten and the thin fingers tighten. No—NO! No assassins + for him—no vulgar brawlers—and it was at best a vulgar brawl—and + this too within the confines of Moorlands, where, for five generations, + only gentlemen had been bred! + </p> + <p> + And yet, product as he was of a regime that worshipped no ideals but its + own; hide-bound by the traditions of his ancestry; holding in secret + disdain men and women who could not boast of equal wealth and lineage; + dictatorial, uncontradictable; stickler for obsolete forms and ceremonies—there + still lay deep under the crust of his pride the heart of a father, and, by + his standards, the soul of a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + What this renegade son of his thought of it all; this disturber of his + father's sleeping and waking hours, was far easier to discover. Dazed as + Harry had been at the parental verdict and heart-broken as he still was + over the dire results, he could not, though he tried, see what else he + could have done. His father, he argued to himself, had shot and killed a + man when he was but little older than himself, and for an offence much + less grave than Willits's insult to Kate: he had frequently boasted of it, + showing him the big brass button that had deflected the bullet and saved + his life. So had his Uncle George, five years before—not a dead man + that time, but a lame one—who was still limping around the club and + very good friends the two, so far as he knew. Why then blame HIM? As for + the law of hospitality being violated, that was but one of the + idiosyncrasies of his father, who was daft on hospitality. How could + Willits be his guest when he was his enemy? St. George had begged the + wounded man to apologize; if he had done so he would have extended his + hand and taken him to Kate, who, upon a second apology, would have + extended her hand, and the incident would have been closed. It was + Willits's stubbornness and bad breeding, then, that had caused the + catastrophe—not his own bullet. + </p> + <p> + Besides no real harm had been done—that is, nothing very serious. + Willits had gained strength rapidly—so much so that he had sat up + the third day. Moreover, he had the next morning been carried to one of + the downstairs bedrooms, where, he understood, Kate had sent her black + mammy for news of him, and where, later on, he had been visited by both + Mrs. Rutter and Kate—a most extraordinary condescension on the young + girl's part, and one for which Willits should be profoundly grateful all + the days of his life. + </p> + <p> + Nor had Willits's people made any complaint; nor, so far as he could + ascertain, had any one connected with either the town or county government + started an investigation. It was outside the precincts of Kennedy Square, + and, therefore, the town prosecuting attorney (who had heard every detail + at the Chesapeake from St. George) had not been called upon to act, and it + was well known that no minion of the law in and about Moorlands would ever + dare face the Lord of the Manor in any official capacity. + </p> + <p> + Why, then, had he been so severely punished? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + While all this talk filled the air it is worthy of comment that after his + denunciation of Pancoast's views at the club, St. George never again + discussed the duel and its outcome. His mind was filled with more + important things:—one in particular—a burning desire to bring + the lovers together, no matter at what cost nor how great the barriers. He + had not, despite his silence, altered a hair-line of the opinion he had + held on the night he ordered the gig, fastened Harry's heavy coat around + the young man's shoulders, and started back with him through the rain to + his house on Kennedy Square; nor did he intend to. This, summed up, meant + that the colonel was a tyrant, Willits a vulgarian, and Harry a hot-headed + young knight, who, having been forced into a position where he could + neither breathe nor move, had gallantly fought his way out. + </p> + <p> + The one problem that gave him serious trouble was the selection of the + precise moment when he should make a strategic move on Kate's heart; + lesser problems were his manner of approaching her and the excuses he + would offer for Harry's behavior. These not only kept him awake at night, + but pursued him like an avenging spirit when he sought the quiet paths of + the old square, the dogs at his heels. The greatest of all barriers, he + felt assured, would be Kate herself. He had seen enough of her in that + last interview, when his tender pleading had restored the harmonies + between herself and Harry, to know that she was no longer the child whose + sweetness he loved, or the girl whose beauty he was proud of—but the + woman whose judgment he must satisfy. Nor could he see that any immediate + change in her mental attitude was likely to occur. Some time had now + passed since Harry's arrival at his house, and every day the boy had + begged for admission at Kate's door, only to be denied by Ben, the old + butler. His mother, who had visited her exiled son almost daily, had then + called on her, bearing two important pieces of news—one being that + after hours of pleading Harry had consented to return to Moorlands and beg + his father's pardon, provided that irate gentleman should send for him, + and the other the recounting of a message of condolence and sympathy which + Willits had sent Harry from his sick-bed, in which he admitted that he had + been greatly to blame. (An admission which fairly bubbled out of him when + he learned that Harry had assisted Teackle in dressing his wound.) + </p> + <p> + And yet with all this pressure the young girl had held her own. To every + one outside the Rutter clan she had insisted that she was sorry for Harry, + but that she could never marry a man whose temper she could not trust. She + never put this into words in answering the well-meant inquiries of such + girl friends as Nellie Murdoch, Sue Dorsey, and the others; then her eyes + would only fill with tears as she begged them not to question her further. + Nor had she said as much to her father, who on one occasion had asked her + the plump question—“Do you still intend to marry that hot-head?”—to + which she had returned the equally positive answer—“No, I never + shall!” She reserved her full meaning for St. George when he should again + entreat her—as she knew he would at the first opportunity—to + forget the past and begin the old life once more. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the second week St. George had made up his mind as to his + course; and at the end of the third the old diplomat, who had dared defeat + before, boldly mounted the Seymour steps. He would appeal to Harry's love + for her, and all would be well. He had done so before, picturing the + misery the boy was suffering, and he would try it again. If he could only + reach her heart through the armor of her reserve she would yield. + </p> + <p> + She answered his cheery call up the stairway in person, greeting him + silently, but with arms extended, leading him to a seat beside her, where + she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Harry has tried to see you every day, Kate,” he began, patting her + shoulders lovingly in the effort to calm her. “I found him under your + window the other night; he walks the streets by the hour, then he comes + home exhausted, throws himself on his bed, and lies awake till daylight.” + </p> + <p> + The girl raised her head and looked at him for a moment. She knew what he + had come for—she knew, too, how sorry he felt for her—for + Harry—for everybody who had suffered because of this horror. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle George,” she answered, choking back her tears, speaking slowly, + weighing each word—“you've known me from a little girl—ever + since my dear mother died. You have been a big brother to me many, many + times and I love you for it. If I were determined to do anything that + would hurt me, and you found it out in time, you would come and tell me + so, wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + St. George nodded his head in answer, but he did not interrupt. Her heart + was being slowly unrolled before him, and he would wait until it was all + bare. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she continued, “the case is reversed, and you want me to do + something which I know will hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you love him, Kate?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that is the worst part of it all,” she answered with a stifled + sob—“yes, I love him.” She lifted herself higher on the cushions and + put her beautiful arms above her head, her eyes looking into space as if + she was trying to solve the problem of what her present resolve would mean + to both herself and Harry. + </p> + <p> + St. George began again: “And you remember how—” + </p> + <p> + She turned impatiently and dropped one hand until it rested on his own. He + thought he had never seen her look so lovely and never so unhappy. Then + she said in pleading tones—her eyes blinded by half-restrained + tears: + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me to REMEMBER, dear Uncle George—help me to forget! You + can do no kinder thing for both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But think of your whole future happiness, Kate—think how important + it is to you—to Harry—to everybody—that you should not + shut him out of your life.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought! God knows I have thought until sometimes I think I shall + go mad. He first breaks his promise about drinking and I forgive him; then + he yields to a sudden impulse and behaves like a mad-man and you ask me to + forgive him again. He never once thinks of me, nor of my humiliation!” Her + lips were quivering, but her voice rang clear. + </p> + <p> + “He thinks of nothing else BUT you,” he pleaded. “Let your heart work—don't + throw him into the street as his father has done. He loves you so.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>—throw HIM in the street! He has thrown ME—mortified + me before everybody—behaved like a—No,—I can't—I + won't discuss it!” + </p> + <p> + “May I—” + </p> + <p> + “No—not another word. I love you too much to let this come between + us. Let us talk of something else—anything—ANYTHING.” + </p> + <p> + The whole chart of her heart had been unrolled. Her head and not her heart + was dominant. He felt, moreover, that no argument of his would be of any + use. Time might work out the solution, but this he could not hasten. Nor, + if the truth be told, did he blame her. It was, from the girl's point of + view, most unfortunate, of course, that the two calamities of Harry's + drunkenness and the duel had come so close together. Perhaps—and for + the first time in his life he weakened before her tears—perhaps if + he had thrown the case of pistols out of the window, sent one man to his + father and the other back to Kennedy Square, it might all have been + different—but then again, could this have been done, and if it had + been, would not all have to be done over again the next day? At last he + asked hopelessly: + </p> + <p> + “Have you no message for Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” she answered resolutely. + </p> + <p> + “And you will not see him?” + </p> + <p> + “No—we can never heal wounds by keeping them open.” This came + calmly, and as if she had made up her mind, and in so determined a tone + that he saw it meant an end to the interview. + </p> + <p> + He rose from his seat and without another word turned toward the door. She + gained her feet slowly, as if the very movement caused her pain; put her + arms around his neck, kissed him on the cheek, followed him to the door, + waved her hand to him as she watched him pick his way across the square, + and threw herself on her lounge in an agony of tears. + </p> + <p> + That night St. George and Harry sat by the smouldering wood fire; the + early spring days were warm and joyous, but the nights were still cool. + The boy sat hunched up in his chair, his face drawn into lines from the + anxiety of the past week; his mind absorbed in the story that St. George + had brought from the Seymour house. As in all ardent temperaments, these + differences with Kate, which had started as a spark, had now developed + into a conflagration which was burning out his heart. His love for Kate + was not a part of his life—it was ALL of his life. He was ready now + for any sacrifice, no matter how humiliating. He would go down on his + knees to his father if she wished it. He would beg Willits's pardon—he + would abase himself in any way St. George should suggest. He had done what + he thought was right, and he would do it over again under like + circumstances, but he would grovel at Kate's feet and kiss the ground she + stepped on if she required it of him. + </p> + <p> + St. George, who had sat quiet, examining closely the backs of his finely + modelled hands as if to find some solution of the difficulty written in + their delicate articulated curves, heard his outburst in silence. Now and + then he would call to Todd, who was never out of reach of his voice—no + matter what the hour—to replenish the fire or snuff the candles, but + he answered only in nods and monosyllables to Harry. One suggestion only + of the heart-broken lover seemed to promise any result, and that was his + making it up with his father as his mother had suggested. This wall being + broken down, and Willits no longer an invalid, perhaps Kate would see + matters in a different and more favorable light. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose father doesn't send for me, Uncle George, what will I do + then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is your father, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think then I had better go home and have it out with him?” + </p> + <p> + St. George hesitated. He himself would have seen Rutter in Hades before he + would have apologized to him. In fact his anger choked him so every time + he thought of the brutal and disgraceful scene he had witnessed when the + boy had been ordered from his home, that he could hardly get his breath. + But then Kate was not his sweetheart, much as he loved her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Harry. I am not his son,” he answered in an undecided way. + Then something the boy's mother had said rose in his mind: “Didn't your + mother say that your father's loneliness without you was having its + effect?—and wasn't her advice to wait until he should send for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that was about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your mother would know best. Put that question to her next time she + comes in—I'm not competent to answer it. And now let us go to bed—you + are tired out, and so am I.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Mysterious things are happening in Kennedy Square. Only the very wisest + men know what it is all about—black Moses for one, who tramps the + brick walks and makes short cuts through the dirt paths, carrying his tin + buckets and shouting: “Po' ole Moses—po' ole fellah! O-Y-S-T-E-R-S! + O-Y-STERS!” And Bobbins, the gardener, who raked up last year's autumn + leaves and either burned them in piles or spread them on the flower-beds + as winter blankets. And, of course, Mockburn, the night watchman: nothing + ever happens in and around Kennedy Square that Mockburn doesn't know of. + Many a time has he helped various unsteady gentlemen up the steps of their + houses and stowed them carefully and noiselessly away inside, only to + begin his rounds again, stopping at every corner to drone out his “All's + we-l-l!” a welcome cry, no doubt, to the stowaways, but a totally + unnecessary piece of information to the inhabitants, nothing worse than a + tippler's tumble having happened in the forty years of the old watchman's + service. + </p> + <p> + I, of course, am in the secret of the mysterious happenings and have been + for more years than I care to admit, but then I go ten better than + Mockburn. And so would you be in the secret had you watched the process as + closely as I have done. + </p> + <p> + It is always the same! + </p> + <p> + First the crocuses peep out—dozens of crocuses. Then a spread of + tulips makes a crazy-quilt of a flowerbed; next the baby buds, their + delicate green toes tickled by the south wind, break into laughter. Then + the stately magnolias step free of their pods, their satin leaves falling + from their alabaster shoulders—grandes dames these magnolias! And + then there is no stopping it: everything is let loose; blossoms of peach, + cherry, and pear; flowers of syringa—bloom of jasmine, honeysuckle, + and Virginia creeper; bridal wreath in flowers of white and wistaria in + festoons of purple. + </p> + <p> + Then come the roses—millions of roses; on single stalks; in + clusters, in mobs; rushing over summer-houses, scaling fences, swarming up + trellises—a riotous, unruly, irresistible, and altogether lovable + lot these roses when they break loose! + </p> + <p> + And the birds! What a time they are having—thrush, bobolinks, + blackbirds, nightingales, woodpeckers, little pee-wees, all fluttering, + skimming, chirping; bursting their tiny throats for the very joy of + living. And they are all welcome—and it wouldn't make any difference + to them if they hadn't been; they would have risked it anyway, so tempting + are the shady paths and tangled arbors and wide-spreading elms and + butternuts of Kennedy Square. + </p> + <p> + Soon the skies get over weeping for the lost winter and dry their eyes, + and the big, warm, happy sun sails over the tree-tops or drops to sleep, + tired out, behind the old Seymour house, and the girls come out in their + white dresses and silk sashes and the gallants in their nankeens and pumps + and the old life of out-of-doors begins once more. + </p> + <p> + And these are not the only changes that the coming of spring has wrought. + What has been going on deep down in the tender, expectant hearts of root + and bulb, eager for expression, had been at work in Harry's own + temperament. The sunshine of St. George's companionship has already had + its effect; the boy is thawing out; his shrinking shyness, born of his + recent trouble, is disappearing like a morning frost. He is again seen at + the club, going first under St. George's lee and then on his own personal + footing. + </p> + <p> + The Chesapeake, so St. George had urged upon him, was the centre of news—the + headquarters, really, of the town, where not only the current happenings + and gossip of Kennedy Square were discussed, but that of the country at + large. While the bald-heads, of course, would be canvassing the news from + Mexico, which was just beginning to have an ugly look, or having it out, + hammer and tongs, over the defeat of Henry Clay, to which some rabid + politicians had never become reconciled, the younger gentry—men of + Harry's own tastes—would be deploring the poor showing the ducks + were making, owing to the up-river freshets which had spoiled the wild + celery; or recounting the doings at Mrs. Cheston's last ball; or the + terrapin supper at Mr. Kennedy's, the famous writer; or perhaps bemoaning + the calamity which had befallen some fellow member who had just found + seven bottles out of ten of his most precious port corked and worthless. + But whatever the topics, or whoever took sides in their discussion, none + of it, so St. George argued, could fail to interest a young fellow just + entering upon the wider life of a man of the world, and one, of all + others, who needed constant companionship. Then again, by showing himself + frequently within its walls, Harry would become better known and better + liked. + </p> + <p> + That he was ineligible for membership, being years too young, and that his + continued presence, even as a guest, was against the rules, did not count + in his case, or if it did count, no member, in view of what the lad had + suffered, was willing to raise the question. Indeed, St. George, in first + introducing him, had referred to “my friend, Mr. Rutter,” as an “out of + town guest,” laughing as he did so, everybody laughing in return, and so + it had gone at that. + </p> + <p> + At first Harry had dreaded meeting his father's and his uncle's friends, + most of whom, he fancied, might be disposed to judge him too harshly. But + St. George had shut his ears to every objection, insisting that the club + was a place where a man could be as independent as he pleased, and that as + his guest he would be entitled to every consideration. + </p> + <p> + The boy need not have been worried. Almost every member, young and old, + showed by his manner or some little act of attention that their sympathies + were with the exile. While a few strait-laced old Quakers maintained that + it was criminal to blaze away at your fellow-man with the firm intention + of blowing the top of his head off, and that Harry should have been hung + had Willits died, there were others more discerning—and they were + largely in the majority—who stood up for the lad however much they + deplored the cause of his banishment. Harry, they argued, had in his brief + career been an unbroken colt, and more or less dissipated, but he at least + had not shown the white feather. Boy as he was, he had faced his + antagonist with the coolness of a duellist of a score of encounters, + letting Willits fire straight at him without so much as the wink of an + eyelid; and, when it was all over, had been man enough to nurse his victim + back to consciousness. Moreover—and this counted much in his favor—he + had refused to quarrel with his irate father, or even answer him. “Behaved + himself like a thoroughbred, as he is,” Dorsey Sullivan, a famous + duellist, had remarked in recounting the occurrence to a non-witness. “And + I must say, sir, that Talbot served him a scurvy trick, and I don't care + who hears me say it.” Furthermore—and this made a great impression—that + rather than humiliate himself, the boy had abandoned the comforts of his + palatial home at Moorlands and was at the moment occupying a small, + second-story back room (all, it is true, Gentleman George could give him), + where he was to be found any hour of the day or night that his uncle + needed him in attendance upon that prince of good fellows. + </p> + <p> + One other thing that counted in his favor, and this was conclusive with + the Quakers—and the club held not a few—was that no drop of + liquor of any kind had passed the boy's lips since the eventful night when + St. George prepared the way for their first reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + Summed up, then, whatever Harry had been in the past, the verdict at the + present speaking was that he was a brave, tender-hearted, truthful fellow + who, in the face of every temptation, had kept his word. Moreover, it was + never forgotten that he was Colonel Talbot Rutter's only son and heir, so + that no matter what the boy did, or how angry the old autocrat might be, + it could only be a question of time before his father must send for him + and everything at Moorlands go on as before. + </p> + <p> + It was on one of these glorious never-to-be-forgotten spring days, then, a + week or more after St. George had given up the fight with Kate—a day + which Harry remembered all the rest of his life—that he and his + uncle left the house to spend the afternoon, as was now their custom, at + the Chesapeake. The two had passed the early hours of the day at the Relay + House fishing for gudgeons, the dogs scampering the hills, and having + changed their clothes for something cooler, had entered the park by the + gate opposite the Temple Mansion, as being nearest to the club; a path + Harry loved, for he and Kate had often stepped it together—and then + again, it was the shortest cut to her house. + </p> + <p> + As the beauty and quiet of the place with its mottling of light and shade + took possession of him he slackened his pace, lagging a little behind his + uncle, and began to look about him, drinking in the loveliness of the + season. The very air breathed tenderness, peace, and comfort. Certainly + his father's heart must be softening toward him; surely his bitterness + could not last. No word, it is true, had yet come to him from Moorlands, + though only the week before his mother had been in to see him, bringing + him news of his father and what her son's absence had meant to every one, + old Alec especially. She had not, she said, revived the subject of the + boy's apology; she had thought it better to wait for the proper + opportunity, which might come any day, but certain it was that his father + was most unhappy, for he would shut himself up hours at a time in his + library, locking the door and refusing to open it, no matter who knocked, + except to old John Gorsuch, his man of business. She had also heard him + tossing on his bed at night, or walking about his room muttering to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Did these things, he wondered on this bright spring morning, mean a final + reconciliation, or was he, after all, to be doomed to further + disappointment? Days had passed since his mother had assured him of this + change in his father, and still no word had come from him. Had he at last + altered his mind, or, worse still, had his old obstinacy again taken + possession of him, hardening his heart so that he would never relent? And + so, with his mind as checkered as the shadow-flecked path on which they + stepped, he pursued his way beneath the wide-spreading trees. + </p> + <p> + When the two had crossed the street St. George's eye rested upon a group + on the sidewalk of the club. The summer weather generally emptied the + coffee-room of most of its habitues, sending many of them to the + easy-chairs on the sprinkled pavement, one or two tipped back against the + trees, or to the balconies and front steps. With his arm in Harry's he + passed from one coterie to another in the hope that he might catch some + word which would be interesting enough to induce him to fill one of the + chairs, even for a brief half-hour, but nothing reached his ears except + politics and crops, and he cared for neither. Harding—the pessimist + of the club—a man who always had a grievance (and this time with + reason, for the money stringency was becoming more acute every day), tried + to beguile him into a seat beside him, but he shook his head. He knew all + about Harding, and wanted none of his kind of talk—certainly not + to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it!” he had heard the growler say to Judge Pancoast as he was + about to pass his chair—“the Patapsco won't give me a cent to move + my crops, and I hear all the others are in the same fix. You can't get a + dollar on a house and lot except at a frightful rate of interest. I tell + you everything is going to ruin. How the devil do you get on without + money, Temple?” He was spread out in his seat, his legs apart, his fat + face turned up, his small fox eyes fixed on St. George. + </p> + <p> + “I don't get on,” remarked St. George with a dry smile. He was still + standing. “Why do you ask?” Money rarely troubled St. George; such small + sums as he possessed were hived in this same Patapsco Bank, but the + cashier had never refused to honor one of his checks as long as he had any + money in their vaults, and he didn't think they would begin now. “Queer + question for you to ask, Harding” (and a trifle underbred, he thought, + one's private affairs not being generally discussed at a club). “Why does + it interest you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you always say you despise money and yet you seem happy and + contented, well dressed, well groomed”—here he wheeled St. George + around to look at his back—“yes, got on one of your London coats—Hello, + Harry!—glad to see you,” and he held out his hand to the boy. “But + really, St. George, aren't you a little worried over the financial + outlook? John Gorsuch says we are going to have trouble, and John knows.” + </p> + <p> + “No”—drawled St. George—“I'm not worried.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't think we're going to have another smash-up?” puffed + Harding. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said St. George, edging his way toward the steps of the club as he + spoke. He was now entirely through with Harding; his financial forebodings + were as distasteful to him as his comments on his clothes and bank + account. + </p> + <p> + “But you'll have a julep, won't you? I've just sent John for them. Don't + go—sit down. Here, John, take Mr. Temple's order for—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Harding, thank you.” The crushed ice in the glass was no cooler nor + crisper than St. George's tone. “Harry and I have been broiling in the sun + all the morning and we are going to go where it is cool.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's cool here,” Harding called after him, struggling to his feet in + the effort to detain him. There was really no one in the club he liked + better than St. George. + </p> + <p> + “No—we'll try it inside,” and with a courteous wave of his hand and + a feeling of relief in his heart, he and Harry kept on their way. + </p> + <p> + He turned to mount the steps when the sudden pushing back of all the + chairs on the sidewalk attracted his attention. Two ladies were picking + their way across the street in the direction of the club. These, on closer + inspection, proved to be Miss Lavinia Clendenning and her niece, Sue + Dorsey, who had been descried in the offing a few minutes before by the + gallants on the curbstone, and who at first had been supposed to be + heading for Mrs. Pancoast's front steps some distance away, until the + pair, turning sharply, had borne down upon the outside chairs with all + sails set—(Miss Clendenning's skirts were of the widest)—a + shift of canvas which sent every man to his feet with a spring. + </p> + <p> + Before St. George could reach the group, which he did in advance of Harry, + who held back—both ladies being intimate friends of Kate's—old + Captain Warfield, the first man to gain his feet—very round and fat + was the captain and very red in the face (1812 Port)—was saying with + his most courteous bow: + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Miss Lavinia, you have not as yet told us to what we are + indebted for this mark of your graciousness; and Sue, my dear, you grow + more like your dear mother every day. Why are you two angels abroad at + this hour, and what can we do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “To the simple fact, my dear captain,” retorted the irresistible spinster, + spreading her skirts the wider, both arms akimbo—her thin fingers + acting as clothespins, “that Sue is to take her dancing lesson next door, + and as I can't fly in the second-story window, having mislaid my wings, I + must use my feet and disturb everybody. No, gentlemen—don't move—I + can pass.” + </p> + <p> + The captain made so profound a salaam in reply that his hat grazed the + bricks of the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + “Let me hunt for them, Miss Lavinia. I know where they are!” he exclaimed, + with his hand on his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” she asked roguishly, twisting her head on one side with the + movement of a listening bird. + </p> + <p> + “In heaven, my lady, where they are waiting your arrival,” he answered, + with another profound sweep of his hand and dip of his back, his bald head + glistening in the sunlight as he stooped before her. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will never get near them,” she returned with an equally low + curtsy and a laugh that nearly shook her side curls loose. + </p> + <p> + St. George was about to step the closer to take a hand in the badinage—he + and the little old maid were forever crossing swords—when her eyes + fell upon him. Instantly her expression changed. She was one of the women + who had blamed him for not stopping the duel, and had been on the lookout + for him for days to air her views in person. + </p> + <p> + “So you are still in town, are you?” she remarked frigidly in lowered + tones. “I thought you had taken that young firebrand down to the Eastern + Shore to cool off.” + </p> + <p> + St. George frowned meaningly in the effort to apprise her ladyship that + Harry was within hearing distance, but Miss Lavinia either did not, or + would not, understand. + </p> + <p> + “Two young boobies, that's what they are, breaking their hearts over each + other,” she rattled on, gathering the ends of her cape the closer. “Both + of them ought to be spanked and put to bed. Get them into each other's + arms just as quick as you can. As for Talbot Rutter, he's the biggest fool + of the three, or was until Annie Rutter got hold of him. Now I hear he is + willing to let Harry come back, as if that would do any good. It's Kate + who must be looked after; that Scotch blood in her veins makes her as + pig-headed as her father. No—I don't want your arm, sir—get + out of my way.” + </p> + <p> + If the courtiers heard—and half of them did—they neither by + word or expression conveyed that fact to Harry or St. George. It was not + intended for their ears, and, therefore, was not their property. With + still more profound salutations from everybody, the three bareheaded men + escorted them to the next stoop, the fourth going ahead to see that the + door was properly opened, and so the ladies passed on, up and inside the + house. This over, the group resumed its normal condition on the sidewalk, + the men regaining their seats and relighting their cigars (no gentleman + ever held one in evidence when ladies were present)—fresh orders + being given to the servants for the several interrupted mixtures with + which the coterie were wont to regale themselves. + </p> + <p> + Harry, who had stood with shoulders braced against a great tree on the + sidewalk, had heard every word of the old maid's outburst, and an + unrestrained burst of joy had surged up in his heart. His father was + coming round! Yes—the tide was turning—it would not be long + before Kate would be in his arms! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + St. George held no such sanguine view, although he made no comment. In + fact the outbreak had rather depressed him. He knew something of Talbot's + stubbornness and did not hope for much in that direction, nor, if the + truth be told, did he hope much in Kate's. Time alone could heal her + wounds, and time in the case of a young girl, mistress of herself, + beautiful, independent, and rich, might contain many surprises. + </p> + <p> + It was with a certain sense of relief, therefore, that he again sought the + inside of the club. Its restful quiet would at least take his mind from + the one subject which seemed to pursue him and which Miss Clendenning's + positive and, as he thought, inconsiderate remarks had so suddenly + revived. + </p> + <p> + Before he had reached the top step his face broke out into a broad smile. + Instantly his spirits rose. Standing in the open front door, with + outstretched hand, was the man of all others he would rather have seen—Richard + Horn, the inventor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, St. George, but I'm glad to see you!”, cried Richard. “I have been + looking for you all the afternoon and only just a moment ago got sight of + you on the sidewalk. I should certainly have stepped over to your house + and looked you up if you hadn't come. I've got the most extraordinary + thing to read to you that you have ever listened to in the whole course of + your life. How well you look, and what a fine color you have, and you too, + Harry. You are in luck, my boy. I'd like to stay a month with Temple + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Make it a year, Richard,” cried St. George, resting his hand + affectionately on the inventor's shoulder. “There isn't a chair in my + house that isn't happier when you sit in it. What have you discovered?—some + new whirligig?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a poem. Eighteen to twenty stanzas of glorious melody imprisoned in + type.” + </p> + <p> + “One of your own?” laughed St. George—one of his merry vibrating + laughs that made everybody happier about him. The sight of Richard had + swept all the cobwebs out of his brain. + </p> + <p> + “No, you trifler!—one of Edgar Allan Poe's. None of your scoffing, + sir! You may go home in tears before I am through with you. This way, both + of you.” + </p> + <p> + The three had entered the coffee-room now, Richard's arm through St. + George's, Harry following close. The inventor drew out the chairs one + after another, and when they were all three seated took a missive from his + pocket and spread it out on his knee, St. George and Harry keeping their + eyes on his every movement. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a letter, St. George”—Richard's voice now fell to a serious + key—“which I have just received from your friend and mine, Mr. N. P. + Willis. In it he sends me this most wonderful poem cut from his paper—the + Mirror—and published, I discover to my astonishment, some months + back. I am going to read it to you if you will permit me. It certainly is + a most remarkable production. The wonder to me is that I haven't seen it + before. It is by that Mr. Poe you met at my house some years ago—you + remember him?—a rather sad-looking man with big head and deep eyes?” + Temple nodded in answer, and Harry's eyes glistened: Poe was one of his + university's gods. “Just let me read to you what Willis says”—here + he glanced down the letter sheet: “'Nothing, I assure you, my dear Horn, + has made so great a stir in literary circles as this “Raven” of Poe's. I + am sending it to you knowing that you are interested in the man. If I do + not mistake I first met Poe one night at your house.' And a very + extraordinary night it was, St. George,” said Richard, lifting his eyes + from the sheet. “Poe, if you remember, read one of his stories for us, and + both Latrobe and Kennedy were so charmed that they talked of nothing else + for days.” + </p> + <p> + St. George remembered so clearly that he could still recall the tones of + Poe's voice, and the peculiar lambent light that flashed from out the + poet's dark eyes—the light of a black opal. He settled himself back + in his chair to enjoy the treat the better. This was the kind of talk he + wanted to-day, and Richard Horn, of all others, was the man to conduct it. + </p> + <p> + The inventor's earnestness and the absorbed look on St. George's and + Harry's faces, and the fact that Horn was about to read aloud, had + attracted the attention of several near-by members, who were already + straining their ears, for no one had Richard's gift for reading. + </p> + <p> + In low, clear tones, his voice rising in intensity as the weird pathos of + the several stanzas gripped his heart, he unfolded the marvellous drama + until the very room seemed filled with the spirit of both the man and the + demon. Every stanza in his clear enunciation seemed a separate string of + sombre pearls, each syllable aglow with its own inherent beauty. When he + ceased it was as if the soul of some great 'cello had stopped vibrating, + leaving only the memory of its melody. For a few seconds no one moved nor + spoke. No one had ever heard Richard in finer voice nor had they ever + listened to more perfect rhythmic beauty. So great was the effect on the + audience that one old habitue, in speaking of it afterward, insisted that + Richard must have seen the bird roosting over the door, so realistic was + his rendering. + </p> + <p> + Harry had listened with bated breath, absorbing every tone and inflection + of Richard's voice. He and Poe had been members of the same university, + and the poet had always been one of his idols—the man of all others + he wanted most to know. Poe's former room opening into the corridor had + invariably attracted him. He had frequently looked about its bare walls + wondering how so great an inspiration could have started from such meagre + surroundings. He had, too, with the romantic imagination of a boy, + pictured to himself the kind of man he was, his looks, voice, and manner, + and though he had never seen the poet in the flesh, somehow the tones of + Richard's voice recalled to him the very picture he had conjured up in his + mind in his boyhood days. + </p> + <p> + St. George had also listened intently, but the impression was quite + different from the one made on the younger man. Temple thought only of + Poe's despondency, of his striving for a better and happier life; of his + poverty—more than once had he gone down into his own pockets to + relieve the poor fellow's urgent necessities, and he was still ready to do + it again—a readiness in which he was almost alone, for many of the + writer's earlier friends had of late avoided meeting him whenever he + passed through Kennedy Square. Even Kennedy, his life-long friend, had + begun to look upon him as a hopeless case. + </p> + <p> + This antipathy was also to be found in the club. Even with the memory of + Richard's voice in their ears one of the listeners had shrugged his + shoulders, remarking with a bitter laugh that musical as was the poem, + especially as rendered by Richard, it was, after all, like most of Poe's + other manuscripts, found in a bottle, or more likely “a bottle found in a + manuscript,” as that crazy lunatic couldn't write anything worth reading + unless he was half drunk. At which St. George had blazed out: + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Bowdoin! You ought to be willing to be blind drunk half your time + if you could write one stanza of it! Please let me have it, Richard,” and + he took the sheet from his friend's hand, that he and Harry might read it + at their leisure when they reached home. + </p> + <p> + Harry's blood had also boiled at the rude thrust. While under the spell of + Richard's voice a cord in his own soul had vibrated as does a glass globe + when it responds in perfect harmony to a note from a violin. He too had a + Lenore whose loss had wellnigh broken his heart. This in itself was an + indissoluble bond between them. Besides, he could understand the poet as + Alec and his mother and his Uncle George understood himself. He had begun + now to love the man in his heart. + </p> + <p> + With his mind filled with these thoughts, his hunger for Kate aroused + tenfold by the pathos and weird beauty of what he had just heard, he left + the group of men who were still discussing the man and his verses, and + joined his uncle outside on the top step of the club's high stoop, from + which could be seen the full length of the sun-flecked street on which the + clubhouse stood, as well as the park in all its spring loveliness. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously his eyes wandered across the path where Kate's house stood. + He could see the tall chimneys and the slope of the quaint roof, and but + that the foliage hid the lower part, could have seen Kate's own windows. + She was still at home, he had heard, although she was expected to leave + for the Red Sulphur any day. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, from away up the street, past the corner of the park, there + reached his ears a low winding note, which grew louder as it turned the + corner, followed by the rattle of wheels and the clatter of horses' feet. + He leaned forward and craned his head in the direction of the sound, his + heart in his throat, the blood mounting to his cheeks. If that was not his + father's horn it was wonderfully like it. At the same moment a + coach-and-four swept in sight, driven by a man in a whitey-brown coat and + stiff furry hat, with two grooms behind and a coachman next to him on the + box. It was heading straight for the club. + </p> + <p> + Every man was on his feet. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!—it's Rutter. Bowdoin!—Clayton!—here comes the + colonel!” + </p> + <p> + Again the horn gave out a long withering, wiry note ringing through the + leaves and along the brick pavement, and the next instant the leaders were + gathered up, the wheel-horses hauled taut, the hub of the front wheel of + the coach halting within an inch of the horse-block of the club. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Rutter! Best whip in the county! Not a man in England could have + done it better. Let me help you down!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel shook his head good-humoredly, rose in his seat, shifted a + bunch of violets to his inner lapel, slipped off his driving-coat, threw + it across the rail, dropped his whip in the socket, handed his heavy + gloves to his groom, and slid gracefully to the sidewalk. There he shook + hands cordially with the men nearest him, excused himself for a moment + until he had inspected his off leader's forefoot—she had picked up a + stone on the way in from Moorlands—patted the nigh wheel-horse, + stamped his own feet lustily as if to be sure he was all there, and, with + a lordly bow to those about him, slowly mounted the steps of the club. + </p> + <p> + Harry had already risen to his feet and stood trembling, one hand + clutching the iron railing that guarded the marble steps. A great throb of + joy welled up in his throat. His mother was right—the loneliness had + overpowered his father; he still loved him, and Miss Clendenning's + prediction was coming true! Not only was he willing to forgive him, but he + had come himself to take him home. He could hardly wait until his father + reached his side, so eager was he to open his arms and hands and his lips + in apology—and Kate!—what joy would be hers! + </p> + <p> + St. George had also gained his feet. What had brought the colonel into + town, he said to himself, and in such state—and at this hour of the + day, too? Could it be that Harry was the cause? + </p> + <p> + “How were the roads, Talbot?” he called out in his customary cheery tones. + He would start fair, anyway. + </p> + <p> + The colonel, who, head down, had been mounting the marble steps one at a + time, inspecting each slab as he climbed, after the manner of men + thoroughly satisfied with themselves, and who at the same time are + conscious of the effect of their presence on those about them, raised his + head and gazed in astonishment at the speaker. Then his body straightened + up and he came to a stand-still. He looked first into St. George's face, + then into Harry's, with a cold, rigid stare; his lips shut tight, his head + thrown back, his whole frame stiff as an iron bar—and without a word + of recognition of any kind, passed through the open door and into the wide + hall. He had cut both of them dead. + </p> + <p> + Harry gave a half-smothered cry of anguish and turned to follow his father + into the club. + </p> + <p> + St. George, purple with rage, laid his hand on the boy's arm, so tight + that the fingers sank into the flesh: there were steel clamps inside these + delicate palms when occasion required. + </p> + <p> + “Keep still,” he hissed—“not a word, no outburst. Stay here until I + come for you. Stop, Rutter: stand where you are!” The two were abreast of + each other now. “You dare treat your son in that way? Horn—Murdoch—Warfield—all + of you come out here! What I've got to say to Talbot Rutter I want you to + hear, and I intend that not only you but every decent man and woman in + Kennedy Square shall hear!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel's lips quivered and his face paled, but he did not flinch, nor + did his eyes drop. + </p> + <p> + “You are not a father, Talbot—you are a brute! There is not a dog in + your kennels that would not treat his litter better than you have treated + Harry! You turned him out in the night without a penny to his name; you + break his mother's heart; you refuse to hear a word he has to say, and + then you have the audacity to pass him on the steps of this club where he + is my guest—my guest, remember—look him squarely in the face + and ignore him. That, gentlemen, is what Talbot Rutter did one minute ago. + You have disgraced your blood and your name and you have laid up for your + old age untold misery and suffering. Never, as long as I live, will I + speak to you again, nor shall Harry, whom you have humiliated! Hereafter + <i>I</i> am his father! Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + During the whole outburst the colonel had not moved a muscle of his face + nor had he shifted his body a quarter of an inch. He stood with his back + to the door through which could be seen the amazed faces of his + fellow-members—one hand tight shut behind his back, the other loose + by his side, his eyes fixed on his antagonist. Then slowly, one word at a + time, as if he had purposely measured the intervals of speech, he said, in + a voice hardly heard beyond the door, so low was it: + </p> + <p> + “Are—you—through—St. George?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by God!—I am, and forever!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, gentlemen”—and he waved his hand courteously to the astounded + listeners—“may I ask you all to join me? John, bring the juleps!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + All the way back to his house St. George's wrath kept him silent. He had + rarely been so stirred. He was not a brawler—his whole life had been + one of peace; his whole ambition to be the healer of differences, and yet + there were some things he could not stand. One of these was cruelty to a + human being, and Rutter's public disowning of Harry was cruelty of the + most contemptible kind. But one explanation of such an outrage was + possible—the man's intolerable egoism, added to his insufferable + conceit. Only once did Temple address Harry, walking silently by his side + under the magnolias, and then only to remark, more to himself than to his + companion—“It's his damned, dirty pride, Harry—that's what it + is!” + </p> + <p> + Harry also held his peace. He had no theories regarding his father's + conduct: only facts confronted him, one being that he had purposely + humiliated him before the men who had known him from a boy, and with whom + his future life must be cast. The end had come now. He was adrift without + a home. Even Kate was lost. This last attack of his father's would widen + the breach between them, for she would never overlook this last stigma + when she heard of it, as she certainly must. Nobody would then be left on + his side except his dear mother, the old house servants, and St. George, + and of these St. George alone could be of any service to him. + </p> + <p> + It had all been so horrible too, and so undeserved—worse than + anything he had ever dreamed of; infinitely worse than the night he had + been driven from Moorlands. Never in all his life had he shown his father + anything but obedience and respect; furthermore, he had loved and admired + him; loved his dash and vigor; his superb physique for a man of his years—some + fifty odd—loved too his sportsmanlike qualities—not a man in + the county was his equal in the saddle, and not a man in his own or any + other county could handle the ribbons so well. If his father had not + agreed with him as to when and where he should teach a vulgarian manners, + that had been a question about which gentlemen might differ, but to have + treated him with contempt, to insult him in public, leaving him no chance + to defend himself—force him, really, into a position which made it + impossible for him to strike back—was altogether a different thing, + and for that he would never, never forgive him. + </p> + <p> + Then a strange thing happened in the boy's mind. It may have been the + shifting of a grain of gray matter never called into use before; or it may + have been due to some stranded red corpuscle which, dislodged by the + pressure he had lately been called upon to endure, had rushed headlong + through his veins scouring out everything in its way until it reached his + thinking apparatus. Whatever the cause, certain it was that the change in + the boy's view of life was as instantaneous as it was radical. + </p> + <p> + And this was quite possible when his blood is considered. There had been, + it is true, dominating tyrants way back in his ancestry, as well as + spend-thrifts, drunkards, roysterers, and gamesters, but so far as the + records showed there had never been a coward. That old fellow De Ruyter, + whose portrait hung at Moorlands and who might have been his father, so + great was the resemblance, had, so to speak, held a shovel in one hand and + a sword in the other in the days when he helped drown out his own and his + neighbors' estates to keep the haughty don from gobbling up his country. + One had but to look into Harry's face to be convinced that he too would + have followed in his footsteps had he lived in that ancestor's time. + </p> + <p> + It was when the boy, smarting under his father's insult, was passing under + the blossoms of a wide-spreading magnolia, trying to get a glimpse of + Kate's face, if by any chance she should be at her window, that this grain + of gray matter, or lively red corpuscle—or whatever it might have + been—forced itself through. The breaking away was slow—little + by little—as an underground tunnel seeks an opening—but the + light increased with every thought-stroke, its blinding intensity becoming + so fierce at last that he came to a halt, his eyes on the ground, his + whole body tense, his mind in a whirl. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his brain acted. + </p> + <p> + To sit down and snivel would do no good; to curse his father would be + useless and wicked; to force himself on Kate sheer madness. But—BUT—BUT—he + was twenty-two!—in perfect health and not ashamed to look any man in + the face. St. George loved him—so did his precious mother, and Alec, + and a host of others. Should he continue to sit in ashes, swaddled in + sackcloth—or should he meet the situation like a man? Then as his + mental vision became accustomed to the glare, two things stood out clear + in his mind—to win Kate back, no matter at what cost—and to + compel his father's respect. + </p> + <p> + His mother was the first to hear the music of this new note of resolve, + and she had not long to wait. She had come to town with the colonel—indeed + it was at her request that he had ordered the coach instead of coming in + on horseback, as was his custom—and was at the moment quietly + resting on St. George's big sofa. + </p> + <p> + “It is all over, mother,” Harry cried in a voice so firm and determined + that his mother knew at once something unusual had happened—“and you + might as well make up your mind to it—I have. Father walked into the + club five minutes ago, looked me square in the face, and cut me dead; and + he insulted Uncle George too, who gave him the greatest dressing down you + ever heard in your life.” He had learned another side of his uncle's + character—one he should never cease to be grateful for—his + outspoken defence of him before his equals. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rutter half rose from her seat in blank astonishment. She was a frail + little woman with pale-blue eyes and a figure like a curl of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Your—father—did not—speak—to—you!” she + exclaimed excitedly. “You say—your father—But how dare he!” + </p> + <p> + “But he did!” replied Harry in a voice that showed the incident still + rankled in his mind—“and right in the club, before everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other gentlemen saw it?” She stood erect, her delicate body + tightening up. There was a strain of some old-time warrior in her blood + that would brook no insult to her son. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, half a dozen gentlemen saw it. He did it purposely—so they + COULD see. I'll never forgive him for it as long as I live. He had no + business to treat me so!” His voice choked as he spoke, but there was no + note of surrender or of fear. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in a helpless sort of way. “But you didn't answer back, + did you, my son?” This came in a tone as if she feared to hear the + details, knowing the boy's temperament, and his father's. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say a word; Uncle George wouldn't let me. I'm glad now he + stopped me, for I was pretty mad, and I might have said something I would + have been sorry for.” The mother gave a sigh of relief, but she did not + interrupt, nor did she relax the tautness of her body. “You ought to have + heard Uncle George, though!” Harry rushed on. “He told him there was not a + dog at Moorlands who would not have treated his puppy better than he had + me—and another thing he told him—and that was that after + to-day I was HIS son forever!” + </p> + <p> + St. George had been standing at the front window with his back to them, + looking out upon the blossoms. At this last outburst he turned, and said + over his shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that's true, Annie—that's what I said and what I mean. + There is no use wasting any more time over Talbot, and I don't intend to.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Rutter will get over his temper.” (She never called him by any + other name.) + </p> + <p> + “Then he will have to come here and say so. I shall never step foot in his + house until he does, nor will Harry. As to his forgiving Harry—the + boot is on the other leg; it is Talbot, not the boy he outraged, who must + straighten out to-day's work. There was not a man who heard him who was + not ashamed of him. Oh!—I have no patience with this sort of thing! + The only son he's got—his only child! Abominable—unforgivable! + And it will haunt him to his dying day! Poor as I am, alone in the world + and without a member of my family above ground, I would not change places + with him. No—Annie—I know how you feel, and God knows I have + felt for you all these years, but I tell you the end has come! It's + finished—over—I told him so to his face, and I mean it!” + </p> + <p> + The slight body sank back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. + Harry knelt beside her and put his arms about her. This mother, frail as + she was, had always been his refuge and comfort: now he must do the + comforting! (Keep moving, old red corpuscle, there is a lot of work ahead + of you!) + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, you dear little mother,” he said tenderly. “I don't know how + it's coming out, but it will come out somehow. Let father go: Kate is the + only thing that counts now. I don't blame her for anything she has done, + and I don't blame myself either. All I know is that everything has gone + wrong. But, wrong or right, I'm going to stay here just as long as Uncle + George will let me. He's been more of a father to me than my own. It's you + I can't get along without, you precious little mother,” and he patted her + pale cheeks. “Won't you come in every day—and bring Alec too?” then, + as if he had not yet asked her consent—“You don't mind my being + here, do you?” + </p> + <p> + She drew his head close to her lips and kissed his cheek. “No, my son, I + don't mind—I'm glad. Every night of my life I thank my Maker that + you are here.” She raised her eyes to St. George, who stood looking down + upon them both, and in a voice barely audible, an unbidden sob choking her + utterance, faltered—“It's only one more proof of your goodness, St. + George.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand in protest and a faint smile crossed his face. “Don't + talk that way. Annie.” + </p> + <p> + “I will—it's true. It is a proof of your goodness. I have never + deserved it. I don't now—but you never fail me.” Her voice was + clearer now—her cheeks, too, had regained some of their color. Harry + listened wonderingly, his arm still around her. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't do anything else, Annie—nobody could under the + circumstances.” His voice had dropped almost to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “But it was for me you did it, St. George. I would rather think of it that + way; it makes it easier. Say you did it for me.” + </p> + <p> + St. George stooped down, raised her thin white hand to his lips, kissed it + reverently, and without a word of any kind walked to the door of his + bedroom and shut it behind him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rutter's hand dropped to her lap and a smile of intense relief passed + over her face. She neither looked after St. George, nor did she offer any + explanation to Harry; she merely bent forward and continued her caresses, + stroking the boy's glossy hair, patting the white temples with her + delicate fingers, smoothing the small, well-set ears and the full brown + throat, kissing his forehead, her eyes reading his face, wondering if she + had spoken too freely and yet regretting nothing: what she had said had + come straight from her heart and she was not ashamed of it. + </p> + <p> + The boy lay still, his head against her breast. That his mother had been + stirred even in a greater degree over what St. George had said to her than + she had been by his father's treatment of him was evident in the trembling + movement of the soft hands caressing his hair and in the way her breath + came and went. Under her soothing touch his thoughts went back to the + events of the morning:—his uncle's defiant tones as he denounced his + father; his soft answer to his mother; her pleading words in reply, and + then the reverent kiss. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, clear as the tones of a far-off convent bell sifting down from + some cloud-swept crag, there stole into his mind a memory of his childhood—a + legend of long ago, vague and intangible—one he could not put into + words—one Alec had once hinted at. He held his breath trying to + gather up the loose ends—to make a connected whole; to fit the parts + together. Then, as one blows out a candle, leaving total darkness, he + banished it all from his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Mother dear!—mother dear!” he cried tenderly, and wound his arms + the closer about her neck. + </p> + <p> + She gathered him up as she had done in the old days when he was a child at + her breast; all the intervening years seemed blotted out. He was her baby + boy once more—her constant companion and unending comfort: the one + and only thing in her whole life that understood her. + </p> + <p> + Soon the warmth and strength of the full man began to reach her heart. She + drew him still closer, this strong son who loved her, and in the embrace + there grew a new and strange tenderness—one born of confidence. It + was this arm which must defend her now; this head and heart which must + guide her. She was no longer adrift. + </p> + <p> + The two had not moved when St. George re-entered the room some moments + later. Harry's head still lay on her breast, the thin, transparent hands + tight about his neck. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + The colonel's treatment of Harry at the club had cleared the air of any + doubt that either the boy or St. George might have had concerning Rutter's + frame of mind. Henceforth the boy and the man would conduct their lives as + if the Lord of Moorlands did not exist. + </p> + <p> + So the boy unpacked the things which Alec had brought in, and with his + mother's assistance—who came in once a week—hung up his + hunting-clothes in the closet, racked up his guns and fishing-rods over + the mantel, and suspended his favorite saddle by a stirrup on a hook in + the hall. Then the two had set out his books and miniatures; one of his + mother, which he kissed tenderly, with the remark that it wasn't half as + pretty as the original, and then propped up in the place of honor in the + middle of his desk, and another of his father, which he placed on an + adjoining table—as well as his few belongings and knickknacks. And + so the outcast settled down determined not only to adapt himself to the + comforts—or want of them—to be found under St. George's roof, + but to do it cheerfully, gratefully, and like a man and a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + To none of all this did his father offer a single objection. “Make a clean + sweep of Mr. Harry Rutter's things,” he had said to Alec, “so that I may + be relieved from the annoyance of a second delivery.” + </p> + <p> + Alec had repeated the order to Harry word for word, adding: “Don't you + sass back, Marse Harry—let him blow hisse'f out—he don't mean + nothin'. He's dat mad he's crazy—gits dat way sometimes—den + purty soon he's fit to bust hisse'f wide open a-cryin'! I see him do dat + once when you warn't mo'n so high, and de doctor said you was daid fo' + sho'.” + </p> + <p> + Harry made no reply, but it did not ruffle his temper. His duty was no + longer to be found at Moorlands; his Uncle George claimed him. All his + hours would now be devoted to showing him how grateful he was for his + protection and guidance. Time enough for his father, and time enough for + Kate, for that matter, should the clouds ever lift—as lift they + would—but his Uncle George first, last, and all the time. + </p> + <p> + And St. George appreciated it to the full. Never had he been so happy. + Even the men at the club saw the change, and declared he looked ten years + younger—fifteen really, when Harry was with him, which was almost + always the case—for out of consideration for St. George and the + peculiar circumstances surrounding the boy's condition, his birth and + station, and the pride they took in his pluck, the committee had at last + stretched the rule and had sent Mr. Henry Gilmor Rutter of Moorlands—with + special reference to “Moorlands,” a perennial invitation entitling him to + the club's privileges—a card which never expired because it was + systematically renewed. + </p> + <p> + And it was not only at the club that the two men were inseparable. In + their morning walks, the four dogs in full cry; at the races; in the + hunts, when some one loaned both Harry and his uncle a mount—at + night, when Todd passed silently out, leaving all the bottled comforts + behind him—followed by—“Ah, Harry!—and you won't join + me? That's right, my son—and I won't ask you,” the two passed almost + every hour of the day and night together. It was host one minute and + father the next. + </p> + <p> + And this life, if the truth be told, did not greatly vary from the one the + boy had always led, except that there was more of town and less of country + in it than he had heretofore been accustomed to. The freedom from all care—for + the colonel had trained Harry to neither business nor profession—was + the same, and so was the right to employ his time as he pleased. At + Moorlands he was busy over his horses and dogs, his sporting outfits, + riding to hounds, cock-fights—common in those days—and, of + course, assisting his father and mother in dispensing the hospitality of + the house. In Kennedy Square St. George was his chief occupation, and of + the two he liked the last the best. What he had hungered for all his life + was sympathy and companionship, and this his father had never given him; + nor had he known what it was since his college days. Advice, money, + horses, clothes, guns—anything and everything which might, could, or + would redound to the glory of the Rutters had been his for the asking, but + the touch of a warm hand, the thrill in the voice when he had done + something to please and had waited for an acknowledgment—that had + never come his way. Nothing of this kind was needed between men, his + father would say to Harry's mother—and his son was a man now. Had + their child been a daughter, it would have been quite another thing, but a + son was to be handled differently—especially an only son who was + sole heir to one's entire estate. + </p> + <p> + And yet it must not be thought that the outcast spent his time in sheer + idleness. St. George would often find him tucked away in one of his big + chairs devouring some book he had culled from the old general's library in + the basement—a room adjoining the one occupied by a firm of young + lawyers—Pawson & Pawson (only one brother was alive)—with + an entrance on the side street, it being of “no use to me” St. George had + said—“and the rent will come in handy.” Tales of the sea especially + delighted the young fellow—the old admiral's blood being again in + evidence—and so might have been the mother's fine imagination. It + was Defoe and Mungo Park and Cooke who enchained the boy's attention, as + well as many of the chronicles of the later navigators. But of the current + literature of the day—Longfellow, Margaret Fuller, Hawthorne, and + Emerson—no one appealed to him as did the man Poe. He and St. George + had passed many an hour discussing him. Somehow the bond of sympathy + between himself and the poet had become the stronger. Both had wept bitter + tears over the calamities that had followed an unrequited love. + </p> + <p> + It was during one of these talks—and the poet was often under + discussion—that St. George had suddenly risen from his chair, + lighted a candle, and had betaken himself to the basement—a place he + seldom visited—from which he brought back a thin, crudely bound, and + badly printed, dust-covered volume bearing the title “Tamerlane:—by + a Bostonian.” This, with a smile he handed to Harry. Some friend had given + him the little book when it was first published and he had forgotten it + was in the house until he noted Harry's interest in the author. Then + again, he wanted to see whether it was the boy's literary taste, never + much in evidence, or his romantic conception of the much-talked-of poet, + which had prompted his intense interest in the man. + </p> + <p> + “Read these poems, Harry, and tell me who wrote them,” said St. George, + dusting the book with a thrash of his handkerchief and tossing it to the + young fellow. + </p> + <p> + The boy caught it, skimmed through the thin volume, lingered over one or + two pages, absorbing each line, and replied in a decided and delighted + voice: “The same man who wrote 'The Raven,' of course—there can't be + any doubt of it. I can hear Mr. Horn's voice in every line. Why didn't you + let me have it before?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” asked St. George, watching him closely. + </p> + <p> + “Am I sure?—of course I am! Listen to this: + </p> + <p> + “'We grew in age—and—love—together, Roaming the forest + and the wild—' + </p> + <p> + “That's Kate and me, Uncle George,” and he smiled sadly. “And then this + line: + </p> + <p> + “'I saw no heaven but in her eyes.' + </p> + <p> + “And then these lines in 'The Raven'—wait—I will read them.” + He had the sheet of paper in his pocket which Richard Horn had read from + at the club, and knew the poem now by heart: + </p> + <p> + “'Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn, It + shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels call Lenore'— + </p> + <p> + “That's me again. I wish I could read it like Mr. Horn. What a voice—so + deep—so musical—like a great organ, or, rather, like one of + the big strings on his violin.” + </p> + <p> + “And what a mind, too, Harry,” rejoined St. George. “Richard is a long way + ahead of his time. His head is full of things that few around here + understand. They hear him play the violin or read, and some go away + calling him a genius, but when he talks to them about the way the + railroads are opening up, and the new telegraph this man Morse is at work + on, and what is going to come of it—or hear him discuss the + development of the country along scientific lines, they shrug their + shoulders and tap their foreheads. You want to talk to him every chance + you get. That is one reason I am glad they let you permanently into the + club, for he is too busy in his work-shop at home to speak to anybody. + Nobody will do you so much good—and he likes you, Harry. He said to + me only the other night when I was dining with him—the night you + were at Mrs. Cheston's—that he felt sorry for you; that it was not + your fault, or the fault of your father—but that you both had been + caught in the ebb-tide of a period.” + </p> + <p> + Harry laughed: “What did he mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be hanged if I know. You made so good a guess on the Tamerlane, that + it's just occurred to me to try you on this,” and St. George laughed + heartily. (St. George was adrift on the ebb-tide himself did he but know + it.) + </p> + <p> + Harry thought earnestly for a moment, pondering upon what the inventor + could have had in his mind. It couldn't have been politics that Mr. Horn + meant; nor failure of the crops; nor the way the slaves were treated. None + of these things affected him. Indeed none of them did he know anything of. + Nor was he an expert on duelling. It must have been Kate. Yes—of + course—it was Kate and her treatment of him. The “tide” was what had + swept them apart. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know,” he cried in an animated tone. “He meant Kate. Tell me—what + did he say about her?” He had searched his books for some parallel from + which to draw a conclusion, but none of them had given him any relief. May + be Mr. Horn had solved the problem. + </p> + <p> + “He said she was the first of the flood, though he was mighty sorry for + you both; and he said, too, that, as she was the first to strike out for + the shore, Kennedy Square ought to build a triumphal arch for her,” and + St. George looked quizzically at Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you think there is any common sense in that?” blurted out the + boy, twisting himself in his chair so he could get a better look at his + uncle's face. + </p> + <p> + “No—it doesn't sound like it, but it may be profound wisdom all the + same, if you can only see it from Richard's point of view. Try it. There's + a heap of brains under his cranium.” + </p> + <p> + Harry fell to tapping the arm of his chair. Queer reasoning this of Mr. + Horn's, he said to himself. He had always thought that he and his father + were on the tip-top of any kind of tide, flood or ebb—and as for + Kate, she was the white gull that skimmed its crest! + </p> + <p> + Again Harry dropped into deep thought, shifting his legs now and then in + his restless, impatient way. If there was any comfort to be gotten out of + this new doctrine he wanted to probe it to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “And what does he say of Mr. Poe? Does he think he's a drunken lunatic, + like some of the men at the club?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he thinks he is one of the greatest literary geniuses the country has + yet produced. He has said so for years—ever since he began to write. + Willis first became acquainted with Mr. Poe through a letter Richard gave + him, and now that the papers are full of him, and everybody is talking + about him, these backbiters like Bowdoin want to get into line and say + they always thought so. But Richard has never wavered. Of course Poe loses + his balance and topples backward once in a while—but he's getting + over it. That is his mistake and it is unfortunate, but it isn't a crime. + I can forgive him anything he does so he keeps to his ideals. If he had + had a better bringing up and knew the difference between good rain-water + Madeira and bad pump water and worse whiskey he would keep as straight as + a church deacon. Too bad he doesn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Harry answered at last, rising from his chair and brushing the + ashes of his pipe from his clothes—“I don't know anything about Mr. + Horn's tides, but he's right about Mr. Poe—that is, I hope he is. + We've both, got a 'Lost Lenore,'” and his voice quivered. All Harry's + roads ended at Kate's door. + </p> + <p> + And so with these and other talks, heart-burnings, outings, sports, and + long tramps in the country, the dogs scampering ahead, the summer days + slipped by. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Such were the soft, balmy conditions in and around the Temple Mansion—conditions + bringing only peace and comfort—(heart-aches were kept in check)—when + one August morning there came so decided a change of weather that + everybody began at once to get in out of the wet. The storm had been + brewing for some days up Moorlands way, where all Harry's storms started, + but up to the present moment there had been no indications in and about + Kennedy Square of its near approach, or even of its existence. + </p> + <p> + It was quite early in the day when the big drops began to patter down on + Todd's highly polished knocker. Breakfast had been served and the mail but + half opened—containing among other missives a letter from Poe + acknowledging one from St. George, in which he wrote that he might soon be + in Kennedy Square on his way to Richmond—a piece of news which + greatly delighted Harry—and another from Tom Coston, inviting them + both to Wesley for the fall shooting, with a postscript to the effect that + Willits was “still at the Red Sulphur with the Seymours”—(a piece of + news which greatly depressed him)—when Todd answered a thunderous + rat-a-tat and immediately thereafter recrossed the hall and opened the + dining-room door just wide enough to thrust in first his scared face—then + his head—shoulder—arm—and last his hand, on the palm of + which lay a small, greasy card bearing the inscription: + </p> + <p> + John Gadgem, Agent. + </p> + <p> + The darky, evidently, was not in a normal condition, for after a moment's + nervous hesitation, his eyes over his shoulder as if fearing he was being + followed, he squeezed in the rest of his body, closed the door softly + behind him, and said in a hoarse whisper to the room at large: + </p> + <p> + “Dat's de same man been here three times yisterday. He asked fust fer + Marse Harry, an' when I done tol' him he warn't home—you was 'sleep + upstairs, Marse Harry, but I warn't gwineter 'sturb ye—he say he + come back dis mawnin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what does he want?” asked Harry, dropping a lump of sugar in + his cup. He had been accumstomed to be annoyed by agents of all kinds who + wanted to sell him one thing or another—and so he never allowed any + one to get at him unless his business was stated beforehand. He had + learned this from his father. + </p> + <p> + “I dun'no, sah.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he look like, Todd?” cried St. George, breaking the seal of + another letter. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, he ain't no gemman—he's jus' a pusson I reckon. I done tol' + him you warn't out o' bed yit, but he said he'd wait. I got him shet + outside, but I can't fool him no mo'. What'll I do now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think he wants, then?” Harry burst out impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Todd—“ef I was to tell ye God's truf', I reckon he + wants money. He says he's been to de big house—way out to de + colonel's, and dey th'owed him out—and now he's gwineter sit down + yere till somebody listens to him. It won't do to fool wid him, Marse + Harry—I see dat de fus' time he come. He's a he-one—and he's + got horns on him for sho'. What'll I do?” + </p> + <p> + Both Harry and St. George roared. + </p> + <p> + “Why bring him in, of course—a 'pusson' with horns on him will be + worth seeing.” + </p> + <p> + A shabby, wizened-faced man; bent-in-the-back, gimlet-eyed, wearing a + musty brown coat, soiled black stock, unspeakable linen, and skin-tight + trousers held to his rusty shoes by wide straps—showing not only the + knuckles of his knees but the streaked thinness of his upper shanks—(Cruikshank + could have drawn him to the life)—sidled into the room, mopping his + head with a red cotton handkerchief which he took from his hat. + </p> + <p> + “My name is GADgem, gentleman—Mr. John GADgem of GADgem & + Combes. + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for Mr. Harry Rutter, whom I am informed—I would not + say POSitively—but I am inFORMED is stopping with you, Mr. Temple. + You forget me, Mr. Temple, but I do not forget you, sir. That little + foreclosure matter of Bucks vs. Temple—you remember when—” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said St. George curtly, laying down his knife and fork. “Todd, + hand Mr. Gadgem a chair.” + </p> + <p> + The gimlet-eyed man—and it was very active—waved his hand + deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think that is necessary. I can stand. I preFER to stand. I am + acCUStomed to stand—I have been standing outside this gentleman's + father's door now, off and on, for some weeks, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me what you want?” interrupted Harry, curtly. References to + Moorlands invariably roused his ire. + </p> + <p> + “I am coming to that, sir, slowly, but surely. Now that I have found + somebody that will listen to me—that is, if you are Mr. Harry Rutter—” + The deferential air with which he said this was admirable. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—I'm the man,” answered Harry in a resigned voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—so I supposed. And now I look at you, sir”—here the + gimlet was in full twist—“I would make an affidavit to that effect + before any notary.” He began loosening his coat with his skinny fingers, + fumbling in his inside pocket, thrusting deep his hand, as if searching + for an elusive insect in the vicinity of his arm-pit, his talk continuing: + “Yes, sir, before any notary, you are so exactly like your father. Not + that I've seen your father, sir, VERY MANY TIMES”—the elusive had + evidently escaped, for his hand went deeper. “I've only seen him once—ONCE—and + it was enough. It was not a pleasant visit, sir—in fact, it was a + most UNpleasant visit. I came very near having cause for action—for + assault, really. A very polite colored man was all that prevented it, and—Ah—here + it is!” He had the minute pest now. “Permit me to separate the list from + the exhibits.” + </p> + <p> + At this Gadgem's hand, clutching a bundle of papers, came out with a jerk—so + much of a jerk that St. George, who was about to end the comedy by + ordering the man from the room, stopped short in his protest, his + curiosity getting the better of him to know what the fellow had found. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir.” Here he drew a long slip from the package, held it between + his thumb and forefinger, and was about to continue, when St. George burst + out with: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Gadgem—if you have any business with Mr. Rutter you will + please state it at once. We have hardly finished breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg, sir, that you will not lose your temper. It is unBUSinesslike to + lose one's temper. Gadgem & Combes, sir, NEVER lose their temper. They + are men of peace, sir—ALways men of peace. Mr. Combes sometimes + resorts to extreme measures, but NEVER Mr. Gadgem. <i>I</i> am Mr. Gadgem, + sir,” and he tapped his soiled shirt-front with his soiled finger-nail. + “PEACE is my watchword, that is why this matter has been placed in my + hands. Permit me, sir, to ask you to cast your eye over this.” + </p> + <p> + Harry, who was getting interested, scanned the long slip and handed it to + St. George, who studied it for a moment and returned it to Harry. + </p> + <p> + “You will note, I beg of you, sir, the first item.” There was a tone of + triumph now in Gadgem's voice. “One saddle horse sixteen hands high, + bought of Hampson & Co. on the”—then he craned his neck so as to + see the list over Harry's shoulder—“yes—on the SECOND of LAST + September. Rather overdue, is it not, sir, if I may be permitted to + remark?” This came with a lift of the eyebrows, as if Harry's oversight + had been too naughty for words. + </p> + <p> + “But what the devil have I got to do with this?” The boy was thoroughly + angry now. The lift of Gadgem's eyebrows did it. + </p> + <p> + “You rode the horse, sir.” This came with a certain air of “Oh! I have you + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and he broke his leg and had to be shot,” burst out Harry in a tone + that showed how worthless had been the bargain. + </p> + <p> + “EXactly, sir. So your father told me, sir. You don't remember having PAID + Mr. Hampson for him beFORE he broke his leg, do you, sir?” He had him + pinned fast now—all he had to do was to watch his victim's + struggles. + </p> + <p> + “Me? No, of course not!” Harry exploded. + </p> + <p> + “EXactly so, sir—so your father told me. FORcibly, sir—and as + if he was quite sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + Again he looked over Harry's shoulder, following the list with his skinny + finger. At the same time he lowered his voice—became even humble. + “Ah, there it is—the English racing saddle and the pair of blankets, + and the—might I ask you, sir, whether you have among your papers any + receipt for—?” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't pay these bills—I never pay any bills.” Harry's tone + had now reached a higher pitch. + </p> + <p> + “EXactly so, sir—just what your father said, sir, and with such + vehemence that I moved toward the door.” Out went the finger again, the + insinuating voice keeping up. “And then the five hundred dollars from Mr. + Slater—you see, sir, we had all these accounts placed in our hands + with the expectation that your father would liquidate at one fell swoop—these + were Mr. Combes's very words, sir: 'ONE FELL SWOOP.'” This came with an + inward rake of his hand, his fingers grasping an imaginary sickle, Harry's + accumulated debts being so many weeds in his way. + </p> + <p> + “And didn't he? He always has,” demanded the culprit. + </p> + <p> + “EXactly so, sir—exactly what your father said.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what?” + </p> + <p> + “That he had heretofore always paid them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, take them to him!” roared Harry, breaking loose again. “I + haven't got anything to do with them, and won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father's PREcise words, sir,” purred Gadgem. “And by the time he had + uttered them, sir, I was out of the room. It was here, sir, that the very + polite colored man, Alec by name, so I am informed, and of whom I made + mention a few moments ago, became of inVALuable assistance—of very + GREAT assistance, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to tell me that you have seen my father—handed him these + bills, and that he has refused to pay them?” Harry roared on. + </p> + <p> + “I DO, sir.” Gadgem had straightened his withered body now and was boring + into Harry's eyes with all his might. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me just what he said?” The boy was still roaring, but the + indignant tone was missing. + </p> + <p> + “He said—you will not be offended, sir—you mean, of course, + sir, that you would like me to state exACTly what your father said, + proceeding as if I was under oath.” It is indescribable how soft and + mellifluous his voice had now become. + </p> + <p> + Harry nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He said, sir, that he'd be DAMNED if he'd pay another cent for a + hot-headed fool who had disgraced his family. He said, sir, that you were + of AGE—and were of age when you contracted these bills. He said, + sir, that he had already sent you these accounts two days after he had + ordered you from his house. And FInally, sir—I say, finally, sir, + because it appeared to me at the time to be conclusive—he said, sir, + that he would set the dogs on me if I ever crossed his lot again. HENCE, + sir, my appearing three times at your door yesterday. HENCE, sir, my + breaking in upon you at this unseemly hour in the morning. I am particular + myself, sir, about having my morning meal disturbed; cold coffee is never + agreeable, gentlemen—but in this case you must admit that my + intrusion is pardonable.” + </p> + <p> + The boy understood now. + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it I have a bundle of papers upstairs tied with a red + string which came with my boxes from Moorlands. I threw them in the drawer + without opening them.” This last remark was addressed to St. George, who + had listened at first with a broad smile on his face, which had deepened + to one of intense seriousness as the interview continued, and which had + now changed to one of ill-concealed rage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gadgem,” gritted St. George between his teeth—he had risen from + the table during the colloquy and was standing with his back to the + mantel, the blood up to the roots of his hair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Lay the packages of bills with the memoranda on my desk, and I will look + them over during the day.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Temple,” and his lip curled contemptuously—he had had that + same trick played on him by dozens of men. + </p> + <p> + “Not another word, Mr. Gadgem. I said—I—would look—them—over—during—the—day. + You've had some dealings with me and know exactly what kind of a man I am. + When I want you I will send for you. If I don't send for you, come here + to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and Mr. Rutter will give you his answer. + Todd, show Mr. Gadgem out.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Temple—you forGET that my duty is to—” + </p> + <p> + “I forget nothing. Todd, show Mr. Gadgem out.” + </p> + <p> + With the closing of the door behind the agent, St. George turned to Harry. + His eyes were snapping fire and his big frame tense with anger. This phase + of the affair had not occurred to him—nothing in which money formed + an important part ever did occur to him. + </p> + <p> + “A cowardly piece of business, Harry, and on a par with everything he has + done since you left his house. Talbot must be crazy to act as he does. He + can't break you down in any other way, so he insults you before his + friends and now throws these in your face”—and he pointed to the + package of bills where Gadgem had laid it—“a most extraordinary + proceeding. Please hand me that list. Thank you.... Now this third item + ... this five hundred dollars—did you get that money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and another hundred the next day, which isn't down,” rejoined + the young man, running his eye over the list. + </p> + <p> + “Borrowed it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course—for Gilbert. He got into a card scrape at the tavern + and I helped him out. I told my father all about it and he said I had done + just right; that I must always help a friend out in a case like that, and + that he'd pay it. All he objected to was my borrowing it of a tradesman + instead of my coming to him.” It was an age of borrowing and a bootmaker + was often better than a banker. + </p> + <p> + “Well—but why didn't you go to him?” He wanted to get at all the + facts. + </p> + <p> + “There wasn't time. Gilbert had to have the money in an hour, and it was + the only place where I could get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there wasn't time—never is when the stakes are running + like that.” St. George folded up the memorandum. He knew something of + Talbot's iron will, but he never supposed that he would lose his sense of + what was right and wrong in exercising it. Again he opened the list—rather + hurriedly this time, as if some new phase had struck him—studied it + for a moment, and then asked with an increased interest in his tones: + </p> + <p> + “Did Gilbert give you back the money you loaned him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—certainly; about a month afterward.” Here at least was an + asset. + </p> + <p> + St. George's face lighted up. “And what did you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Took it to my father and he told me to use it; that he would settle with + Mr. Slater when he paid his account;—when, too, he would thank him + for helping me out.” + </p> + <p> + “And when he didn't pay it back and these buzzards learned you had quit + your father's house they employed Gadgem to pick your bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—it seems so; but, Uncle George, it's due them!” exclaimed Harry—“they + ought to have their money. I would never have taken a dollar—or + bought a thing if I had not supposed my father would pay for them.” There + was no question as to the boy's sense of justice—every intonation + showed it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's due—due by you, too—not your father; that's + the worst of it. And if he refuses to assume it—and he has—it + is still to be paid—every cent of it. The question is how the devil + is it to be paid—and paid quickly. I can't have you pointed out as a + spendthrift and a dodger. No, this has got to be settled at once.” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself into a chair, his mind absorbed in the effort to find + some way out of the difficulty. The state of his own bank account + precluded all relief in that direction. To borrow a dollar from the + Patapsco on any note of hand he could offer was out of the question, the + money stringency having become still more acute. Yet help must be had, and + at once. Again he unfolded the slip and ran his eyes over the items, his + mind in deep thought, then he added in an anxious tone: + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware, Harry, that this list amounts to several thousand + dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I saw it did. I had no idea it was so much. I never thought + anything about it in fact. My father always paid—paid for anything I + wanted.” Neither did the young fellow ever concern himself about the + supply of water in the old well at Moorlands. His experience had been + altogether with the bucket and the gourd: all he had had to do was to dip + in. + </p> + <p> + Again St. George ruminated. It had been many years since he had been so + disturbed about any matter involving money. + </p> + <p> + “And have you any money left, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much. What I have is in my drawer upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll lend you the money.” This came with a certain spontaneity—quite + as if he had said to a companion who had lost his umbrella—“Take + mine!” + </p> + <p> + “But have you got it, Uncle George?” asked Harry in an anxious tone. + </p> + <p> + “No—not that I know of,” he replied simply, but with no weakening of + his determination to see the boy through, no matter at what cost. + </p> + <p> + “Well—then—how will you lend it?” laughed Harry. Money crises + had not formed part of his troubles. + </p> + <p> + “Egad, my boy, I don't know!—but somehow.” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell and Todd put in his head. “Todd, go around outside,—see + if young Mr. Pawson is in his office below us, present my compliments and + say that it will give me great pleasure to call upon him regarding a + matter of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah—” + </p> + <p> + “—And, Todd—say also that if agreeable to him, I will be there + in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Punctually at ten o'clock on the following morning the shrivelled body and + anxious face of the agent was ushered by Todd into St. George's presence—Dandy + close behind sniffing at his thin knees, convinced that he was a + suspicious person. This hour had been fixed by Temple in case he was not + sent for earlier, and as no messenger had so far reached the bill + collector he was naturally in doubt as to the nature of his reception. He + had the same hat in his hand and the same handkerchief—a weekly, or + probably a monthly comfort—its dingy red color defrauding the + laundry. + </p> + <p> + “I have waited, sir,” Gadgem began in an unctuous tone, his eyes on the + dog, who had now resumed his place on the hearth rug—“waited + IMpatiently, relying upon the word and honor of—” + </p> + <p> + “There—that will do, Gadgem,” laughed St. George good-naturedly. + Somehow he seemed more than usually happy this morning—bubbling + over, indeed, ever since Todd had brought him a message from the young + lawyer in the basement but half an hour before. “Keep that sort of talk + for those who like it. No, Todd, you needn't bring Mr. Gadgem a chair, for + he won't be here long enough to enjoy it. Now listen,” and he took the + memorandum from his pocket. “These bills are correct. Mr. Rutter has had + the money and the goods. Take this list which I have signed to my attorney + in the office underneath and be prepared to give a receipt in full for + each account at twelve o'clock to-morrow. I have arranged to have them + paid in full. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem stared. He did not believe a word about finding the money + downstairs. He was accustomed to being put off that way and had already + formulated his next tactical move. In fact he was about to name it with + some positiveness, recounting the sort of papers which would follow and + the celerity of their serving, when he suddenly became aware that St. + George's eyes were fixed upon him and instantly stopped breathing. + </p> + <p> + “I said good-morning, Mr. Gadgem,” repeated St. George sententiously. + There was no mistaking his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you, sir,” hesitated the collector—“<i>I</i> heard you + diSTINCTly, but in cases of this kind there is—” + </p> + <p> + St. George swung back the door and stood waiting. No man living or dead + had ever doubted the word of St. George Wilmot Temple, not even by a tone + of the voice, and Gadgem's was certainly suggestive of a well-defined and + most offensive doubt. Todd moved up closer; Dandy rose to his feet, + thinking he might be of use. The little man looked from one to the other. + He might add an action for assault and battery to the claim, but that + would delay its collection. + </p> + <p> + “Then at TWELVE o'clock, to-morrow, Mr. Temple,” he purred blandly. + </p> + <p> + “At twelve o'clock!” repeated St. George coldly, wondering which end of + the intruder he would grapple when he threw him through the front door and + down the front steps. + </p> + <p> + “I will be here on the stroke of the clock, sir—on the STROKE,” and + Gadgem slunk out. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes St. George continued to walk up and down the room, + stooping once in a while to caress the setter; dry-washing his hands; + tapping his well-cut waistcoat with his shapely fingers, his thumbs in the + arm-holes; halting now and then to stretch himself to the full height of + his body. He had outwitted the colonel—taught him a lesson—let + him see that he was not the only “hound in the pack,” and, best of all, he + had saved the boy from annoyance and possibly from disgrace. + </p> + <p> + He was still striding up and down the room, when Harry, who had overslept + himself as usual, came down to breakfast. Had some friend of his uncle + found a gold mine in the back yard—or, better still, had Todd just + discovered a forgotten row of old “Brahmin Madeira” in some dark corner of + his cellar—St. George could not have been more buoyant. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you didn't get up any earlier, you good-for-nothing sleepy-head!” he + cried in welcoming, joyous tones. “You have just missed that ill-smelling + buzzard.” + </p> + <p> + “What buzzard?” asked Harry, glancing over the letters on the mantel in + the forlorn hope of finding one from Kate. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Gadgem—and that is the last you will ever see of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?—has father paid him?” he asked in a listless way, squeezing + Dandy's nose thrust affectionately into his hand—his mind still on + Kate. Now that Willits was with her, as every one said, she would never + write him again. He was a fool to expect it, he thought, and he sighed + heavily. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he hasn't paid him—but I have. That is, a friend of mine + has—or will.” + </p> + <p> + “You have!” cried Harry with a start. He was interested now—not for + himself, but for St. George: no penny of his uncle's should ever go to pay + his debts. “Where did the money come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind where the money came from. You found it for Gilbert—did + he ask you where you got it? Why should you ask me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't; but you are mighty good to me, Uncle George, and I am very + grateful to you.” The relief was not overwhelming, for the burden of the + debt had not been heavy. It was only the sting of his father's refusal + that had hurt. He had always believed that the financial tangle would be + straightened out somehow. + </p> + <p> + “No!—damn it!—you are not grateful. You sha'n't be grateful!” + cried St. George with a boyish laugh, seating himself that he might fill + his pipe the better from a saucer of tobacco on the table. “If you were + grateful it would spoil it all. What you can do, however, is to thank your + lucky stars that that greasy red pocket-handkerchief will never be aired + in your presence again. And there's another thing you can be thankful for + now that you are in a thankful mood, and that is that Mr. Poe will be at + Guy's to-morrow, and wants to see me.” He had finished filling the pipe + bowl, and had struck a match. + </p> + <p> + The boy's eyes danced. Gadgem, his father, his debts, everything—was + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad! How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a letter from him.” (Puff-puff.) + </p> + <p> + “And can I see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can see him! We will have him to dinner, my boy! Here comes + Todd with your coffee. Take my seat so I can talk to you while I smoke.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Although St. George dispensed his hospitality without form or pretence, + never referring to his intended functions except in a casual way, the news + of so unusual a dinner to so notorious a man as Edgar Allan Poe could not + long be kept quiet. + </p> + <p> + While a few habitues occupying the arm-chairs on the sidewalk of the club + were disappointed at not being invited,—although they knew that ten + guests had always been St. George's limit,—others expressed their + disapproval of the entire performance with more than a shrug of the + shoulders. Captain Warfleld was most outspoken. “Temple,” he said, “like + his father, is a law unto himself, and always entertains the queerest kind + of people; and if he wants to do honor to a man of that stamp, why that, + of course, is his business, not mine.” At which old Tom Purviance had + blurted out—“And a shiftless vagabond too, Warfield, if what I hear + is true. Fine subject for St. George to waste his Madeira on!” Purviance + had never read a dozen lines of anybody's poetry in his life, and looked + upon all literary men as no better than play actors. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Richard Horn, his eyes flashing, had retorted: + </p> + <p> + “If I did not know how kind-hearted you were, Purviance, and how + thoughtless you can sometimes be in your criticisms, I might ask you to + apologize to both Mr. Poe and myself. Would it surprise you to know that + there is no more truth in what you say than there is in the reports of + that gentleman's habitual drunkenness? It was but a year ago that I met + him at his cousin's house and I shall never forget him. Would it also + surprise you to learn that he has the appearance of a man of very great + distinction?—that he was faultlessly attired in a full suit of black + and had the finest pair of eyes in his head I have ever looked into? Mr. + Poe is not of your world, or of mine—he is above it. There is too + much of this sort of ill-considered judgment abroad in the land. No—my + dear Purviance—I don't want to be rude and I am sure you will not + think I am personal. I am only trying to be just to one of the master + spirits of our time so that I won't be humiliated when his real worth + becomes a household word.” + </p> + <p> + The women took a different view. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand what Mr. Temple is thinking of,” said the wife of the + archdeacon to Mrs. Cheston. “This Mr. Poe is something dreadful—never + sober, I hear. Mr. Temple is invariably polite to everybody, but when he + goes out of his way to do honor to a man like this he only makes it harder + for those of us who are trying to help our sons and brothers—” to + which Mrs. Cheston had replied with a twinkle in her mouse eyes and a toss + of her gray head:—“So was Byron, my dear woman—a very dreadful + and most disreputable person, but I can't spare him from my Library, nor + should you.” + </p> + <p> + None of these criticisms would have affected St. George had he heard them, + and we may be sure no one dared tell him. He was too busy, in fact—and + so was Harry, helping him for that matter—setting his house in order + for the coming function. + </p> + <p> + That the table itself might be made the more worthy of the great man, + orders were given that the big silver loving-cup—the one presented + to his father by no less a person than the Marquis de Castellux himself—should + be brought out to be filled later on with Cloth of Gold roses so placed + that their rich color and fragrance would reach both the eyes and the + nostrils of his guests, while the rest of the family silver, brightened to + a mirror finish by Todd, was either sent down to Aunt Jemima to be ready + for the special dishes for which the house was famous, or disposed on the + side-board and serving-table for instant use when required. Easy-chairs + were next brought from upstairs—tobacco and pipes, with wax candles, + were arranged on teak-wood trays, and an extra dozen or so of bubble-blown + glasses banked on a convenient shelf. The banquet room too, for it was + late summer, was kept as cool as the season permitted, the green shutters + being closed, thus barring out the heat of early September—and the + same precaution was taken in the dressing-room, which was to serve as a + receptacle for hats and canes. + </p> + <p> + And Todd as usual was his able assistant. All the darky's training came + into play when his master was giving a dinner: what Madeira to decant, and + what to leave in its jacket of dust, with its waistcoat of a label + unlaundered for half a century; the temperature of the claret; the exact + angle at which the Burgundy must be tilted and when it was to be opened—and + how—especially the “how”—the disturbing of a single grain of + sediment being a capital offence; the final brandies, particularly that + old Peach Brandy hidden in Tom Coston's father's cellar during the war of + 1812, and sent to that gentleman as an especial “mark of my appreciation + to my dear friend and kinsman, St. George Wilmot Temple,” etc., etc.—all + this Todd knew to his finger ends. + </p> + <p> + For with St. George to dine meant something more than the mere satisfying + of one's hunger. To dine meant to get your elbows next to your dearest + friend—half a dozen or more of your dearest friends, if possible—to + look into their faces, hear them talk, regale them with the best your + purse afforded, and last and best of all to open for them your rarest + wines—wines bred in the open, amid tender, clustering leaves; wines + mellowed by a thousand sunbeams; nurtured, cared for, and put tenderly to + sleep, only to awake years thereafter to warm the hearts and cheer the + souls of those who honored them with their respect and never degraded them + with their debauchery. + </p> + <p> + As for the dishes themselves—here St. George with Jemima's help was + pastmaster: dishes sizzling hot; dishes warm, and dishes stone cold. And + their several arrivals and departures, accompanied by their several + staffs: the soup as an advance guard—of gumbo or clams—or both + if you chose; then a sheepshead caught off Cobb's Island the day before, + just arrived by the day boat, with potatoes that would melt in your mouth—in + gray jackets these; then soft-shell crabs—big, crisp fellows, with + fixed bayonets of legs, and orderlies of cucumber—the first served + on a huge silver platter with the coat-of-arms of the Temples cut in the + centre of the rim and the last on an old English cut-glass dish. Then the + woodcock and green peas—and green corn—their teeth in a broad + grin; then an olio of pineapple, and a wonderful Cheshire cheese, just + arrived in a late invoice—and marvellous crackers—and coffee—and + fruit (cantaloupes and peaches that would make your mouth water), then + nuts, and last a few crusts of dry bread! And here everything came to a + halt and all the troops were sent back to the barracks—(Aunt Jemima + will do for the barracks). + </p> + <p> + With this there was to follow a change of base—a most important + change. Everything eatable and drinkable and all the glasses and dishes + were to be lifted from the table—one half at a time—the cloth + rolled back and whisked away and the polished mahogany laid bare; the + silver coasters posted in advantageous positions, and in was to rattle the + light artillery:—Black Warrior of 1810—Port of 1815—a + Royal Brown Sherry that nobody knew anything about, and had no desire to, + so fragrant was it. Last of all the notched finger-bowls in which to cool + the delicate, pipe-stem glasses; and then, and only then, did the real + dinner begin. + </p> + <p> + All this Todd had done dozens and dozens of times before, and all this + (with Malachi's assistance—Richard Horn consenting—for there + was nothing too good for the great poet) would Todd do again on this + eventful night. + </p> + <p> + As to the guests, this particular feast being given to the most + distinguished literary genius the country had yet produced,—certainly + the most talked of—those who were bidden were, of course, selected + with more than usual care: Mr. John P. Kennedy, the widely known author + and statesman, and Mr. John H. B. Latrobe, equally noteworthy as + counsellor, mathematician, and patron of the fine arts, both of whom had + been Poe's friends for years, and who had first recognized his genius; + Richard Horn, who never lost an opportunity to praise him, together with + Judge Pancoast, Major Clayton, the richest aristocrat about Kennedy Square + and whose cellar was famous the county over—and last, the Honorable + Prim. Not because old Seymour possessed any especial fitness one way or + the other for a dinner of this kind, but because his presence would afford + an underground communication by which Kate could learn how fine and + splendid Harry was—(sly old diplomat St. George!)—and how well + he had appeared at a table about which were seated the best Kennedy Square + could produce. + </p> + <p> + “I'll put you right opposite Mr. Poe, Harry—so you can study him at + your leisure,” St. George had said when discussing the placing of the + guests, “and be sure you look at his hands, they are just like a girl's, + they are so soft and white. And his eyes—you will never forget them. + And there is an air about him too—an air of—well, a sort of + haughty distraction—something I can't quite explain—as if he + had a contempt for small things—things that you and I, and your + father and all of us about here, believe in. Blood or no blood, he's a + gentleman, even if he does come of very plain people;—and they were + players I hear. It seems natural, when you think it over, that Latrobe and + Kennedy and Horn should be men of genius, because their blood entitles + them to it, but how a man raised as Mr. Poe has been should—well—all + I can say is that he upsets all our theories.” + </p> + <p> + “But I think you are wrong, Uncle George, about his birth. I've been + looking him up and his grandfather was a general in the Revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad of it—and I hope he was a very good general, and + very much of a gentleman—but there is no question of his descendant + being a wonder. But that is neither here nor there—you'll be right + opposite and can study him in your own way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kennedy arrived first. Although his family name is the same as that + which dignifies the scene of these chronicles, none of his ancestors, so + far as I know, were responsible for its title. Nor did his own domicile + front on its confines. In fact, at this period of his varied and + distinguished life, he was seldom seen in Kennedy Square, his duties at + Washington occupying all his time, and it was by the merest chance that he + could be present. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, St. George!” he exclaimed, as he handed his hat to Todd and grasped + his host's hand. “So very good of you to let me come. How cool and + delicious it is in here—and the superb roses—Ah yes!—the + old Castellux cup. I remember it perfectly; your father once gave me a sip + from its rim when I was a young fellow. And now tell me—how is our + genius? What a master-stroke is his last—the whole country is + ringing with it. How did you get hold of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Very easily. He wrote me he was passing through on his way to Richmond, + and you naturally popped into my head as the proper man to sit next him,” + replied St. George in his hearty manner. + </p> + <p> + “And you were on top of him, I suppose, before he got out of bed. Safer, + sometimes,” and he smiled significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, found him at Guy's. Sit here, Kennedy, where the air is cooler.” + </p> + <p> + “And quite himself?” continued the author, settling himself in a chair + that St. George had just drawn out for him. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps a little thinner, and a little worn. It was only when I told him + you were coming, that I got a smile out of him. He never forgets you and + he never should.” + </p> + <p> + Again Todd answered the knocker and Major Clayton, Richard Horn, and Mr. + Latrobe joined the group. The major, who was rather stout, apologized for + his light seersucker coat, due, as he explained, to the heat, although his + other garments were above criticism. Richard, however, looked as if he had + just stepped out of an old portrait in his dull-blue coat and white silk + scarf, St. George's eyes lighting up as he took in the combination—nothing + pleased St. George so much as a well-dressed man, and Richard never + disappointed him, while Latrobe, both in his dress and dignified bearing, + easily held first place as the most distinguished looking man in the room. + </p> + <p> + The Honorable Prim now stalked in and shook hands gravely and with much + dignity, especially with Mr. Kennedy, whose career as a statesman he had + always greatly admired. St. George often said, in speaking of this manner + of the Scotchman's, that Prim's precise pomposity was entirely due to the + fact that he had swallowed himself and couldn't digest the meal; that if + he would once in a while let out a big, hearty laugh it might split his + skin wide enough for him to get a natural breath. + </p> + <p> + St. George kept his eyes on Harry when the boy stepped forward and shook + Prim by the hand, but he had no need for anxiety. The face of the young + prince lighted up and his manner was as gracious as if nothing had ever + occurred to mar the harmony between the Seymour clan and himself. + </p> + <p> + Everybody had seated themselves now—Malachi having passed around a + course of palm-leaf fans—Clayton, Latrobe, and Horn at one open + window overlooking the tired trees—it was in the dog days—Seymour + and the judge at the other, while St. George took a position so that he + could catch the first glimpse of the famous poet as he crossed the Square—(it + was still light), the dinner hour having arrived and Todd already getting + nervous. + </p> + <p> + Once more the talk dwelt on the guest of honor—Mr. Kennedy, who, of + all men of his time, could best appreciate Poe's genius, and who, with Mr. + Latrobe, had kept it alive, telling for the hundredth time the old story + of his first meeting with the poet, turning now and then to Latrobe for + confirmation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some ten or more years ago, wasn't it, Latrobe? We happened to be on + the committee for awarding a prize story, and Poe had sent in his + 'Manuscript in a Bottle' among others. It would have broken your hearts, + gentlemen, to have seen him. His black coat was buttoned up close to his + chin—seedy, badly worn—he himself shabby and down at the + heels, but erect and extremely courteous—a most pitiable object. My + servant wasn't going to let him in at first, he looked so much the + vagrant.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know, of course, Kennedy, that he had no shirt on under that + coat, don't you?” rejoined Latrobe, rising from his seat as he spoke and + joining St. George at the window. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” echoed Mr. Kennedy. + </p> + <p> + “I am positive of it. He came to see me next day and wanted me to let him + know whether he had been successful. He said if the committee only knew + how much the prize would mean to him they would stretch a point in his + favor. I am quite sure I told you about it at the time, St. George,” and + he laid his hand on his host's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “There was no need of stretching it, Latrobe,” remarked Richard Horn in + his low, incisive voice, his eyes on Kennedy's face, although he was + speaking to the counsellor. “You and Kennedy did the world a great service + at the right moment. Many a man of brains—one with something new to + say—has gone to the wall and left his fellow men that much poorer + because no one helped him into the Pool of Healing at the right moment.” + (Dear Richard!—he was already beginning to understand something of + this in his own experience.) + </p> + <p> + Todd's entrance interrupted the talk for a moment. His face was screwed up + into knots, both eyes lost in the deepest crease. “Fo' Gawd, Marse + George,” he whispered in his master's ear—“dem woodcock'll be + sp'iled if dat gemman don't come!” + </p> + <p> + St. George shook his head: “We will wait a few minutes more, Todd. Tell + Aunt Jemima what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Clayton, who despite the thinness of his seersucker coat, had kept his + palm-leaf fan busy since he had taken his seat, and who had waited until + his host's ear was again free, now broke in cheerily: + </p> + <p> + “Same old story of course, St. George. Another genius gone astray. Bad + business, this bee of literature, once it gets to buzzing.” Then with a + quizzical glance at the author: “Kennedy is a lamentable example of what + it has done for him. He started out as a soldier, dropped into law, and + now is trying to break into Congress again—and all the time writes—writes—writes. + It has spoiled everything he has tried to do in life—and it will + spoil everything he touches from this on—and now comes along this + man Poe, who—” + </p> + <p> + “—No, he doesn't come along,” chimed in Pancoast, who so far had + kept silence, his palm-leaf fan having done all the talking. “I wish he + would.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, judge,” chuckled Clayton, “and that is just my point. Here + I say, comes along this man Poe and spoils my dinner. Something, I tell + you, has got to be done or I shall collapse. By the way, Kennedy—didn't + you send Poe a suit of clothes once in which to come to your house?” + </p> + <p> + The distinguished statesman, who had been smiling at the major's + good-natured badinage, made no reply: that was a matter between the poet + and himself. + </p> + <p> + “And didn't he keep everybody waiting?” persisted Clayton, “until your man + found him and brought him back in your own outfit—only the shirt was + four sizes too big for his bean-pole of a body. Am I right?” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “He has often dined with me, Clayton,” replied Kennedy in his most + courteous and kindly tone, ignoring the question as well as all allusion + to his charity—“and never in all my experience have I ever met a + more dazzling conversationalist. Start him on one of his weird tales and + let him see that you are interested and in sympathy with him, and you will + never forget it. He gave us parts of an unfinished story one night at my + house, so tremendous in its power that every one was frozen stiff in his + seat.” + </p> + <p> + Again Clayton cut in, this time to St. George. He was getting horribly + hungry, as were the others. It was now twenty minutes past the dinner hour + and there were still no signs of Poe, nor had any word come from him. “For + mercy's sake, St. George, try the suit-of-clothes method—any suit of + clothes—here—he can have mine! I'll be twice as comfortable + without them.” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn't get into them,” returned St. George with a smile—“nor + could he into mine, although he is half our weight; and as for our hats—they + wouldn't get further down on his head than the top of his crown.” + </p> + <p> + “But I insist on the experiment,” bubbled Clayton good-naturedly. “Here we + are, hungry as wolves and everything being burned up. Try the + suit-of-clothes trick—Kennedy did it—and it won't take your + Todd ten minutes to go to Guy's and bring him back inside of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Those days are over for Poe,” Kennedy remarked with a slight frown. The + major's continued allusions to a brother writer's poverty, though pure + badinage, had begun to jar on the author. + </p> + <p> + For the second time Todd's face was thrust in at the door. It now looked + like a martyr's being slowly roasted at the stake. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Todd—serve dinner!” called St. George in a tone that showed + how great was his disappointment. “We won't wait any longer, gentlemen. + Geniuses must be allowed some leeway. Something has detained our guest.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got an idea in his head and has stopped in somewhere to write it + down,” continued Clayton in his habitual good-natured tone: it was the + overdone woodcock—(he had heard Todd's warning)—that still + filled his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I could forgive him for that,” exclaimed the judge—“some of his + best work, I hear, has been done on the spur of the moment—and you + should forgive him too, Clayton—unbeliever and iconoclast as you are—and + you WOULD forgive him if you knew as much about new poetry as you do about + old port.” + </p> + <p> + Clayton's stout body shook with laughter. “My dear Pancoast,” he cried, + “you do not know what you are talking about. No man living or dead should + be forgiven who keeps a woodcock on the spit five minutes over time. + Forgive him! Why, my dear sir, your poet ought to be drawn and quartered, + and what is left of him boiled in oil. Where shall I sit, St. George?” + </p> + <p> + “Alongside of Latrobe. Kennedy, I shall put you next to Poe's vacant chair—he + knows and loves you best. Seymour, will you and Richard take your places + alongside of Pancoast, and Harry, will you please sit opposite Mr. + Kennedy?” + </p> + <p> + And so the dinner began. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Whether it was St. George's cheery announcement: “Well, gentlemen, I am + sorry, but we still have each other, and so we will remember our guest in + our hearts even if we cannot have his charming person,” or whether it was + that the absence of Poe made little difference when a dinner with St. + George was in question—certain it is that before many moments the + delinquent poet was for the most part forgotten. + </p> + <p> + As the several dishes passed in review, Malachi in charge of the small + arms—plates, knives, and forks—and Todd following with the + heavier guns—silver platters and the like—the talk branched + out to more diversified topics: the new omnibuses which had been allowed + to run in the town; the serious financial situation, few people having + recovered from the effects of the last great panic; the expected reception + to Mr. Polk; the new Historical Society, of which every one present was a + member except St. George and Harry; the successful experiments which the + New York painter, a Mr. Morse, was making in what he was pleased to call + Magnetic Telegraphy, and the absurdity of his claim that his invention + would soon come into general use—every one commenting unfavorably + except Richard Horn:—all these shuttlecocks being tossed into + mid-air for each battledore to crack, and all these, with infinite tact + the better to hide his own and his companions' disappointment over the + loss of his honored guest—did St. George keep on the move. + </p> + <p> + With the shifting of the cloth and the placing of the coasters—the + nuts, crusts of bread, and finger-bowls being within easy reach—most + of this desultory talk ceased. Something more delicate, more human, more + captivating than sport, finance, or politics; more satisfying than all the + poets who ever lived, filled everybody's mind. Certain Rip Van Winkles of + bottles with tattered garments, dust-begrimed faces, and cobwebs in their + hair were lifted tenderly from the side-board and awakened to + consciousness (some of them hadn't opened their mouths for twenty years, + except to have them immediately stopped with a new cork), and placed in + the expectant coasters, Todd handling each one with the reverence of a + priest serving in a temple. Crusty, pot-bellied old fellows, who hadn't + uttered a civil word to anybody since they had been shut up in their + youth, now laughed themselves wide open. A squat, lean-necked, jolly + little jug without legs—labelled in ink—“Crab-apple, 1807,” + spread himself over as much of the mahogany as he could cover, and admired + his fat shape upside down in its polish. Diamond-cut decanters—regular + swells these—with silver chains and medals on their chests—went + swaggering round, boasting of their ancestors; saying “Your good health” + every time any one invited them to have a drop—or lose one—while + a modest little demijohn—or rather a semi-demi-little-john—all + in his wicker-basket clothes, with a card sewed on his jacket—like a + lost boy (Peggy Coston of Wesley did the sewing) bearing its name and + address—“Old Peach, 1796, Wesley, Eastern Shore,” was placed on St. + George's right within reach of his hand. “It reminds me of the dear woman + herself, gentleman, in her homely outside and her warm, loving heart + underneath, and I wouldn't change any part of it for the world.” + </p> + <p> + “What Madeira is this, St. George?” It was the judge who was speaking—he + had not yet raised the thin glass to his lips; the old wine-taster was too + absorbed in its rich amber color and in the delicate aroma, which was now + reaching his nostrils. Indeed a new—several new fragrances, were by + this time permeating the room. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same, judge, that I always give you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not your father's Black Warrior?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the 1810. Don't you recognize it? Not corked, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Corked, my dear man! It's a posy of roses. But I thought that was all + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there are a few bottles still in my cellar—some—How many + are there, Todd, of the Black Warrior?” + </p> + <p> + “Dat's de las' 'cept two, Marse George.” + </p> + <p> + “Dying in a good cause, judge—I'll send them to you to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll do nothing of the kind, you spendthrift. Give them to Kennedy or + Clayton.” + </p> + <p> + “No, give them to nobody!” laughed Kennedy. “Keep them where they are and + don't let anybody draw either cork until you invite me to dinner again.” + </p> + <p> + “Only two bottles left,” cried Latrobe in consternation! “Well, what the + devil are we going to do when they are gone?—what's anybody going to + do?” The “we” was the key to the situation. The good Madeira of Kennedy + Square was for those who honored it, and in that sense—and that + sense only—was common property. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be frightened, Latrobe,” laughed St. George—“I've got a lot + of the Blackburn Reserve of 1812 left. Todd, serve that last bottle I + brought up this morning—I put it in that low decanter next to—Ah, + Malachi—you are nearest. Pass that to Mr. Latrobe, Malachi—Yes, + that's the one. Now tell me how you like it. It is a little pricked, I + think, and may be slightly bruised in the handling. I spent half an hour + picking out the cork this morning—but there is no question of its + value.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” rejoined Latrobe, moistening his lips with the topaz-colored liquid—“it + is a little bruised. I wouldn't have served it—better lay it aside + for a month or two in the decanter. Are all your corks down to that, St. + George?” + </p> + <p> + “All the 1810 and '12—dry as powder some of them. I've got one over + on the sideboard that I'm afraid to tackle”—here he turned to + Clayton: “Major, you are the only man I know who can pick out a cork + properly. Yes, Todd—the bottle at the end, next to that Burgundy—carefully + now. Don't shake it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well—but why don't YOU draw the cork yourself, St. George?” + interrupted the major, his eyes on Todd, who was searching for the rarity + among the others flanking the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not—that is, I'm afraid to try. You are the man for a cork + like that—and Todd!—hand Major Clayton the corkscrew and one + of those silver nutpicks.” + </p> + <p> + The Honorable Prim bent closer. “What is it, St. George, some old Port?” + he asked in a perfunctory way. Rare old wines never interested him. “They + are an affectation,” he used to say. + </p> + <p> + “No, Seymour—it's really a bottle of the Peter Remsen 1817 Madeira.” + </p> + <p> + The bottle was passed, every eye watching it with the greatest interest. + </p> + <p> + “No, never mind the corkscrew, Todd,—I'll pick it out,” remarked the + major, examining the hazardous cork with the care of a watchmaker handling + a broken-down chronometer. “You're right, St. George—it's too far + gone. Don't watch me, Seymour, or I'll get nervous. You'll hoodoo it—you + Scotchmen are the devil when it comes to anything fit to drink,” and he + winked at Prim. + </p> + <p> + “How much is there left of it, St. George?” asked Latrobe, watching the + major manipulate the nutpick. + </p> + <p> + “Not a drop outside that bottle.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us pray—for the cork,” sighed Latrobe. “Easy—E-A-SY, + major—think of your responsibility, man!” + </p> + <p> + It was out now, the major dusting the opening with one end of his napkin—his + face wreathed in smiles when his nostrils caught the first whiff of its + aroma. + </p> + <p> + “By Jupiter!—gentlemen!—When I'm being snuffed out I'll at + least go like a gentleman if I have a drop of this on my lips. It's a + bunch of roses—a veritable nosegay. Heavens!—what a bouquet! + Some fresh glasses, Todd.” + </p> + <p> + Malachi and Todd both stepped forward for the honor of serving it, but the + major waved them aside, and rising to his feet began the round of the + table, filling each slender pipe-stem glass to the brim. + </p> + <p> + Then the talk, which had long since drifted away from general topics, + turned to the color and sparkle of some of the more famous wines absorbed + these many years by their distinguished votaries. This was followed by the + proper filtration and racking both of Ports and Madeiras, and whether milk + or egg were best for the purpose—Kennedy recounting his experience + of different vintages both here and abroad, the others joining in, and all + with the same intense interest that a group of scientists or collectors + would have evinced in discussing some new discovery in chemistry or + physics, or the coming to light of some rare volume long since out of + print—everybody, indeed, taking a hand in the discussion except + Latrobe, whose mouth was occupied in the slow sipping of his favorite + Madeira—tilting a few drops now and then on the end of his tongue, + his eyes devoutly closed that he might the better relish its flavor and + aroma. + </p> + <p> + It was all an object lesson to Harry, who had never been to a dinner of + older men—not even at his father's—and though at first he + smiled at what seemed to him a great fuss over nothing, he finally began + to take a broader view. Wine, then, was like food or music, or poetry—or + good-fellowship—something to be enjoyed in its place—and never + out of it. For all that, he had allowed no drop of anything to fall into + his own glass—a determination which Todd understood perfectly, but + which he as studiously chose to ignore—going through all the motions + of filling the glass so as not to cause Marse Harry any embarrassment. + Even the “1817” was turned down by the young man with a parrying gesture + which caught the alert eyes of the major. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my boy,” the bon vivant said sententiously. “It is a wine + for old men. But look after your stomach, you dog—or you may wake up + some fine morning and not be able to know good Madeira from bad. You young + bloods, with your vile concoctions of toddies, punches, and other satanic + brews, are fast going to the devil—your palates, I am speaking of. + If you ever saw the inside of a distillery you would never drink another + drop of whiskey. There's poison in every thimbleful. There's sunshine in + this, sir!” and he held the glass to his eyes until the light of the + candles flashed through it. + </p> + <p> + “But I've never seen the inside or outside of a distillery in my life,” + answered Harry with a laugh, a reply which did not in the least quench the + major's enthusiasms, who went on dilating, wine-glass in hand, on the + vulgarity of drinking STANDING UP—the habitual custom of whiskey + tipplers—in contrast with the refinement of sipping wines SITTING + DOWN—one being a vice and the other a virtue. + </p> + <p> + Richard, too, had been noticing Harry. He had overheard, as the dinner + progressed, a remark the boy had made to the guest next him, regarding the + peculiar rhythm of Poe's verse—Harry repeating the closing lines of + the poem with such keen appreciation of their meaning that Richard at once + joined in the talk, commending him for his insight and discrimination. He + had always supposed that Rutter's son, like all the younger bloods of his + time, had abandoned his books when he left college and had affected horses + and dogs instead. The discovery ended in his scrutinizing Harry's face the + closer, reading between the lines—his father here, his mother there—until + a quick knitting of the brows, and a flash from out the deep-brown eyes, + upset all his preconceived opinions; he had expected grit and courage in + the boy—there couldn't help being that when one thought of his + father—but where did the lad get his imagination? Richard wondered—that + which millions could not purchase. “A most engaging young man in spite of + his madcap life,” he said to himself—“I don't wonder St. George + loves him.” + </p> + <p> + When the bell in the old church struck the hour of ten, Harry again turned + to Richard and said with a sigh of disappointment: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it's too late to expect him—don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I fear so,” rejoined Richard, who all through the dinner had never + ceased to bend his ear to every sound, hoping for the rumble of wheels or + the quick step of a man in the hall. “Something extraordinary must have + happened to him, or he may have been called suddenly to Richmond and taken + the steamboat.” Then leaning toward his host he called across the table: + “Might I make a suggestion, St. George?” + </p> + <p> + St. George paused in his talk with Mr. Kennedy and Latrobe and raised his + head: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just saying to young Rutter here, that perhaps Mr. Poe has been + called suddenly to Richmond and has sent you a note which has not reached + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Or he might be ill,” suggested Harry in his anxiety to leave no loophole + through which the poet could escape. + </p> + <p> + “Or he might be ill,” repeated Richard—“quite true. Now would you + mind if I sent Malachi to Guy's to find out?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Richard—but I'll send Todd. We can get along, I expect, with + Malachi until he gets back. Todd!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to Guy's and ask Mr. Lampson if Mr. Poe is still in the hotel. If + he is not there ask for any letter addressed to me and then come back. If + he is in, go up to his room and present my compliments, and say we are + waiting dinner for him.” + </p> + <p> + Todd's face lengthened, but he missed no word of his master's + instructions. Apart from these his mind was occupied with the number of + minutes it would take him to run all the way to Guy's Hotel, mount the + steps, deliver his message, and race back again. Malachi, who was nearly + twice his age, and who had had twice his experience, might be all right + until he reached that old Burgundy, but “dere warn't nobody could handle + dem corks but Todd; Malachi'd bust 'em sho' and spile 'em 'fo' he could + git back.” + </p> + <p> + “'Spose dere ain't no gemman and no letter, den what?” he asked as a last + resort. + </p> + <p> + “Then come straight home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah,” and he backed regretfully from the room and closed the door + behind him. + </p> + <p> + St. George turned to Horn again: “Very good idea, Richard—wonder I + hadn't thought of it before. I should probably had I not expected him + every minute. And he was so glad to come. He told me he had never + forgotten the dinner at Kennedy's some years ago, and when he heard you + would be here as well, his whole face lighted up. I was also greatly + struck with the improvement in his appearance, he seemed more a man of the + world than when I first knew him—carried himself better and was more + carefully dressed. This morning when I went in he—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened silently, and Todd, trembling all over, laid his hand on + his master's shoulder, cutting short his dissertation. + </p> + <p> + “Marse George, please sah, can I speak to you a minute?” The boy looked as + if he had just seen a ghost. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me! Why haven't you taken my message, Todd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah—dat is—can't ye step in de hall a minute, Marse + George—now—right away?” + </p> + <p> + “The hall!—what for?—is there anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + St. George pushed back his chair and followed Todd from the room: + something had gone wrong—something demanding instant attention or + Todd wouldn't be scared out of his wits. Those nearest him, who had + overheard Todd's whispered words, halted in their talk in the hope of + getting some clew to the situation; others, further away, kept on, + unconscious that anything unusual had taken place. + </p> + <p> + Several minutes passed. + </p> + <p> + Again the door swung wide, and a man deathly pale, erect, faultlessly + dressed in a full suit of black, the coat buttoned close to his chin, his + cavernous eyes burning like coals of fire, entered on St. George's arm and + advanced toward the group. + </p> + <p> + Every guest was on his feet in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “We have him at last!” cried St. George in his cheeriest voice. “A little + late, but doubly welcome. Mr. Poe, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Kennedy was the first to extend his hand, Horn crowding close, the others + waiting their turn. + </p> + <p> + Poe straightened his body, focussed his eyes on Kennedy, shook his + extended hand gravely, but without the slightest sign of recognition, and + repeated the same cold greeting to each guest in the room. He spoke no + word—did not open his lips—only the mechanical movement of his + outstretched hand—a movement so formal that it stifled all + exclamations of praise on the part of the guests, or even of welcome. It + was as if he had grasped the hands of strangers beside an open grave. + </p> + <p> + Then the cold, horrible truth flashed upon them: + </p> + <p> + Edgar Allan Poe was dead drunk! + </p> + <p> + The silence that followed was appalling—an expectant silence like + that which precedes the explosion of a bomb. Kennedy, who had known him + the longest and best, and who knew that if his mind could once be set + working he would recover his tongue and wits, having seen him before in a + similar crisis, stepped nearer and laid both hands on Poe's shoulders. Get + Poe to talking and he would be himself again; let him once be seated, and + ten chances to one he would fall asleep at the table. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't sit down, Mr. Poe—not yet. Give us that great story of + yours—the one you told at my house that night—we have never + forgotten it. Gentlemen, all take your seats—I promise you one of + the great treats of your lives.” + </p> + <p> + Poe stood for an instant undecided, the light of the candles illumining + his black hair, pallid face, and haggard features; fixed his eyes on Todd + and Malachi, as if trying to account for their presence, and stood + wavering, his deep, restless eyes gleaming like slumbering coals flashing + points of hot light. + </p> + <p> + Again Mr. Kennedy's voice rang out: + </p> + <p> + “Any one of your stories, Mr. Poe—we leave it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody was seated now, with eyes fixed on the poet. Harry, overcome and + still dazed, pressed close to Richard, who, bending forward, had put his + elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. Clayton wheeled up a big chair + and placed it back some little distance so that he could get a better view + of the man. Seymour, Latrobe, and the others canted their seats to face + the speaker squarely. All felt that Kennedy's tact had saved the situation + and restored the equilibrium. It was the poet now who stood before them—the + man of genius—the man whose name was known the country through. That + he was drunk was only part of the performance. Booth had been drunk when + he chased a super from the stage; Webster made his best speeches when he + was half-seas-over—was making them at that very moment. It was so + with many other men of genius the world over. If they could hear one of + Poe's poems—or, better still, one of his short stories, like “The + Black Cat” or the “Murders in the Rue Morgue”—it would be like + hearing Emerson read one of his Essays or Longfellow recite his + “Hyperion.” This in itself would atone for everything. Kennedy was right—it + would be one of the rare treats of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Poe grasped the back of the chair reserved for him, stood swaying for an + instant, passed one hand nervously across his forehead, brushed back a + stray lock that had fallen over his eyebrow, loosened the top button of + his frock coat, revealing a fresh white scarf tied about his neck, closed + his eyes, and in a voice deep, sonorous, choked with tears one moment, + ringing clear the next—word by word—slowly—with infinite + tenderness and infinite dignity and with the solemnity of a condemned man + awaiting death—repeated the Lord's Prayer to the end. + </p> + <p> + Kennedy sat as if paralyzed. Richard Horn, who had lifted up his hands in + horror as the opening sentence reached his ears, lowered his head upon his + chest as he would in church. There was no blasphemy in this! It was the + wail of a lost soul pleading for mercy! + </p> + <p> + Harry, cowering in his chair, gazed at Poe in amazement. Then a throb of + such sympathy as he had never felt before shook him to his depths. Could + that transfigured man praying there, the undried tears still on his lids, + be the same who had entered on his uncle's arm but a few moments before? + </p> + <p> + Poe lifted his head, opened his eyes, walked in a tired, hopeless way + toward the mantel and sank into an easy-chair. There he sat with bowed + head, his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + One by one the men rose to their feet and, with a nod or silent pressure + of St. George's palm, moved toward the door. When they spoke to each other + it was in whispers: to Todd, who brought their hats and canes; to Harry, + whom, unconsciously, they substituted for host; shaking his hand, + muttering some word of sympathy for St. George. No—they would find + their way, better not disturb his uncle, etc. They would see him in the + morning, etc., and thus the group passed out in a body and left the house. + </p> + <p> + Temple himself was profoundly moved. The utter helplessness of the man; + his abject and complete surrender to the demon which possessed him—all + this appalled him. He had seen many drunken men in his time—roysterers + and brawlers, most of them—but never one like Poe. The poet seemed + to have lost his identity—nothing of the man of the world was left—in + speech, thought, or movement. + </p> + <p> + When Harry re-entered, his uncle was sitting beside the poet, who had not + yet addressed him a word; nor had he again raised his head. Every now and + then the sound of an indrawn breath would escape Poe, as if hot tears were + choking him. + </p> + <p> + St. George waved his hand meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Todd I'll ring for him when I want him, Harry,” he whispered, “and + now do you go to sleep.” Then, pointing to the crouching man, “He must + stay in my bed here to-night; I won't leave him. What a pity! O God! what + a pity! Poor fellow—how sorry I am for him!” + </p> + <p> + Harry was even more affected. Terrified and awestruck, he mounted the + stairs to his room, locked his chamber door, and threw himself on his bed, + his mother's and Kate's pleadings sounding in his ears, his mind filled + with the picture of the poet standing erect with closed eyes, the prayer + his mother had taught him falling from his lips. This, then, was what his + mother and Kate meant—this—the greatest of all calamities—the + overthrow of a MAN. + </p> + <p> + For the hundredth time he turned his wandering search-light into his own + heart. The salient features of his own short career passed in review: the + fluttering of the torn card as it fell to the floor; the sharp crack of + Willits's pistol; the cold, harsh tones of his father's voice when he + ordered him from the house; Kate's dear eyes streaming with tears and her + uplifted hands—their repellent palms turned toward him as she sobbed—“Go + away—my heart is broken!” And then the refrain of the poem which of + late had haunted him night and day: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Disaster following fast and following faster, + Till his song one burden bore,” + </pre> + <p> + and then the full, rich tones of Poe's voice pleading with his Maker: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” + </p> + <p> + Yes:—Disaster had followed fast and faster. But why had it followed + him? What had he done to bring all this misery upon himself? How could he + have acted differently? Wherein had he broken any law he had been taught + to uphold, and if he had broken it why should he not be forgiven? Why, + too, had Kate turned away from him? He had promised her never to drink + again; he had kept that promise, and, God helping him, he would always + keep it, as would any other man who had seen what he had just seen + to-night. Perhaps he had trespassed in the duel, and yet he would fight + Willits again were the circumstances the same, and in this view Uncle + George upheld him. But suppose he had trespassed—suppose he had + committed a fault—as his father declared—why should not Kate + forgive him? She had forgiven Willits, who was drunk, and yet she would + not forgive him, who had not allowed a drop to pass his lips since he had + given her his promise. How could she, who could do no wrong, expect to be + forgiven herself when she not only shut her door in his face, but left him + without a word or a line? How could his father ask forgiveness of his God + when he would not forgive his son? Why were these two different from his + mother and his Uncle George, and even old Alec—who had nothing but + sympathy for him? Perhaps his education and training had been at fault. + Perhaps, as Richard Horn had said, his standards of living were + old-fashioned and quixotic. + </p> + <p> + Only when the gray dawn stole in through the small window of his room did + the boy fall asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Not only Kennedy Square, but Moorlands, rang with accounts of the dinner + and its consequences. Most of those who were present and who witnessed the + distressing spectacle had only words of sympathy for the unfortunate man—his + reverent manner, his contrite tones, and abject humiliation disarming + their criticism. They felt that some sudden breaking down of the barriers + of his will, either physical or mental, had led to the catastrophe. + Richard Horn voiced the sentiments of Poe's sympathizers when, in + rehearsing the episode the next afternoon at the club, he had said: + </p> + <p> + “His pitiable condition, gentlemen, was not the result of debauchery. Poe + neither spoke nor acted like a drunken man; he spoke and acted like a man + whom a devil had overcome. It was pathetic, gentlemen, and it was + heart-rending—really the most pitiful sight I ever remember + witnessing. His anguish, his struggle, and his surrender I shall never + forget; nor will his God—for the prayer came straight from his + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you, Horn,” interrupted Clayton. “Poe was plumb drunk! + It is the infernal corn whiskey he drinks that puts the devil in him. It + may be he can't get anything else, but it's a damnable concoction all the + same. Kennedy has about given him up—told me so yesterday, and when + Kennedy gives a fellow up that's the last of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm ashamed of Kennedy,” retorted Horn. “Any man who can write as + Poe does should be forgiven, no matter what he does—if he be honest. + There's nothing so rare as genius in this world, and even if his flame + does burn from a vile-smelling wick it's a flame, remember!—and one + that will yet light the ages. If I know anything of the literature of our + time Poe will live when these rhymers like Mr. Martin Farquhar Tupper, + whom everybody is talking about, will be forgotten. Poe's possessed of a + devil, I tell you, who gets the better of him once in a while—it did + the night of St. George's dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Very charitable in you, Richard,” exclaimed Pancoast, another dissenter—“and + perhaps it will be just as well for his family, if he has any, to accept + your view—but, devil or no devil, you must confess, Horn, that it + was pretty hard on St. George. If the man has any sense of refinement—and + he must have from the way he writes—the best way out of it is for + him to own up like a man and say that Guy's barkeeper filled him too full + of raw whiskey, and that he didn't come to until it was too late—that + he was very sorry, and wouldn't do it again. That's what I would have + done, and that's what you, Richard, or any other gentleman, would have + done.” + </p> + <p> + Others, who got their information second hand, followed the example of St. + George's guests censuring or excusing the poet in accordance with their + previous likes or dislikes. The “what-did-I-tell-yous”—Bowdoin among + them—and there were several—broke into roars of laughter when + they learned what had happened in the Temple mansion. So did those who had + not been invited, and who still felt some resentment at St. George's + oversight. + </p> + <p> + Another group; and these were also to be found at the club—thought + only of St. George—old Murdock, voicing their opinions when he said: + “Temple laid himself out, so I hear, on that dinner, and some of us know + what that means. And a dinner like that, remember, counts with St. George. + In the future it will be just as well to draw the line at poets as well as + actors.” + </p> + <p> + The Lord of Moorlands had no patience with any of their views. Whether Poe + was a drunkard or not did not concern him in the least. What did trouble + him was the fact that St. George's cursed independence had made him so far + forget himself and his own birth and breeding as to place a chair at his + table for a man in every way beneath him. Hospitality of that kind was + understandable in men like Kennedy and Latrobe—one the leading + literary light of his State, whose civic duties brought him in contact + with all classes—the other a distinguished man of letters as well as + being a poet, artist, and engineer, who naturally touched the sides of + many personalities. So, too, might Richard Horn be excused for stretching + the point—he being a scientist whose duty it was to welcome to his + home many kinds of people—this man Morse among them, with his + farcical telegraph; a man in the public eye who seemed to be more or less + talked about in the press, but of whom he himself knew nothing, but why + St. George Temple, who in all probability had never read a line of Poe's + or anybody else's poetry in his life, should give this sot a dinner, and + why such sane gentlemen as Seymour, Clayton, and Pancoast should consider + it an honor to touch elbows with him, was as unaccountable as it was + incredible. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore—and this is what rankled deepest in his heart—St. + George was subjecting his only son, Harry, to corrupting influences, and + at a time, too, when the boy needed the uplifting examples of all that was + highest in men and manners. + </p> + <p> + “And you tell me, Alec,” he blazed out on hearing the details, “that the + fellow never appeared until the dinner was all over and then came in + roaring drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sah, I ain't yered nothin' 'bout de roarin', but he suttinly was + 'how-come-ye-so'—fer dey couldn't git 'im upstairs 'less dey toted + him on dere backs. Marse George Temple gin him his own baid an' sot up + mos' ob de night, an' dar he stayed fur fo' days till he come to. Dat's + what Todd done tol' me, an' I reckon Todd knows.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel was in his den when this conversation took place. He was + generally to be found there since the duel. Often his wife, or Alec, or + some of his neighbors would surprise him buried in his easy-chair, an + unopened book in his hand, his eyes staring straight ahead as if trying to + grasp some problem which repeatedly eluded him. After the episode at the + club he became more absorbed than ever. It was that episode, indeed, which + had vexed him most. Not that St. George's tongue-lashing worried him—nor + did Harry's blank look of amazement linger in his thoughts. St. George, he + had to confess to himself as he battled with the questions, was the soul + of honor and had not meant to insult him. It was Temple's love for Harry + which had incited the quixotic onslaught, for, as he knew, St. George + dearly loved the boy, and this in itself wiped all resentment from the + autocrat's heart. As to Harry's attitude toward himself, this he continued + to reason was only a question of time. That young upstart had not learned + his lesson yet—a harsh lesson, it was true, and one not understood + by the world at large—but then the world was not responsible for his + son's bringing up. When the boy had learned it, and was willing to + acknowledge the error of his ways, then, perhaps, he might kill the fatted + calf—that is, of course, if the prodigal should return on all fours + and with no stilted and untenable ideas about his rights—ideas that + St. George, of course, was instilling into him every chance he got. + </p> + <p> + So far, however, he had had to admit to himself that while he had kept + steady watch of the line of hills skirting his mental horizon, up to the + present moment no young gentleman in a dilapidated suit of clothes, + inverted waist measure, and lean legs had shown himself above the sky + line. On the contrary, if all reports were true—and Alec omitted no + opportunity to keep him advised of Marse Harry's every movement—the + young Lord of Moorlands was having the time of his life, even if his + sweetheart had renounced him and his father forced him into exile. Not + only had he found a home and many comforts at Temple's—being treated + as an honored guest alongside of such men as Kennedy and Latrobe, + Pancoast, and the others, but now that St. George had publicly declared + him to be his heir, these distinctive marks of his approbation were likely + to continue. Nor could he interfere, even if he wished to—which, of + course, he did not, and never could so long as he lived.... “Damn him!” + etc., etc. And with this the book would drop from his lap and he begin + pacing the floor, his eyes on the carpet, his broad shoulders bent in his + anxiety to solve the problem which haunted him night and day:—how to + get Harry back under his roof and not yield a jot or tittle of his pride + or will—or, to be more explicit, now that the mountain would not + come to Mahomet, how could Mahomet get over to the mountain? + </p> + <p> + His friend and nearest neighbor, John Gorsuch, who was also his man of + business, opened the way. The financier's clerk had brought him a letter, + just in by the afternoon coach, and with a glance at its contents the + shrewd old fellow had at once ordered his horse and set out for Moorlands, + some two miles distant. Nor did he draw rein or break gallop until he + threw the lines to a servant beside the lower step of the colonel's porch. + </p> + <p> + “It's the Patapsco again! It will close its doors before the week is out!” + he cried, striding into the library, where the colonel, who had just come + in from inspecting a distant field on his estate, sat dusting his + riding-boots with his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Going to stop payment! Failed! What the devil do you mean, John?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean just what I say! Everything has gone to bally-hack in the city. + Here's a letter I have just received from Harding—he's on the + inside, and knows. He thinks there's some crooked business about it; they + have been loaning money on all sorts of brick-bats, he says, and the end + has come, or will to-morrow. He wanted to post me in time.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel tossed his handkerchief on his writing-table: “Who will be + hurt?” he asked hurriedly, ignoring the reference to the dishonesty of the + directors. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—a lot of people. Temple, I know, keeps his account there. He + was short of cash a little while ago, for young Pawson, who has his law + office in the basement of his house, offered me a mortgage on his Kennedy + Square property, but I hadn't the money at the time and didn't take it. If + he got it at last—and he paid heavily for it if he did—the way + things have been going—and if he put that money in the Patapsco, it + will be a bad blow to him. Harry, I hear, is with him—so I thought + you ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + Rutter had given a slight start at the mention of Temple's name among the + crippled, and a strange glitter still lingered in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then I presume my son is dependent on a beggar,” he exclaimed, rising + from his seat, stripping off his brown velveteen riding-jacket and hanging + it in a closet behind his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it looks that way.” + </p> + <p> + Gorsuch was watching the colonel closely. He had another purpose in making + his breakneck ride. He didn't have a dollar in the Patapsco, and he knew + the colonel had not; he, like himself, was too shrewd a man to be bitten + twice by the same dog; but he had a large interest in Harry and would + leave no stone unturned to bring father and son together. + </p> + <p> + The colonel again threw himself into his chair, stretched out his slender, + well-turned legs, crooked one of his russet-leather riding-boots to be + sure the spurs were still in place, and said slowly—rather absently, + as if the subject did not greatly interest him: + </p> + <p> + “Patapsco failed and St. George a beggar, eh?—Too bad!—too + bad!” Then some disturbing suspicions must have entered his head, for he + roused himself, looked at Gorsuch keenly, and asked in a searching tone: + “And you came over full tilt, John, to tell me this?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you might help. St. George needs all the friends he's got if + this is true—and it looks to me as if it was,” answered Gorsuch in a + casual way. + </p> + <p> + Rutter relaxed his gaze and resumed his position. Had his suspicions been + correct that Gorsuch's interest in Harry was greater than his interest in + the bank's failure, he would have resented it even from John Gorsuch. + </p> + <p> + Disarmed by the cool, unflinching gaze of his man of business, his mind + again took up in review all the incidents connected with St. George and + his son, and what part each had played in them. + </p> + <p> + That Temple—good friend as he had always been—had thwarted him + in every attempt to bring about a reconciliation between himself and + Harry, had been apparent from the very beginning of the difficulty. Even + the affair at the club showed it. This would have ended quite differently—and + he had fully intended it should—had not St. George, with his cursed + officiousness, interfered with his plans. For what he had really proposed + to himself to do, on that spring morning when he had rolled up to the club + in his coach, was to mount the steps, ignore his son at first, if he + should run up against him—(and he had selected the very hour when he + hoped he would run up against him)—and then, when the boy broke + down, as he surely must, to forgive him like a gentleman and a Rutter, and + this, too, before everybody. Seymour would see it—Kate would hear of + it, and the honor of the Rutters remain unblemished. Moreover, this would + silence once and for all those gabblers who had undertaken to criticise + him for what they called his inhumanity in banishing this only son when he + was only trying to bring up that child in the way he should go. Matters + seemed to be coming his way. The failure of the Patapsco might be his + opportunity. St. George would be at his wits' end; Harry would be forced + to choose between the sidewalk and Moorlands, and the old life would go on + as before. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts coursed through his mind as he leaned back in his + chair, his lips tight set, the jaw firm and determined—only the lids + quivering as he mastered the tears that crept to their edges. Now and + then, in his mental absorption, he would absently cross his legs only to + straighten them out again, his state of mind an open book to Gorsuch, who + had followed the same line of reasoning and who had brought the news + himself that he might the better watch its effect. + </p> + <p> + “I'm surprised that Temple should select the Patapsco. It has never got + over its last smash of four years ago,” Gorsuch at last remarked. He did + not intend to let the topic drift away from Harry if he could help it. + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised, John. St. George is the best fellow in the world, but + he never lets anything work but his heart. When you get at the bottom of + it you will find that he's backed up the bank because some poor devil of a + teller or clerk, or may be some director, is his friend. That's enough for + St. George, and further than that he never goes. He's thrown away two + fortunes now—his grandmother's, which was small but sound—and + his father's, which if he had attended to it would have kept him + comfortable all his life.” + </p> + <p> + “You had some words at the club, I heard,” interjected Gorsuch. + </p> + <p> + “No, he had some words, I had a julep,” and the colonel smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “But you are still on good terms, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, but he isn't. But that is of no consequence. No man in his senses + would ever get angry with St. George, no matter what he might say or do. + He hasn't a friend in the world who could be so ill bred. And as to + calling him out—you would as soon think of challenging your wife. + St. George talks from his heart, never his head. I have loved him for + thirty years and know exactly what I am talking about—and yet let me + tell you, Gorsuch, that with all his qualities—and he is the + finest-bred gentleman I know—he can come closer to being a natural + born fool than any man of his years and position in Kennedy Square. This + treatment of my son—whom I am trying to bring up a gentleman—is + one proof of it, and this putting all his eggs into one basket—and + that a rotten basket—is another.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—if that is your feeling about it, colonel, why not go + and see him? As I have said, he needs all the friends he's got at a time + like this.” If he could bring the two men together the boy might come + home. Not to be able to wave back to Harry as he dashed past on Spitfire, + had been a privation which the whole settlement had felt. “That is, of + course,” he continued, “if St. George Temple would be willing to receive + you. He would be—wouldn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, John—and I don't care. If I should make up my mind to + go—remember, I said 'IF'—I'd go whether he liked it or not.” + </p> + <p> + He HAD made up his mind—had made it up at the precise moment the + announcement of the bank's failure and St. George's probable ruin had + dropped from Gorsuch's lips—but none of this must Gorsuch suspect. + He would still be the doge and Virginius; he alone must be the judge of + when and how and where he would show leniency. Generations of Rutters were + behind him—this boy was in the direct line—connecting the past + with the present—and on Colonel Talbot Rutter of Moorlands, and on + no other, rested the responsibility of keeping the glorious name + unsmirched. + </p> + <p> + Todd, with one of the dogs at his heels, opened the door for him, + smothering a “Gor-a-Mighty!—sumpin's up fo' sho'!” when his hand + turned the knob. He had heard the clatter of two horses and their sudden + pull-up outside, and looking out, had read the situation at a glance. Old + Matthew was holding the reins of both mounts at the moment, for the + colonel always rode in state. No tying to hitching-posts or tree-boxes, or + picking up of a loose negro to watch his restless steed when he had a + stable full of thoroughbreds and quarters packed with grooms. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse Colonel—yes, sah—Marse George is inside—yes, + sah—but Marse Harry's out.” He had not asked for Harry, but Todd + wanted him to get all the facts in case there was to be another such scene + as black John described had taken place at the club on the occasion of the + colonel's last visit to the Chesapeake. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go in unannounced, and you need not wait, Todd.” + </p> + <p> + St. George was in his arm-chair by the mantel looking over one of his + heavy ducking-guns when the Lord of Moorlands entered. He was the last man + in the world he expected to see, but he did not lose his self-control or + show in any way his surprise. He was host, and Rutter was his guest; + nothing else counted now. + </p> + <p> + St. George rose to his feet, laid the gun carefully on the table, and with + a cold smile on his face—one of extreme courtesy—advanced to + greet him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Talbot—it has been some time since I had this pleasure. Let me + draw up a chair for you—I'll ring for Todd and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, St. George. I prefer to talk to you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Todd is never an interruption.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be to-day. I have something to say to you—and I don't want + either to be interrupted or misunderstood. You and I have known each other + too many years to keep up this quarrel; I am getting rather sick of it + myself.” + </p> + <p> + St. George shrugged his shoulders, placed the gun carefully in the rack by + the door, and maintained an attentive attitude. He would either fight or + make peace, but he must first learn the conditions. In the meantime he + would hold his peace. + </p> + <p> + Rutter strode past him to the fireplace, opened his riding-jacket, laid + his whip on the mantel, and with his hands deep in his breeches pockets + faced the room and his host, who had again taken his place by the table. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, St. George, I have been greatly disturbed of late by reports + which have reached me about my son. He is with you, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + St. George nodded. + </p> + <p> + Rutter waited for a verbal reply, and receiving none, forged on: “Very + greatly disturbed; so much so that I have made an especial trip from + Moorlands to call upon you and ascertain their truth.” + </p> + <p> + Again St. George nodded, the smile—one of extreme civility now—still + on his face. Then he added, flicking some stray grains of tobacco from his + sleeve with his fingers: “That was very good of you, Talbot—but go + on—I'm listening.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel's eyes kindled. Temple's perfect repose—something he had + not expected—was beginning to get on his nerves, He cleared his + throat impressively and continued, his voice rising in intensity: + </p> + <p> + “Instead of leading the life of a young man brought up as a gentleman, I + hear he is consorting with the lowest class of people here in your house—people + who—” + </p> + <p> + “—Are my guests,” interrupted St. George calmly—loosening the + buttons of his coat in search of his handkerchief—there being more + tobacco on his clothes than he had supposed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have hit it exactly—your guests—and that is another + thing I have come to tell you, for neither I nor your friends can + understand how a man of your breeding should want to surround himself with——Is + it necessary that you should understand, Talbot?”—same low, incisive + but extremely civil voice, almost monotonous in its cadences. The cambric + was in full play now. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is necessary when it affects my own flesh and blood. You + know as well as I do that this sot, Poe, is not a fit companion for a boy + raised as my Harry has been—a man picked out of the gutter—his + family a lot of play-actors—even worse, I hear. A fellow who + staggers into your house dead drunk and doesn't sober up for a week! It's + scandalous!” + </p> + <p> + Again St. George shrugged his shoulders, but one hand was tight shut this + time, the steel claws protruding, the handkerchief alone saving their + points from pressing into the palms. + </p> + <p> + “And is that what you came from Moorlands to tell me, Talbot?” remarked + St. George casually, adjusting the lapels of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” retorted Rutter—he was fast losing what was left of his + self-control—“that and some other things! But we will attend to + Harry first. You gave that boy shelter when—” + </p> + <p> + “Please state it correctly, Talbot. We can get on better if you stick to + the facts.” The words came slowly, but the enunciation was as perfect as + if each syllable had been parted with a knife. “I didn't give him shelter—I + gave him a home—one you denied him. But go on—I prefer to hear + you out.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel's eyes blazed. He had never seen St. George like this: it was + Temple's hot outbursts that had made him so easy an adversary in their + recent disputes. + </p> + <p> + “And you will please do the same, St. George,” he demanded in his most + top-lofty tone, ignoring his opponent's denial. “You know perfectly well I + turned him out of Moorlands because he had disgraced his blood, and yet + you—my life-long friend—have had the bad taste to interfere + and drag him down still lower, so that now, instead of coming to his + senses and asking my pardon, he parades himself at the club and at your + dinners, putting on the airs of an injured man.” + </p> + <p> + St. George drew himself up to his full height. + </p> + <p> + “Let us change the subject, Talbot, or we will both forget ourselves. If + you have anything to say to me that will benefit Harry and settle the + difficulty between him and you, I will meet you more than half-way, but I + give you fair warning that the apology must come from you. You have—if + you will permit me to say it in my own house—behaved more like a + brute than a father. I told you so the night you turned him out in the + rain for me to take care of, and I told you so again at the club when you + tried to make a laughing-stock of him before your friends—and now I + tell you so once more! Come!—let us drop the subject—what may + I offer you to drink?—you must be rather chilled with your ride in.” + </p> + <p> + Rutter was about to flare out a denial when his better judgment got the + best of him; some other tactics than the ones he had used must be brought + into play. So far he had made but little headway against Temple's + astounding coolness. + </p> + <p> + “And I am to understand, then, that you are going to keep him here?” he + demanded, ignoring both his host's criticisms and his proffered + hospitality. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly am”—he was abreast of him now, his eyes boring into his—“just + as long as he wishes to stay, which I hope will be all his life, or until + you have learned to be decent to him. And by decency, I mean + companionship, and love, and tenderness—three things which your + damned, high-toned notions have always deprived him of!” His voice was + still under control, although the emphasis was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + Rutter made a step forward, his eyes flashing, his teeth set: + </p> + <p> + “You have the impertinence, sir, to charge me with——” + </p> + <p> + “—Yes!—and it's true and you know it's true!”—the + glance, steady as a rifle, had not wavered. “No, you needn't work yourself + up into a passion—and as for your lordly, dictatorial airs, I am + past the age when they affect me—keep them for your servants. By + God!—what a farce it all is! Let us talk of something else—I + am tired of it!” + </p> + <p> + The words cut like a whip, but the Lord of Moorlands had come to get his + son, not to fight St. George. Their sting, however, had completely changed + his plans. Only the club which Gorsuch had put into his hands would count + now. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a damnable farce!” he thundered, “and one played by a man with + beggary staring him straight in the face, and yet to hear you talk one + would think you were a Croesus! You mortgaged this house to get ready + money, did you not?” He was not sure, but this was no time in which to + split words. + </p> + <p> + St. George turned quickly: “Who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Do you suppose I would let Harry sneak around corners to avoid his + creditors?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel gave an involuntary start, the blood mounting to the roots of + his hair, and as suddenly paled: + </p> + <p> + “You tell me that—you dared to—pay Harry's debts?” he + stammered in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Dared!” retorted St. George, lifting his chin contemptuously. “Really, + Talbot, you amuse me. When you set that dirty hound Gadgem on his trail, + what did you expect me to do?—invite the dog to dinner?—or + have him sleep in the house until I sold furniture enough to get rid of + him?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel leaned back against the mantel's edge as if for support. All + the fight was out of him. Not only was the situation greatly complicated, + but he himself was his host's debtor. The seriousness of the whole affair + confronted him. For a brief instant he gazed at the floor, his eyes on the + hearthrug, “Have you any money left, St. George?” he asked. His voice was + subdued enough now. Had he been his solicitor he could not have been more + concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a few thousand,” returned St. George. He saw that some unexpected + shot had hit the colonel, but he did not know he had fired it. + </p> + <p> + “Left over from the mortgage, I suppose?—less what you paid out for + Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, left over from the mortgage, less what I paid Gadgem,” he bridled. + “If you have brought any more of Harry's bills hand them out. Why the + devil you ask, Talbot, is beyond my ken, but I have no objection to your + knowing.” + </p> + <p> + Rutter waved his hand impatiently, with a deprecating gesture; such + trifles were no longer important. + </p> + <p> + “You bank with the Patapsco, do you not?” he asked calmly. “Answer me, + please, and don't think I'm trying to pry into your affairs. The matter is + much more serious than you seem to think.” The tone was so sympathetic + that St. George looked closer into his antagonist's face, trying to read + the cause. + </p> + <p> + “Always with the Patapsco. I have kept my account there for years,” he + rejoined simply. “Why do you want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it has closed its doors—or will in a few hours. It is + bankrupt!” + </p> + <p> + There was no malice in his tone, nor any note of triumph. That St. George + had beggared himself to pay his son's debts had wiped that clear. He was + simply announcing a fact that caused him the deepest concern. + </p> + <p> + St. George's face paled, and for a moment a peculiar choking movement + started in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Bankrupt!—the Patapsco! How do you know?” He had heard some ugly + rumors at the club a few days before, but had dismissed them as part of + Harding's croakings. + </p> + <p> + “John Gorsuch received a letter last night from one of the directors; + there is no doubt of its truth. I have suspected its condition for some + time, so has Gorsuch. This brought me here. You see now how impossible it + is for my son to be any longer a burden on you.” + </p> + <p> + St. George walked slowly across the room and drawing out a chair settled + himself to collect his thoughts the better;—he had remained standing + as the better way to terminate the interview should he be compelled to + exercise that right. The two announcements had come like successive blows + in the face. If the news of the bank's failure was true he was badly, if + not hopelessly, crippled—this, however, would wait, as nothing he + might do could prevent the catastrophe. The other—Harry's being a + burden to him—must be met at once. + </p> + <p> + He looked up and caught the colonel's eye scrutinizing his face. + </p> + <p> + “As to Harry's being a burden,” St. George said slowly, his lip curling + slightly—“that is my affair. As to his remaining here, all I have to + say is that if a boy is old enough to be compelled to pay his debts he is + old enough to decide where he will live. You have yourself established + that rule and it will be carried out to the letter.” + </p> + <p> + Rutter's face hardened: “But you haven't got a dollar in the world to + spare!” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, but it doesn't altar the situation; it rather strengthens + it.” He rose from his chair: “I think we are about through now, Talbot, + and if you will excuse me I'll go down to the bank and see what is the + matter. I will ring for Todd to bring your hat and coat.” He did not + intend to continue the talk. There had just been uncovered to him a side + of Talbot Rutter's nature which had shocked him as much as had the + threatened loss of his money. To use his poverty as a club to force him + into a position which would be dishonorable was inconceivable in a man as + well born as his antagonist, but it was true: he could hardly refrain from + telling him so. He had missed, it may be said, seeing another side—his + visitor's sympathy for him in his misfortune. That, unfortunately, he did + not see: fate often plays such tricks with us all. + </p> + <p> + The colonel stepped in front of him: his eyes had an ugly look in them—the + note of sympathy was gone. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, St. George! How long you are going to keep up this fool game, + I don't know; but my son stays here on one condition, and on one condition + only, and you might as well understand it now. From this time on I pay his + board. Do you for one instant suppose I am going to let you support him, + and you a beggar?” + </p> + <p> + St. George made a lunge toward the speaker as if to strike him. Had Rutter + fired point-blank at him he could not have been more astounded. For an + instant he stood looking into his face, then whirled suddenly and swung + wide the door. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask you, Talbot, to leave the room, or shall I? You certainly + cannot be in your senses to make me a proposition like that. This thing + has got to come to an end, and NOW! I wish you good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel lifted his hands in a deprecatory way. + </p> + <p> + “As you will, St. George.” + </p> + <p> + And without another word the baffled autocrat strode from the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + There was no one at home when Harry returned except Todd, who, having kept + his position outside the dining-room door during the heated encounter, had + missed nothing of the interview. What had puzzled the darky—astounded + him really—was that no pistol-shot had followed his master's + denouncement and defiance of the Lord of Moorlands. What had puzzled him + still more was hearing these same antagonists ten minutes later passing + the time o' day, St. George bowing low and the colonel touching his hat as + he passed out and down to where Matthew and his horses were waiting. + </p> + <p> + It was not surprising, therefore, that Todd's recital to Harry came in a + more or less disjointed and disconnected form. + </p> + <p> + “You say, Todd,” he exclaimed in astonishment, “that my father was here!” + Our young hero was convinced that the visit did not concern himself, as he + was no longer an object of interest to any one at home except his mother + and Alec. + </p> + <p> + “Dat he was, sah, an' b'ilin' mad. Dey bofe was, on'y Marse George lay low + an' de colonel purty nigh rid ober de top ob de fence. Fust Marse George + sass him an' den de colonel sass him back. Purty soon Marse George say he + gwinter speak his min'—and he call de colonel a brute an' den de + colonel riz up an' say Marse George was a beggar and a puttin' on airs + when he didn't hab 'nough money to buy hisse'f a 'tater; an' den Marse + George r'ared and pitched—Oh I tell ye he ken be mighty sof' and + persimmony when he's tame—and he's mos' allers dat way—but + when his dander's up, and it suttinly riz to-day, he kin make de fur fly. + Dat's de time you wanter git outer de way or you'll git hurted.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did you say was the beggar?” It was all Greek to Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Marse George was—he was de one what was gwine hongry. De + colonel 'lowed dat de bank was busted an'—” + </p> + <p> + “What bank?” + </p> + <p> + “Why de 'Tapsco—whar Marse George keep his money. Ain't you see me + comin' from dar mos' ebery day?” + </p> + <p> + “But it hasn't failed, has it?” He was still wondering what the quarrel + was about. + </p> + <p> + “Wall, I dunno, but I reckon sumpin's de matter, for no sooner did de + colonel git on his horse and ride away dan Marse George go git his hat and + coat hisse'f and make tracks th'ou' de park by de short cut—and you + know he neber do dat 'cept when he's in a hurry, and den in 'bout a ha'f + hour he come back ag'in lookin' like he'd seed de yahoo, only he was mad + plump th'ou'; den he hollered for me quick like, and sont me down + underneaf yere to Mr. Pawson to know was he in, and he was, and I done + tol' him, and he's dar now. He ain't neber done sont me down dar 'cept + once sence I been yere, and dat was de day dat Gadgem man come snuffin' + roun'. Trouble comin'.” + </p> + <p> + Harry had now begun to take in the situation. It was evidently a matter of + some moment or Pawson would not have been consulted. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go down myself, Todd,” he said with sudden resolve. + </p> + <p> + “Better lem'me tell him you're yere, Marse Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll go now,” and he turned on his heel and descended the front + steps. + </p> + <p> + On the street side of the house, level with the bricks, was a door opening + into a low-ceiled, shabbily furnished room, where in the old days General + Dorsey Temple, as has been said, shared his toddies with his cronies. + There he found St. George seated at a long table piled high with law books + and papers—the top covered with a green baize cloth embroidered with + mice holes and decorated with ink stains. Beside him was a thin, + light-haired, young man, with a long, flexible neck and abnormally high + forehead, over-doming a shrewd but not unkindly face. The two were poring + over a collection of papers. + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer rose to his feet, a sickly, deferential smile playing + along his straight lips. Young aristocrats of Harry's blood and breeding + did not often darken Pawson's door, and he was extremely anxious that his + guest should in some way be made aware of his appreciation of that fact. + St. George did not move, nor did he take any other notice of the boy's + appearance than to fasten his eyes upon him for a moment in recognition of + his presence. + </p> + <p> + But Harry could not wait. + </p> + <p> + “Todd has just told me, Uncle George, that”—he caught the grave + expression on Temple's face—“Why!—Uncle George—there + isn't anything the matter, is there? It isn't true that the—” + </p> + <p> + St. George raised his head: “What isn't true, Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “That the Patapsco Bank is in trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think so. The bank, so far as I know, is all right; it's the + depositors who are in trouble,” and one of his quaint smiles lighted up + his face. + </p> + <p> + “Broken!—failed!” cried Harry, still in doubt as to the extent of + the catastrophe, but wishing to be sympathetic and proportionably + astounded as any well-bred young man should be when his best friend was + unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it is, Harry—in fact I know it is—bankrupt in + character as well as in balances—a bad-smelling, nasty mess, to tell + you the truth. That's not only my own opinion, but the opinion of every + man whom I have seen, and there was quite an angry mob when I reached the + teller's window this morning. That is your own opinion also, is it not, + Mr. Pawson?—your legal summing up, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + The young attorney stretched out his spare colorless hands; opened wide + his long, double-jointed fingers; pressed their ten little cushions + together, and see-sawing the bunch in front of his concave waistcoat, + answered in his best professional voice: + </p> + <p> + “As to being bankrupt of funds I should say there was no doubt of that + being their condition; as to any criminal intent or practices—that, + of course, gentlemen”—and he shrugged his shoulders in a + non-committal, non-actionable way—“is not for me to decide.” + </p> + <p> + “But you think it will be months, and perhaps years, before the depositors + get a penny of their money—do you not?” persisted St. George. + </p> + <p> + Again Pawson performed the sleight-of-hand trick, and again he was + non-committal—a second shrug alone expressing his views, the + performance ending by his pushing a wooden chair in the direction of + Harry, who was still on his feet. + </p> + <p> + Harry settled himself on its edge and fixed his eyes on his uncle. St. + George again became absorbed in the several papers, Pawson once more + assisting him, the visitor having now been duly provided for. + </p> + <p> + This raking of ashes in the hope of finding something of value unscorched + was not a pleasant task for the young lawyer. He had, years before, + conceived the greatest admiration for his landlord and was never tired of + telling his associates of how kind and considerate St. George had always + been, and of his patience in the earlier days of his lease, Mr. Temple + often refusing the rent until he was quite ready to pay it. He took a + certain pride, too, in living under the same roof, so to speak, with one + universally known as a gentleman of the old school, whose birth, + education, and habits made him the standard among his fellows—a man + without pretence or sham, living a simple and wholesome life; with dogs, + guns, priceless Madeira and Port, as well as unlimited clothes of various + patterns adapted to every conceivable service and function—to say + nothing of his being part of the best society that Kennedy Square could + afford. + </p> + <p> + Even to bow to his distinguished landlord as he was descending his front + steps was in itself one of his greatest pleasures. That he might not miss + it, he would peer from behind his office shutters until the shapely legs + of his patron could be seen between the twisted iron railing. Then + appearing suddenly and with assumed surprise, he would lift his hat with + so great a flourish that his long, thin arms and body were jerked into + semaphore angles, his face meanwhile beaming with ill-concealed delight. + </p> + <p> + Should any one of St. George's personal friends accompany him—men + like Kennedy, or General Hardisty, or some well-known man from the Eastern + Shore—one of the Dennises, or Joyneses, or Irvings—the + pleasure was intensified, the incident being of great professional + advantage. “I have just met old General Hardisty,” he would say—“he + was at our house,” the knowing ones passing a wink around, and the + uninitiated having all the greater respect and, therefore, all the greater + confidence in that rising young firm of “Pawson & Pawson, Attorneys + and Counsellors at Law—Wills drawn and Estates looked after.” + </p> + <p> + That this rarest of gentlemen, of all men in the world, should be made the + victim of a group of schemers who had really tricked him of almost all + that was left of his patrimony, and he a member of his own profession, was + to Pawson one of the great sorrows of his life. That he himself had + unwittingly helped in its culmination made it all the keener. Only a few + weeks had passed since that eventful day when St. George had sent Todd + down to arrange for an interview, an event which was followed almost + immediately by that gentleman in person. He remembered his delight at the + honor conferred upon him; he recalled how he had spent the whole of that + and the next day in the attempt to negotiate the mortgage on the old home + at a reasonable rate of interest; he recalled, too, how he could have + lowered the rate had St. George allowed him more time. “No, pay it and get + rid of them!” St. George had said, the “them” being part of the very + accounts over which the two were poring. And his patron had showed the + same impatience when it came to placing the money in the bank. Although + his own lips were sealed professionally by reason of the interests of + another client, he had begged St. George, almost to the verge of + interference, not to give it to the Patapsco, until he had been silenced + with: “Have them put it to my credit, sir. I have known every member of + that bank for years.” + </p> + <p> + All these things were, of course, unknown to Harry, the ultimate + beneficiary. Who had filled the bucket, and how and why, were unimportant + facts to him. That it was full, and ready for his use, brought with it the + same sense of pleasure he would have felt on a hot day at Moorlands when + he had gone to the old well, drawn up the ice-cold water, and, plunging in + the sweet-smelling gourd, had drank to his heart's content. + </p> + <p> + This was what wells were made for; and so were fathers, and big, generous + men like his Uncle George, who had dozens of friends ready to cram money + into his pocket for him to hand over to whoever wanted it and without a + moment's hesitation—just as Slater had handed him the money he + needed when Gilbert wanted it in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + Nor could it be expected that Harry, even with the examination of St. + George's accounts with the Patapsco and other institutions going on under + his very eyes, understood fully just what a bank failure really meant. + Half a dozen banks, he remembered, had gone to smash some few years + before, sending his father to town one morning at daylight, where he + stayed for a week, but no change, so far as he could recall, had happened + because of it at Moorlands. Indeed, his father had bought a new coach for + his mother the very next week, out of what he had “saved from the wreck,” + so he had told her. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the hurried overhauling of a mass of papers beneath his + uncle's hand, and the subsequent finding of a certain stray sheet by + Pawson, that the boy was aroused to a sense of the gravity of the + situation. And even then his interest did not become acute until, the + missing document identified, St. George had turned to Pawson and, pointing + to an item halfway down the column, had said in a lowered tone, as if + fearing to be overheard: + </p> + <p> + “You have the receipts, have you not, for everything on this list?—Slater's + account too, and Hampson's?” + </p> + <p> + “They are in the file beside you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's a comfort, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “And the balance”—here he examined a small book which lay open + beside him—“amounting to”—he paused—“is of course locked + up in their vaults?” + </p> + <p> + Harry had craned his head in instant attention. His quickened ears had + caught two familiar names. It was Slater who had loaned him the five + hundred dollars which he gave to Gilbert, which his father had commended + him for borrowing; and it was Hampson who had sold him the wretched horse + that had stumbled and broken his leg and had afterwards to be shot. + </p> + <p> + “Slater, did you say, Uncle George—and Hampson? Aren't they my old + accounts?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Mr. Rutter—quite right, sir.” St. George tried to stop + him with a frown, but Pawson's face was turned towards Harry and he failed + to get the signal. “Quite right, and quite lucky; they were both important + items in Mr. Gadgem's list, and both checks passed through the bank and + were paid before the smash came.” + </p> + <p> + The tones of Pawson's voice, the twisting together of his bony hands in a + sort of satisfied contentment, and the weary look on his uncle's face were + the opening of so many windows in the boy's brain. At the same instant one + of those creepy chills common to a man when some hitherto undiscovered + vista of impending disaster widens out before him, started at the base of + Harry's spine, crept up his shoulder-blades, shivered along his arms, and + lost itself in his benumbed fingers. This was followed by a lump in his + throat that nearly strangled him. He left his chair and touched Pawson on + the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Does this mean, Mr. Pawson—this money being locked up in the bank + vaults and not coming out for months—and may be never—does it + mean that Mr. Temple—well, that Uncle George—won't have enough + money to live on?” There was an anxious, vibrant tone in Harry's voice + that aroused St. George to a sense of the boy's share in the calamity and + the privations he must suffer because of it. Pawson hesitated and was + about to belittle the gravity of the situation when St. George stopped + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—tell him—tell him everything, I have no secrets from Mr. + Rutter. Stop!—I'll tell him. It means, Harry”—and a brave + smile played about his lips—“that we will have to live on hog and + hominy, may be, or pretty nigh it—certainly for a while—not + bad, old fellow, when you get accustomed to it. Aunt Jemima makes very + good hominy and—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped; the brave smile had faded from his face. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!—that's something I didn't think of!—What will I do + with the dear old woman—It would break her heart—and Todd?” + </p> + <p> + Here was indeed something on which he had not counted! For him to forego + the luxuries that enriched his daily life was easy—he had often in + his hunting trips lived for weeks on sweet potato and a handful of + cornmeal, and slept on the bare ground with only a blanket over him, but + that his servants should be reduced to similar privations suggested + possibilities which appalled him. For the first time since the cruel + announcement fell from Rutter's lips the real situation, with all that it + meant to his own future and those dependent upon him, stared him in the + face. + </p> + <p> + He looked up and caught Harry's anxious eyes scanning his own. His + old-time, unruffled spirit came to his assistance. + </p> + <p> + “No, son!” he cried in his cheeriest voice, springing to his feet—“no, + we won't worry. It will all come out right—we'll buckle down to it + together, you and I. Don't take it too much to heart—we'll get on + somehow.” + </p> + <p> + But the boy was not reassured; in fact, he had become more anxious than + ever. Not only did the chill continue, but the lump in his throat grew + larger every minute. + </p> + <p> + “But, Uncle George—you told me you borrowed the money to pay those + bills my father sent me. And will you now have to pay that back as well?” + He did not ask of whom he had borrowed it, nor on what security, nor would + either Pawson or his uncle have told him, that being a confidential + matter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that depends, Harry; but we won't have to pay it right away, which + is one comfort. And then again, I can go back to the law. I have yet to + make my maiden speech before a jury, but I can do it. Think of it!—everybody + in tears, the judge mopping his eyes—court-room breathless. Oh, you + just wait until your old uncle gets on his feet before a bench and jury. + Come along, old fellow—let us go up into the house.” Then in a + serious tone—his back to Harry—“Pawson, please bring the full + accounts with you in the morning, and now let me thank you for your + courtesy. You have been extremely civil, sir, and I appreciate it most + highly.” + </p> + <p> + When they had reached the front walk and were about to climb the + immaculate steps, St. George, still determined to divert the boy's + thoughts from his own financial straits, said with a laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Todd told you, of course, about your father paying me a visit this + morning, did he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!—a most extraordinary account. You must have enjoyed it,” + replied Harry, trying to fall into his uncle's mood, his heart growing + heavier every moment. “What did he want?” + </p> + <p> + One of St. George's heat-lightning smiles played over his face: “He wanted + two things. He first wanted you, and then he wanted a receipt for a + month's board—YOUR board, remember! He went away without either.” + </p> + <p> + A new perspective suddenly opened up in Harry's mind; one that had a gleam + of sunshine athwart it. + </p> + <p> + “But, Uncle George!” he burst out—“don't forget that my father owes + you all the money you paid for me! That, of course, will eventually come + back to you.” This came in a tone of great relief, as if the money was + already in his hand. + </p> + <p> + St. George's face hardened: “None of it will come back to me,” he rejoined + in a positive tone. “He doesn't owe me one single penny and he never will. + That money he owes to you. Whatever you may happen to owe me can wait + until you are able to pay it. And now while I am talking about it, there + is another thing your father owes you, and that is an humble apology, and + that he will pay one of these days in tears and agony. You are neither a + beggar nor a cringing dog, and you never will be so long as I can help + it!” He stopped, rested his hand on the boy's shoulder, and with a quiver + in his voice added: + </p> + <p> + “Your hand, my son. Short commons after this, may be, but we will make the + fight together.” + </p> + <p> + When the two passed through the front door and stepped into the + dining-room they found it filled with gentlemen—friends who had + heard of the crash and who had come either to extend their sympathy or + offer their bank accounts. They had heard of the catastrophe at the club + and had instantly left their seats and walked across the park in a body. + </p> + <p> + To one and all St. George gave a warm pressure of the hand and a bright + smile. Had he been the master of ceremonies at a state reception he could + not have been more self-possessed or more gallant; his troubles were for + himself, never for his guests. + </p> + <p> + “All in a lifetime—but I am not worrying. The Patapsco pulled out + once before and it may again. My only regret is that I cannot, at least + for a time, have as many of you as I would wish under my mahogany. But + don't let us borrow any trouble; certainly not to-day. Todd, get some + glasses and bring me that bottle of Madeira—the one there on the + sideboard!” Here he took the precious fluid from Todd's hand and holding + high the crusted bottle said with a dry smile—one his friends knew + when his irony was aroused: “That wine, gentlemen, saw the light at a time + when a man locked his money in an iron box to keep outside thieves from + stealing it; to-day he locks his money in a bank's vault and locks the + thieves in with it. Extraordinary, is it not, how we gentlemen trust each + other? Here, Todd, draw the cork!... Slowly.... Now hand me the bottle—yes—Clayton, + that's the same wine that you and Kennedy liked so much the night we had + Mr. Poe with us. It is really about all there is left of my father's Black + Warrior of 1810. I thought it was all gone, but Todd found two more the + other day, one of which I sent to Kennedy. This is the other. Kennedy + writes me he is keeping his until we can drink it together. Is everybody's + glass full? Then my old toast if you will permit me: 'Here's to love and + laughter, and every true friend of my true friend my own!'” + </p> + <p> + Before the groups had dispersed Harry had the facts in his possession—principally + from Judge Pancoast, who gave him a full account of the bank's collapse, + some papers having been handed up to him on the bench that morning. Summed + up, his uncle was practically ruined—and he, Harry, was the cause of + it—the innocent cause, perhaps, but the cause all the same: but for + his father's cruelty and his own debts St. George would never have + mortgaged his home. That an additional sum—his uncle's entire + deposit—had been swallowed up in the crash was but part of the same + misfortune. Poe's lines were true, then—never so true as now: + </p> + <p> + “Some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed + faster...” + </p> + <p> + This, then, was ever after to be his place in life—to bring misery + wherever he went. + </p> + <p> + He caught up his hat and walked through the park beside the judge, hoping + for some further details of his uncle's present plight and future + condition, but the only thing his Honor added to what he already knew was + his wonderment over the fact that St. George, having no immediate use for + the money except to pay his bills, should have raised so large a sum on a + mortgage instead of borrowing it from his friends. It was here that + Harry's heart gave a bound:—no one, then, but his uncle, Pawson, and + himself knew that he alone was responsible for the catastrophe! That his + father should have learned of his share in it did not enter the boy's + head. + </p> + <p> + Todd answered his knock on his return, and in reply to his inquiry + informed him that he must not sit up, as “Marse George” had left word that + he would be detained until late at a meeting of the creditors of the bank. + </p> + <p> + And so the unhappy lad, his supper over, sought his bed and, as had + occurred more than once before, spent the earlier hours of the night + gazing at the ceiling and wondering what would become of him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + With the breaking of the dawn Harry's mind was made up. Before the sun was + an hour high he had dressed hurriedly, stolen downstairs so as to wake no + one, and closing the front door softly behind him had taken the long path + through the park in the direction of the wharves. Once there, he made the + rounds of the shipping offices from Light Street wharf to the Falls—and + by the time St. George had finished dressing—certainly before he was + through his coffee—had entered the name of Henry Rutter on two sets + of books—one for a position as supercargo and the other, should + nothing better be open, as common seaman. All he insisted upon was that + the ship should sail at once. As to the destination, that was of no + consequence, nor did the length of the voyage make any difference. He + remembered that his intimate friend, Gilbert, had some months before gone + as supercargo to China, his father wanting him to see something of the + world; and if a similar position were open he could, of course, give + references as to his character—a question the agent asked him—but, + then, Gilbert had a father to help him. Should no such position be + available, he would ship before the mast, or serve as cook or cabin-boy, + or even scullion—but he would not live another day or hour dependent + on his dear Uncle George, who had impoverished himself in his behalf. + </p> + <p> + He selected the sea instead of going into the army as a common soldier + because the sea had always appealed to him. He loved its freedom and its + dangers. Then again, he was young and strong—could climb like a cat—sail + a boat—swim—Yes!—the sea was the place! He could get far + enough away behind its horizons to hide the struggle he must make to + accomplish the one purpose of his life—the earning of his debt. + </p> + <p> + Filled with this idea he began to perfect his plans, determining to take + no one into his confidence until the day before the ship was ready to + sail. He would then send for his mother and Alec—bring them all down + to St. George's house and announce his intention. That was the best and + wisest way. As for Kate—who had now been at home some weeks—he + would pour out his heart to her in a letter. This was better than an + interview, which she would doubtless refuse:—a letter she would be + obliged to read and, perhaps, answer. As for his dear Uncle George—it + would be like tearing his heart out to leave him, but this wrench had to + be met and it was best to do it quickly and have done with it. + </p> + <p> + When this last thought took possession a sudden faintness crept over him. + How could he leave his uncle? What St. George was to him no one but + himself knew—father, friend, comrade, adviser—standard of men + and morals—all and more was his beloved uncle. No thought of his + heart but he had given him, and never once had he been misunderstood. He + could put his arm about his uncle's neck as he would about his mother's + and not be thought effeminate or childish. And the courtesy and dignity + and fairness with which he had been treated; and the respect St. George + showed him—and he only a boy: compelling his older men friends to do + the same. Never letting him feel that any foolish act of his young life + had been criticised, or that any one had ever thought the less of him + because of them. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast over, during which no allusion was made either to what St. + George had accomplished at the conference of creditors the night before, + or to Harry's early rising—the boy made his way into the park and + took the path he loved. It was autumn, and the mild morning air bespoke an + Indian summer day. Passing beneath the lusty magnolias, which flaunted + here and there their glossy leaves, he paused under one of the big oaks, + whose branches, stripped of most of their foliage, still sheltered a + small, vine-covered arbor where he and Kate had often sat—indeed, it + was within its cool shade that he had first told her of his love. Here he + settled himself on a small wooden bench outside the retreat and gave his + thoughts full rein—not to repine, nor to revive his troubles, which + he meant to put behind him—but to plan out the letter he was to + write Kate. This must be clear and convincing and tell the whole story of + his heart. That he might empty it the better he had chosen this place made + sacred by her presence. Then again, the park was generally deserted at + this hour—the hour between the passing of the men of business and + the coming of the children and nurses—and he would not be + interrupted—certainly not before this arbor—one off by itself + and away from passers-by. + </p> + <p> + He seated himself on the bench, his eyes overlooking the park. All the + hours he had passed with Kate beneath the wide-spreading trees rose in his + mind; the day they had read aloud to each other, her pretty feet tucked + under her so that the dreadful ants couldn't touch her dainty stockings; + the morning when she was late and he had waited and fumed stretching + minutes into hours in his impatience; that summer night when the two had + hidden behind the big oak so that he could kiss her good-night and none of + the others see. + </p> + <p> + With these memories stirring, his letter was forgotten, and his head + dropped upon his breast, as if the weight of all he had lost was greater + than he could bear. Grasping his walking-stick the tighter he began + tracing figures in the gravel, his thoughts following each line. Suddenly + his ears caught the sound of a quick step—one he thought strangely + familiar. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Kate had passed him and had given no sign of her presence! + </p> + <p> + He sprang from his seat: + </p> + <p> + “Kate!—KATE!—Are you going to treat me as my father treated + me! Don't, please!—You'll never see me again—but don't cut me + like that: I have never done anything but love you!” + </p> + <p> + The girl came to a halt, but she did not turn her head, nor did she + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Kate—won't you speak to me? It may be the last time I shall + ever see you. I am going away from Kennedy Square. I was going to write + you a letter; I came out here to think of what I ought to say—” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head and half turned her trembling body so that she could + see his face, her eyes reading his. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think you wanted me to speak to you or you would have looked + up.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see you until you had passed. Can't we sit down here?—no + one will see us.” + </p> + <p> + She suffered him to take her hand and lead her to the bench. There she + sat, her eyes still searching his face—a wondering, eager look, + discovering every moment some old remembered spot—an eyebrow, or the + line at the corner of the mouth, or the round of the cheek—each and + every one bringing back to her the days that were past and gone never to + return. + </p> + <p> + “You are going away?” she said at last—“why? Aren't you happy with + Uncle George? He would miss you, I am sure.” She had let the scarf fall + from her shoulders as she spoke, bringing into view the full round of her + exquisite throat. He had caught its flash, but he could not trust himself + to look the closer. + </p> + <p> + “Not any more than I shall miss him,” he rejoined sadly; “but he has lost + almost everything he had in the bank failure and I cannot have him support + me any longer—so I am going to sea.” + </p> + <p> + Kate started forward and laid her hand on his wrist: “To sea!—in a + ship! Where?” The inquiry came with such suddenness and with so keen a + note of pain in her voice that Harry's heart gave a bound. It was not St. + George's losses then she was thinking of—she was thinking of him! He + raised his eyes quickly and studied her face the closer; then his heart + sank again. No!—he was wrong—there was only wonder in her + gaze; only her usual curiosity to know every detail of what was going on + around her. + </p> + <p> + With a sigh he resumed his bent position, talking to the end of his + walking-stick tracing figures in the gravel: “I shall go to Rio, + probably,” he continued in the same despondent tone—“or China. + That's why I called after you. I sail day after to-morrow—Saturday + at the latest—and it may be a good many years before I get back + again, and so I didn't want to go, Kate, without telling you that—that—I + forgive you for everything you have done to me—and whether you + forgive me or not, I have kept my promises to you, and I will always keep + them as long as I live.” + </p> + <p> + “What does dear Uncle George think of it?” She too was addressing the end + of the stick; gaining time to make up her mind what to do and say. The old + wound, of course, could not be opened, but she might save him and herself + from fresh ones. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't know I am going; nobody knows but you. I have been a curse to + every one who has been kind to me, and I am going now where there will be + nobody but strangers about me. To leave Uncle George breaks my heart, but + so does it break my heart to leave my precious mother and dear old Alec, + who cries all the time and has now taken to his bed, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + She waited, but her name was not added to the list, nor did he raise his + head. + </p> + <p> + “I deserve it all, I suspect,” he went on, “or it wouldn't be sent to me; + but it's over now. If I ever come back it will be when I am satisfied with + myself; if I never come back, why then my former hard luck has followed me—that's + all. And now may I talk to you, Kate, as I used to do sometimes?” He + straightened up, threw down his cane, and turned his shoulders so he could + look her squarely in the eyes. “If I say anything that offends you you can + get up and walk away and I won't follow you, nor will I add another word. + You may never see me again, and if it is not what I ought to say, you can + forget it all when I am gone. Kate!”—he paused, and for a moment it + was all he could do to control himself. “What I want to tell you first is + this—that I haven't had a happy day or hour since that night on the + stairs in my father's house. Whether I was right or wrong I don't know; + what followed is what I couldn't help, but that part I don't regret, and + if any one should behave to you as Willits did I would do it over again. + What I do regret is the pain it has caused you. And now here comes this + awful sorrow to Uncle George, and I am the cause of that too.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face quickly, the color leaving her cheeks as if alarmed. + Had he been behaving badly again? But he swept it away with his next + sentence. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my father refused to pay any of the bills I owed and Uncle + George paid them for me—and I can't have that go on a day longer—certainly + not now.” + </p> + <p> + Kate's shoulders relaxed. A sigh of relief spent itself; Harry was still + an honest gentleman, whatever else he might have done! + </p> + <p> + “And now comes the worst of it, Kate.” His voice sank almost to a whisper, + as if even the birds should not hear this part of his confession: “Yes—the + worst of it—that I have had all this to suffer—all this misery + to endure—all these insults of my father to bear without you! + Always, before, we have talked things out together; then you were shut + away and I could only look up at your windows and rack my brain wondering + where you were and what you were doing. It's all over now—you love + somebody else—but I shall never love anybody else: I can't! I don't + want to! You are the last thing I kiss before I close my eyes; I shut them + and kiss only the air—but it is your lips I feel; and you are the + first thing I open them upon when I wake. It will always be so, Kate—you + are my body, my soul, and my life. I shall never have you again, I know, + but I shall have your memory, and that is sweeter and more precious to me + than all else in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Harry!” There was a strange cadence in her voice—not of + self-defence—not of recrimination—only of overwhelming pity: + “Don't you think that I too have had my troubles? Do you think it was + nothing to me to love you as I did and have—” She stopped, drew in + her breath as if to bolster up some inward resolution, and then with a + brave lift of the head added: “No, I won't go into that—not to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—tell me all of it—you can't hurt me more than you have + done. But you may be right—no, we won't talk of that part of it. And + now, Kate, I won't ask you to stay any longer; I am glad I saw you—it + was better than writing.” He leaned forward: “Let me look into your face + once more, won't you?—so I can remember the better.... Yes—the + same dear eyes—and the hair growing low on the temples, and the + beautiful mouth and—No—I sha'n't forget—I never have.” + He rose from his seat and held out his hand: “You'll take it, won't you?—just + once—Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + She had not moved, nor had she grasped his hand; her face was still + towards him, her whole frame tense, the tears crowding to the lids. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Harry. I can't let you go like this. Tell me something more of + where you are going. Why must you go to sea? Can't you support yourself + here?—isn't there something you can get to do? I will see my father + and find out if—” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't.” There was a note almost of defiance in his voice—one + she had never heard before. “I am through with accepting favors from any + living man. Hereafter I stand in my own shoes, independent of everybody. + My father is the only person who has a right to give me help, and as he + refuses absolutely to do anything more than pay my board, I must fall back + on myself. I didn't see these things in this same way when Uncle George + paid my debts, or even when he took me into his home as his guest, but I + do now.” + </p> + <p> + Something gave a little bound in Kate's heart. This manly independence was + one of the things she had in the old days hoped was in him. What had come + over her former lover, she wondered. + </p> + <p> + “And another thing, Kate”—she was listening eagerly—she could + not believe it was Harry who was speaking—“if you were to tell me + this moment that you loved me again and would marry me, and I still be as + I am to-day—outlawed by my father and dependent on charity—I + would not do it. I can't live on your money, and I have none of my own. + Furthermore, I owe dear Uncle George his money in such a way that I can + never pay it back except I earn it, and that I can't do here. To borrow it + of somebody else to pay him would be more disgraceful still.” + </p> + <p> + Again her heart gave a bound. Her father had followed the opposite course, + and she knew for a certainty just what some men thought of him, and she + could as easily recall half a dozen younger men who had that very summer + been willing to play the same game with herself. Something warm and + sympathetic struggled up through her reserve. + </p> + <p> + “Would you stay, Harry, if I asked you to?” she said in almost a whisper. + She had not meant to put the question quite in that way, but somehow it + had asked itself. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with his soft brown eyes, the long lashes shading their + tender brilliancy. He had guessed nothing of the newly awakened throb in + her heart; only his situation stared him in the face, and in this she had + no controlling interest; nor could she now that she loved somebody else. + </p> + <p> + “No, Kate, it wouldn't alter anything. It would be putting off the day + when it would all have to be done over again; and then it would be still + worse because of the hopes it had raised.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean, Harry, that you would not stay if I asked you?” It + was not her heart which was speaking, but the pride of the woman who had + always had her own way. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly do,” he answered emphatically, his voice ringing clear. + “Every day I lose is just so much taken from a decent, independent life.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden revulsion of feeling swept through her. This was the last thing + she had expected from Harry. What had come over him that he should deny + her anything?—he who had always obeyed her slightest wish. Then a + new thought entered her head—why should she humble herself to ask + any more questions? With a quick movement she gained her feet and stood + toying with her dress, arranging the lace scarf about her throat, + tightening the wide strings that held her teacup of a bonnet close to her + face. She raised her eyes and stole a glance at him. The lips were still + firmly set with the resolve that had tightened them, but his eyes were + brimming tears. + </p> + <p> + As suddenly as her pride had risen did it die out. All the tenderness of + her nature welled up. She made one step in his direction. She was about to + speak, but he had not moved, nor did his face relax. She saw that nothing + could shake his resolve; they were as far apart as if the seas already + rolled between them. She held out her hand, and with that same note of + infinite pathos which he knew so well when she spoke straight from her + heart, said as she laid her fingers in his: + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, and God bless you, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Kate,” he murmured in barely audible tones. “May I—may I—kiss + you on the forehead, as I always used to do when I left you—” + </p> + <p> + She bent her head: he leaned over and touched the spot with his lips as + reverently as a sinner kisses the garment of a saint, then, choking down + her tears, all her body unstrung, her mind in a whirl, she turned and + passed out of the park. + </p> + <p> + That same afternoon Kate called her father into her little sitting-room at + the top of the stairs and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + “Harry Rutter is going to sea as a common sailor on one of the ships + leaving here in a couple of days. Can you find out which one?—it may + be one of your own.” He was still perfunctory agent of the line. + </p> + <p> + “Young Rutter going to sea!”—the nomenclature of “my dear Harry” had + ended since the colonel had disinherited him. “Well—that is news! I + suspect that will be the best place for him; then if he plays any of his + pranks there will be somebody around with a cat-o'-nine-tails to take it + out of him. Going to sea, is he?” + </p> + <p> + Kate looked at him with lowered lids, her lips curling slightly, but she + did not defend the culprit. It was only one of what Prim called his + “jokes:” he was the last man in the world to wish any such punishment. + Moreover, she knew her father much better than the Honorable Prim knew his + daughter, and whenever she had a favor to ask was invariably careful not + to let his little tea-kettle boil over. + </p> + <p> + “Only a short time ago, father, you got a berth as supercargo on one of my + grandfather's ships for Mark Gilbert. Can't you do it for Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “But, Kate, that was quite a different thing. Mark's father came to me and + asked it as a special favor.” His assumed authority at the shipping office + rarely extended to the appointing of officers—not when the younger + partners objected. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Harry's father won't come to you, nor will Harry; and it isn't a + different thing. It's exactly the same thing so far as you are concerned, + and there is a greater reason for Harry, for he is alone in the world and + he is not used to hard work of any kind, and it is cruel to make a common + sailor of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I thought Temple was fathering him.” + </p> + <p> + “So Uncle George has, and would always look after him, but Harry is too + brave and manly to live upon him any longer, now that Uncle George has + lost most of his money. Will you see Mr. Pendergast, or shall I go down to + the office?” + </p> + <p> + Prim mused for a moment. “There may not be a vacancy,” he ventured, “but I + will inquire. The Ranger sails on Friday for the River Plate, and I will + have Mr. Pendergast come and see me. Supercargoes are of very little use, + my dear, unless they have had some business training, and this young man, + of course, has had none at all.” + </p> + <p> + “This young man, indeed!” thought Kate with a sigh, stifling her + indignation. “Poor Harry!—no one need treat him any longer with even + common courtesy, now that St. George, his last hold, had been swept away.” + </p> + <p> + “I think on the whole I had better attend to it myself,” she added with + some impatience. “I don't want anything to go wrong about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll see him, Kate; just leave it all to me.” + </p> + <p> + He had already decided what to do—or what he would try to do—when + he first heard the boy wanted to leave the country. What troubled him was + what the managing partner of the line might think of the proposition. As + long as Harry remained at home and within reach any number of things might + happen—even a return of the old love. With the scapegrace half-way + around the world some other man might have a chance—Willits, + especially, who had proved himself in every way worthy of his daughter, + and who would soon be one of the leading lawyers of the State if he kept + on. + </p> + <p> + With the closing of the door upon her father, Kate threw herself upon her + lounge. One by one the salient features of her interview with Harry passed + in review: his pleading for some word of comfort; some note of forgiveness + with which to cheer the hours of his exile.—“You are the last thing + I kiss before I close my eyes.” Then his open defiance of her expressed + wishes when they conflicted with his own set purpose of going away and + staying away until he made up his mind to return. While the first brought + with it a certain contented satisfaction—something she had expected + and was glad of—the last aroused only indignation and revolt. Her + brow tightened, and the determination of the old seadog—her + grandfather Barkeley—played over her countenance. She no longer, + then, filled Harry's life, controlling all his actions; she no longer + inspired his hopes. Rather than marry her he would work as a common + sailor. Yes—he had said so, and with his head up and his voice + ringing brave and clear. She was proud of him for it—she had never + been so proud of him—but why no trace of herself in his resolve; + except in his allusion to the duel, when he said he would do it again + should any one insult her? It was courteous, of course, for him to feel + that way, however much she abhorred the system of settling such disputes. + But, then, he would do that for any other woman—would, no doubt, for + some woman he had not yet seen. In this he was the son of his father and + the same Harry—but in everything else he was a changed man—and + never more changed than in his attitude toward her. + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts racking her brain she rose from the lounge and began + pacing the floor, peering out between the curtains of her room, her eyes + wandering over the park as if she could still see him between the + branches. Then her mind cleared and the true situation developed itself:—for + months she had hugged to herself the comforting thought that she had only + to stretch out her hand and bring him to her feet. He had now looked her + full in the face and proclaimed his freedom. It was as if she had caged a + bird and found the door open and the prisoner singing in a tree overhead. + </p> + <p> + That same night she sat by her wood fire in her chamber, her old black + mammy—Mammy Henny—bending close, combing out her marvellous + hair. She had been studying the coals, watching the little castles pile + and fall; the quick smothering of slowly fading sparks under a blanket of + gray ashes, and the wavering, flickering light that died on the curling + smoke. She had not spoken for a long time, when the old woman roused her. + </p> + <p> + “Whar was you dis mawnin', honey chile? Mister Willits done wait mo'n ha'f + a hour, den he say he come back an' fetch his sorrel horse wid him dis + arternoon an' take ye ridin'. But he ain't come—dat is, Ben done + tol' me so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, mammy,” she answered wearily—“I sent him word not to—I + didn't feel like riding to-day.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Over two years have passed away since that mournful night when Harry with + his hand in St. George's, his voice choking, had declared his + determination to leave him the next day and seek his fortunes across the + seas. + </p> + <p> + It was a cruel blow to Temple, coming as it did on the heels of his own + disaster, but when the first shock had passed he could but admire the lad + for his pluck and love him the better for his independence. + </p> + <p> + “All right, my son,” he had said, concealing as best he could his intense + suffering over the loss of his companion. “I'll try and get along. But + remember I am here—and the door is always open. I don't blame you—I + would do the same thing were I in your place. And now about Kate—what + shall I say to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I said it all this morning. She doesn't love me any more—she + would have passed me by without speaking had I not called to her. She'll + be married to Willits before I come back—if I ever do come back. But + leaving Kate is easier than leaving you. You have stuck to me all the way + through, and Kate—well—perhaps she hasn't understood—perhaps + her father has been talking to her—I don't know. Anyhow, it's all + over. If I had had any doubts about it before, this morning's talk settled + it. The sea is the best place for me. I can support myself anyway for a + while until I can help you.” + </p> + <p> + Yes! the boy was right, St. George had said to himself. It was all over + between them. Kate's reason had triumphed at last. She, perhaps, was not + to blame. Her experiences had been trying and she was still confronted by + influences bitterly opposed to Harry, and largely in favor of Willits, + for, weak specimen as Prim was, he was still her father, and in so + important a step as her marriage, must naturally exercise authority. As + for his own influence, that, he realized, had come to an end at their last + interview: the whole thing, he must admit, was disappointing—cruelly + so—the keenest disappointment of his life. + </p> + <p> + Many a night since he bid Harry good-by had he sat alone by that same + fire, his dogs his only companions, the boy's words ringing in his ears: + “Leaving Kate is easier than leaving you!” Had it been the other way and + he the exile, it would have been nearer the truth, he often thought, for + nothing in his whole life had left so great a void in his heart as the + loss of the boy he loved. Not that he was ever completely disheartened; + that was not his nature; there was always daylight ahead—the day + when Harry would come back and their old life begin again. With this in + store for him he had led his life as best he could, visiting his friends + in the country, entertaining in a simple, inexpensive way, hunting at + Wesley, where he and Peggy Coston would exchange confidences and funny + stories; dining out; fishing in the early spring; getting poorer and + poorer in pocket, and yet never complaining, his philosophy being that it + would be brighter in the morning, and it always was—to him. + </p> + <p> + And yet if the truth be told his own situation had not improved—in + fact, it had grown steadily worse. Only one payment of interest had been + made on the mortgage and the owner was already threatening foreclosure + proceedings. Pawson's intervention alone had staved off the fatal climax + by promising the holder to keep the loan alive by the collection of some + old debts—borrowed money and the like—due St. George for years + and which his good nature had allowed to run on indefinitely until some of + them were practically outlawed. Indeed it was only through resources like + this, in all of which Pawson helped, and with the collecting of some small + ground rents, that kept Todd and Jemima in their places and the larder + comfortably filled. As to the bank—there was still hope that some + small percentage would be paid the depositors, it being the general + opinion that the directors were personally liable because of the + irregularities which the smash had uncovered—but this would take + months, if not years, to work out. + </p> + <p> + His greatest comfort was in the wanderer's letters. These he would watch + for with the eagerness of a girl hungry for news of her distant lover. For + the first few months these came by every possible mail, most of them + directed to himself; others to his mother, Mrs. Rutter driving in from + Moorlands to compare notes with St. George. Then, as the boy made his way + further into the interior the intervals were greater—sometimes a + month passed without news of him. + </p> + <p> + “We are short-handed,” he wrote St. George, “owing to fever on the voyage + out on the Ranger, and though I am supercargo and sit at the captain's + table, I have to turn to and work like any of the others—fine + exercise, but my hands are cracked and blistered and full of tar. I'll + have to wear gloves the next time I dine with you.” + </p> + <p> + Not a word of this to his mother—no such hardships for her tender + ears: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about Kate, mother”—this from Rio—“how she looks; + what she says; does she ever mention my name? My love to Alec. Is Matthew + still caring for Spitfire, or has my father sold her?” Then followed the + line: “Give my father my respectful regards; I would send my love, but he + no longer cares for it.” + </p> + <p> + The dear lady did not deliver the message. Indeed Harry's departure had so + widened the breach between the colonel and herself that they practically + occupied different parts of the house as far removed from each other as + possible. She had denounced him first to his face for the boy's + self-imposed exile, and again behind his back to her intimates. Nor did + her resolve waver even when the colonel was thrown from his horse and so + badly hurt that his eyesight was greatly impaired. “It is a judgment on + you,” she had said, drawing her frail body up to its full height. “You + will now learn what other people suffer,” and would have kept on upstairs + to her own room had not her heart softened at his helplessness—a new + role for the colonel. + </p> + <p> + He had made no answer at the time: he never answered her back. She was too + frail to be angry with, and then she was right about his being the cause + of her suffering—the first cause of it, at least. He had not yet + arrived at the point where he censured himself for all that had happened. + In fact since Harry's sudden exit, made without a word to anybody at + Moorlands except his mother and Alec, who went to town on a hurry message,—a + slight which cut him to the quick—he had steadily laid the blame on + everybody else connected with the affair;—generally on St. George + for his interference in his peace-making programme at the club and his + refusal, when ruined financially, to send the boy back to him in an humble + and contrite spirit. Neither had he recovered from the wrath he had felt + when, having sent John Gorsuch to ascertain from St. George the amount of + money he had paid out for his son, Temple had politely sent Gorsuch, in + charge of Todd, downstairs to Pawson, who in turn, after listening to + Todd's whispered message, had with equal politeness shown Gorsuch the + door, the colonel's signed check—the amount unfilled—still in + Gorsuch's pocket. + </p> + <p> + It was only when the Lord of Moorlands went into town to spend an hour or + so with Kate—and he was a frequent visitor prior to his accident—that + his old manner returned. He loved the girl dearly and was never tired of + talking to her. She was the only woman who would listen when he poured out + his heart. + </p> + <p> + And Kate always welcomed him gladly. She liked strong, decided men even if + they sometimes erred in their conclusions. Her grandfather, old Captain + Barkeley, had had the same masterfulness. He had been in absolute command + in his earlier years, and he had kept in command all his life. His word + was law, and he was generally right. She was twelve years old when he + died, and had, therefore, ample opportunity to know. It was her + grandfather's strong personality, in fact, which had given her so clear an + idea of her father's many weaknesses. Rutter, she felt, was a combination + of both Barkeley and Prim—forceful and yet warped by prejudices; + dominating yet intolerant; able to do big things and contented with little + ones. It was forcefulness, despite his many shortcomings, which most + appealed to her. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, she saw much of Harry in him. It was that which made her so + willing to listen—she continually comparing the father to the son. + These comparisons were invariably made in a circle, beginning at Rutter's + brown eyes, taking in his features and peculiarities—many of them + reproduced in his son's—such as the firm set of the lips and the + square line of the chin—and ending, quite naturally, with the brown + orbs again. While Harry's matched the color and shape, and often the + fierce glare of the father's, they could also, she said to herself, shine + with the soft light of the mother's. It was from the mother's side, then, + that there came the willingness to yield to whatever tempted him—it + may be to drink—to a false sense of honor—to herself: Harry + being her slave instead of her master. And the other men around her—so + far as yielding was concerned (here her brow would tighten and her lips + straighten)—were no better. Even Uncle George must take her own “No” + for an answer and believe it when she meant quite a different thing. And + once more would her soul break out in revolt over the web in which she had + become entangled, and once more would she cry herself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Nobody but her old black mammy knew how tragic had been her sufferings, + how many bitter hours she had passed, nor how many bitter tears she had + shed. Yet even old Henny could not comfort her, nor was there any one else + to whom the girl could pour out her heart. She had, it is true, kept up + her intimacy with her Uncle George—hardly a week passed that she was + not a visitor at his house or he at hers—but they had long since + refrained from discussing Harry. Not because he did not want to talk about + him, but because she would not let him—Of course not! + </p> + <p> + To Richard Horn, however, strange to say, she often turned—not so + much for confidences as for a broader understanding of life. The + thoughtful inventor was not so hedged about by social restrictions, and + would break out in spontaneous admiration of Harry, saying with a decisive + nod of his head, “A fine, splendid young fellow, my dear Kate; I + recognized it first at St. George's dinner to Mr. Poe, and if I may say + so, a much-abused young man whose only sin is that he, like many another + about us, has been born under a waning star in a sky full of murky clouds; + one that the fresh breeze of a new civilization will some day clear away”—a + deduction which Kate could not quite grasp, but which comforted her + greatly. + </p> + <p> + It delighted her, too, to hear him talk of the notable occurrences taking + place about them. “You are wonderfully intelligent, my dear,” he had said + to her on one occasion, “and should miss nothing of the developments that + are going on about us;” and in proof of it had the very next day taken her + to an exhibition of Mr. Morse's new telegraph, given at the Institute, at + which two operators, each with an instrument, the men in sight of each + other, but too far apart to be in collusion, were sending and answering + the messages through wires stretched around the hall. She, at Richard's + suggestion, had written a message herself, which she handed to the nearest + operator who had ticked it to his fellow, and who at once read it to the + audience. Even then many doubting Thomases had cried out “Collusion,” + until Richard, rising in his seat, had not only endorsed the truth of the + reading, but explained the invention, his statement silencing all + opposition because of his well-known standing and knowledge of kindred + sciences. + </p> + <p> + Richard's readings also, from which Kate was never absent, and which had + now been resumed at his own house, greatly interested her. These of late + had been devoted to many of Poe's earlier poems and later tales, for + despite the scene at St. George's the inventor had never ceased to believe + in the poet. + </p> + <p> + And so with these occupations, studies, investigations, and social + pleasures—she never missing a ball or party (Willits always managing + to be with her)—and the spending of the summer months at the Red + Sulphur, where she had been pursued by half a dozen admirers—one a + titled Englishman—had the days and hours of the years of Harry's + absence passed slowly away. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the second winter a slight change occurred in the monotony + of her life. Her constant, unwavering devotee, Langdon Willits, fell ill + and had to be taken to the Eastern Shore, where the same old lot of + bandages—that is of the same pattern—and the same loyal sister + were impressed into service to nurse him back to health. The furrow + Harry's bullet had ploughed in his head still troubled him at times, + especially in the hot weather, and a horseback ride beside Kate one August + day, with the heat in the nineties, had started the subsoil of his cranium + to aching with such vehemence that Teackle had promptly packed it in ice + and ten days later its owner in blankets and had put them both aboard the + bay boat bound for the Eastern Shore. + </p> + <p> + Whether this new irritant—and everything seemed to annoy her now—had + begun to tell on our beautiful Kate, or whether the gayety of the winter + both at home and in Washington, where she had spent some weeks during the + season, had tired her out, certain it was that when the spring came the + life had gone out of her step and the color from her cheeks. Mammy Henny + had noticed it and had coddled her the more, crooning and petting her; and + her father had noticed it and had begun to be anxious, and at last St. + George had stalked in and cried out in that breezy, joyous way of his that + nothing daunted: + </p> + <p> + “Here, you sweetheart!—what have you been doing to your cheeks—all + the roses out of them and pale as two lilies—and you never out of + bed until twelve o'clock in the day and looking then as if you hadn't had + a wink of sleep all night. Not a word out of you, Seymour, until I've + finished. I'm going to take Kate down to Tom Coston's and keep her there + till she gets well. Too many stuffy balls—too many late suppers—oyster + roasts and high doings. None of that at Tom's. Up at six and to bed at + ten. I've just had a letter from him and dear Peggy is crazy to have us + come. Take your mare along, Kate, and you won't lack fresh air. Now what + do you say, Seymour?” + </p> + <p> + Of course the Honorable Prim bobbed his honorable head and said he had + been worried himself over Kate's loss of appetite, and that if Temple + would, etc., etc.—he would—etc., etc.—and so Mammy Henny + began to get pink and white and other fluffy things together, and Ben, + with Todd to help, led Joan, her own beloved saddle horse, down to the + dock and saw that she was safely lodged between decks, and then up came a + coach (all this was two days later) and my lady drove off with two hair + trunks in front and a French bonnet box behind—St. George beside + her, and fat Mammy Henny in white kerchief and red bandanna, opposite, and + Todd in one of St. George's old shooting-jackets on the box next the + driver, with his feet on two of the dogs, the others having been loaned to + a friend. + </p> + <p> + And it was a great leave-taking when the party reached the wharf. Not only + were three or four of her girl friends present, but a dozen or more of the + old merchants forsook their desks, when the coach unlimbered, most of them + crossing the cobbles—some bare-headed, and all of them in high + stocks and swallow-tail coats—pens behind their ears, spectacles on + their pates—to bid the young princess good-by. + </p> + <p> + For Kate was still “our Kate,” in the widest and broadest sense and the + pride and joy of all who knew her, and many who didn't. That she had a + dozen beaux—and that some of them had tried to bore holes in each + other for love of her; and that one of them was now a wanderer and another + in a state of collapse, if report were true—was quite as it should + be. Men had died for women a hundred times less worthy and a thousand + times less beautiful, and men would die of love again. When at last she + made up her mind she would choose the right man, and in the meantime God + bless her for just being alive. + </p> + <p> + And she was never more alive or more charming than to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how delightful of you, Mr. Murdoch, and you too, Mr. Bowdoin—and + Max—and all of you, to cross those wretched stones. No, wait, I'll + come to you—” she had called out, when with a stamp of her little + feet she had shaken the pleats from her skirt—adding when they had + all kissed her hand in turn—“Yes—I am going down to be + dairy-maid at Peggy Coston's,” at which the bald-headed old fellows, with + their hands upraised in protest at so great a sacrilege, bowed to the + ground, their fingers on their ruffled shirt-fronts, and the younger ones + lifted their furry hats and kept them in the air until she had crossed the + gang-plank and Todd and Mammy Henny, and Ben who had come to help, lost + their several breaths getting the impatient dogs and baggage aboard—and + so she sailed away with Uncle George as chaperon, the whole party throwing + kisses back and forth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Their reception at Wesley, the ancestral home of the Costons, although it + was late at night when they arrived, was none the less joyous. Peggy was + the first to welcome the invalid, and Tom was not far behind. + </p> + <p> + “Give her to me, St. George,” bubbled Peggy, enfolding the girl in her + arms. “You blessed thing! Oh, how glad I am to get hold of you! They told + me you were ill, child—not a word of truth in it! No, Mr. Coston, + you sha'n't even have one of her little fingers until I get through loving + her. What's your mammy's name—Henny? Well, Henny, you take Miss + Kate's things into her room—that one at the top of the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + And then the Honorable Tom Coston said he'd be doggoned if he was going to + wait another minute, and he didn't—for Kate kissed him on both + cheeks and gave him her father's message, congratulating him on his + appointment as judge, and thanking him in advance for all the kindness he + would show his daughter. + </p> + <p> + But it was not until she awoke next morning and looked out between the + posts of her high bedstead through the small, wide-open window overlooking + the bay that her heart gave the first bound of real gladness. She loved + the sky and the dash of salt air, laden now with the perfume of budding + fruit trees, that blew straight in from the sea. She loved, too, the stir + and sough of the creaking pines and the cheery calls from the barnyard. + Here she could get her mind settled; here, too, she could forget all the + little things that had bothered her—there would be no more + invitations to accept or decline; no promises she must keep. She and her + Uncle George could have one long holiday—she needed it and, goodness + knows, he needed it after all his troubles—and they would begin as + soon as breakfast was over. And they did—the dogs plunging ahead, + the two hand in hand, St. George, guide and philosopher, pointing out this + and that characteristic feature of the once famous estate and dilating on + its past glory. + </p> + <p> + “Even in my father's day,” he continued, his face lighting up, “it was one + of the great show places of the county. The stables held twenty horses and + a coach, besides no end of gigs and carryalls. This broad road on which we + walk was lined with flower-beds and shaded by live-oaks. Over there, near + that little grove, were three great barns and lesser out-buildings, + besides the negro quarters, smoke-houses, and hay-ricks. Really a + wonderful place in its day, Kate.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went on to tell of how the verandas were shaded with honeysuckles, + and the halls, drawing-rooms, and dining-room crowded with furniture; how + there were yellow damask curtains, and screens, and hair-cloth sofas and a + harmonicon of musical glasses which was played by wetting one's fingers in + a bowl of water and passing them over the rims—he had played on it + himself when a boy; and slaves galore—nearly one hundred of them, + not to mention a thousand acres of tillable land to plough and harrow, as + well as sheep, oxen, pigs, chickens, ducks—everything that a man of + wealth and position might have had in the old days, and about every one of + which St. George had a memory. + </p> + <p> + Then when Tom's father, who was the sole heir, took charge (here his voice + dropped to a whisper) dissolution proceedings set in—and Tom + finished them! and St. George sighed heavily as he pointed out the + changes:—the quarters in ruins, the stables falling to pieces, the + gates tied up with strings or swinging loose; and the flocks, herds, and + live-stock things of the past. Nor had a negro been left—none Tom + really owned: one by one they had been sold or hired out, or gone off + nobody knew where, he being too lazy, or too indifferent, or too + good-natured, to hunt them up. The house, as Kate had seen, was equally + neglected. Even what remained of the old furniture was on its last legs—the + curtains patched, or in shreds—the carpets worn into holes. + </p> + <p> + Kate listened eagerly, but she did not sigh. It was all charming to her in + the soft spring sunshine, the air a perfume, the birds singing, the + blossoms bursting, the peach-trees anthems of praise—and best of all + her dear Uncle George strolling at her side. And then everything was so + clean and fresh and sweet in every nook and corner of the tumble-down + house. Peggy, as she soon discovered, looked after that—in fact + Peggy looked after everything that required looking after—and + everything did—including the judge. Mr. Coston was tired, Peggy + would say, or Mr. Coston had not been very well, so she just did it + herself instead of bothering him. Since his promotion it was generally + “the judge” who was too tired, being absorbed in his court duties, etc., + etc. But it always came with a laugh, and it was always genuine, for to + wait upon him and look after him and minister to him was her highest + happiness. + </p> + <p> + Good for nothing as he would have been to some women—unpractical, + lazy—a man few sensible wives would have put up with—Peggy + adored him; and so did his children adore him, and so, for that matter, + did his neighbors, many of whom, although they ridiculed him behind his + back, could never escape the charm of his personality whenever they sat + beside his rocking-chair. + </p> + <p> + This chair—the only comfortable chair in the house, by the way—had, + in his less distinguished days, been his throne. In it he would sit all + day long, cutting and whittling, filing and polishing curious trinkets of + tortoise-shell for watch-guards and tiny baskets made of cherry-stones, + cunningly wrought and finished. He was an expert, too, in corn-cob pipes, + which he carved for all his friends; and pin-wheels for everybody's + children. When it came, however, to such matters as a missing hinge to the + front door, a brick under a tottering chimney, the straightening of a + falling fence, the repairing of a loose lock on the smoke-house—or + even the care of the family carryall, which despite its great age and + infirmities was often left out in the rain to rust and ruin—these + things must, of course, wait until the overworked father of the house + found time to look after them. + </p> + <p> + The children loved him the most. They asked for nothing better than to fix + him in his big chair by the fender, throw upon the fire a basket of bark + chips from the wood-yard, and enough pitch-pine knots to wake them up, and + after filling his pipe and lighting it, snuggle close—every bend and + curve of the wide-armed splint-bottomed comfort packed full, all waiting + to hear him tell one of his stories. Sometimes it was the tale of the fish + and the cuff-button—how he once dropped his sleeve-link overboard, + and how a year afterward he was in a shallop on the Broadwater fishing for + rockflsh when he caught a splendid fellow, which when Aunt Patience + cleaned—(here his voice would drop to a whisper)—“What do you + think!—why out popped the sleeve-link that was in his cuff this + minute!” And for the hundredth time the bit of gold would be examined by + each child in turn. Or it was the witch story—about the Yahoo wild + man with great horns and a lashing tail, who lived in the swamp and went + howling and prowling about for plunder and prey. (This was always given + with a low, prolonged growl, like a dog in pain—all the children + shuddering.) And then followed the oft-told tale of how this same terrible + Yahoo once came up with Hagar, who was riding a witch pony to get to the + witches' dance in the cane-brake, and how he made off with her to the + swamp, where she had had to cook for him—ever—ever—ever + since. (Long-drawn breath, showing that all was over for that day at + least.) + </p> + <p> + Todd got the true inwardness of the situation before he had been many days + at Wesley: for the scene with the children was often repeated when court + was not in session. + </p> + <p> + “Fo' Gawd, Marse George, hab you had time to watch dat gemman, de jedge? + Dey do say he's sumpin' great, but I tell ye he's dat lazy a fly stuck in + 'lasses 'd pass him on de road.” + </p> + <p> + St. George laughed heartily in reply, but he did not reprimand him. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so, Todd?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't help thinkin' so. I wuz standin' by de po'ch yisterday holdin' Miss + Kate's mare, when I yere de mistis ask de jedge ter go out an' git 'er + some kindlin' f'om de wood-pile. He sot a-rockin' hisse'f in dat big cheer + ob his'n an' I yered him say—'Yes, in a minute,' but he didn't move. + Den she holler ag'in at him an' still he rock hisse'f, sayin' he's comin'. + Den, fust thing I knowed out she come to de woodpile an' git it herse'f, + an' den when she pass him wid 'er arms full o' wood he look up an' say—'Peggy, + come yere an' kiss me—I dunno what we'd do widout ye—you'se de + Lawd's anointed, sho'.'” + </p> + <p> + Kate got no end of amusement out of him, and would often walk with him to + court that she might listen to his drolleries—especially his queer + views of life—the simplest and most unaffected to which she had ever + bent her ears. Now and then, as time went on, despite her good-natured + toleration of his want of independence—he being always dominated by + his wife—she chanced, to her great surprise, upon some nuggets of + hard common-sense of so high an assay that they might really be graded as + wisdom—his analysis of men and women being particularly surprising. + Those little twinkling, and sometimes sleepy, eyes of his, now that she + began to study him the closer, reminded her of the unreadable eyes of an + elephant she had once seen—eyes that presaged nothing but inertia, + until whack went the trunk and over toppled the boy who had teased him. + </p> + <p> + And with this new discovery there developed at last a certain respect for + the lazy, good-natured, droll old man. Opinions which she had heretofore + laughed at suddenly became of value; criticisms which she had passed over + in silence seemed worthy of further consideration. + </p> + <p> + Peggy, however, fitted into all the tender places of her heart. She had + never known her own mother; all she remembered was a face bending close + and a soft hand that tucked in the coverlet one night when she couldn't + sleep. The memory had haunted her from the days of her childhood—clear + and distinct, with every detail in place. Had there been light enough in + her mother's bed-room, she was sure she could have added the dear face + itself to her recollection. Plump, full-bosomed, rosy-cheeked Peggy + (fifteen years younger than Tom) supplied the touch and voice, and all the + tenderness as well, that these sad memories recalled, and all that the + motherless girl had yearned for. + </p> + <p> + And the simple, uneventful life—one without restraints of any kind, + greatly satisfied her: so different from her own at home with Prim as + Chief Regulator. Everybody, to her delight, did as they pleased, each one + following the bent of his or her inclination. St. George was out at + daybreak in the duck-blinds, or, breakfast over, roaming the fields with + his dogs, Todd a close attendant. The judge would stroll over to court an + hour or more late, only to find an equally careless and contented group + blocking up the door—“po' white trash” most of them, each one with a + grievance. Whenever St. George accompanied him, and he often did, his + Honor would spend even less time on the bench—cutting short both + ends of the session, Temple laughing himself sore over the judge's + decisions. + </p> + <p> + “And he stole yo' shoat and never paid for him?” he heard his honor say + one day in a hog case, where two farmers who had been waiting hours for + Tom's coming were plaintiff and defendant. “How did you know it was yo' + shoat—did you mark him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Tie a tag around his neck?” + </p> + <p> + “No, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you just keep yo' hogs inside yo' lot. Too many loose hogs runnin' + 'round. Case is dismissed and co't is adjourned for the day,” which, while + very poor law, was good common-sense, stray hogs on the public highway + having become a nuisance. + </p> + <p> + With these kindly examples before her, Kate soon fell into the ways of the + house. If she did not wish to get up she lay abed and Peggy brought her + breakfast with her own hands. If, when she did leave her bed, she went + about in pussy-slippers and a loose gown of lace and frills without her + stays, Peggy's only protest was against her wearing anything else—so + adorable was she. When this happy, dreamy indolence began to pall upon her—and + she could not stand it for long—she would be up at sunrise helping + Peggy wash and dress her frolicsome children or get them off to school, + and this done, would assist in the housework—even rolling the pastry + with her own delicate palms, or sitting beside the bubbling, spontaneous + woman, needle in hand, aiding with the family mending—while Peggy, + glad of the companionship, would sit with ears open, her mind alert, + probing—probing—trying to read the heart of the girl whom she + loved the better every day. And so there had crept into Kate's heart a new + peace that was as fresh sap to a dying plant, bringing the blossoms to her + cheeks and the spring of wind-blown branches to her step. + </p> + <p> + Then one fine morning, to the astonishment of every one, and greatly to + Todd's disgust, no less a person than Mr. Langdon Willits of “Oak Hill” + (distant three miles away) dismounted at Coston's front porch, and + throwing the reins to the waiting darky, stretched his convalescent, but + still shaky, legs in the direction of the living-room, there to await the + arrival of “Miss Seymour of Kennedy Square,” who, so he informed Todd, + “expected him.” + </p> + <p> + Todd scraped a foot respectfully in answer, touched his cocoanut of a head + with his monkey claw of a finger, waited until the broad back of the + red-headed gentleman had been swallowed up by the open door, and then + indulged in this soliloquy: + </p> + <p> + “Funny de way dem bullets hab o' missin' folks. Des a leetle furder down + an' dere wouldn't 'a' been none o' dis yere foolishness. Pity Marse Harry + hadn't practised some mo'. Ef he had ter do it ag'in I reckon he'd pink + him so he neber be cavortin' 'roun' like he is now.” + </p> + <p> + Willits's sudden appearance filled St. George with ill-concealed anxiety. + He did not believe in this parade of invalidism, nor did he like Kate's + encouraging smile when she met him—and there was no question that + she did smile—and, more portentous still, that she enjoyed it. Other + things, too, she grew to enjoy, especially the long rides in the woods and + over to the broad water. For Willits's health after a few days of the + sunshine of Kate's companionship had undergone so renovating a process + that the sorrel horse now arrived at the porch almost every day, whereupon + Kate's Joan would be led out, and the smiled-upon gentleman in English + riding-boots and brown velvet jacket and our gracious lady in Lincoln + green habit with wide hat and sweeping plume would mount their steeds and + be lost among the pines. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, to be exact, half of Kate's time was now spent in the saddle, + Willits riding beside her. And with each day's outing a new and, to St. + George, a more disturbing intimacy appeared to be growing between them. + Now it was Willits's sister who had to be considered and especially + invited to Wesley—a thin wisp of a woman with tortoise-shell + sidecombs and bunches of dry curls, who always dressed in shiny black silk + and whose only ornament was her mother's hair set in a breastpin; or it + was his father by whom she must sit when he came over in his gig—a + bluff, hearty man who generally wore a red waistcoat with big bone buttons + and high boots with tassels in front. + </p> + <p> + This last confidential relation, when the manners and bearing of the elder + man came under his notice, seemed to St. George the most unaccountable of + all. Departures from the established code always jarred upon him, and the + gentleman in the red waistcoat and tasselled boots often wandered so far + afield that he invariably set St. George's teeth on edge. Although he had + never met Kate before, he called her by her first name after the first ten + minutes of their acquaintance—his son, he explained, having done + nothing but sound her praises for the past two years, an excuse which + carried no weight in gentleman George's mind because of its additional + familiarity. He had never dared, he knew, to extend that familiarity to + Peggy—it had always been “Mrs. Coston” to her and it had always been + “Mr. Coston” to Tom, and it was now “your Honor” or “judge” to the + dispenser of justice. For though the owner of Oak Hill lived within a few + miles of the tumble-down remnant that sheltered the Costons; and though he + had fifty servants to their one, or half a one—and broad acres in + proportion, to say nothing of flocks and herds—St. George had always + been aware that he seldom crossed their porch steps or they his. That + little affair of some fifty or more years ago was still remembered, and + the children of people who did that sort of thing must, of course, pay the + penalty. Even Peggy never failed to draw the line. “Very nice people, my + dear,” he had heard her say to Kate one day when the subject of the + younger man's family had come up. “Mr. Willits senior is a fine, + open-hearted man, and does a great deal of good in the county with his + money—quite a politician, and they do say has a fair chance of some + time being governor of the State. But very few of us about here would want + to marry into the family, all the same. Oh no, my dear Kate, of course + there was nothing against his grandmother. She was a very nice woman, I + believe, and I've often heard my own mother speak of her. Her father came + from Albemarle Sound, if I am right, and was old John Willits's overseer. + The girl was his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Kate had made no answer. Who Langdon Willits's grandmother was, or whether + he had any grandmother at all, did not concern her in the least. She + rather admired the young Albemarle Sound girl for walking boldly into the + Willits family—low born as she was—and making them respect + her. + </p> + <p> + But none of Peggy's outspoken warnings nor any of St. George's silent + acceptances of the several situations—always a mark of his + disapproval—checked the game of love-making which was going on—the + give-and-take stage of it, with the odds varying with each new shifting of + the cards, both Peggy and St. George growing the more nervous. + </p> + <p> + “She's going to accept him, St. George,” Peggy had said to him one morning + as he stood behind her chair while she was shelling the peas for dinner. + “I didn't think so when he first came, but I believe it now. I have said + all I could to her. She has cuddled up in my arms and cried herself sick + over it, but she won't hold out much longer. Young Rutter left her heart + all torn and bleeding and this man has bound up the sore places. She will + never love anybody that way again—and may be it is just as well. + He'd have kept her guessing all her life as to what he'd do next. I wish + Willits's blood was better, for she's a dear, sweet child and proud as she + can be, only she's proud over different things from what I would be. But + you can make up your mind to it—she'll keep him dangling for a while + yet, as she did last summer at the Red Sulphur, but she'll be his wife in + a year or less—you mark my words. You haven't yet heard from the + first one, have you?—as to when he's coming home?” + </p> + <p> + St. George hadn't heard—he sighed in return—a habit of his + lately: No, not for two months or more—not since the letter in which + Harry said he had left the ship and had gone up into the interior. He had, + he told her, mentioned the boy's silence to Kate in a casual way, watching + the effect the news produced upon her—but after the remark that the + mails were always irregular from those far-away countries, she had turned + the conversation into other channels, she having caught sight of Willits, + who had just dismounted from his horse. + </p> + <p> + As to St. George's own position in the affair he felt that his hands were + still so firmly tied that he could do nothing one way or the other. His + personal intercourse with Willits had been such as he would always have + with a man with whom he was on speaking terms, but it never passed that + border. He was courteous, careful of his speech, and mindful of the young + man's devotion to Kate, whose guardian for the time being he was, but he + neither encouraged nor thwarted his suit. Kate was of age and was fully + competent to decide for herself—extremely competent, for that + matter. + </p> + <p> + How little this clear reader of women's hearts—and scores had been + spread out before him—knew of Kate's, no one but the girl herself + could have told. That she was adrift on an open sea without a rudder, and + that she had already begun to lose confidence both in her seamanship and + in her compass, was becoming more and more apparent to her every day she + lived. All she knew positively was that she had been sailing before the + wind for some weeks past with everything flying loose, and that the time + had now come for her either to “go about” or keep on her course. + </p> + <p> + Her suitor's family she had carefully considered. She had also studied his + environment and the impression he made upon those who had known him + longest:—she must now focus her mental lenses on the man himself. He + had, she knew, graduated with honors, being the valedictorian of his + class; had risen rapidly in his profession, and, from what her father + said, would soon reach a high place among his brother lawyers. There was + even talk of sending him to the legislature, where her own father, the + Honorable Prim, had achieved his title. She wished, of course, that Mr. + Willits's hair was not quite so red; she wished, too, that the knuckles on + his hands were not so large and bony—and that he was not always at + her beck and call; but these, she was forced to admit, were trifles in the + make-up of a fine man. There was, however, a sane mind under the + carrot-colored hair and a warm palm inside the knotted knuckles, and that + was infinitely more important than little physical peculiarities which one + would forget as life went on. As to his periods of ill health, these she + herself could have prevented had she told him the whole truth that night + on the stairs, or the day before when she had parried his direct proposal + of marriage—a piece of stupidity for which she never failed to blame + herself. + </p> + <p> + His future conduct did not trouble her in the least. She had long since + become convinced that Willits would never again become intemperate. He had + kept his promise, and this meant more to her than his having given way to + past temptations. The lesson he had learned at the ball had had, too, its + full effect. One he had never forgotten. Over and over again he had + apologized to her for his brutal insolence in laying his profane hands on + her dancing-card and tearing it to bits before her eyes. He had, moreover, + deeply regretted the duel and had sworn to her on his honor as a gentleman + that he would never fight another. + </p> + <p> + Each time she had listened quietly and had told him how much she was + pleased and how grateful she was for his confidence and how such fine + resolutions redounded to his credit, and yet in thinking it over the next + day she could not help comparing his meek outbursts of sorrow with Harry's + blunt statement made to her the last time she saw him in the park, when, + instead of expressing any regret for having shot Willits, he had boldly + declared that he would do it again if any such insult were repeated. And + strange to say—and this she could not understand in herself—in + all such comparisons Harry came out best. + </p> + <p> + But:—and here she had to hold on to her rudder with all her might—she + had already made one mistake, tumbling head over heels in love with a + young fellow who had mortified her before the world when their engagement + was less than a few months old, making her name and affections a byword, + and she could not and would not repeat the blunder. This had shattered her + customary self-reliance, leaving her wellnigh helpless. Perhaps after all—an + unheard-of thing in her experience—she had better seek advice of + some older and wiser pilot. Two heads, or even three—(here her canny + Scotch blood asserted itself)—were better than one in deciding so + important a matter as the choosing of a mate for life. And yet—now + she came to think it over—it was not so much a question of heads as + it was a question of shoulders on which the heads rested. To turn to St. + George, or to any member of the Willits kin, was impossible. Peggy's views + she understood. Counsel, however, she must have, and at once. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly an inspiration thrilled her like an electric shock—one that + sent the blood tingling to the very roots of her hair. Why had she not + thought of it before! And it must be in the most casual way—quite as + a matter of general conversation, he doing all the talking and she doing + all the listening, for on no account must he suspect her purpose. + </p> + <p> + Within the hour she had tied the ribbons of her wide leghorn hat under her + dimpled chin, picked up her shawl, and started off alone, following the + lane to the main road. If the judge, by any chance, had adjourned court he + would come straight home and she would meet him on the way. If he was + still engaged in the dispensation of justice, she would wait for him + outside. + </p> + <p> + She had judged wisely. Indeed she might have waited for days for some such + moment and not found so favorable an opportunity. His Honor had already + left the bench and was then slowly making his way toward where she stood, + hugging the sidewalk trees the better to shade him from the increasing + heat. As the day had promised to be an unusually warm one, he had attired + himself in a full suit of yellow nankeen, with palm-leaf fan and wide + straw hat—a combination which so matched the color and texture of + his placid, kindly face that Kate could hardly keep from laughing + outright. Instead she quickened her steps until she stood beside him, her + lovely, fresh color heightened by her walk, her eyes sparkling, her face + wreathed in smiles. + </p> + <p> + “You are lookin' mighty cute, my Lady Kate, in yo' Paisley shawl and + sarsanet pelisse,” he called out in his hearty, cheery way. “Has Peggy + seen 'em? I've been tryin' to get her some just like 'em, only my co't + duties are so pressin'. Goodness, gracious me!—but it's gettin' + hot!” Here he stopped and mopped his face, then his eyes fell upon her + again: “Bless my soul, child!—you do look pretty this mornin'—jest + like yo' mother! Where did you get all those pink and white apple-blossoms + in yo' cheeks?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember her, Mr. Coston?” she rejoined, ignoring his compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Do I remember her! The belle of fo' counties, my dear—eve'ybody at + her feet; five or six gentlemen co'tin' her at once; old Captain Barkeley, + cross as a bear—wouldn't let her marry this one or that one—kep' + her guessin' night and day, till one of 'em blew his brains out, and then + she fainted dead away. Pretty soon yo' father co'ted her, and bein' + Scotch, like the old captain and sober as an owl and about as cunnin', it + wasn't long befo' everything was settled. Very nice man, yo' father—got + to have things mighty partic'lar; we young bucks used to say he slept in a + bag of lavender and powdered his cheeks every mornin' to make him look + fresh, while most of us were soakin' wet in the duck-blinds—but that + was only our joke. That's long befo' you were born, child. But yo' mother + didn't live long—they said her heart was broken 'bout the other + fellow, but there wasn't a word of truth in that foolishness—couldn't + be. I used to see her and yo' father together long after that, and she was + mighty good to him, and he was to her. Yes—all comes back to me. + Stand still, child, and let me look at you—yes—you're plumper + than yo' mother and a good deal rosier, and you don't look so slender and + white as she did, like one of those pale Indian pipes she used to hunt in + the woods. It's the Seymour in you that's done that, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + Kate walked on in silence. It was not the first time that some of her + mother's old friends had told her practically the same story—not so + clearly, perhaps, because few had the simple, outspoken candor of the old + fellow, but enough to let her know that her father was not her mother's + first love. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be in a hurry, child, and don't let anybody choose for you,” he ran + on. “Peggy and I didn't make any mistakes—and don't you. Now this + young son of Parker Willits's”—here his wrinkled face tightened up + into a pucker as if he had just bitten into an unripe persimmon—“good + enough young man, may be; goin' to be something great, I reckon—in + Mr. Taney's office, I hear, or will be next winter. I 'spect he'll keep + out of jail—most Willitses do—but keep an eye on him and watch + him, and watch yo'self too. That's more important still. The cemetery is a + long ways off when you marry the wrong man, child. And that other fellow + that Peggy tells me has been co'tin' you—Talbot Rutter's boy—he's + a wild one, isn't he?—drunk half the time and fightin' everybody who + don't agree with him. Come pretty nigh endin' young Willits, so they say. + Now I hear he's run away to sea and left all his debts behind. Talbot + turned him neck and heels out of doors when he found it out, so they tell + me—and served the scapegrace right. Don't be in a hurry, child. + Right man will come bime-by. Just the same with Peggy till I come along—there + she is now, bless her sweet heart! Peggy, you darlin'—I got so + lonely for you I just had to 'journ co't. I've been telling Lady Kate that + she mustn't be in a hurry to get married till she finds somebody that will + make her as happy as you and me.” Here the judge slipped his arm around + Peggy's capacious waist and the two crossed the pasture as the nearest way + to the house. + </p> + <p> + Kate kept on her way alone. + </p> + <p> + Her only reply to the garrulous judge had been one of her rippling laughs, + but it was the laughter of bubbles with the sediment lying deep in the + bottom of the glass. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + But all outings must come to an end. And so when the marsh grass on the + lowlands lay in serried waves of dappled satin, and the corn on the + uplands was waist high and the roses a mob of beauty, Kate threw her arms + around Peggy and kissed her over and over again, her whole heart flowing + through her lips; and then the judge got his good-by on his wrinkled + cheek, and the children on any clean spot which she found on their + molasses-covered faces; and then the cavalcade took up its line of march + for the boat-landing, Willits going as far as the wharf, where he and Kate + had a long talk in low tones, in which he seemed to be doing all the + talking and she all the listening—“But nuthin' mo'n jes' a + han'shake” (so Todd told St. George), “he lookin' like he wanter eat her + up an' she kinder sayin' dat de cake ain't brown 'nough yit fur tastin'—but + one thing I know fo' sho'—an' dat is she didn't let 'im kiss 'er. I + wuz leadin' his horse pas' whar dey wuz standin', an' de sorrel varmint + got cuttin' up an' I kep' him prancin' till Mister Willits couldn't stay + wid her no longer. Drat dat red-haided—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Todd—be careful—you mustn't speak that way of Mr. + Willits.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Marse George, I won't—but I ain't neber like him f'om de + fust. He ain't quality an' he neber kin be. How Miss Kate don' stan' him + is mo'n I kin tell.” + </p> + <p> + Kate drove up to her father's house in state, with Ben as special envoy to + see that she and her belongings were properly cared for. St. George with + Todd and the four dogs—six in all—arrived, despite Kate's + protestations, on foot. + </p> + <p> + Pawson met him at the door. He had given up his boarding-house and had + transferred his traps and parcels to the floor above—into Harry's + old room, really—in order that the additional rent—(he had now + taken entire charge of Temple's finances)—might help in the payment + of the interest on the mortgage. He had thought this all out while St. + George was at Wesley and had moved in without notifying him, that being + the best way to solve the problem—St. George still retaining his + bedroom and dining-room and the use of the front door. Jemima, too, had + gone. She wanted, so she had told her master the day he left with Kate, to + take a holiday and visit some of her people who lived down by the Marsh + Market in an old rookery near the Falls, and would come back when he sent + for her; but Todd had settled all that the morning of his arrival, the + moment he caught sight of her black face. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't no use yo' comin' back,” the darky blurted out. “I'm gwineter do de + cookin' and de chamber-wo'k. Dere ain't 'nough to eat fo' mo'n two. When + dem white-livered, no-count, onery gemmens dat stole Marse George's money + git in de chain-gang, whar dey b'longs, den may be we'll hab sumpin' to go + to market on, but dat ain't yit; an' don't ye tell Marse George I tol' yer + or I'll ha'nt ye like dat witch I done heared 'bout down to Wesley—ha'nt + ye so ye'll think de debble's got ye.” To his master, his only explanation + was that Jemima had gone to look after her sister, who had been taken “wid + a mis'ry in her back.” + </p> + <p> + If St. George knew anything of the common talk going on around him no one + was ever the wiser. He continued the even tenor of his life, visiting and + receiving his friends, entertaining his friends in a simple and + inexpensive way: Once Poe had spent an evening with him, when he made a + manly, straightforward apology for his conduct the night of the dinner, + and on another occasion Mr. Kennedy had made an especial point of missing + a train to Washington to have an hour's chat with him. In the afternoons + he would have a rubber of whist with the archdeacon who lived across the + Square—a broad-minded ecclesiastic, who believed in relaxation, + although, of course, he was never seen at the club; or he might drop into + the Chesapeake for a talk with Richard or sit beside him in his curious + laboratory at the rear of his house where he worked out many of the + problems that absorbed his mind and inspired his hopes. At night, however + late or early—whenever he reached home—there was always a romp + with his dogs. This last he rarely omitted. The click of the front-door + latch, followed by his firm step overhead, was their signal, and up they + would come, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to reach his + cheeks—straight up, their paws scraping his clothes; then a swoop + into the dining-room, when they would be “downed” to the floor, their eyes + following his every movement. + </p> + <p> + Nor had his own financial situation begun as yet to trouble him. Todd and + Pawson, however, had long since become nervous. More than once had they + put their heads together for some plan by which sufficient money could be + raised for current expenses. In this praiseworthy effort, to Todd's + unbounded astonishment, Pawson had one night developed a plan in which the + greatly feared and much-despised Gadgem was to hold first place. Indeed on + the very morning succeeding the receipt of Pawson's letter and at an hour + when St. George would be absent at the club, there had come a brisk + rat-a-tat on the front door and Gadgem had sidled in. + </p> + <p> + Todd had not seen the collector since that eventful morning when he stood + by ready to pick up the pieces of that gentleman's dismembered body when + his master was about to throw him into the street for doubting his word, + and he now studied him with the greatest interest. The first thing that + struck him was the collector's clothes. As the summer was approaching he + had changed his winter suit for a combination of brown linen bound with + black—(second hand, of course, its former owner having gone out of + mourning) and at the moment sported a moth-eaten, crape-encircled white + beaver with a floppy, two-inch brim, a rusty black stock that grabbed him + close under the chin, completely submerging his collar, and a pair of + congress gaiters very much run down at the heel. He was evidently master + of himself and the situation, for he stood looking from Todd to the young + lawyer, a furtive, anxious expression on his face that betokened both a + surprise at being sent for and a curiosity to learn the cause, although no + word of inquiry passed his lips. + </p> + <p> + Pawson's opening remark calmed the collector's suspicions. + </p> + <p> + “EXactly,” he answered in a relieved tone, when the plot had been fully + developed, dragging a mate of the red bandanna—a blue one—from + his pocket and blowing his nose in an impressive manner. “EXactly—quite + right—quite right—difficult perhaps—ENORmously difficult + but—yes—quite right.” + </p> + <p> + Then there had followed a hurried consultation, during which the + bullet-headed darky absorbed every word, his eyes rolling about in his + head, his breath ending somewhere near his jugular vein. + </p> + <p> + These details duly agreed upon, Gadgem bowed himself out of the + dining-room, carrying with him a note-book filled with such data as: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 2 fowling pieces made by Purdey, 1838. + 3 heavy duck guns. + 2 English saddles. + 1 silver loving cup. + 2 silver coasters, etc, etc., +</pre> + <p> + a list which Todd the night before had prompted and which Pawson, in his + clear, round hand, had transferred to a sheet of foolscap ready for Gadgem + in the morning. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the front door the collector stopped and looked furtively up + the stairs. He was wondering with professional caution whether St. George + had returned and was within hearing distance. If so much as a hint should + reach Temple's ears the whole scheme would come to naught. Still in doubt, + he called out in his sharpest business voice, as if prolonging a + conversation which had been carried on inside: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Pawson, please say to Mr. Temple that it is GADgem, of GADgem + & Coombs—and say that I will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow—sharp—on + the minute; I am ALways on the minute in matters of this kind. Only five + minutes of his time—five minutes, remember—” and he passed out + of hearing. + </p> + <p> + Todd, now duly installed as co-conspirator, opened the ball the next + morning at breakfast. St. George had slept late, and the hands of the + marble clock marked but a few minutes of the hour of Gadgem's expected + arrival, and not a moment could be lost. + </p> + <p> + “Dat Gadgem man done come yere yisterday,” he began, drawing out his + master's chair with an extra flourish to hide his nervousness, “an' he say + he's commin' ag'in dis mornin' at ten o'clock. Clar to goodness it's dat + now! I done forgot to tell ye.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he want, Todd?” asked St. George, dropping into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno, sah—said he was lookin' fo' sumpin' fo' a frien' ob his—I + think it was a gun—an' he wanted to know what kind to buy fur him—Yes, + sah, dem waffles 's jes' off de fire. He 'lowed he didn't know nuffin' + 'bout guns—butter, sah?—an' den Mister Pawson spoke up an' + said he'd better ask you. He's tame dis time—leastways he 'peared + so.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine gun is rather a difficult thing to get in these days, Todd,” + replied St. George, opening his napkin. “Since old Joe Manton died I don't + know but one good maker—and that's Purdey, of London, and he, I + hear, has orders to last him five years. No, Todd—I'd rather have + the toast.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah—I knowed ye couldn't do nuffln' fur him—Take de top + piece—dat's de brownest—but he seemed so cut up 'bout it dat I + tol' him he might see ye fur a minute if he come 'long 'bout ten o'clock, + when you was fru' yo' bre'kfus', 'fo' ye got tangled up wid yo' letters + an' de papers. Dat's him now, I spec's. Shall I show him in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, show him in, Todd. Gadgem isn't a bad sort of fellow after all. He + only wants his pound of flesh, like the others. Ah, good-morning, Mr. + Gadgem.” The front door had been purposely left open, and though the bill + collector had knocked by way of warning, he had paused for no answer and + was already in the room. The little man laid his battered hat silently on + a chair near the door, pulled down his tight linen sleeves with the + funereal binding, adjusted his high black stock, and with half-creeping, + half-cringing movement, advanced to where St. George sat. + </p> + <p> + “I said good-morning, Mr. Gadgem,” repeated St. George in his most + captivating tone of voice. He had been greatly amused at Gadgem's antics. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you, sir—I heard you DIStinctly, sir—I was only + seeking a place on which to rest my hat, sir—not a very inSPIRing + hat-quite the contrary—but all I have. Yes, sir—you are quite + right—it is a VERY good morning—a most deLIGHTful morning. I + was convinced of that when I crossed the park, sir. The trees—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the trees, Gadgem. We will take those up later on. Tell me + what I can do for you—what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “A GUN, sir—a plain, straightforward GUN—one that can be + relied upon. Not for mySELF, sir—I am not murderously inclined—but + for a friend who has commissioned me—the exact word, sir—although + the percentage is small—comMISsioned me to acquire for him a fowling + piece of the pattern, weight, and build of those belonging to St. George + W. Temple, Esquire, of Kennedy Square-and so I made bold, sir, to—” + </p> + <p> + “You won't find it, Gadgem,” replied St. George, buttering the toast. “I + have two that I have shot with for years that haven't their match in the + State. Todd, bring me one of those small bird guns—there, behind the + door in the rack. Hand it to Mr. Gadgem. Now, can you see by the shape of—take + hold of it, man. But do you know anything about guns?” + </p> + <p> + “Only enough to keep away from their muzzles, sir.” He had it in his hand + now—holding it by the end of the barrel, Todd instinctively dodging + out of the way, although he knew it was not loaded. “No, sir, I don't know + anything—not the very SMALLest thing about guns. There is nothing, + in fact, I know so little about as a gun—that is why I have come to + you.” + </p> + <p> + St. George recovered the piece and laid it as gently on the table beside + his plate as if it had been a newly laid egg. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think you do,” he laughed, “or you wouldn't hold it upside + down. Now go on and give me the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem emitted a chuckle—the nearest he ever came to a laugh: “To + have it go ON, sir, is infinitely preferable than to have it go OFF, sir. + He-he! And you have, I believe you said, two of these highly valuable + implements of death?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, five altogether—two of this kind. Here, Todd”—and he + picked up the gun—“put it back behind the door.” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem felt in his inside pocket, produced and consulted a memorandum with + the air of a man who wanted to be entirely sure, and in a bland voice + said: + </p> + <p> + “I should think at your time of life—if you will permit me, sir—that + one less gun would not seriously inconvenience you. Would you permit me, + sir, to hope that—” + </p> + <p> + St. George looked up from his plate and a peculiar expression flitted + across his face. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want to buy it?” + </p> + <p> + The bill collector made a little movement forward and scrutinized St. + George's face with the eye of a hawk. For a man of Temple's kidney to be + without a fowling piece was like a king being without a crown. This was + the crucial moment. Gadgem knew Temple's class, and knew just how + delicately he must be handled. If St. George's pride, or his love for his + favorite chattels—things personal to himself—should overcome + him, the whole scheme would fall to the ground. That any gentleman of his + standing had ever seen the inside of a pawn-shop in his life was + unthinkable. This was what Gadgem faced. As for Todd, he had not drawn a + full breath since Gadgem opened his case. + </p> + <p> + “Not EXactly buy it, sir,” purred Gadgem, twisting his body into an + obsequious spiral. “Men of your position do not traffic in such things—but + if you would be persuaded, sir, for a money consideration which you would + fix yourself—say the ORIGinal cost of the gun—to spare one of + your five—you would greatly delight—in fact, you would + overWHELM with gratitude—a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + St. George hesitated, looked out of the window and a brand-new thought + forced its way into his mind—as if a closet had been suddenly + opened, revealing a skeleton he had either forgotten or had put + permanently out of sight. There WAS need of this “original cost”—instant + need—something he had entirely forgotten. Jemima would soon need it—perhaps + needed it at that very minute. He had, it was true, often kept her + waiting: but that was when he could pay at his pleasure; now, perhaps, he + couldn't pay at all. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Gadgem,” he said slowly, a far-away, thoughtful look on his + face—“come to think of it I don't need two guns of this calibre, and + I am quite willing to let this one go, if it will oblige your friend.” + Here Todd breathed a sigh of relief so loud and deep that his master + turned his head in inquiry. “As to the price—I'll look that up. Come + and see me again in a day or two. Better take the gun with you now.” + </p> + <p> + The fight had been won, but the risk had been great. Even Pawson could + hardly believe his ears when Gadgem, five minutes later, related the + outcome of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it will be plain sailing so long as the rest of the things + last,” said Pawson, handling the piece with a covetous touch. He too liked + a day off when he could get it. “Who will you sell the gun to, Gadgem?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows—I don't! I'll borrow the money on it somehow—but I + can't see him suffer—no, sir—can't see him SUFfer. It's a + pleasure to serve him—real gentleman—REAL—do you hear, + Pawson? No veneer—no sham—no lies! Damn few such men, I tell + you. Never met one before-never will meet one again. Gave up everything he + had for a rattle-brain young scamp—BEGgared himself to pay his debts—not + a drop of the fellow's blood in his veins either—incredible—inCREDible! + Got to handle him like gunpowder or he'll blow everything into + matchsticks. Find out the price and I'll bring the money to-morrow. Do you + pay it to him; I can't. I'd feel too damn mean after lying to him the way + I have. Feel that way now. Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + The same scene was practically repeated the following month. It was an + English saddle this time, St. George having two. And it was the same + unknown gentleman who figured as “the much-obliged friend,” Pawson + conducting the negotiations and securing the owner's consent. On this + occasion Gadgem sold the saddle outright to the keeper of a livery stable, + whose bills he collected, paying the difference between the asking and the + selling price out of his own pocket. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, however, St. George awoke to certain unsuspected features of + what was going on around him. The discovery was made one morning when the + go-between was closeted in Pawson's lower office, Pawson conducting the + negotiations in St. George's dining-room. The young attorney, with + Gadgem's assistance, had staved off some accounts until a legal ultimatum + had been reached, and, having but few resources of his own left, had, with + Todd's help, decided that the silver loving-cup presented to his client's + father by the Marquis de Castullux could alone save the situation—a + decision which brought an emphatic refusal from the owner. This and the + discovery of Pawson's and Gadgem's treachery had greatly incensed him. + </p> + <p> + “And you tell me, Pawson, that that scoundrel, Gadgem, has—Todd go + down and bring him up here immediately—has had the audacity to run a + pawnshop for my benefit without so much as asking my leave?—peddling + my things?—lying to me straight through?” Here the door opened and + Gadgem's face peered in. He had, as was his custom, crept upstairs so as + to be within instant call when wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I am speaking of you, sir. Come inside and shut that door + behind you. You too, Todd. What the devil do you mean, Gadgem, by + deceiving me in this way? Don't you know I would rather have starved to + death than—” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem raised his hand in protest: + </p> + <p> + “EXactly so, sir. That's what we were afraid of, sir—such an + uncomfortable thing to starve to death, sir—I couldn't permit it, + sir—I'd rather walk my feet off than permit it. I did walk them off—” + </p> + <p> + “But who asked you to tramp the streets with my things uuder your arm? And + you lied to me about it—you said you wanted to oblige a friend. + There wasn't a word of truth in it, and you know it.” + </p> + <p> + Again Gadgem's hand went out with a pleading “Please-don't” gesture. “Less + than a word, sir—a whole dictionary, less, sir, and UNabridged at + that, if I might be permitted to say it. My friend still has the implement + of death, and not only does he still possess it, but he is ENORmously + obliged. Indeed, I have never SEEN him so happy.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to tell me, Gadgem,” St. George burst out, “that the money you + paid me for the gun really came from a friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir.” Gadgem's gimlet eye was worming itself into Temple's. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Gadgem, sir—John Gadgem, of Gadgem & Coombs—Gadgem sole + survivor, since Coombs is with the angels; the foreclosure having taken + place last month: hence these weeds.” And he lifted the tails of his black + coat in evidence. + </p> + <p> + “Out of your own money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—some I had laid away.” + </p> + <p> + St. George wheeled suddenly and stood looking first at Gadgem, then at + Pawson, and last at Todd, as if for confirmation. Then a light broke in + upon him—one that played over his face in uncertain flashes. + </p> + <p> + “And you did this for me?” he asked thoughtfully, fixing his gaze on + Gadgem. + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir,” came the answer in a meek voice, as if he had been detected + in filching an apple from a stand; “and I would do it again—do it + over and over again. And it has been a great pleasure for me to do it. I + might say, sir, that it has been a kind of exTREME bliss to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” There was a tremor now in Temple's voice that even Todd had never + noticed before. + </p> + <p> + Gadgem turned his head away. “I don't know, sir,” he replied in a lower + tone. “I couldn't explain it on oath; I don't care to explain it, sir.” No + lie could serve him now—better make a clean breast of the villany. + </p> + <p> + “And you still own the gun?” Todd had never seen his master so gentle + before—not under a provocation such as this. + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir.” Gadgem's voice was barely audible. + </p> + <p> + “Then it means that you have locked up just that much of your own money + for a thing you can never use yourself and can't sell. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem lowered his head and for a moment studied the carpet. His + activities, now that the cat was out of the bag, were fair subjects for + discussion, but not his charities. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer not to answer, sir, and—” the last words died in his + throat. + </p> + <p> + “But it's true, isn't it?” persisted St. George. He had never once taken + his eyes from Gadgem. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's true.” + </p> + <p> + St. George turned on his heel, walked to the mantel, stood for an instant + gazing into the empty fireplace, and then, with that same straightening of + his shoulders and lift of his head which his friends knew so well when he + was deeply stirred, confronted the collector again: + </p> + <p> + “Gadgem!” He stopped and caught his breath. For a moment it seemed as if + something in his throat choked his utterance. “Gadgem—give me your + hand! Do you know you are a gentleman and a thoroughbred! No—don't + speak—don't explain. We understand each other. Todd, bring three + glasses and hand me what is left of the old Port. And do you join us, + Pawson.” + </p> + <p> + Todd, whose eyes had been popping from his head during the entire + interview, and who was still amazed at the outcome, suddenly woke to the + dangers of the situation: on no account must his master's straits be + further revealed. He raised his hand as a signal to St. George, who was + still looking into Gadgem's eyes, screwed his face into a tangle of + puckers and in a husky whisper muttered, so low that only his master could + hear: + </p> + <p> + “Dat Port, Marse George”—one eye now went entirely out in a wink—“is + gittin' a leetle mite low” (there hadn't been a drop of it in the house + for six months) “an' if—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, that old Brown Sherry—get a fresh bottle, Todd—” + St. George was quite honest, and so, for that matter, was Todd: the Brown + Sherry had also seen its day. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah—but how would dat fine ol' peach brandy de jedge gin ye + do? It's sp'ilin' to be tasted, sah.” Both eyes were now in eclipse in the + effort to apprise his master that with the exception of some badly corked + Madeira, Tom Coston's peach brandy was about the only beverage left in the + cellar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the old peach brandy, then—get it at once and serve it in the + large glasses.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + St. George had now reached the last stage of his poverty. The selling or + pawning of the few valuables left him had been consummated and with the + greatest delicacy, so as best to spare his feelings. That he had been + assisted by hitherto unknown friends who had sacrificed their own balances + in his behalf, added temporarily to his comforts but did not lessen the + gravity of the present situation. The fact remained that with the + exception of a few possible assets he was practically penniless. Every old + debt that could be collected—and Gadgem had been a scourge and a + flaming sword as the weeks went on in their gathering—had been + rounded up. Even his minor interests in two small ground rents had, thanks + to Pawson, been cashed some years in advance. His available resources were + now represented by some guns, old books, bridles, another saddle, his rare + Chinese punch-bowl and its teakwood stand, and a few remaining odds and + ends. + </p> + <p> + He could hope for no payment from the Patapsco—certainly not for + some years; nor could he raise money even on these hopes, the general + opinion being that despite the efforts of John Gorsuch, Rutter, and + Harding to punish the guilty and resuscitate the innocent, the bank would + finally collapse without a cent being paid the depositors. As for that old + family suit, it had been in the courts for forty-odd years and it was + likely to be there forty-odd years more before a penny would be realized + from the settlement. + </p> + <p> + Had he been differently constructed—he a man with scores and scores + of friends, many of whom would gladly have helped him—he might have + made his wants known; but such was not his make-up. The men to whom he + could apply—men like Horn, the archdeacon, Murdoch, and one or two + others—had no money of their own to spare, and as for wealthier men—men + like Rutter and Harding—starvation itself would be preferable to an + indebtedness of that kind. Then again, he did not want his poverty known. + He had defied Talbot Rutter, and had practically shown him the door when + the colonel doubted his ability to pay Harry's debts and still live, and + no humiliation would be greater than to see Rutter's satisfaction over his + abject surrender. No—if the worst came to the worst, he would slip + back to Wesley, where he was always welcome and take up the practice of + the law, which he had abandoned since his father's death, and thus earn + money enough not to be a burden to Peggy. In the meantime something might + turn up. Perhaps another of Gadgem's thumb-screws could be fastened on + some delinquent and thus extort a drop or two; or the bank might begin + paying ten per cent.; or another prepayment might be squeezed out of a + ground rent. If none of these things turned out to his advantage, then + Gadgem and Pawson must continue their search for customers who would have + the rare opportunity of purchasing, direct “from the private collection of + a gentleman,” etc., etc., “one first-class English saddle,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “The meantime,” however, brought no relief. Indeed so acute had the + financial strain become that another and a greater sacrifice—one + that fairly cut his heart in two—faced him—the parting with + his dogs. That four mouths besides his own and Todd's were too many to + feed had of late become painfully evident. He might send them to Wesley of + course, but then he remembered that no one at Tom Coston's ever had a gun + in their hands, and they would only be a charge and a nuisance to Peggy. + Or he might send them up into Carroll County to a farmer friend, but in + that case he would have to pay their keep, and he needed the money for + those at home. And so he waited and pondered. + </p> + <p> + A coachman from across the park solved the difficulty a day or two later + with a whispered word in Todd's ear, which set the boy's temper ablaze—for + he dearly loved the dogs himself—until he had talked it over with + Pawson and Gadgem, and had then broken the news to his master as best he + could. + </p> + <p> + “Dem dogs is eatin' dere haids off,” he began, fidgeting about the table, + brushing the crumbs on to a tray only to spill half of them on the floor—“an' + Mister Floyd's coachman done say dat his young marster's jes' a-dyin' for + 'em an' don't cyar what he pay for 'em, dat is if ye—” but St. + George cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, Todd?” + </p> + <p> + “Why dat young marster dat's jes' come up f'om Ann'rundel—got mo' + money den he kin th'ow 'way I yere.” + </p> + <p> + “And they are eating their heads off, are they?—and he wants to swap + his dirty money for my—Yes—I know. They think they can buy + anything with a banknote. And its Floe and Dandy and Sue and Rupert, is + it? And I'm to sell them—I who have slept with them and ate with + them and hugged them a thousand times. Of course they eat their heads off. + Yes—don't say another word. Send them up one at a time—Floe + first!” + </p> + <p> + The scene that followed always lingered in his mind. For days thereafter + he could not mention their name, even to Todd, without the tears springing + to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Up the kitchen flight they tumbled—not one at a time, but all in a + scramble, bounding straight at him, slobbering all over his face and + hands, their paws scraping his clothes—each trying to climb into his + lap—big Gordon setters, all four. He swept them off and ranged them + in a row before his arm-chair with their noses flat to the carpet, their + brown agate eyes following his every movement. + </p> + <p> + “Todd says you eat too much, you damned rascals!” he cried in enforced + gayety, leaning forward, shaking his finger in their faces. “What the + devil do you mean, coming into a gentleman's private apartments and eating + him out of house and home!—and that's what you're doing. I'm going + to sell you!—do you hear that?—sell you to some stingy + curmudgeon who'll starve you to death, and that's what you deserve!... + Come here, Floe—you dear old doggie, you—nice Floe!... Here, + Dandy—Rupert—Sue!” They were all in his arms, their cold noses + snuggled under his warm chin. But this time he didn't care what they did + to his clothes—nor what he did to them. He was alone; Todd had gone + down to the kitchen—only he and the four companions so dear to his + heart. “Come here, you imp of the devil,” he continued, rubbing Floe's + ears—he loved her best—pinching her nose until her teeth + showed; patting her flanks, crooning over her as a woman would over a + child, talking to himself all the time. “I wonder if Floyd will be good to + them! If I thought he wouldn't I'd rather starve than—No—I + reckon it's all right—he's got plenty of room and plenty of people + to look after them.” Then he rose from his chair and drew his hand across + his forehead. “Got to sell my dogs, eh? Turned traitor, have you, Mr. + Temple, and gone back on your best friends? By God! I wonder what will + come next?” He strode across the room, rang for Todd, and bending down + loosened a collar from Dandy's neck, on which his own name was engraved, + “St. George Wilmot Temple, Esquire.” “Esquire, eh?” he muttered, reading + the plate. “What a damned lie! Property of a pauper living on pawnshops + and a bill collector! Nice piece of business, St. George—fine record + for your blood and breeding! Ah, Todd—that you? Well, take them + downstairs and send word to Mr. Floyd's man to call for them to-night, and + when you come back I'll have a letter ready for you. Come here, you + rascals, and let me hug one or two of you. Good Floe—good doggie.” + Then the long-fought choke in his throat strangled him. “Take them away, + Todd,” he said in a husky voice, straightening his shoulders as if the + better to get his breath, and with a deep indrawn sigh walked slowly into + his bedroom and shut the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later there followed a short note, written on one of his few + remaining sheets of English paper, addressed to the new owner, in which he + informed that gentleman that he bespoke for his late companions the same + care and attention which he had always given them himself, and which they + so richly deserved, and which he felt sure they would continue to receive + while in the service of his esteemed and honored correspondent. This he + sealed in wax and stamped with his crest; and this was duly delivered by + Todd—and so the painful incident had come to an end. + </p> + <p> + The dogs disposed of, there still remained to him another issue to meet—the + wages he owed Jemima. Although she had not allowed the subject to pass her + lips—not even to Todd—St. George knew that she needed the + money—she being a free woman and her earnings her own—not a + master's. He had twice before determined to set aside enough money from + former cash receipts to liquidate Jemima's debt—once from the + proceeds of Gadgem's gun and again from what Floyd paid him for the dogs—but + Todd had insisted with such vehemence that he needed it for the marketing, + that he had let it go over. + </p> + <p> + The one remaining object of real value was the famous loving-cup. With + this turned into money he would be able to pay Jemima in full. For days he + debated the matter with himself, putting the question in a dozen different + lights: it was not really HIS cup, but belonged to the family, he being + only its custodian; it would reflect on his personal honor if he traded so + distinguished a gift—one marking the esteem in which his dead father + had been held, etc. Then the round, good-natured face and bent figure of + his old stand-by and comfort—who had worked for him and for his + father almost all her life—rose before him, she bending over her + tubs earning the bread to keep her alive, and with this picture in his + mind all his fine-spun theories vanished into thin air. Todd was summoned + and thus the last connecting link between the past and present was broken + and the precious heirloom turned over to Kirk, the silversmith, who the + next day found a purchaser with one of the French secretaries in + Washington, a descendant of the marquis. + </p> + <p> + With the whole of the purchase money in his hands and his mind firmly made + up he rang for his servant: + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Todd—show me where Aunt Jemima lives—it's + somewhere down by the market, I hear—I'm going now.” + </p> + <p> + The darky's face got as near white as his skin would allow: this was the + last thing he had expected. + </p> + <p> + “Dat ain't no fit place for ye, Marse George,” he stammered. “I'll go an' + git her an' bring her up; she tol' me when I carried dat las' washin' down + she wuz a-comin' dis week.” + </p> + <p> + “No, her sister is sick and she is needed where she is. Get your basket + and come along—you can do your marketing down there. Bring me my hat + and cane. What's the matter with her sister, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Again the darky hedged: “Dunno, sah—some kin' o' mis'ry in her back + I reckon. Las' time Aunt Jemima was yere she say de doctor 'lowed her + kittens was 'fected.” (It was another invalid limping past the front steps + who had put that in his head.) + </p> + <p> + St. George roared: “Well, whatever she's got, I'm going to pay my respects + to her; I've neglected Aunt Jemima too long. No—my best hat—don't + forget that I'm going to call on a very distinguished colored lady. Come, + out with it. How far does she live from the market?” + </p> + <p> + “Jes' 'bout's far's from yere to de church. Is you gwine now? I got a heap + o' cleanin' ter do—dem steps is all gormed up, dey's dat dirty. + Maybe we better go when—” + </p> + <p> + “Not another word out of you! I'm going now.” He could feel the money in + his pocket and he could not wait. “Get your basket.” + </p> + <p> + Todd led the way and the two crossed the park and struck out for the lower + part of the city, near Jones Falls, into a district surrounded by one-and + two-story houses inhabited by the poorer class of whites and the more + well-to-do free negroes. Here the streets, especially those which ran to + the wharves, were narrow and ill-paved, their rough cobbles being often + obstructed by idle drays, heavy anchors, and rusting anchor-chains, all on + free storage. Up one of these crooked streets, screened from the brick + sidewalk by a measly wooden fence, stood a two-story wooden house, its + front yard decorated with clothes-lines running criss-cross from thumbs of + fence-posts to fingers of shutters—a sort of cat's-cradle along + whose meshes Aunt Jemima hung her wet clothes. + </p> + <p> + On this particular day what was left of St. George Temple's wardrobe and + bed linen, with the exception of what that gentleman had on his back, was + either waving in the cool air of the morning or being clothes-pinned so + that it might wave later on. + </p> + <p> + Todd's anxious face was the first to thrust itself from around the corner + of a sagging, sloppy sheet. The two had entered the gate in the fence at + the same moment, but St. George had been lost in the maze of dripping + linen. + </p> + <p> + “Go'way f'om dar, you fool nigger, mussin' up my wash! Keep yo' black haid + off'er dem sheets, I tell ye, 'fo' I smack ye! An' ye needn't come down + yere a-sassin' me 'bout Marse George's clo'es, 'cause dey ain't done—” + (here Temple's head came into view, his face in a broad smile). “Well, fer + de lan's sakes, Marse George. What ye come down yere fer? Here—lemme + git dat basket outer yo' way—No, dem hands ain't fit fer nobody to + shake—My!—but I's mighty glad ter see ye! Don't tell me ye + come fer dat wash—I been so pestered wid de weather—nothin' + don't dry.” + </p> + <p> + He had dodged a wet sheet and had the old woman by the hand now, her face + in a broad grin at sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “No, aunty—I came down to pay you some money.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't owe me no money—leastwise you don't owe me nothin' till + ye kin pay it,” and she darted an annihilating glance at Todd. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do—but let me see where you live. What a fine place—plenty + of room except on wash-days. All those mine?—I didn't know I had + that many clothes left. Pick up that basket, Todd, and bring it in for + aunty.” The two made their way between the wet linen and found themselves + in front of the dwelling. “And is this all yours?” + </p> + <p> + “De fust flo' front an 'back is mine an' de top flo' I rents out. Got a + white man in dere now dat works in de lumber yard. Jes' come up an' see + how I fixed it up.” + </p> + <p> + “And tell me about your sister—is she better?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + The old woman put her arms akimbo: “Lawd bress ye, Marse George!—who + done tol' ye dat fool lie! I ain't got no sister—not yere!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I thought you couldn't come back to me because you had to nurse some + member of your family who had kittens, or some such misery in her spine—wasn't + that it, Todd?” said St. George trying to conceal a smile. + </p> + <p> + Todd shot a beseeching look at Jemima to confirm his picturesque yarn, but + the old woman would have none of it. + </p> + <p> + “Dere ain't been nobody to tek care ob but des me. I come yere 'cause I + knowed ye didn't hab no money to keep me, an' I got back de ol' furniture + what I had fo' I come to lib wid ye, an' went to washin', an' if dat + yaller skunk's been tellin' any lies 'bout me I'm gwineter wring his + neck.” + </p> + <p> + “No, let Todd alone,” laughed St. George, his heart warming to the old + woman at this further proof of her love for him. “The Lord has already + forgiven him that lie, and so have I. And now what have you got upstairs?” + </p> + <p> + They had mounted the steps by this time and St. George was peering into a + clean, simply furnished room. “First rate, aunty—your lumber-yard + man is in luck. And now put that in your pocket,” and he handed her the + package. + </p> + <p> + “What's dis?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly half a year's wages.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't gwineter take it,” she snapped back in a positive tone. + </p> + <p> + St. George laid his hand tenderly on the old woman's shoulder. She had + served him faithfully for many years and he was very fond of her. + </p> + <p> + “Tuck it in your bosom, aunty—it should have been paid long ago.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him shrewdly: “Did de bank pay ye yit, Marse George?” + </p> + <p> + No + </p> + <p> + “Den I ain't gwineter tech it—I ain't gwineter tech a fip ob it!” + she exploded. “How I know ye ain't a-sufferin' fer it! See dat wash?—an' + I got anudder room to rent if I'm min' ter scrunch up a leetle mo'. I kin + git 'long.” + </p> + <p> + St. George's hand again tightened on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Take it when you can get it, aunty,” he said in a more serious tone, and + turning on his heel joined Todd below, leaving the old woman in tears at + the top of the stairs, the money on her limp outspread fingers. + </p> + <p> + All the way back to his home—they had stopped to replenish the + larder at the market—St. George kept up his spirits. Absurd as it + was—he a man tottering on the brink of dire poverty—the + situation from his stand-point was far from perilous. He had discharged + the one debt that had caused him the most anxiety—the money due the + faithful old cook; he had a basketful of good things—among them half + a dozen quail and three diamond-back terrapin—the cheapest food in + the market—and he had funds left for his immediate wants. + </p> + <p> + With this feeling of contentment permeating his mind something of the old + feeling of independence, with its indifference toward the dollar and what + it meant and could bring him, welled up in his heart. For a time at least + the spectre of debt lay hidden. A certain old-time happiness began to show + itself in his face and bearing. So evident was this that before many days + had passed even Todd noticed the return of his old buoyancy, and so felt + privileged to discuss his own feelings, now that the secret of their mode + of earning a common livelihood was no longer a bugbear to his master. + </p> + <p> + “Dem taters what we got outer de extry sterrups of dat ridin'-saddle is + mos' gone,” he ventured one morning at breakfast, when the remains of the + cup money had reached a low ebb. “Shall I tote de udder saddle down to dat + Gadgem man”—(he never called him anything else, although of late he + had conceived a marked respect for the collector)—“or shall I keep + it fer some mo' sugar?” + </p> + <p> + “What else is short, Todd?” said St. George, good-naturedly, helping + himself to another piece of corn bread. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dere's plenty ob dose decanter crackers and de pair ob andirons is + still holdin' out wid de mango pickles an' de cheese, but dat pair ob + ridin'-boots is mos' gone. We got half barrel ob flour an' a bag o' + coffee, ye 'member, wid dem boots. I done seen some smoked herrin' in de + market yisterday mawnin' 'd go mighty good wid de buckwheat cakes an' + sugar-house 'lasses—only we ain't got no 'lasses. I was a-thinkin' + dem two ol' cheers in de garret 'd come in handy; ain't nobody sot in em + since I been yere; de bottoms is outen one o' dem, but de legs an' backs + is good 'nough fer a quart o' 'lasses. I kin take 'em down to de same + place dat Gadgem man tol' me to take de big brass shovel an' tongs—” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Todd,” rejoined St. George, highly amused at the boy's + economic resources. “Anything that Mr. Gadgem recommends I agree to. Yes—take + him the chairs—both of them.” + </p> + <p> + Even the men at the club had noticed the change and congratulated him on + his good spirits. None of them knew of his desperate straits, although + many of them had remarked on the differences in his hospitality, while + some of the younger gallants—men who made a study of the height and + roll of the collars of their coats and the latest cut of waistcoats—especially + the increased width of the frogs on the lapels—had whispered to each + other that Temple's clothes certainly needed overhauling; more + particularly his shirts, which were much the worse for wear: one critic + laying the seeming indifference to the carelessness of a man who was + growing old; another shaking his head with the remark that it was Poole's + bill which was growing old—older by a good deal than the clothes, + and that it would have to be patched and darned with one of old George + Brown's (the banker's) scraps of paper before the wearer could regain his + reputation of being the best-dressed man in or out of the club. + </p> + <p> + None of these lapses from his former well-to-do estate made any + difference, however, to St. George's intimates when it came to the + selection of important guests for places at table or to assist in the + success of some unusual function. Almost every one in and around Kennedy + Square had been crippled in their finances by the failure, not only of the + Patapsco, but by kindred institutions, during the preceding few years. + Why, then, they argued, should any one criticise such economies as Temple + was practising? He was still living in his house with his servants—one + or two less, perhaps—but still in comfort, and if he did not + entertain as heretofore, what of it? His old love of sport, as was shown + by his frequent visits to his estates on the Eastern Shore, might account + for some of the changes in his hospitable habits, there not being money + enough to keep up establishments both in country and town. These changes, + of course, could only be temporary. His properties on the peninsula—(almost + everybody had “properties” in those days, whether imaginary or real)—would + come up some day, and then all would be well again. + </p> + <p> + The House of Seymour was particularly in the dark. The Honorable Prim, in + his dense ignorance, had even asked St. George to join in one of his + commercial enterprises—the building of a new clipper ship—while + Kate, who had never waited five minutes in all her life for anything that + a dollar could buy, had begged a subscription for a charity she was + managing, and which she received with a kiss and a laugh, and without a + moment's hesitation, from a purse shrinking steadily by the hour. + </p> + <p> + Only when some idle jest or well-meant inquiry diverted his mind to the + chain of events leading up to Harry's exile was his insistent cheerfulness + under his fast accumulating misfortunes ever checked. + </p> + <p> + Todd was the cruel disturber on this particular day, with a bit of + information which, by reason of its source, St. George judged must be + true, and which because of its import brought him infinite pain. + </p> + <p> + “Purty soon we won't hab 'nough spoons to stir a toddy wid,” Todd had + begun. “I tell ye, Marse George, dey ain't none o' dem gwine down in dere + pockets till de constable gits 'em. I jes' wish Marse Harry was yere—he'd + fix 'em. 'Fo' dey knowed whar dey wuz he'd hab 'em full o' holes. Dat + red-haided, no-count gemman what's a-makin up to Miss Kate is gwineter git + her fo' sho—” + </p> + <p> + It was here that St. George had raised his head, his heart in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, Todd?” he asked in a serious tone. He had long since + ceased correcting Todd for his oustpoken reflections on Kate's suitor as a + useless expenditure of time. + </p> + <p> + “'Cause Mammy Henny done tol' Aunt Jemima so—an' she purty nigh + cried her eyes out when she said it. Ye ain't heared nothin' 'bout Marse + Harry comin' home, is ye?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not a word—not for many months, Todd. He's up in the + mountains, so his mother tells me.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Todd had gulped down an imprecation expressive of his feelings + and had gone about his duties, while St. George had buried himself in his + easy-chair, his eyes fixed on vacancy, his soul all the more a-hungered + for the boy he loved. He wondered where the lad was—why he hadn't + written. Whether the fever had overtaken him and he laid up in some filthy + hospital. Almost every week his mother had either come herself or sent in + for news, accompanied by messages expressing some new phase of her + anxiety. Or had he grown and broadened out and become big and strong?—whom + had he met, and how had they treated him?—and would he want to leave + home again when once he came back? Then, as always, there came a feeling + of intense relief. He thanked God that Harry WASN'T at home; a daily + witness of the shrinkage of his resources and the shifts to which he was + being put. This would be ten times worse for him to bear than the loss of + the boy's companionship. Harry would then upbraid him for the sacrifices + he had made for him, as if he would not take every step over again! Take + them!—of course he would take them!—so would any other + gentleman. Not to have come to Harry's rescue in that the most critical + hour of his life, when he was disowned by his father, rejected by his + sweetheart, and hounded by creditors, not one of whom did he justly owe, + was unthinkable, absolutely unthinkable, and not worth a moment's + consideration. + </p> + <p> + And so he would sit and muse, his head in his hand, his well-rounded legs + stretched toward the fire, his white, shapely fingers tapping the arms of + his chair—each click so many telegraphic records of the workings of + his mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + With the closing in of the autumn and the coming of the first winter cold, + the denizens of Kennedy Square gave themselves over to the season's + entertainments. Mrs. Cheston, as was her usual custom, issued invitations + for a ball—this one in honor of the officers who had distinguished + themselves in the Mexican War. Major Clayton, Bowdoin, the Murdochs, + Stirlings, and Howards—all persons of the highest quality—inaugurated + a series of chess tournaments, the several players and those who came to + look on to be thereafter comforted with such toothsome solids as wild + turkey, terrapin, and olio, and such delectable liquids as were stored in + the cellars of their hosts. Old Judge Pancoast, yielding to the general + demand, gave an oyster roast—his enormous kitchen being the place of + all others for such a function. On this occasion two long wooden tables + were scoured to an unprecedented whiteness—the young girls in white + aprons and the young men in white jackets serving as waiters—and + laid with wooden plates, and two big wooden bowls—one for the hot, + sizzling shells just off their bed of hickory coals banked on the kitchen + hearth, and the other for the empty ones—the fun continuing until + the wee sma' hours of the morning. + </p> + <p> + The Honorable Prim and his charming daughter, not to be outdone by their + neighbors, cleared the front drawing-room of its heavy furniture, covered + every inch of the tufted carpet with linen crash, and with old black Jones + as fiddler and M. Robinette—a French exile—as instructor in + the cutting of pigeon wings and the proper turning out of ankles and toes, + opened the first of a series of morning soirees for the young folk of the + neighborhood, to which were invited not only their mothers, but their + black mammies as well. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Richard Horn, not having any blithesome daughter, nor any + full-grown son—Oliver being but a child of six—and Richard and + his charming wife having long since given up their dancing-slippers—were + good enough to announce—(and it was astonishing what an excitement + it raised)—that “On the Monday night following Mr. Horn would read + aloud, to such of his friends as would do him the honor of being present, + the latest Christmas story by Mr. Charles Dickens, entitled 'The Cricket + on the Hearth.'” For this occasion Mr. Kennedy had loaned him his own + copy, one of the earliest bound volumes, bearing on its fly-leaf an + inscription in the great master's own handwriting in which he thanked the + distinguished author of “Swallow Barn” for the many kindnesses he had + shown him during his visit to America, and begged his indulgence for his + third attempt to express between covers the sentiment and feeling of the + Christmas season. + </p> + <p> + Not that this was an unusual form of entertainment, nor one that excited + special comment. Almost every neighborhood had its morning (and often its + evening) “Readings,” presided over by some one who read well and without + fatigue—some sweet old maid, perhaps, who knew how to grow old + gracefully. At these times a table would be rolled into the library by the + deferential servant of the house, on which he would place the dear lady's + spectacles and a book, its ivory marker showing where the last reading had + ended—it might be Prescott's “Ferdinand and Isabella,” or Irving's + “Granada,” or Thackeray's “Vanity Fair,” or perhaps, Dickens's “Martin + Chuzzlewit.” + </p> + <p> + At eleven o'clock the girls would begin to arrive, each one bringing her + needle-work of some kind—worsted, or embroidery, or knitting—something + she could manage without discomfort to herself or anybody about her, and + when the last young lady was in her seat, the same noiseless darky would + tiptoe in and take his place behind the old maid's chair. Then he would + slip a stool under her absurdly small slippers and tiptoe out again, + shutting the door behind him as quietly as if he found the dear lady + asleep—and so the reading would begin. + </p> + <p> + A reading by Richard, however, was always an event of unusual importance, + and an invitation to be present was never declined whether received by + letter or by word of mouth. + </p> + <p> + St. George had been looking forward eagerly to the night, and when the + shadows began to fall in his now almost bare bedroom, he sent for Todd to + help him dress. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got a shirt for me, Todd?” + </p> + <p> + “Got seben oh 'em. Dey wants a li'l' trimmin' roun' de aidges, but I + reckon we kin make 'em do—Aunt Jemima sont 'em home dis mawnin'. + She's been a-workin' on 'em, she says. Looks ter me like a goat had a + moufful outer dis yere sleeve, but I dassent tell er so. Lot o' dem + butters wanderin' roun' dat Marsh market lookin' fer sumpin' to eat; lemme + gib dem boots anudder tech.” + </p> + <p> + Todd skipped downstairs with the boots and St. George continued dressing; + selecting his best and most becoming scarf; pinning down the lapels of his + buff waistcoat; scissoring the points of his high collar, and with Todd's + assistance working his arms between the slits in the silk lining of the + sleeves of his blue cloth, brass-buttoned coat, which he finally pulled + into place across his chest. + </p> + <p> + And a well-dressed man he was in spite of the frayed edges of his collar + and shirt ruffles and the shiny spots in his trousers and coat where the + nap was worn smooth, nor was there any man of his age who wore his clothes + as well, no matter what their condition, or one who made so debonair an + appearance. + </p> + <p> + Pawson was of that opinion to-night when St. George, his toilet complete, + joined him at the bottom of the stairs. Indeed he thought he had never + seen his client look better—a discovery which sent a spasm of + satisfaction through his long body, for he had a piece of important news + to tell him, and had been trying all day to make up his mind how best to + break it. + </p> + <p> + “You look younger, Mr. Temple,” he began, “and, if you will allow me to + say so, handsomer, every day. Your trip to the Eastern Shore last spring + did you no end of good,” and the young attorney crooked his long neck and + elevated his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth in the effort to give + to his sinuous body a semblance of mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Pawson,” bowed St. George, graciously. “You are really most + kind, but that is because you are stone blind. My shirt is full of holes, + and it is quite likely I shall have to stand all the evening for fear of + splitting the knees of my breeches. Come—out with it”—he + laughed—“there is something you have to tell me or you would not be + waiting for me here at this hour in the cold hall.” + </p> + <p> + Pawson smiled faintly, then his eyebrows lost their identity in some + well-defined wrinkles in his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I have, sir, a most unpleasant thing to tell you—a very unpleasant + thing. When I tried this morning for a few days' grace on that last + overdue payment, the agent informed me, to my great surprise, that Mr. + John Gorsuch had bought the mortgage and would thereafter collect the + interest in person. I am not sure, of course, but I am afraid Colonel + Rutter is behind the purchase. If he is we must be prepared to face the + worst should he still feel toward you as he did when you and he”—and + he jerked his thumb meaningly in the direction of the dining-room—“had + it out—in there.” + </p> + <p> + St. George compressed his lips. “And so Rutter holds the big end of the + whip after all, does he?” he exclaimed with some heat. “He will find the + skin on my back not a very valuable asset, but he is welcome to it. He has + about everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'd rather pay it somehow if we could,” rejoined Pawson in a furtive + way—as if he had something up his sleeve he dare not spring upon + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—of course you would,” retorted St. George with a cynical laugh, + slipping on his gloves. “Pay it?—of course pay it. Pay everything + and everybody! What do you think I'd bring at auction, Pawson? I'm white, + you know, and so I can't be sold on the block—but the doctors might + offer you a trifle for cutting-up purposes. Bah! Hand me my coat, Todd.” + </p> + <p> + A deprecatory smile flitted across the long, thin face of the attorney. He + saw that St. George was in no mood for serious things, and yet something + must be done; certainly before the arrival of Gorsuch himself, who was + known to be an exact man of business and who would have his rights, no + matter who suffered. + </p> + <p> + “I had a little plan, sir—but you might not fall in with it. It + would, perhaps, be only temporary, but it is all I can think of. I had an + applicant this morning—in fact it came within an hour after I had + heard the news. It seemed almost providential, sir.” + </p> + <p> + St. George was facing the door, ready to leave the house, his shoulders + still bent forward so that Todd could adjust his heavy cloak the better, + when for the first time the anxious tone in Pawson's voice caught his + attention. As the words fell from the attorney's lips he straightened, and + Todd stepped back, the garment still in the darky's hands. + </p> + <p> + “An applicant for what?” he inquired in a graver tone. He was not + surprised—nothing surprised him in these days—he was only + curious. + </p> + <p> + “For the rooms you occupy. I can get enough for them, sir, not only to + clear up the back interest, but to keep the mortgage alive and—” + </p> + <p> + St. George's face paled as the full meaning of Pawson's proposal dawned in + his mind. That was the last thing he had expected. + </p> + <p> + “Turn me into the street, eh?” There was a note of pained surprise in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want you to put it that way, sir.” His heart really bled for him—it + was all he could do to control himself. + </p> + <p> + “How the devil else can I put it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought you might want to do a little shooting, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Shooting! What with? One of Gadgem's guns? Hire it of him, eh, and steal + the powder and shot!” he cried savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—if you saw fit, sir. Gadgem, I am sure, would be most willing, + and you can always get plenty of ammunition. Anyway, you might pass a few + months with your kinsfolk on the Eastern Shore, whether you hunted or not; + it did you so much good before. The winter here is always wearing, sloppy + and wet. I've heard you say so repeatedly.” He had not taken his eyes from + his face; he knew this was St. George's final stage, and he knew too that + he would never again enter the home he loved; but this last he could not + tell him outright. He would rather have cut his right hand off than tell + him at all. Being even the humblest instrument in the exiling of a man + like St. George Wilmot Temple was in itself a torture. + </p> + <p> + “And when do you want me to quit?” he said calmly. “I suppose I can + evacuate like an officer and a gentleman and carry my side-arms with me—my + father's cane, for instance, that I can neither sell nor pawn, and a case + of razors which are past sharpening?” and his smile broadened as the humor + of the thing stole over him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, it ought to be done,” continued Pawson in his most serious + tone, ignoring the sacrifice—(there was nothing funny in the + situation to the attorney)—“well—I should say—right + away. To-morrow, perhaps. This news of Gorsuch has come very sudden, you + know. If I can show him that the new tenant has moved in already he might + wait until his first month's rent was paid. You see that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Pawson, I see—see it all clear as day,” interrupted St. + George—“have been seeing it for some months past, although neither + you nor Gadgem seem to have been aware of that fact.” This came with so + grave a tone that Pawson raised his eyes inquiringly. “And who is this + man,” Temple went on, “who wants to step into my shoes? Be sure you tell + him they are half-soled,” and he held up one boot. He might want to dance + or hunt in them—and his toes would be out the first thing he knew.” + </p> + <p> + “He is Mr. Gorsuch's attorney, sir, a Mr. Fogbin,” Pawson answered, + omitting any reference to the boots and still concerned over the gravity + of the situation. “He did some work once for Colonel Rutter, and that's + how Gorsuch got hold of him. That's why I suspect the colonel. This would + make the interest sure, you see—rather a sly game, is it not, sir? + One I did not expect.” + </p> + <p> + St. George pondered for a moment, and his eye fell on his servant. + </p> + <p> + “And what will I do with Todd?” + </p> + <p> + The darky's eyes had been rolling round in his head as the talk continued, + Pawson, knowing how leaky he was, having told him nothing of the impending + calamity for fear he would break it to his master in the wrong way. + </p> + <p> + “I should say take him with you,” came the positive answer. + </p> + <p> + “Take him with me! You didn't think I would be separated from him, did + you?” cried St. George, indignantly, the first note of positive anger he + had yet shown. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think anything about it, sir,” and he looked at Todd + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Well, after this please remember, Mr. Pawson, that where I go Todd goes.” + </p> + <p> + The darky leaned forward as if to seize St. George's hand; his eyes filled + and his lips began to tremble. He would rather have died than have left + his master. + </p> + <p> + St. George walked to the door, threw it open, and stood for an instant, + his eyes fixed on the bare trees in the park. He turned and faced the two + again: + </p> + <p> + “Todd!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse George—” Two hot ragged tears still lingered on the + darky's eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “To-day is Monday, is it not?—and to-morrow is boat day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse George,” came the trembling answer. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Pawson, I'll go. Let Talbot Rutter have the rest—he's + welcome to it. Now for my cloak, Todd—so—and my neckerchief + and cane. Thank you very much, Pawson. You have been very kind about it + all, and I know quite well what it has cost you to tell me this. You can't + help—neither can I—neither, for that matter, can Gorsuch—nor + is it his fault. It is Rutter's, and he will one day get his reckoning. + Good-night—don't sit up too late. I am going to Mr. Horn's to spend + the evening. Walk along with me through the Park, Todd, so I can talk to + you. And, Todd,” he continued when they had entered the path and were + bending their steps to the Horn house, “I want you to gather together + to-morrow what are left of my clothes and pack them in one of those hair + trunks upstairs—and your own things in another. Never mind about + waiting for the wash. I'm going down to Aunt Jemima's myself in the + morning and will fix it so she can send the rest to me later on. I owe her + a small balance and must see her once more before I leave. Now go home and + get to bed; you have been losing too much sleep of late.” + </p> + <p> + And yet he was not cast down, nor did his courage fail him. Long before + the darky's obedient figure had disappeared his natural buoyancy had again + asserted itself—or perhaps the philosophy which always sustains a + true gentleman in his hour of need had come to his assistance. He fully + realized what this last cowardly blow meant. One after another his several + belongings had vanished: his priceless family heirlooms; his dogs; and now + the home of his ancestors. He was even denied further shelter within its + walls. But there were no regrets; his conscience still sustained him; he + would live it all over again. In his determination to keep to his + standards he had tried to stop a freshet with a shovelful of clay; that + was all. It was a foolhardy attempt, no doubt, but he would have been + heartily ashamed of himself if he had not made the effort. Wesley, of + course, was not a very exciting place in which to spend the winter, but it + was better than being under obligations to Talbot Rutter; and then he + could doubtless earn enough at the law to pay his board—at least he + would try. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the end of the walk and had already caught the glow of the + overhead lantern in the hall of the Horn mansion lighting up the varied + costumes of the guests as Malachi swung back the front door, revealing the + girls in their pink and white nubias, the gallants in long cloaks with + scarlet linings, the older men in mufflers, and the mothers and + grandmothers in silk hoods. There was no question of Richard's popularity. + </p> + <p> + “Clar to goodness, Marse George, you is a sight for sore eyes,” cried + Malachi, unhooking the clasp of the velvet collar and helping him off with + his cloak. “I ain't never seen ye looking spryer! Yes, sah, Marse + Richard's inside and he'll be mighty glad ye come. Yes—jedge—jes's + soon as I—Dat's it, mistis—I'll take dat shawl—No, sah, + Marse Richard ain't begun yit. Dis way, ladies,” and so it had gone on + since the opening rat-a-tat-tat on the old brass knocker had announced the + arrival of the first guest. + </p> + <p> + Nor was there any question that everybody who could by any possibility + have availed themselves of Richard's invitation had put in an appearance. + Most of the men from the club known to these pages were present, together + with their wives and children—those who were old enough to sit up + late; and Nathan Gill, without his flute this time, but with ears wide + open—he was beginning to get gray, was Nathan, although he wouldn't + admit it; and Miss Virginia Clendenning in high waist and voluminous + skirts, fluffy side curls, and a new gold chain for her eyeglasses—gold + rims, too, of course—not to mention the Murdochs, Stirlings, + Gatchells, Captain Warfield and his daughter, Bowdoin, and Purviance. They + were all there; everybody, in fact, who could squeeze inside the + drawing-room; while those who couldn't filled the hall and even the stairs—wherever + Richard's voice could be heard. + </p> + <p> + St. George edged into the packed room, swept his glance over the throng, + and made his way through the laughing groups, greeting every one right and + left, old and young, as he moved—a kiss here on the upturned cheek + of some pretty girl whom he had carried in his arms when a baby; a + caressing pat of approbation on some young gallant's shoulder; a bend of + the head in respectful homage to those he knew but slightly—the + Baroness de Trobiand, Mrs. Cheston's friend, being one of them; a hearty + hand held out to the men who had been away for the summer—interrupted + now and then by some such sally from a young bride as—“Oh, you mean + Uncle George! No—I'm not going to love you any more! You promised + you would come to my party and you didn't, and my cotillon was all + spoiled!” or a—“Why, Temple, you dear man!-I'm so glad to see you! + Don't forget my dinner on Thursday. The Secretary is coming and I want you + to sit between him and Lord Atherton”—a sort of triumphal + procession, really—until he reached the end of the room and stood at + Kate's side. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sweetheart!” he cried gayly, caressing her soft hand before his + fingers closed over it. Then his face hardened. “Ah, Mr. Willits! So you, + too, must come under the spell of Mr. Horn's voice,” and without waiting + for a reply continued as if nothing had interrupted the joy of his + greeting. “You should sit down somewhere, my dear Kate—get as near + to Richard as you can, so you can watch his face—that's the best + part of it. And I should advise you, too, Mr. Willits, to miss none of his + words—it will be something you will remember all your life.” + </p> + <p> + Kate looked up in his face with a satisfied smile. She was more than glad + that her Uncle George was so gracious to her escort, especially to-night + when he was to meet a good many people for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the stool, then, dear Uncle George,” she answered with a merry + laugh. “Go get it, please, Mr. Willits—the one under the sofa.” + Then, with a toss of her head and a coquettish smile at St. George: “What + a gadabout you are; do you know I've been three times to see you, and not + a soul in your house and the front door wide open, and everything done up + in curl papers as if you were going to move away for good and all and + never coming back? And do you know that you haven't been near me for a + whole week? What do you mean by breaking my heart? Thank you, Mr. Willits; + put the stool right here, so I can look up into Mr. Horn's eyes as Uncle + George wants me to. I've known the time, sir”—and she arched her + brows at St. George—“when you would be delighted to have me look my + prettiest at you, but now before I am halfway across the park you slip out + of the basement door to avoid me and—No!—no—no apologies—you + are just tired of me!” + </p> + <p> + St. George laughed gayly in return, his palms flattened against each other + and held out in supplication; but he made no defence. He was studying the + couple, his mind on the bearing and manner of the young man toward the + woman he was pursuing so relentlessly. He saw that he had completely + regained his health, his clear eyes and ruddy skin and the spring with + which he moved denoting a man in perfect physical condition. He + discovered, too, that he was extremely well dressed and his costume all + that it should be—especially the plum-colored coat, which fitted his + shoulders to perfection; his linen of the whitest and finest, each ruffle + in flutes; the waist-coat embroidered in silk; the pumps of the proper + shape and the stockings all that could be desired—except perhaps—and + a grim smile crossed his face—that the silk scarf was a shade out of + key with the prevailing color of his make-up, particularly his hair; but, + then, that was to be expected of a man who had a slight flaw in his + ancestry. He wondered if she had noticed it and studied her face for an + answer. No! She had not noticed it. In fact there were very many things + she was overlooking in these last days of his wooing, he thought to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he became occupied with Kate's beauty. He thought he had never + seen her so bewitching or in such good spirits. From his six feet and an + inch of vantage his eyes followed her sloping shoulders and tapering arms + and rested on her laughing, happy face—rose-colored in the soft + light of the candles—a film of lace looped at her elbows, her + wonderful hair caught in a coil at the back: not the prevailing fashion + but one most becoming to her. What had not this admixture of Scotch and + Virginia blood—this intermingling of robust independence with the + gentle, yielding feminine qualities of the Southern-born woman—done + for this girl? + </p> + <p> + Richard clapped his hands to attract attention, and advancing a step in + front of the big easy-chair which Malachi had just pulled out for him, + raised his fingers to command silence. + </p> + <p> + All eyes were instantly turned his way. Alert and magnetic, dignified and + charming, he stood in the full glow of the overhead chandelier, its light + falling upon his snuff-brown coat with its brass buttons, pale-yellow + waistcoat, and the fluff of white silk about his throat—his grave, + thoughtful face turned toward Kate as his nearest guest, his glance + sweeping the crowded room as if to be sure that everybody was at ease; + Malachi close behind awaiting his master's orders to further adjust the + chair and reading-lamp. + </p> + <p> + In the interim of the hush Kate had settled herself at Richard's feet on + the low stool that Willits had brought, the young man standing behind her, + the two making a picture that attracted general attention; some wondering + at her choice, while others were outspoken in their admiration of the pair + who seemed so wonderfully suited to each other. + </p> + <p> + “I have a rare story,” Richard began “to read to you to-night, my good + friends, one you will never forget; one, indeed, which I am sure the world + at large will never forget. I shall read it as best I can, begging your + indulgence especially in rendering the dialect parts, which, if badly + done, often mar both the pathos and humor of the text.” Here he settled + himself in his chair and picked up the small volume, Malachi, now that his + service was over, tiptoeing out to his place in the hall so as to be ready + for belated arrivals. + </p> + <p> + The room grew silent. Even Mrs. Cheston, who rarely ceased talking when + she had anything to say—and she generally did have something to say—folded + her hands in her lap and settled herself in her arm-chair, her whole + attention fastened on the reader. St. George, who had been talking to her, + moved up a chair so he could watch Kate's face the better. + </p> + <p> + Again Richard raised his voice: + </p> + <p> + “The time is of the present, and the scene is laid in one of those small + towns outside London. I shall read the whole story, omitting no word of + the text, for only then will you fully grasp the beauty of the author's + style.” + </p> + <p> + He began in low, clear tones reciting the contest between the hum of the + kettle and the chirp of the cricket; the music of his voice lending added + charm to the dual song. Then there followed in constantly increasing + intensity the happy home life of bewitching Dot Perrybingle and her + matter-of-fact husband, John the Carrier, with sleepy Tilly Slowboy and + the Baby to fill out the picture; the gradual unfolding of the events that + led up to the cruel marriage about to take place between old Tackleton, + the mean toy merchant, and sweet May Fielding, in love with the sailor + boy, Edward, lost at sea; the finding of the mysterious deaf old man by + John the Carrier, and the bringing him home in his cart to Dot, who kept + him all night because his friends had not called for him; the rapid growth + of a love affair between Dot and this old man, who turned out to be a + handsome young fellow; the heart-rending discovery by John, through the + spying of Tackleton, that Dot was untrue to him, she meeting the man + clandestinely and adjusting the disguise for him, laughing all the while + at the ruse she was helping him to play; the grief of John when he + realized the truth, he sitting all night alone by the fire trying to make + up his mind whether he would creep upstairs and murder the villain who had + stolen the heart of his little Dot, or forgive her because he was so much + older than she and it was, therefore, natural for her to love a younger + man; and finally the preparations at the church, where Tackleton was to + wed the beautiful May Fielding, who, broken-hearted over the death of her + sailor boy, had at last succumbed to her mother's wishes and consented to + join Tackleton at the altar. + </p> + <p> + For an hour Richard's well-modulated, full-toned voice rolled on, the + circle drawing closer and closer with their ears and hearts, as the + characters, one after another, became real and alive under the reader's + magical rendering. Dot Perrybingle's cheery, laughing accents; Tackleton's + sharp, rasping tones; John the Carrier's simple, straightforward + utterances and the soft, timid cadence of old Caleb, the toy maker—(drowned + Edward's father)—and his blind daughter Bertha were recognized as + soon as the reader voiced their speech. So thrilling was the story of + their several joys and sorrows that Kate, unconscious of her surroundings, + had slipped from her low stool, and with the weight of her body resting on + her knees, sat searching Richard's face, the better to catch every word + that fell from his lips. + </p> + <p> + To heighten the effect of what was the most dramatic part of the story—the + return of the wedding party to the Carrier's house, where Dot, Caleb, and + his blind daughter awaited them—Richard paused for a moment as if to + rest his voice—the room the while deathly still, the loosening of a + pent-up breath now and then showing how tense was the emotion. Then he + went on: + </p> + <p> + “Are those wheels upon the road, Bertha?”, cried Dot. “You've a quick ear, + Bertha—And now you hear them stopping at the garden gate! And now + you hear a step outside the door—the same step, Bertha, is it not—And + now—” + </p> + <p> + Dot uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight, and running up to Caleb + put her hand upon his eyes, as a young man rushed into the room, and, + flinging away his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Is it over?” cried Dot. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Happily over?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear the like of it + before?” cried Dot. + </p> + <p> + “If my boy Edward in the Golden South Americas was alive—” cried + Caleb, trembling. + </p> + <p> + “He is alive!” shrieked Dot, removing her hands from his eyes and clapping + them in ecstasy; “look at him! See where he stands before you, healthy and + strong! Your own dear son! Your own dear, living, loving brother, Bertha!” + </p> + <p> + All honor to the little creature for her transports! All honor to her + tears and laughter, when the three were locked in one another's arms! All + honor to the heartiness with which she met the sunburnt, sailor-fellow, + with his dark, streaming hair, halfway, and never turned her rosy little + mouth aside, but suffered him to kiss it freely, and to press her to his + bounding heart! + </p> + <p> + “Now tell him (John) all, Edward,” sobbed Dot, “and don't spare me, for + nothing shall make me spare myself in his eyes ever again.” + </p> + <p> + “I was the man,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “And you could steal disguised into the home of your old friend,” rejoined + the carrier... + </p> + <p> + “But I had a passion for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “I had,” rejoined the other, “and she returned it—I heard twenty + miles away that she was false to me—I had no mind to reproach her + but to see for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Once more Richard's voice faltered, and again it rang clear, this time in + Dot's tones: + </p> + <p> + “But when she knew that Edward was alive, John, and had come back—and + when she—that's me, John—told him all—and how his + sweetheart had believed him to be dead, and how she had been + over-persuaded by her mother into a marriage—and when she—that's + me again, John—told him they were not married, though close upon it—and + when he went nearly mad for joy to hear it—then she—that's me + again—said she would go and sound his sweetheart—and she did—and + they were married an hour ago!—John, an hour ago! And here's the + bride! And Gruff and Tackleton may die a bachelor! And I'm a happy little + woman, May, God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + Little woman, how she sobbed! John Perrybingle would have caught her in + his arms. But no; she wouldn't let him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't love me yet, please, John! Not for a long time yet! No—keep + there, please, John! When I laugh at you, as I sometimes do, John, and + call you clumsy, and a dear old goose, and names of that sort, it's + because I love you, John, so well. And when I speak of people being + middle-aged and steady, John, and pretend that we are a humdrum couple, + going on in a jog-trot sort of way, it's only because I'm such a silly + little thing, John, that I like, sometimes, to act a kind of play with + Baby, and all that, and make believe.” + </p> + <p> + She saw that he was coming, and stopped him again. But she was very nearly + too late. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't love me for another minute or two, if you please, John! When I + first came home here I was half afraid I mighn't learn to love you every + bit as well as I hoped and prayed I might—being so very young, John. + But, dear John, every day and hour I love you more and more. And if I + could have loved you better than I do, the noble words I heard you say + this morning would have made me. But I can't. All the affection that I had + (it was a great deal, John) I gave you, as you well deserve, long, long + ago, and I have no more left to give. Now, my dear husband, take me to + your heart again! That's my home, John; and never, never think of sending + me to any other.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Stopped and picking up a glass from the table moistened his lips. + The silence continued. Down more than one face the tears were trickling, + as they have trickled down millions of faces since. Kate had crept + imperceptibly nearer until her hands could have touched Richard's knees. + When Willits bent over her with a whispered comment a slight shiver ran + through her, but she neither answered nor turned her head. It was only + when Richard's voice finally ceased with the loud chirp of the cricket at + the close of the beloved story, and St. George had helped her to her feet, + that she seemed to awake to a sense of where she was. Even then she looked + about her in a dazed way, as if she feared some one had been probing her + heart—hanging back till the others had showered their + congratulations on the reader. Then leaning forward she placed her hands + in Richard's as if to steady herself, and with a sigh that seemed to come + from the depths of her nature bent her head and kissed him softly on the + cheek. + </p> + <p> + When the eggnog was being served and the guests were broken up into knots + and groups, all discussing the beauty of the reading, she suddenly left + Willits, who had followed her every move as if he had a prior right to her + person, and going up to St. George, led him out of the room to one of the + sofas in Richard's study, her lips quivering, the undried tears still + trembling on her eyelids. She did not release his hand as they took their + seats. Her fingers closed only the tighter, as if she feared he would slip + from her grasp. + </p> + <p> + “It was all so beautiful and so terrible, Uncle George,” she moaned at + last—“and all so true. Such awful mistakes are made and then it is + too late. And nobody understands—nobody—nobody!” She paused, + as if the mere utterance pained her, and then to St. George's amazement + asked abruptly “Is there nothing yet from Harry?” + </p> + <p> + St. George looked at her keenly, wondering whether he had caught the words + aright. It had been months since Harry's name had crossed her lips. + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing,” he answered simply, trying to fathom her purpose and + completely at sea as to her real motive—“not for some months. Not + since he left the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think he is in any danger?” She had released his hand, and + with her fingers resting on the sleeve of his coat sat looking into his + eyes as if to read their meaning. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he replied in a non-committal tone, still trying to + understand her purpose. “He meant then to go to the mountains, so he wrote + his mother. This may account for our not hearing. Why do you ask? Have you + had any news of him yourself?” he added, studying her face for some + solution of her strange attitude. + </p> + <p> + She sank back on the cushions. “No, he never writes to me.” Then, as if + some new train of thought had forced its way into her mind, she exclaimed + suddenly: “What mountains?” + </p> + <p> + “Some range back of Rio, if I remember rightly. He said he—” + </p> + <p> + “Rio! But there is yellow fever at Rio!” she cried, with a start as she + sat erect in her seat, the pupils of her eyes grown to twice their size. + “Father lost half of one of his crews at Rio. He heard so to-day. It would + be dreadful for—for—his mother—if anything should happen + to him.” + </p> + <p> + Again St. George scrutinized her face, trying to probe deep down in her + heart. Had she, after all, some affection left for this boy lover—and + her future husband within hearing distance! No! This was not his Kate—he + understood it all now. It was the spell of the story that still held her. + Richard's voice had upset her, as it had done half the room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is dreadful for everybody,” he added. And then, in a perfunctory + manner, as being perhaps the best way to lead the conversation into other + channels, added: “And the suspense will be worse now—for me at any + rate—for I, too, am going away where letters reach me but seldom.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand closed convulsively over his. + </p> + <p> + “You going away! YOU!” she cried in a half-frightened tone. “Oh, please + don't, Uncle George! Oh!—I don't want you away from me! Why must you + go? Oh, no! Not now—not now!” + </p> + <p> + Her distress was so marked and her voice so pleading that he was about to + tell her the whole story, even to that of the shifts he had been put to to + get food for himself and Todd, when he caught sight of Willits making his + way through the throng to where they sat. His lips closed tight. This man + would always be a barrier between him and the girl he had loved ever since + her babyhood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Kate,” he replied calmly, his eyes still on Willits, who in + approaching from the other room had been detained by a guest, “you see I + must go. Mr. Pawson wants me out of the way while he fixes up some of my + accounts, and so he suggested that I go back to Wesley for a few months.” + He paused for an instant and, still keeping his eye on Willets, added: + “And now one thing more, my dear Kate, before your escort claims you”—here + his voice sank to a whisper—“promise me that if Harry writes to you + you will send him a kind, friendly letter in return. It can do you no harm + now, nor would Harry misunderstand it—your wedding is so near. A + letter would greatly cheer him in his loneliness.” + </p> + <p> + “But he won't write!” she exclaimed with some bitterness—she had not + yet noticed Willits's approach—“he'll never write or speak to me + again.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will if he does?” pleaded St. George, the thought of his boy's + loneliness overmastering every other feeling. + </p> + <p> + “But he won't, I tell you—never—NEVER!” + </p> + <p> + “But if he should, my child? If—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and raised his head. Willits stood gazing down at them, + searching St. George's face, as if to learn the meaning of the conference: + he knew that he did not favor his suit. + </p> + <p> + Kate looked up and her face flushed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—in one minute, Mr. Willits,” and without a word of any kind to + St. George she rose from the sofa and with her arm in Willits's left the + room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + One winter evening some weeks after St. George's departure, Pawson sat + before a smouldering fire in Temple's front room, reading by the light of + a low lamp. He had rearranged the furniture—what was left of it—both + in this and the adjoining room, in the expectation that Fogbin (Gorsuch's + attorney) would move in, but so far he had not appeared, nor had any word + come from either Gorsuch or Colonel Rutter; nor had any one either written + or called upon him in regard to the overdue payment; neither had any legal + papers been served. + </p> + <p> + This prolonged and ominous silence disturbed him; so much so that he had + made it a point to be as much in his office as possible should his enemy + spring any unexpected trap. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, with some misgivings that he answered a quick, + impatient rap on his front door at the unusual hour of ten o'clock. If it + were Fogbin he had everything ready for his comfort; if it were any one + else he would meet him as best he could: no legal papers, at any rate, + could be served at that hour. + </p> + <p> + He swung back the door and a full-bearded, tightly-knit, well-built man in + rough clothes stepped in. In the dim light of the overhead lamp he caught + the flash of a pair of determined eyes set in a strong, forceful face. + </p> + <p> + “I want Mr. Temple,” said the man, who had now removed his cap and stood + looking about him, as if making an inventory of the scanty furniture. + </p> + <p> + “He is not here,” replied Pawson, rummaging the intruder's face for some + clew to his identity and purpose in calling at so late an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” There was doubt as well as marked surprise in the man's + tone. He evidently did not believe a word of the statement. + </p> + <p> + “Very sure,” rejoined the attorney in a more positive tone, his eyes still + on the stranger. “He left town some weeks ago.” + </p> + <p> + The intruder turned sharply, and with a brisk inquisitive movement strode + past him and pushed open the dining-room door. There he stood for a + moment, his eyes roaming over the meagre appointments of the interior—the + sideboard, bare of everything but a pitcher and some tumblers—the + old mahogany table littered with law books and papers—the mantel + stripped of its clock and candelabras. Then he stepped inside, and without + explanation of any kind, crossed the room, opened the door of St. George's + bedroom, and swept a comprehensive glance around the despoiled interior. + Once he stopped and peered into the gloom as if expecting to find the + object of his search concealed in its shadows. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened here?” he demanded in a voice which plainly showed his + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean what has become of the rest of the furniture?” asked the + attorney in reply, gaining time to decide upon his course. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, who is responsible for this business?” he exclaimed angrily. “Has it + been done during his absence?” + </p> + <p> + Pawson hesitated. That the intruder was one of Gorsuch's men, and that he + had been sent in advance on an errand of investigation, was no longer to + be doubted. He, however, did not want to add any fuel to his increasing + heat, so he answered simply: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Temple got caught in the Patapsco failure and it went pretty hard + with him, and so what he didn't actually need he sold.” + </p> + <p> + The man gave a start, his features hardening; but whether of surprise or + dissatisfaction Pawson could not tell. + </p> + <p> + “And when it was all gone he went away—is that what you mean?” This + came in a softened tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that seems to be the size of it. I suppose you come about—some”—again + he hesitated, not knowing exactly where the man stood—“about some + money due you?—Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I came to see Mr. Temple, and I must see him, and at once. How long + will he be gone?” + </p> + <p> + “All winter—perhaps longer.” The attorney had begun to breathe + again. The situation might not be as serious as he had supposed. If he + wanted to see Mr. Temple himself, and no one else would do, there was + still chance of delay in the wiping out of the property. + </p> + <p> + Again the man's eyes roamed over the room, the bareness of which seemed + still to impress him. Then he asked simply: “Where will a letter reach + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say exactly. I thought he had gone to Virginia—but he + doesn't answer any of my communications.” + </p> + <p> + A look of suspicion crept into the intruder's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You're not trying to deceive me, are you? It is very important that I + should see Mr. Temple, and at once.” Then his manner altered. “You've + forgotten me, Mr. Pawson, but I have not forgotten you—my name is + Rutter. I lived here with Mr. Temple before I went to sea, three years + ago. I am just home—I left the ship an hour ago. I'll sit down if + you don't mind—I've still got my sea-legs on and am a little + wobbly.” + </p> + <p> + Pawson twisted his thin body and bent his neck, his eyes glued to the + speaker's face. There was not a trace of young Harry in the features. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you don't look like him,” he replied incredulously—“he was + slender—not half your size, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I don't blame you. I am a good deal heavier; may be too a beard + makes some change in a man's face. But you don't really doubt me, do you? + Have you forgotten the bills that man Gadgem brought in?—the five + hundred dollars due Slater, and the horse Hampson sold me—the one I + shot?” and one of his old musical laughs rose to his lips. + </p> + <p> + Pawson sprang forward and seized the intruder's hand. He would recognize + that laugh among a thousand: + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I know you now! It's all come back to me,” he cried joyously. + “But you gave me a terrible start, Mr. Rutter. I thought you had come to + clear up what was left. Oh!—but I AM glad you are back. Your uncle—you + always called him so, I remember—your uncle has had an awful hard + time of it—had to sell most of his things—terrible—terrible! + And then, too, he has grieved so over you—asking me, sometimes two + or three times a day, for letters from you—asking me questions and + worrying over your not coming and not answering. Oh, this is fine. Now may + be we can save the situation. You don't mind my shaking your hand again, + do you? It's so good to know there is somebody who can help. I have been + all alone so far except Gadgem—who has been a treasure. You remember + him. Why didn't you let Mr. Temple know you were coming?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't. I have been up in the mountains of Brazil, and coming home + went ashore—got wrecked. These clothes I bought from a sailor,” and + he opened his rough jacket the wider. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that's exactly what I heard him say—that's what he + thought—that is, that you were where you couldn't write, although I + never heard him say anything about shipwreck. I remember his telling Mr. + Willits and Miss Seymour that same thing the morning he left—that + you couldn't write. They came to see him off.” + </p> + <p> + Harry edged his chair nearer the fireplace and propped one shoe on the + fender as if to dry it, although the night was fair. The mention of Kate's + and her suitor's names had sent the blood to his head and he was using the + subterfuge in the effort to regain control of himself before Pawson should + read all his secrets. + </p> + <p> + Shifting his body he rested his head on his hand, the light of the lamp + bringing into clearer relief his fresh, healthy skin, finely modelled + nose, and wide brow, the brown hair, clipped close to his head, still + holding its glossy sheen. For some seconds he did not speak: the low song + of the fire seemed to absorb him. Now and then Pawson, who was watching + him intently, heard him strangle a rebellious sigh, as if some old memory + were troubling him. His hand dropped and with a quick movement he faced + his companion again. + </p> + <p> + “I have been away a long time, Mr. Pawson,” he said in a thoughtful tone. + “For three months—four now—I have had no letters from anybody. + It was my fault partly, but let that go. I want you to answer some + questions, and I want you to tell me the truth—all the truth. I + haven't any use for any other kind of man—do you understand? Is my + mother alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And Alec? Is he all right?” + </p> + <p> + Pawson nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And my uncle? Is he ruined?—so badly ruined that he is suffering? + Tell me.” There was a peculiar pathos in his tone—so much so that + Pawson, who had been standing, settled into a chair beside him that his + answers might, if possible, be the more intimate and sympathetic. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he is. The only hope is the postponement in some way of the + foreclosure of the mortgage on this house until times get better. It + wouldn't bring its face value to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Harry caught his breath: “My God!—you don't tell me so! Poor Uncle + George—so fine and splendid—so good to everybody, and he has + come to this! And about this mortgage—who owns it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gorsuch, I understand, owns it now: he bought it of the Tyson + estate.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean John Gorsuch—my father's man of business?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And was there nothing left?—no money coming in from anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + Pawson shook his head: “We collected all that some time ago—it came + from some old ground rents.” + </p> + <p> + “And how has he lived since?” He wanted to hear it all; he could help + better if he knew how far down the ladder to begin. + </p> + <p> + “From hand to mouth, really.” And then there followed his own and Gadgem's + efforts to keep the wolf from the door; the sale of the guns, saddles, and + furniture; the wrench over the Castullux cup—and what a godsend it + was that Kirk got such a good price for it—down to the parting with + the last article that either or both of them could sell or pawn, including + his four splendid setters. + </p> + <p> + As the sad story fell from the attorney's sympathetic lips Harry would now + and then cover his face with his hands in the effort to hide the tears. He + knew that the ruin was now complete. He knew, too, that he had been the + cause of it. Then his thoughts reverted to the old regime and its + comforts: those which his uncle had shared with him so generously. + </p> + <p> + “And what has become of my uncle's servants?” he asked—“his cook, + Aunt Jemima, and his body-servant, Todd?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what has become of the cook, but he took Todd with him.” + </p> + <p> + Harry heaved a sigh of relief. If Todd was with him life would still be + made bearable for his uncle. Perhaps, after all, a winter with Tom Coston + was the wisest thing he could have done. + </p> + <p> + One other question now trembled on his lips. It was one he felt he had no + right to ask—not of Pawson—but it was his only opportunity, + and he must know the truth if he was to carry out the other plans he had + in view the day he dropped everything and came home without warning. At + last he asked casually: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whether my father returned to Uncle George the money he paid + out for me?” Not that it was important—more as if he wanted to be + posted on current events. + </p> + <p> + “He tried, but Mr. Temple wouldn't take it. I had the matter in hand, and + know. This was some three years ago. He has never offered it since—not + to my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Harry's face lightened. Some trace of decency was still left in the Rutter + blood! This money was in all honor owed by his father and might still + become an asset if he and his uncle should ever become reconciled. + </p> + <p> + “And can you tell me how they all are—out at Moorlands? Have you + seen my father lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Not your father, but I met your old servant, Alec, a few days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Alec!—dear old Alec! Tell me about him. And my mother—was she + all right? What did Alec say, and how did the old man look?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; your mother was well. He said they were all well, except Colonel + Rutter, whose eyes troubled him. Alec seemed pretty much the same—may + be a little older.” + </p> + <p> + Harry's mind began to wander. The room and his companion were forgotten. + He was again at Moorlands, the old negro following him about, his dear + mother sitting by his bed or kissing him goodnight. + </p> + <p> + For an instant he sat gazing into the smouldering embers absorbed in his + thoughts. Then as if some new vista had opened out before him he asked + suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what he was doing in town, do you? Was my mother with + him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he was alone. He had brought some things in for Mr. Seymour—some + game or something, if I remember right. There's to be a wedding there + soon, so I hear. Yes, now I think of it, it WAS game—some + partridges, perhaps, your father had sent in. The old man asked about you—he + always does. And now, Mr. Rutter, tell me about yourself—have you + done well?” He didn't think he had, judging from his general appearance, + but he wanted to be sure in case St. George asked him. + </p> + <p> + Harry settled in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the back. The news + of Kate's wedding was what he had expected. Perhaps it was already over. + He was glad, however, the information had come to him unsought. For an + instant he made no reply to Pawson's inquiry, then he answered slowly: + “Yes, and no. I have made a little money—not much—but some—not + enough to pay Uncle George everything I owe him—not yet; another + time I shall do better. I was down with fever for a while and that cost me + a good deal of what I had saved. But I HAD to come back. I met a man who + told me Uncle George was ruined; that he had left this house and that + somebody had put a sign on it, I thought at first that this must refer to + you and your old arrangement in the basement, until I questioned him + closer. I knew how careless he had always been about his money + transactions, and was afraid some one had taken advantage of him. That's + why I was so upset when I came in a while ago: I thought they had stolen + his furniture as well. The ship Mohican—one of the old Barkeley line—was + sailing the day I reached the coast and I got aboard and worked my passage + home. I learned to do that on my way out. I learned to wear a beard too. + Not very becoming, is it?”—and a low, forced laugh escaped his lips. + “But shaving is not easy aboard ship or in the mines.” + </p> + <p> + Pawson made no reply. He had been studying his guest the closer while he + was talking, his mind more on the man than on what he was saying. The old + Harry, which the dim light of the hall and room had hidden, was slowly + coming back to him:—the quick turn of the head; the way his lips + quivered when he laughed; the exquisitely modelled nose and brow, and the + way the hair grew on the temples. The tones of his voice, too, had the old + musical ring. It was the same madcap, daredevil boy mellowed and + strengthened by contact with the outside world. Next he scrutinized his + hands, their backs bronzed and roughened by contact with the weather, and + waited eagerly until some gesture opened the delicately turned fingers, + exposing the white palms, and felt relieved and glad when he saw that they + showed no rough usage. His glance rested on his well-turned thighs, + slender waist, and broad, strong shoulders and arms—and then his + eyes—so clear, and his skin so smooth and fresh—a clean soul + in a clean body! What joy would be Temple's when he got his arms around + this young fellow once more! + </p> + <p> + The wanderer reached for his cap and pushed back his chair. For an instant + he stood gazing into the smouldering coals as if he hated to leave their + warmth, his brow clouded, his shoulders drawn back. He had all the + information he wanted—all he had come in search of, although it was + not exactly what he wished or what he had expected:—his uncle ruined + and an exile; his father half blind and Kate's wedding expected any week. + That was enough at least for one night. + </p> + <p> + He stepped forward and grasped Pawson's hand, his well-knit, alert body in + contrast to the loosely jointed, long-legged, young attorney. + </p> + <p> + “I must thank you, Mr. Pawson,” he said in his old outspoken, hearty way + “for your frankness, and I must also apologize for my apparent rudeness + when I first entered your door; but, as I told you, I was so astounded and + angry at what I saw that I hardly knew what I was doing. And now one thing + more before I take my leave: if Mr. Temple does not want his present + retreat known—and I gather from the mysterious way in which you have + spoken that he does not—let me tell you that I do not want mine + known either. Please do not say to any one that you have seen me, or + answer any questions—not for a time, at least. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + With the closing of the front door behind him the exile came to a + standstill on the top step and looked about him. Across the park—beyond + the trees, close sheltered under the wide protecting roof, lay Kate. All + the weary miles out and back had this picture been fixed in his mind. She + was doubtless asleep as it was now past eleven o'clock: he would know by + the lights. But even the sight of the roof that sheltered her would, in + itself, be a comfort. It had been many long years since he had breathed + the same air with her; slept under the same stars; walked where her feet + had trodden. For some seconds he stood undecided. Should he return to the + Sailors' House where he had left his few belongings and banish all + thoughts of her from his mind now that his worst fears had been confirmed? + or should he yield to the strain on his heart-strings? If she were asleep + the whole house would be dark; if she were at some neighbor's and Mammy + Henny was sitting up for her, the windows in the bedroom would be dark and + the hall lamp still burning—he had watched it so often before and + knew the signs. + </p> + <p> + Drawing the collar of his rough peajacket close about his throat and + crowding his cap to his ears, he descended the steps and with one of his + quick, decided movements plunged into the park, now silent and deserted. + </p> + <p> + As he neared the Seymour house he became conscious, from the glow of + lights gleaming between the leafless branches of the trees, that something + out of the common was going on inside. The house was ablaze from the + basement to the roof, with every window-shade illumined. Outside the + steps, and as far out as the curb, lounged groups of attendants, while in + the side street, sheltered by the ghostly trees, there could be made out + the wheels and hoods of carryalls and the glint of harness. Now and then + the door would open and a bevy of muffled figures—the men in cloaks, + the girls in nubias wound about their heads and shoulders—would pass + out. The Seymours were evidently giving a ball, or was it—and the + blood left his face and little chills ran loose through his hair—was + it Kate's wedding night? Pawson had said that a marriage would soon take + place, and in the immediate future. It was either this or an important + function of some kind, and on a much more lavish scale than had been old + Prim's custom in the days when he knew him. Then the contents of Alec's + basket rose in his mind. That was why his father had sent the pheasants! + Perhaps both he and his mother were inside! + </p> + <p> + Sick at heart he turned on his heel and with quickened pace retraced his + steps. He would not be a spy, and he could not he an eavesdropper. As the + thought forced itself on his mind, the fear that he might meet some one + whom he would know, or who would know him, overtook him. So great was his + anxiety that it was only when he had left the park far behind him on his + way back to the Sailors' House, that he regained his composure. He was + prepared to face the truth, and all of it whatever it held in store for + him; but he must first confront his father and learn just how he stood + with him; then he would see his mother and Alec, and then he would find + St. George: Kate must come last. + </p> + <p> + The news that his father had offered to pay his debts—although he + did not intend that that should relieve him in any way of his own + responsibility to his uncle—kindled fresh hopes in his heart and + buoyed him up. Now that his father had tried repeatedly to repair the + wrong he had done it might only be necessary to throw himself on his knees + before him and be taken back into his heart and arms. To see him, then, + was his first duty and this he would begin to carry out in the morning. As + to his meeting his mother and Alec—should he fail with his father—that + must be undertaken with more care, for he could not place himself in the + position of sneaking home and using the joy his return would bring them as + a means to soften his father's heart. Yes, he would find his father first, + then his mother and Alec. If his father received him the others would + follow. If he was repulsed, he must seek out some other way. + </p> + <p> + This over he would find St. George. He knew exactly where his uncle was, + although he had not said so to Pawson. He was not at Coston's, nor + anywhere in the vicinity of Wesley, but at Craddock, on the bay—a + small country house some miles distant, where he and his dogs had often + spent days and weeks during the ducking season. St. George had settled + down there to rest and get away from his troubles; that was why he had not + answered Pawson's letters. + </p> + <p> + Striding along with his alert, springing step, he swung through the + deserted and unguarded Marsh Market, picked his way between the piles of + produce and market carts, and plunging down a narrow street leading to the + wharf, halted before a door over which swung a lantern burning a green + light. Here he entered. + </p> + <p> + Although it was now near midnight, there were still eight or ten seafaring + men in the room—several of them members of his own crew aboard the + Mohican. Two were playing checkers, the others crowded about a square + table where a game of cards was in progress; wavy lines of tobacco smoke + floated beneath the dingy ceiling; at one end was a small bar where a man + in a woollen shirt was filling some short, thick tumblers from an earthen + jug. It was the ordinary sailors' retreat where the men put up before, + between, and after their voyages. + </p> + <p> + One of them at the card-table looked up from his game as Harry entered, + and called out: + </p> + <p> + “Man been lookin' for you—comin' back, he says. My trick! Hearts, + wasn't it?” (this to his companions). + </p> + <p> + “Do I know him?” asked Harry with a slight start, pausing on his way to + his bedroom upstairs, where he had left his bag of clothes two hours + before. Could he have been recognized and shadowed? + </p> + <p> + “No—don't think so; he's a street vendor. Got some China silks to + sell—carries his pack on his back and looks as if he'd took up a + extry 'ole in his belt. Hungry, I wouldn't wonder. Wanted to h'ist 'em fur + a glass o' grog an' a night's lodgin', but Cap wouldn't let him—said + you'd be back and might help him. Wasn't that it, Cap?”—this to the + landlord, who nodded in reply. + </p> + <p> + “How could <i>I</i> help him?” asked Harry, selecting a tallow dip from a + row on a shelf, but in a tone that implied his own doubt in the query, as + well as his relief, now that the man was really a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is your port, so I 'ear. Some o' them high-flyers up 'round + the park might lend a hand, may be, if you'd tip 'em a wink, or some o' + their women folks might take a shine to 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Looked hungry, did you say?” Harry asked, lighting the dip at an oil lamp + that swung near the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—holler's a drum—see straight through him; tired too—beat + out. You'd think so if you see him. My play—clubs.” + </p> + <p> + Harry turned to the landlord: “If this man comes in again give him food + and lodging,” and he handed him a bank bill. “If he is here in the morning + let me see him. I'm going to bed now. Good-night, men!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Should I lapse into the easy-flowing style of the chroniclers of the + period of which I write—(and how often has the scribe wished he + could)—this chapter would open with the announcement that on this + particularly bleak, wintry afternoon a gentleman in the equestrian costume + of the day, and mounted upon a well-groomed, high-spirited white horse, + might have been seen galloping rapidly up a country lane leading to an + old-fashioned manor house. + </p> + <p> + Such, however, would not cover the facts. While the afternoon was + certainly wintry, and while the rider was unquestionably a gentleman, he + was by no manner of means attired in velveteen coat and russet-leather + boots with silver spurs, his saddle-bags strapped on behind, but in a + rough and badly worn sailor's suit, his free hand grasping a bundle + carried loose on his pommel. As to the horse neither the immortal James or + any of his school could truthfully picture this animal as either white or + high-spirited. He might, it is true, have been born white and would in all + probability have stayed white but for the many omissions and commissions + of his earlier livery stable training—traces of which could still be + found in his scraped sides and gnawed mane and tail; he might also have + once had a certain commendable spirit had not the ups and downs of road + life—and they were pretty steep outside Kennedy Square—taken + it out of him. + </p> + <p> + It is, however, when I come to the combination of horse and rider that I + can with entire safety lapse into the flow of the old chroniclers. For + whatever Harry had forgotten in his many experiences since he last threw + his leg over Spitfire, horsemanship was not one of them. He still rode + like a Cherokee and still sat his mount like a prince. + </p> + <p> + He had had an anxious and busy morning. With the first streak of dawn he + had written a long letter to his Uncle George, in which he told him of his + arrival; of his heart-felt sorrow at what Pawson had imparted and of his + leaving immediately, first for Wesley and then Craddock, as soon as he + found out how the land lay at Moorlands. This epistle he was careful to + enclose in another envelope, which he directed to Justice Coston, with + instructions to forward it with “the least possible delay” to Mr. Temple, + who was doubtless at Craddock, “and who was imperatively needed at home in + connection with some matters which required his immediate personal + attention,” and which enclosure, it is just as well to state, the + honorable justice placed inside the mantel clock, that being the safest + place for such precious missives, at least until the right owner should + appear. + </p> + <p> + This duly mailed, he had returned to the Sailors' House, knocked at the + door of the upstairs room in which, through his generosity, the street + vendor lay sleeping, and after waking him up and becoming assured that the + man was in real distress, had bought at twice their value the China silks + which had caused the disheartened pedler so many weary hours of tramping. + These he had tucked under his arm and carried away. + </p> + <p> + The act was not alone due to his charitable instincts. A much more selfish + motive influenced him. Indeed the thought came to him in a way that had + determined him to attend to his mail at early dawn and return at sunrise + lest the owner should disappear and take the bundle with him. The silks + were the very things he needed to help him solve one of his greatest + difficulties. He would try, as the sailor-pedler had done, to sell them in + the neighborhood of Moorlands—(a common practice in those days)—and + in this way might gather up the information of which he was in search. + Pawson had not known him—perhaps the others would not: he might even + offer the silks to his father without being detected. + </p> + <p> + With this plan clearly defined in his mind, he had walked into a livery + stable near the market, but a short distance from his lodgings, with the + silks in a bundle and after looking the stock over had picked out this + unprepossessing beast as best able to take him to Moorlands and back + between sunrise and dark. + </p> + <p> + As he rode on, leaving the scattered buildings of the town far behind, + mounting the hills and then striking the turnpike—every rod of which + he could have found in the dark—his thoughts, like road-swallows, + skimmed each mile he covered. Here was where he had stopped with Kate when + her stirrup broke; near the branches of that oak close to the ditch + marking the triangle of cross-roads he had saved his own and Spitfire's + neck by a clear jump that had been the talk of the neighborhood for days. + On the crest of this hill—the one he was then ascending—his + father always tightened up the brakes on his four-in-hand, and on the + slope beyond invariably braced himself in his seat, swung his whip, and + the flattened team swept on and down, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake + that blurred the road for minutes thereafter. + </p> + <p> + When noon came he dismounted at a farmer's out-building beside the road—he + would not trust the public-houses—fed and watered his horse, rubbed + him down himself, and after an hour's rest pushed on toward the fork in + the road to Moorlands. Beyond this was a cross-path that led to the + outbarns and farm stables—a path bordered by thick bushes and which + skirted a fence in the rear of the manor house itself. Here he intended to + tie his steed and there he would mount him again should his mission fail. + </p> + <p> + The dull winter sky had already heralded the dusk—it was near four + o'clock in the afternoon—when he passed some hayricks where a group + of negroes were at work. One or two raised their heads and then, as if + reassured, resumed their tasks. This encouraged him to push on the nearer—he + had evidently been mistaken for one of the many tradespeople seeking his + father's overseer, either to sell tools or buy produce. + </p> + <p> + Tying the horse close to the fence—so close that it could not be + seen from the house—he threw the bundle of silks over his shoulder + and struck out for the small office in the rear. Here the business of the + estate was transacted, and here were almost always to be found either the + overseer or one of his assistants—both of them white. These men were + often changed, and his chance, therefore, of meeting a stranger was all + the more likely. + </p> + <p> + As he approached the low sill of the door which was level with the ground, + and which now stood wide open, he caught the glow of a fire and could make + out the figure of a man seated at a desk bending over a mass of papers. + The man pushed back a green shade which had protected his eyes from the + glare of a lamp and peered out at him. + </p> + <p> + It was his father! + </p> + <p> + The discovery was so unexpected and had come with such suddenness—it + was rarely in these later days that the colonel was to be found here in + the afternoon: he was either riding or receiving visitors—that + Harry's first thought was to shrink back out of sight, or, if discovered, + to make some excuse for his intrusion and retire. Then his mind changed + and he stepped boldly in. This was what he had come for and this was what + he would face. + </p> + <p> + “I have some China silks to sell,” he said in his natural tone of voice, + turning his head so that while his goods were in sight his face would be + in shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Silks! I don't want any silks! Who allowed you to pass in here? Alec!” He + pushed back his chair and moved to the door. “Alec! Where the devil is + Alec! He's always where I don't want him!” + </p> + <p> + “I saw no one to ask, sir,” Harry replied mechanically. His father's + appearance had sent a chill through him; he would hardly have known him + had he met him on the street. Not only did he look ten years older, but + the injury to his sight caused him to glance sideways at any one he + addressed, completely destroying the old fearless look in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You never waited to ask! You walk into my private office unannounced and—” + here he turned the lamp to see the better. “You're a sailor, aren't you?” + he added fiercely—a closer view of the intruder only heightening his + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—I'm a sailor,” replied Harry simply, his voice dying in + his throat as he summed up the changes that the years had wrought in the + colonel's once handsome, determined face—thinner, more shrunken, his + mustache and the short temple-whiskers almost white. + </p> + <p> + For an instant his father crumpled a wisp of paper he was holding between + his fingers and thumb; and then demanded sharply, but with a tone of + curiosity, as if willing the intruder should tarry a moment while he + gathered the information: + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been a sailor?” + </p> + <p> + “I am just in from my last voyage.” He still kept in the shadow although + he saw his father had so far failed to recognize him. The silks had been + laid on a chair beside him. + </p> + <p> + “That's not what I asked you. How long have you been a sailor?” He was + scanning his face now as best he could, shifting the green shade that he + might see the better. + </p> + <p> + “I went to sea three years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Three years, eh? Where did you go?” + </p> + <p> + The tone of curiosity had increased. Perhaps the next question would lead + up to some basis on which he could either declare himself or lay the + foundation of a declaration to be made the next day—after he had + seen his mother and Alec. + </p> + <p> + “To South America. Para was my first port,” he answered simply, wondering + why he wanted to know. + </p> + <p> + “That's not far from Rio?” He was still looking sideways at him, but there + was no wavering in his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “No, not far—Rio was our next stopping place. We had a hard voyage + and put in to—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a young man by the name of Rutter—slim man with dark + hair and eyes?” interrupted his father in an angry tone. + </p> + <p> + Harry started forward, his heart in his mouth, his hands upraised, his + fingers opening. It was all he could do to restrain himself. “Don't you + know me, father?” was trembling on his lips. Then something in the sound + of the colonel's voice choked his utterance. Not now, he thought, + mastering his emotion—a moment more and he would tell him. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard of him, sir,” he answered when he recovered his speech, + straining his ears to catch the next word. + </p> + <p> + “Heard of him, have you? So has everybody else heard of him—a + worthless scoundrel who broke his mother's heart; a man who disgraced his + family—a gentleman turned brigand—a renegade who has gone back + on his blood! Tell him so if you see him! Tell him I said so; I'm his + father, and know! No—I don't want your silks—don't want + anything that has to do with sailormen. I am busy—please go away. + Don't stop to bundle them up—do that outside,” and he turned his + back and readjusted the shade over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Harry's heart sank, and a cold faintness stole through his frame. He was + not angry nor indignant. He was stunned. + </p> + <p> + Without a word in reply he gathered up the silks from the chair, tucked + them under his arm, and replacing his cap stepped outside into the fast + approaching twilight. Whatever the morrow might bring forth, nothing more + could be done to-day. To have thrown himself at his father's feet would + only have resulted in his being driven from the grounds by the overseer, + with the servants looking on—a humiliation he could not stand. + </p> + <p> + As he stood rolling the fabrics into a smaller compass, a gray-haired + negro in the livery of a house servant passed hurriedly and entered the + door of the office. Instantly his father's voice rang out: + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil have you been, Alec? How many times must I tell you to + look after me oftener. Don't you know I'm half blind and—No—I + don't want any more wood—I want these vagabonds kept off my grounds. + Send Mr. Grant to me at once, and don't you lose sight of that man until + you have seen him to the main road. He says he is a sailor—and I've + had enough of sailors, and so has everybody else about here.” + </p> + <p> + The negro bowed and backed out of the room. No answer of any kind was best + when the colonel was in one of his “tantrums.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I hab to ask ye, sah, to quit de place—de colonel don't + 'low nobody to—” he said politely. + </p> + <p> + Harry turned his face aside and started for the fence. His first thought + was to drop his bundle and throw his arms around Alec's neck; then he + realized that this would be worse than his declaring himself to his father—he + could then be accused of attempting deception by the trick of a disguise. + So he hurried on to where his horse was tied—his back to Alec, the + bundle shifted to his left shoulder that he might hide his face the better + until he was out of sight of the office, the old man stumbling on, calling + after him: + </p> + <p> + “No, dat ain't de way. Yer gotter go down de main road; here, man—don't + I tell yer dat ain't de way.” + </p> + <p> + Harry had now gained the fence and had already begun to loosen the reins + when Alec, out of breath and highly indignant over the refusal to carry + out his warning, reached his side. + </p> + <p> + “You better come right back f'om whar ye started,” the old negro puffed; + “ye can't go dat way or dey'll set de dogs on ye.” Here his eyes rested on + the reins and forelock. “What! you got a horse an' you—” + </p> + <p> + Harry turned and laid his hand on the old servant's shoulder. He could + hardly control his voice: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know me, Alec? I'm Harry!” + </p> + <p> + The old man bent down, peered into Harry's eyes, and with a quick spring + forward grabbed him by both shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You my Marse Harry!—you!” His breath was gone now, his whole body + in a tremble, his eyes bulging from his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Alec, Harry! It's only the beard. Look at me! I didn't want my + father to see us—that's why I kept on.” + </p> + <p> + The old servant threw up his hands and caught his young master around the + neck. For some seconds he could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “And de colonel druv ye out!” he gasped. “Oh, my Gawd! my Gawd! And ye + ain't daid, and ye come back home ag'in.” He was sobbing now, his head on + the exile's shoulder, Harry's arms about him—patting his bent back. + “But yer gotter go back, Marse Harry,” he moaned. “He ain't 'sponsible + these days. He didn't know ye! Come 'long, son; come back wid ol' Alec; + please come, Marse Harry. Oh, Gawd! ye GOTTER come!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll go home to-night—another day I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Ye ain't got no home but dis, I tell ye! Go tell him who ye is—lemme + run tell him. I won't be a minute. Oh! Marse Harry, I can't let ye go! I + been dat mizzable widout ye. I ain't neber got over lovin' ye!” + </p> + <p> + Here a voice from near the office broke out. In the dusk the two could + just make out the form of the colonel, who was evidently calling to some + of his people. He was bareheaded and without his shade. + </p> + <p> + “I've sent Alec to see him safe off the grounds. You go yourself, Mr. + Grant, and follow him into the highroad; remember that after this I hold + you responsible for these prowlers.” + </p> + <p> + The two had paused while the colonel was speaking, Harry, gathering the + reins in his hand, ready to vault into the saddle, and Alec, holding on to + his coat-sleeves hoping still to detain him. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a minute more—quick, Alec, tell me how my mother is.” + </p> + <p> + “She's middlin' po'ly, same's ever; got great rings under her eyes and her + heart's dat heaby makes abody cry ter look at 'er. But she ain't sick, + jes' griebin' herse'f to death. Ain't yer gwineter stop and see 'er? May + be I kin git ye in de back way.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now—not here. Bring her to Uncle George's house to-morrow about + noon, and I will be there. Tell her how I look, but don't tell her what my + father has done. And now tell me about Miss Kate—how long since you + saw her? Is she married?” + </p> + <p> + Again the colonel's voice was heard; this time much nearer—within + hailing distance. He and the overseer were evidently approaching the + fence; some of the negroes had doubtless apprised them of the course of + Harry's exit. + </p> + <p> + Alec turned quickly to face his master, and Harry, realizing that his last + moment had come, swung himself into the saddle. If Alec made any reply to + his question it was lost in the clatter of hoofs as both horse and man + swept down the by-path. In another moment they had gained the main road, + the rider never breaking rein until he had reached the farm-house where he + had fed and watered his horse some hours before. + </p> + <p> + Thirty-odd miles out and back was not a long ride for a hired horse in + these days over a good turnpike with plenty of time for resting—and + he had as many breathing spells as gallops, for Harry's moods really + directed his gait. Once in a while he would give him his head, the reins + lying loose, the horse picking his way in a walk. Then the bitterness of + his father's words and how undeserved they were, and how the house of + cards his hopes had built up had come tumbling down about his ears at the + first point of contact would rush over him, and he would dig his heels + into the horse's flanks and send him at full gallop through the night + along the pale ribbon of a road barely discernible in the ghostly dark. + When, however, Alec's sobs smote his ear, or the white face of his mother + confronted him, the animal would gradually slacken his pace and drop into + a walk. + </p> + <p> + Dominated by these emotions certain fixed resolutions at last took + possession of him: He would see his mother at once, no matter at what cost—even + if he defied his father—and then he would find his uncle. Whether he + would board the next vessel heaving port and return to his work in the + mountains, or whether he would bring his uncle back from Craddock and the + two, with his own vigorous youth and new experience of the world, fight it + out together as they had once done before, depended on what St. George + advised. Now that Kate's marriage was practically decided upon, one sorrow—and + his greatest—was settled forever. Any others that were in store for + him he would meet as they came. + </p> + <p> + With his mind still intent on these plans he rode at last into the open + door of the small courtyard of the livery stable and drew rein under a + swinging lantern. It was past ten at night, and the place was deserted, + except by a young negro who advanced to take his horse. Tossing the bridle + aside he slipped to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “He's wet,” Harry said, “but he's all right. Let him cool off gradually, + and don't give him any water until he gets dry. I'll come in to-morrow and + pay your people what I owe them.” + </p> + <p> + The negro curry-combed his fingers down the horse's flanks as if to assure + himself of his condition, and in the movement brought his face under the + glare of the overhead light. + </p> + <p> + Harry grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him round. + </p> + <p> + “Todd—you rascal! What are you doing here? Why are you not down on + the Eastern Shore?” His astonishment was so intense that for an instant he + could not realize he had the right man. + </p> + <p> + The negro drew back. He was no runaway slave, and he didn't intend to be + taken for one—certainly not by a man as rough and suspicious looking + as the one before him. + </p> + <p> + “How you know my name, man?” He was nervous and scared half out of his + wits. More than one negro had been shanghaied in that way and smuggled off + to sea. + </p> + <p> + “Know you! I'd know you among a thousand. Have you, too, deserted your + master?” He still held him firmly by the collar of his coat, his voice + rising with his wrath. “Why have you left him? Answer me.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant the negro hesitated, leaned forward, and then with a burst + of joy end out: + </p> + <p> + “You ain't!—Fo' Gawd it is! Dat beard on ye, Marse Harry, done fool + me—but you is him fo' sho. Gor-a-mighty! ain't I glad ye ain't daid. + Marse George say on'y yisterday you was either daid or sick dat ye didn't + write an'—” + </p> + <p> + “Said yesterday! Why, is he at home?” + </p> + <p> + “HOME! Lemme throw a blanket over dis hoss and tie him tell we come back. + Oh, we had a heap o' mis'ry since ye went away—a heap o' trouble. + Nothin' but trouble! You come 'long wid me—'tain't far; des around + de corner. I'll show ye sompin' make ye creep all over. An' it ain't + gettin' no better—gettin' wuss. Dis way, Manse Harry. You been + 'cross de big water, ain't ye? Dat's what I heared. Aunt Jemima been + mighty good, but we can't go on dis way much longer.” + </p> + <p> + Still talking, forging ahead in the darkness through the narrow street + choked with horseless drays, Todd swung into a dingy yard, mounted a + flight of rickety wooden steps, and halted at an unpainted door. Turning + the knob softly he beckoned silently to Harry, and the two stepped into a + small room lighted by a low lamp placed on the hearth, its rays falling on + a cot bed and a few chairs. Beside a cheap pine table sat Aunt Jemima, + rocking noiselessly. The old woman raised her hand in warning and put her + fingers to her lips. + </p> + <p> + On the bed, with the coverlet drawn close under his chin, lay his Uncle + George! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Harry looked about the room in a bewildered way and then tiptoed to St. + George's bed. It had been a day of surprises, but this last had completely + upset him. St. George dependent on the charity of his old cook and without + other attendant than Todd! Why had he been deserted by everybody who loved + him? Why was he not at Wesley or Craddock? Why should he be here of all + places in the world? + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts surged through his mind as he stood above the patient + and watched his slow, labored breathing. That he had been ill for some + time was evident in his emaciated face and the deep hollows into which his + closed eyes were sunken. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Jemima rose and handed the intruder her chair. He sat down + noiselessly beside him. Once his uncle coughed, and in the effort drew the + coverlet close about his throat, his eyes still shut; but whether from + weakness or drowsiness, Harry could not tell. Presently he shifted his + body, and moving his head on the pillow, called softly: + </p> + <p> + “Jemima?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse George.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a little milk—my throat troubles me.” + </p> + <p> + Harry drew back into the shadow cast over one end of the cot and rear wall + by the low lamp on the hearth. Whether to slip his hand gently over his + uncle's and declare himself, or whether to wait until he dozed again and + return in the morning, when he would be less tired and could better + withstand the shock of the meeting, was the question which disturbed him. + And yet he could not leave until he satisfied himself of just what ought + to be done. If he left him at all it must be for help of some kind. He + leaned over and whispered in Jemima's ear: + </p> + <p> + “Has he had a doctor?” + </p> + <p> + Jemima shook her head. “He wouldn't hab none; he ain't been clean beat out + till day befo' yisterday, an' den I got skeered an'—” She stopped, + leaned closer, clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, and + staggered back to her chair. + </p> + <p> + St. George raised his head from the pillow and stared into the shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Who is talking? I heard somebody speak? Jemima—you haven't + disobeyed me, have you?” + </p> + <p> + Harry stepped noiselessly to the bedside and laid his fingers on the sick + man's wrist: + </p> + <p> + “Uncle George,” he said gently. + </p> + <p> + Temple lowered his head as if to focus his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is some one!” he cried in a stronger voice. “Who are you, sir?—not + a doctor, are you? I didn't send for you!—I don't want any doctor, I + told my servant so. Jemima!—Todd!—why do you—” + </p> + <p> + Harry tightened his grasp on the emaciated wrist. “No, Uncle George, it's + Harry! I'm just back.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say, Todd? Harry!—Harry! Did he say he was Harry, or am + I losing my mind?” + </p> + <p> + In his eagerness to understand he lifted himself to a sitting posture, his + eyes wandering uneasily over the speaker's body, resting on his head—on + his shoulders, arms, and hands—as if trying to fix his mind on + something which constantly baffled him. + </p> + <p> + Harry continued to pat his wrist soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's Harry, Uncle George,” he answered. “But don't talk—lie + down. I'm all right—I got in yesterday and have been looking for you + everywhere. Pawson told me you were at Wesley. I found Todd a few minutes + ago by the merest accident, and he brought me here. No, you must lie down—let + me help—rest yourself on me—so.” He was as tender with him as + if he had been his own mother. + </p> + <p> + The sick man shook himself free—he was stronger than Harry thought. + He was convinced now that there was some trick being played upon him—one + Jemima in her anxiety had devised. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you, sir, lie to me like that! Who asked you to come here? Todd—send + this fellow from the room!” + </p> + <p> + Harry drew back out of his uncle's vision and carefully watched the + invalid. St. George's mind was evidently unhinged and it would be better + not to thwart him. + </p> + <p> + Todd crept up. He had seen his master like this once before and had had + all he could do to keep him in bed. + </p> + <p> + “Dat ain't no doctor, Marse George,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. + “Dat's Marse Harry come back agin alive. It's de hair on his face make him + look dat way; dat fool me too. It's Marse Harry, fo' sho'—I fotch + him yere myse'f. He's jes' come from de big ship.” + </p> + <p> + St. George twisted his head, looked long and earnestly into Harry's face, + and with a sudden cry of joy stretched out his hand and motioned him + nearer. Harry sank to his knees beside the bed. St. George curved one arm + about his neck, drew him tightly to his breast as he would a woman, and + fell back upon the pillow with Harry's head next his own. There the two + lay still, St. George's eyes half closed, thick sobs stifling his + utterance, the tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his thin white + fingers caressing the brown hair of the boy he loved. At last, with a + heavy, indrawn sigh, not of grief, but of joy, he muttered: + </p> + <p> + “It's true, isn't it, my son?” + </p> + <p> + Harry hugged him the tighter in answer. + </p> + <p> + “And you are home for good?” + </p> + <p> + Again the pressure. “Yes, but don't talk, you must go to sleep. I won't + leave you.” His own tears were choking him now. + </p> + <p> + Then, after a long pause, releasing his grasp: “I did not know how weak I + was.... Maybe I had better not talk.... Don't stay. Come to-morrow and + tell me about it.... There is no bed for you here... I am sorry ... but + you must go away—you couldn't be comfortable.... Todd—” + </p> + <p> + The darky started forward—both he and Aunt Jemima were crying: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse George.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the lamp and light Mr. Rutter downstairs. To-morrow—to-morrow, + Harry.... My God—think of it!—Harry home! Harry home! My Harry + home!” and he turned his face to the wall. + </p> + <p> + On the way back—first to the stable, where he found that the horse + had been properly cared for and his bill ready and then to his lodgings,—Todd + told him the story of what had happened: At first his master had firmly + intended going to the Eastern Shore—and for a long stay—for he + had ordered his own and Todd's trunks packed with everything they both + owned in the way of clothes. On the next day, however—the day before + the boat left—Mr. Temple had made a visit to Jemima to bid her + good-by, where he learned that her white lodger had decamped between suns, + leaving two months board unpaid. In the effort to find this man, or compel + his employer to pay his bill, out of some wages still due him—in + both of which he failed—his master had missed the boat and they were + obliged to wait another week. During this interim, not wishing to return + to Pawson, and being as he said very comfortable where he was with his two + servants to wait upon him, and the place as clean as a pin—his + master had moved his own and Todd's trunk from the steamboat warehouse + where they had been stored and had had them brought to Jemima's. Two days + later—whether from exposure in tramping the streets in his efforts + to collect the old woman's bill, or whether the change of lodgings had + affected him—he was taken down with a chill and had been in bed ever + since. With this situation staring both Jemima and himself in the face—for + neither she nor Mr. Temple had much money left—Todd had appealed to + Gadgem—(he being the only man in his experience who could always + produce a roll of bills when everybody else failed)—who took him to + the stableman whose accounts he collected—and who had once bought + one of St. George's saddles—and who then and there hired Todd as + night attendant. His wages, added to what Jemima could earn over her tubs, + had kept the three alive. All this had taken place four weeks or more ago. + </p> + <p> + None of all this, he assured Harry, had he told Gadgem or anybody else, + his master's positive directions being to keep his abode and his condition + a secret from everybody. All the collector knew was that Mr. Temple being + too poor to take Todd with him, had left him behind to shift for himself + until he could send for him. All the neighborhood knew, to quote Todd's + own hilarious chuckle, was that “Miss Jemima Johnsing had two mo' + boa'ders; one a sick man dat had los' his job an' de udder a yaller nigger + who sot up nights watchin' de hosses eat dere haids off.” + </p> + <p> + Since that time his master had had various ups and downs, but although he + was still weak he was very much stronger than he had been any time since + he had taken to his bed. Only once had he been delirious; then he talked + ramblingly about Miss Kate and Marse Harry. This had so scared Aunt Jemima + that she had determined to go to Mammy Henny and have her tell Miss Kate, + so he could get a doctor—something he had positively forbidden her + to do, but he grew so much better the next day that she had given it up; + since that time his mind had not again given way. All he wanted now, so + Todd concluded, was a good soup and “a drap o' sumpin warmin'—an' + he'd pull thu'. But dere warn't no use tryin' ter git him to take it + 'cause all he would eat was taters an' corn pone an' milk—an' sich + like, 'cause he said dere warn't money 'nough fer de three—” + whereupon Todd turned his head away and caught his breath, and then tried + to pass it off as an unbidden choke—none of which subterfuges + deceived Harry in the least. + </p> + <p> + When the two arrived off the dimly burning lantern—it was past ten + o'clock—and pushed in the door of the Sailors' House, Todd received + another shock—one that sent his eyes bulging from his head. That + Marse Harry Rutter, who was always a law unto himself, should grow a beard + and wear rough clothes, was to be expected—“Dem Rutters was allus + dat way—do jes's dey mineter—” but that the most elegant young + man of his day “ob de fustest quality,” should take up his quarters in a + low sailors' retreat, and be looked upon by the men gathered under the + swinging lamp around a card table—(some of whom greeted Harry + familiarly)—as one of their own kind, completely staggered him. + </p> + <p> + The pedler was particularly gracious—so much so that when he learned + that Harry was leaving for good, and had come to get his belongings—he + jumped up and insisted on helping—at which Harry laughed and + assented, and as a further mark of his appreciation presented him with the + now useless silks, in addition to the money he gave him—an act of + generosity which formed the sole topic of conversation in the resort for + weeks thereafter. + </p> + <p> + Board and lodging paid, the procession took up its return march: Harry in + front, Todd, still dazed and still at sea as to the meaning of it all, + following behind; the pedler between with Harry's heavy coat, blankets, + etc.—all purchased since his shipwreck—the party threading the + choked-up street until they reached the dingy yard, where the pedler + dumped his pack and withdrew, while the darky stowed his load in the + basement. This done, the two tiptoed once more up the stairs to where Aunt + Jemima awaited them, St. George having fallen asleep. + </p> + <p> + Beckoning the old woman away from the bedroom door and into the far corner + of the small hall, Harry unfolded to her as much of his plans for the next + day as he thought she ought to know. Early in the morning—before his + uncle was astir—he would betake himself to Kennedy Square; ascertain + from Pawson whether his uncle's rooms were still unoccupied, and if such + were the case—and St. George be unable to walk—would pick him + up bodily, wrap him in blankets, carry him in his own arms downstairs, + place him in a carriage, and drive him to his former home where he would + again pick him up and lay him in his own bed: This would be better than a + hundred doctors—he had tried it himself when he was down with fever + and knew. Aunt Jemima was to go ahead and see that these preparations were + carried out. Should Alec be able to bring his mother to Kennedy Square in + the morning, as he had instructed him to do, then there would indeed be + somebody on hand who could nurse him even better than Jemima; should his + mother not be there, Jemima would take her place. Nothing of all this, he + charged her, was to be told St. George until the hour of departure. To + dwell upon the intended move might overexcite him. Then, when everything + was ready—his linen, etc., arranged—(Jemima was also to look + after this)—he would whisk him off and make him comfortable in his + own bed. He would, of course, now that his uncle wished it, keep secret + his retreat; although why St. George Wilmot Temple, Esq., or any other + gentleman of his standing, should object to being taken care of by his own + servants was a thing he could not understand: Pawson, of course, need not + know—nor should any outside person—not even Gadgem if he came + nosing around. To these he would merely say that Mr. Temple had seen fit + to leave home and that Mr. Temple had seen fit to return again: that was + quite enough for attorneys and collectors. To all the others he would keep + his counsel, until St. George himself made confession, which he was pretty + sure he would do at the first opportunity. + </p> + <p> + This decided upon he bade Jemima good-night, gave her explicit directions + to call him, should his uncle awake (her own room opened out of St. + George's) spread his blanket in the cramped hall outside the sick man's + door—he had not roughed it on shipboard and in the wilderness all + these years without knowing something of the soft side of a plank—and + throwing his heavy ship's coat over him fell fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + When the first glimmer of the gray dawn stole through the small window at + the end of the narrow hall, and laid its chilled fingers on Harry's + upturned face, it found him still asleep. His ride to Moorlands and back—his + muscles unused for months to the exercise—had tired him. The trials + of the day, too, those with his father and his Uncle George, had tired him + the more—and so he had slept on as a child sleeps—as a + perfectly healthy man sleeps—both mind and body drinking in the + ozone of a new courage and a new hope. + </p> + <p> + With the first ray of the joyous sun riding full tilt across his face, he + opened his eyes, threw off the cloak, and sprang to his feet. For an + instant he looked wonderingly about as if in doubt whether to call the + watch or begin the hunt for his cattle. Then the pine door caught his eye + and the low, measured breathing of his uncle fell upon his ear, and with a + quick lift of his arms, his strong hands thumping his broad chest, he + stretched himself to his full height: he had work to do, and he must begin + at once. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Jemima was already at her duties. She had tiptoed past his sleeping + body an hour before, and after listening to St. George's breathing had + plunged into her tubs; the cat's cradle in the dingy court-yard being + already gay with various colored fragments, including Harry's red flannel + shirts which Todd had found in a paper parcel, and which the old woman had + pounced upon at sight. She insisted on making him a cup of coffee, but he + had no time for such luxuries. He would keep on, he said, to Kennedy + Square, find Pawson, ascertain if St. George's old rooms were still + unoccupied; notify him of Mr. Temple's return; have his bed made and fires + properly lighted; stop at the livery stable, wake up Todd, if that darky + had overslept himself—quite natural when he had been up almost all + night—engage a carriage to be at Jemima's at four o'clock, and then + return to get everything ready for the picking-up-and-carrying-downstairs + process. + </p> + <p> + And all this he did do; and all this he told Jemima he had done when he + swung into the court-yard an hour later, a spring to his heels and a + cheery note in his voice that had not been his for years. The reaction + that hope brings to youth had set in. He was alive and at home; his Uncle + George was where he could get his hands on him—in a minute—by + the mounting of the stairs; and Alec and his mother within reach! + </p> + <p> + And the same glad song was in his heart when he opened his uncle's door + after he had swallowed his coffee—Jemima had it ready for him this + time—and thrusting in his head cried out: + </p> + <p> + “We are going to get you out of here, Uncle George!” This with a laugh—one + of his old contagious laughs that was music in the sick man's ears. + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked the invalid, his face radiant. He had been awake an hour + wondering what it all meant. He had even thought of calling to Jemima to + reassure himself that it was not a dream, until he heard her over her tubs + and refrained from disturbing her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pretty soon! I have just come from Pawson's. Fogbin hasn't put in an + appearance and there's nobody in the rooms and hasn't been anybody there + since you left. He can't understand it, nor can I—and I don't want + to. I have ordered the bed made and a fire started in both the chamber and + the old dining-room, and if anybody objects he has got to say so to me, + and I am a very uncomfortable person to say some kinds of things to + nowadays. So up you get when the time comes; and Todd and Jemima are to go + too. I've got money enough, anyhow, to begin on. Aunt Jemima says you had + a good night and it won't be long now before you are yourself again.” + </p> + <p> + The radiant smile on the sick man's face blossomed into a laugh: “Yes—the + best night that I have had since I was taken ill, and—Where did you + sleep, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Me!—Oh, I had a fine time—long, well-ventilated room with two + windows and private staircase; nice pine bedstead—very comfortable + place for this part of the town.” + </p> + <p> + St. George looked at him and his eyes filled. His mind was neither on his + own questions nor on Harry's answers. + </p> + <p> + “Get a chair, Harry, and sit by me so I can look at you closer. How fine + and strong you are my son—not like your father—you're like + your mother. And you've broadened out—mentally as well as + physically. Pretty hard I tell you to spoil a gentleman—more + difficult still to spoil a Rutter. But you must get that beard off—it + isn't becoming to you, and then somebody might think you disguised + yourself on purpose. I didn't know you at first, neither did Jemima—and + you don't want anybody else to make that kind of a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “My father did, yesterday—” Harry rejoined quietly, dropping into + Jemima's chair. + </p> + <p> + St. George half raised himself from his bed: “You have seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and I wish I hadn't. But I hunted everywhere for you and then + got a horse and rode out home. He didn't know me—that is, I'm pretty + sure he didn't—but he cursed me all the same. My mother and old + Alec, I hope, will come in to-day—but father's chapter is closed + forever. I have been a fool to hope for anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Drove you out! Oh, no—NO! Harry! Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “But he did—” and then followed an account of all the wanderer had + passed through from the time he had set foot on shore to the moment of + meeting Todd and himself. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes St. George lay staring at the ceiling. It was all a + horrid, nightmare to him. Talbot deserved nothing but contempt and he + would get it so far as he was concerned. He agreed with Harry that all + reconciliation was now a thing of the past; the only solution possible was + that Talbot was out of his senses—the affair having undermined his + reason. He had heard of such cases and had doubted them—he was + convinced now that they could be true. His answer, therefore, to Harry's + next question—one about his lost sweetheart—was given with a + certain hesitation. As long as the memory of Rutter's curses rankled + within him all reference to Kate's affairs—even the little he knew + himself—must be made with some circumspection. There was no hope in + that direction either, but he did not want to tell him so outright; nor + did he want to dwell too long upon the subject. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose Kate is married by this time, Uncle George,” Harry said at + last in a casual tone, “is she not?” (He had been leading up to it rather + skilfully, but there had been no doubt in his uncle's mind as to his + intention.) “I saw the house lighted up, night before last when I passed, + and a lot of people about, so I thought it might be either the wedding or + the reception.” The question had left his lips as one shoots an arrow in + the dark—hit or miss—as if he did not care which. He too + realized that this was no time to open wounds, certainly not in his + uncle's heart; and yet he could wait no longer. + </p> + <p> + “No—I don't think the wedding has taken place,” St. George replied + vaguely. “The servants would know if it had—they know everything—and + Aunt Jemima would be the first to have told me. The house being lighted up + is no evidence. They have been giving a series of entertainments this + winter and there were more to come when I last saw Kate, which was one + night at Richard Horn's. But let us close that chapter too, my boy. You + and I will take a new lease of life from now on. You have already put + fresh blood into my veins—I haven't felt so well for weeks. Now tell + me about yourself. Your last letter reached me six months ago, if I + remember right. You were then in Rio and were going up into the mountains. + Did you go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—up into the Rio Abaste country where they had discovered + diamonds as big as hens' eggs—one had been sold for nearly a quarter + of a million dollars—and everybody was crazy. I didn't find any + diamonds nor anything else but starvation, so I herded cattle, that being + the only thing I knew anything about—how to ride—and slept out + on the lowlands sometimes under a native mat and sometimes under the + kindly stars. Then we had a revolution and cattle raids, and one night I + came pretty near being chewed up by a puma—and so it went. I made a + little money in rawhides after I got to know the natives, and I'm going + back to make some more; and you are going with me when we get things + straightened out. I wouldn't have come home except that I heard you had + been turned out neck and crop from Kennedy Square. One of Mr. Seymour's + clerks stopped in Rio on his way to the River Plate and did some business + with an English agent whom I met afterward at a hacienda, and who told me + about you when he learned I was from Kennedy Square. And when I think of + it all, Uncle George, and what you have suffered on account of me!”—Here + his voice faltered. “No!—I won't talk about it—I can't. I have + spent too many sleepless nights over it: I have been hungry and half dead, + but I have kept on—and I am not through: I'll pull out yet and put + you on your feet once more if I live!” + </p> + <p> + St. George laid his hand tenderly on the young man's wrist. He knew how + the boy felt about it. That was one of the things he loved him for. + </p> + <p> + “And so you started home when you heard it,” he went on, clearing his + throat. “That was just like you, you dear fellow! And you haven't come + home an hour too soon. I should have been measured for a pine coffin in + another week.” The choke was quite in evidence now. “You see, I really + couldn't go to Coston's when I thought it all over. I had made up my mind + to go for a week or so until I saw this place, and then I determined I + would stop with Jemima. I could eke out an existence here on what I had + left and still feel like a gentleman, but I couldn't settle down on dear + Peggy Coston and be anything but a poltroon. As to my making a living at + the law—that was pure moonshine. I haven't opened a law book for + twenty years and now it's too late. People of our class”—here he + looked away from his companion and talked straight at the foot of the bed—“People + of our class my boy,” he repeated slowly—“when they reach the neck + and crop period you spoke of, are at the end of their rope. There are then + but two things left—either to become the inmate of a poorhouse or to + become a sponge. I prefer this bare room as a happy medium, and I am + content to stay where I am as long as we three can keep body and soul + together. There is—so Pawson told me before I left my house—a + little money coming in from a ground rent—a few months off, perhaps, + but more than enough to pay Todd back—he gives Jemima every cent of + his wages—and when this does come in and I can get out once more, + I'm going to order my life so I can make a respectable showing of some + kind.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment, fastened his gaze again on Harry, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “As to my going back to Pawson's, I am not altogether sure that that is + the wisest thing to do. I may have to leave again as soon as I get + comfortably settled in my bed. I turned out at his bidding before and may + have to turn again when he says the word. So don't kindle too many fires + with Pawson's wood—I hadn't a log to my name when I left—or it + may warm somebody's else's shins besides mine,” and a merry twinkle shone + in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Harry burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Wood or no wood, Uncle George, I'm going to be landlord now—Pawson + can move out and graze his cattle somewhere else. I'm going to take charge + of the hut and stock and the pack mules and provisions—and with a + gun, if necessary—” and he levelled an imaginary fowling-piece with + a boyish gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you try to move anybody without an order of the court!” cried St. + George, joining in the merriment. “With that mortgage hanging over + everything and Gorsuch and your father cudgelling their brains to + foreclose it, you won't have a ghost of a chance. Come to think of it, + however, I might help—for a few weeks' expenses, at least. How would + this do?” Here he had all he could do to straighten his face: “'Attention + now—Hats off in the court-room. For sale or hire! Immediate + delivery. One first-class gentleman, in reasonable repair. Could be made + useful in opening and shutting doors, or in dancing attendance upon + children under one year of age, or in keeping flies from bedridden folk. + Apply, and so forth,' Gadgem could fix it. He has done the most marvellous + things in the last year or two—extraordinary, really! Ask Todd about + it some time—he'll tell you.” + </p> + <p> + They were both roaring with laughter, St. George so buoyed up by the + contagious spirit of the young fellow that he insisted on getting out of + bed and sitting in Aunt Jemima's rocking chair with a blanket across his + knees. + </p> + <p> + All the morning did this happy talk go on:—the joyous unconfined + talk of two men who had hungered and thirsted for each other through weary + bitter days and nights, and whose coming together was like the mingling of + two streams long kept apart, and now one great river flowing to a common + outlet and a common good. + </p> + <p> + And not only did their talk cover the whole range of Harry's experiences + from the time he left the ship for his sojourn in the hill country and the + mountains beyond, and all of St. George's haps and mishaps, with every + single transaction of Gadgem and Pawson—loving cup, dogs and all—but + when their own personal news was exhausted they both fell back on their + friends, such as Richard Horn and old Judge Pancoast; when he had seen Mr. + Kennedy and Mr. Latrobe—yes, and what of Mr. Poe—had he + written any more?—and were his habits any better?—etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Mr. Poe several times since that unfortunate dinner, Harry; + the last time when he was good enough to call upon me on his way to + Richmond. He was then particularly himself. You would not have known him—grave, + dignified, perfectly dressed—charming, delightful. He came in quite + late—indeed I was going to bed when I heard his knock and, Todd + being out, I opened the door myself. There was some of that Black Warrior + left, and I brought out the decanter, but he shook his head courteously + and continued his talk. He asked after you. Wonderful man, Harry—a + man you never forget once you know him.” + </p> + <p> + St. George dragged the pine table nearer his chair and moistened his lips + with the glass of milk which Jemima had set beside him. Then he went on: + </p> + <p> + “You remember Judge Giles, do you not? Lives here on St. Paul Street—yes—of + course you do—for he is a great friend of your father's and you must + have met him repeatedly at Moorlands. Well, one day at the club he told me + the most extraordinary story about Mr. Poe—this was some time after + you'd gone. It seems that the judge was at work in his study late one + snowy night when his doorbell sounded. Outside stood a man with his coat + buttoned close about his throat—evidently a gentleman—who + asked him politely for a sheet of paper and a pen. You know the judge, and + how kind and considerate he is. Well, of course he asked him in, drew out + a chair at his desk and stepped into the next room to leave him + undisturbed. After a time, not hearing him move, he looked in and to his + surprise the stranger had disappeared. On the desk lay a sheet of paper on + which was written three verses of a poem. It was his 'Bells.' The judge + has had them framed, so I hear. There was enough snow on the ground to + bring out the cutters, and Poe had the rhythm of the bells ringing in his + head and being afraid he would forget it he pulled the judge's doorbell. I + wish he'd rung mine. I must get the poem for you, Harry—it's as + famous now as 'The Raven.' Richard, I hear, reads it so that you can + distinguish the sound of each bell.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he taught me a lesson,” said Harry, tucking the blanket close + around his uncle's knees—“one I have never forgotten, and never + will. He sent me to bed a wreck, I remember, but I got up the next morning + with a new mast in me and all my pumps working.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” and St. George smiled meaningly and tossed his hand up + as if emptying a glass. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—just that—” rejoined Harry with a nod. “It's so hot out + where I have been that a glass of native rum is as bad as a snake bite and + everybody except a native leaves it alone. But if I had gone to the North + Pole instead of the equator I would have done the same. Men like you and + father, and Mr. Richard Horn and Mr. Kennedy, who have been brought up on + moderation, may feel as they choose about it, but I'm going to let it + alone. It's the devil when it gets into your blood and mine's not made for + it. I'd like to thank Mr. Poe if I dared, which I wouldn't, of course, if + I ever saw him, for what he did for me. I wouldn't be surprised if he + would give a good deal himself to do the same—or has he pulled out?” + </p> + <p> + “He never has pulled in, Harry—not continuously. Richard has the + right of it. Poe is a man pursued by a devil and lives always on the watch + to prevent the fiend from getting the best of him. Months at a time he + wins and then there comes a day when the devil gets on top. He says + himself—he told me this the last time I saw him—that he really + lives a life devoted to his literary work; that he shuts himself up from + everybody; and that the desire for society only comes upon him when he's + excited by drink. Then, and only then, does he go among his fellows. There + is some truth in that, my son, for as long as I have known him I have + never seen him in his cups except that one night at my house. A courteous, + well-bred gentleman, my boy—most punctilious about all his + obligations and very honest about his failings. All he said to me the next + day when he sobered up—I kept him all that night, you remember—was: + 'I was miserably weak and inexcusably drunk last night, Mr. Temple. If + that was all it would make no difference; I have been very drunk before, + and I will be very drunk again; but in addition to my being drunk I + insulted you and your friends and ruined your dinner. That makes every + difference. Don't let it cause a break between us. Let me come again. And + now please brush it from your mind. If you knew how I suffer over this + fiend who tortures and gloats over me you'd only have the greatest pity + for me, in your heart.' Then he wrung my hand and left the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all any of us could do,” sighed Harry, leaning back in his + chair, his eyes on the ceiling. “It makes some difference, however, of + whom you ask forgiveness. I've been willing to say the same kind of thing + to my father ever since my affair with Mr. Willits, but it would have + fallen on deaf ears. I had another trial at it yesterday, and you know + what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think your father knew you, Harry,” protested St. George, with a + negative wave of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I hope he didn't—I shouldn't like to think he did. But, by heaven! + it broke my heart to see him, Uncle George. You would hardly know him. + Even his voice has changed and the shade over his eyes and the way he + twists his head when he looks at you really gave me a creepy feeling,” and + the young man passed his fingers across his own eyes as if to shut out + some hideous object. + </p> + <p> + “Was he looking straight at you when he ordered you from the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Straight as he could.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us try and think it was the beard. And that reminds me, son, + that it's got to come off, and right away. When Todd comes in he'll find + my razors and—” + </p> + <p> + “No—I'll look up a barber.” + </p> + <p> + “Not down in this part of the town,” exclaimed St. George with a + suggestive grimace. + </p> + <p> + “No—I'll go up to Guy's. There used to be an old negro there who + looked after us young fellows when our beards began to sprout. He'll take + care of it all right. While I'm out I'll stop and send Todd back. I'm + going to end his apprenticeship to-day, and so he'll help you dress. + Nothing like getting into your clothes when you're well enough to get out + of bed; I've done it more than once,” and with a pat on his uncle's + shoulder and the readjustment of the blanket, he closed the door behind + him and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is working fine, auntie,” he cried gaily as he passed the old + woman who was hanging out the last of her wash. “I'll be back in an hour. + Don't tell him yet—” and he strode out of the yard on his way + uptown. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Intruders of all kinds had thrust their heads between the dripping, + slightly moist, and wholly dry installments of Aunt Jemima's Monday wash, + and each and every one had been assailed by a vocabulary hurled at them + through the creaky gate, and as far out as the street—peddlers; + beggars; tramps; loose darkies with no visible means of support, who had + smelt the cooking in the air—even goats with an acquired taste for + stocking legs and window curtains—all of whom had either been + invited out, whirled out, or thrown out, dependent upon the damage + inflicted, the size of the favors asked, or the length of space + intervening between Jemima's right arm and their backs. In all of these + instances the old cook had been the broom and the intruders the dust. + Being an expert in its use the intruders had succumbed before they had + gotten through their first sentence. In the case of the goat even that + privilege was denied him; it was the handle and not the brush-part which + ended the argument. To see Aunt Jemima get rid of a goat in one whack and + two jumps was not only a lesson in condensed conversation, but furnished a + sight one rarely forgot—the goat never! + </p> + <p> + This morning the situation was reversed. It was Aunt Jemima who came + flying upstairs, her eyes popping from her head, her plump hands flattened + against her big, heaving bosom, her breath gone in the effort to tell her + dreadful news before she should drop dead. + </p> + <p> + “Marse George! who d'ye think's downstairs?” she gasped, bursting in the + door of his bedroom, without even the customary tap. “Oh, bless Gawd! dat + you'se outen dat bed! and dressed and tryin' yo' po' legs about the room. + He's comin' up. Got a man wid him I ain't neber see befo'. Says he's + a-lookin' fer somebody! Git in de closet an' I'll tell him you'se out an' + den I'll run an' watch for Marse Harry at de gate. Oh, I doan' like dis + yere bus'ness,” and she began to wring her hands. + </p> + <p> + St. George, who had been listening to the old woman with mingled feelings + of wonder and curiosity, raised his hand to silence her. Whether she had + gone daft or was more than usually excited he could not for the moment + decide. + </p> + <p> + “Get your breath, Jemima, and tell me what you're talking about. Who's + downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't I jes' don' tol' yer? Got a look on him make ye shiver all over; + says he's gwineter s'arch de house. He's got a constable wid him—dat + is, he's got a man dat looks like a constable, an'—” + </p> + <p> + St. George laid his hands on the old woman's shoulders, and turned her + about. + </p> + <p> + “Hush your racket this instant, and tell me who is downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Marse Talbot Rutter,” she wheezed; “come f'om de country—got mud + all ober his boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harry's father?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Jemima choked and nodded: there was no breath left for more. + </p> + <p> + “Who did he ask for?” St. George was calm enough now. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't ask fer nobody; he say, 'I'm lookin' fer a man dat come in yere + las' night.' I see he didn't know me an' I neber let on. Den he say, 'Hab + you got any boa'ders yere?' an' I say, 'I got one,' an' den he 'tempted + ter pass me an' I say, 'Wait a minute 'til I see ef he's outen de bed.' + Now, what's I gwineter do? He doan' mean no good to Marse Harry an' he'll + dribe him 'way ag'in, an' he jes' come back an' you gittin' well a-lovin' + of him—an'—” + </p> + <p> + An uncertain step was heard in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Dat's him,” Jemima whispered hoarsely, behind her hand, “what'll I do? + Doan' let him come in. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + St. George moved past her and pushed back the door. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Rutter stood outside. + </p> + <p> + The two men looked into each other's faces. + </p> + <p> + “I am in search, sir,” the colonel began, shading his eyes with his + fingers, the brighter light of the room weakening his sight, “for a young + sailor whom I am informed stopped here last night, and who... ST. GEORGE! + What in the name of God are you doing in a place like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Come inside, Talbot,” Temple replied calmly, his eyes fixed on Rutter's + drawn face and faltering gaze. “Aunt Jemima, hand Colonel Rutter a chair. + You will excuse me if I sit down—I am just out of bed after a long + illness, and am a little weak,” and he settled slowly into his seat. “My + servant tells me that you are looking for a—” + </p> + <p> + St. George paused. Rutter was paying no more attention to what he said + than if he had been in the next room. He was straining his eyes about the + apartment; taking in the empty bed from which St. George had just arisen, + the cheap chairs and small pine table and the kitchen plates and cup which + still held the remains of St. George's breakfast. He waited until Jemima + had backed out of the door, her scared face still a tangle of emotions—fear + for her master's safety uppermost. His eyes again veered to St. George. + </p> + <p> + “What does it all mean, Temple?” he asked in a dazed way. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that subject is under discussion, Talbot, and we will, + therefore, pass it. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a damned fool, St. George! Don't you see I'm half crazy? Harry + has come back and he is hiding somewhere in this neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” he inquired coolly. He did not intend to help Rutter + one iota in his search until he found out why he wanted Harry. No more + cursing of either his son or himself—that was another chapter which + was closed. + </p> + <p> + “Because I've been hunting for him all day. He rode out to Moorlands + yesterday, and I didn't know him, he's so changed. But think of it! St. + George, I ordered him out of my office. I took him for a road-peddler. And + he's going to sea again—he told Alec as much. I tell you I have got + to get hold of him! Don't sit there and stare at me, man! tell me where I + can find my son!” + </p> + <p> + “What made you suppose he was here, Talbot?” The same cool, measured + speech and manner, but with a more open mind behind it now. The pathetic + aspect of the man, and the acute suffering shown in every tone of his + voice, had begun to tell upon the invalid. + </p> + <p> + “Because a man I've got downstairs brought Harry here last night. He is + not positive, as it was quite dark, but he thinks this is the place. I + went first to the Barkeley Line, found they had a ship in—the + Mohican—and saw the captain, who told me of a man who came aboard at + Rio. Then I learned where he had put up for the night—a low sailors' + retreat—and found this peddler who said he had sold Harry the silks + which he offered me. He brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't help you any. There are only two rooms—I occupy this + and my old cook, Jemima, has the other. I have been here for over a + month.” + </p> + <p> + “Here! in this God-forsaken place! Why, we thought you had gone to + Virginia. That's why we have had no answers to our letters, and we've + hunted high and low for you. Certainly you have heard about the Patapsco + and what—” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly have heard nothing, Talbot, and as I have just told you, I'd + rather you would not discuss my affairs. The last time you saw fit to + encroach upon them brought only bitterness, and I prefer not to repeat it. + Anything you have to say about Harry I will gladly hear. Go on—I'm + listening.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, St. George, don't take that tone with me! If you knew how + wretched I am you'd be sorry for me. I am a broken-down man! If Harry goes + away again without my seeing him I don't want to live another day. When + Alec came running back last night and told me that I had cursed my son to + his face, I nearly went out of my mind. I knew when I saw Alec's anger + that it was true, and I knew, too, what a brute I had been. I ran to + Annie's room, took her in my arms, and asked her pardon. All night I + walked my room; at daylight I rang for Alec, sent for Matthew, and he + hooked up the carryall and we came in here. Annie wanted to come with me, + but I wouldn't let her. I knew Seymour wasn't out of bed that early, and + so I drove straight to the shipping office and waited until it was open, + and I've been hunting for him ever since. You and I have been boys + together, St. George—don't lay up against me all the insulting + things I've said to you—all the harm I've done you! God knows I've + repented of it! Will you forgive me, St. George, for the sake of the old + days—for the sake of my boy to whom you have been a father? Will you + give me your hand? What in the name of common sense should you and I be + enemies for? I, who owe you more than I owe any man in the world! Will you + help me?” + </p> + <p> + St. George was staring now. He bent forward, gripped the arms of his chair + for a better purchase, and lifted himself to his feet. There he stood + swaying, Rutter's outstretched hand in both of his, his whole nature + stirred—only one thought in his heart—to wipe out the past and + bring father and son together. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Talbot—I'll forgive you and I'll help you—I have helped + you! Harry will be here in a few minutes—I sent him out to get his + beard shaved off—that's why you didn't know him.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel reeled and but for St. George's hand would have lost his + balance. All the blood was gone from his cheeks. He tried to speak, but + the lips refused to move. For an instant St. George thought he would sink + to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “You say—Harry... is here!” he stammered out at last, catching + wildly at Temple's other hand to steady himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he came across Todd by the merest accident or he would have gone to + the Eastern Shore to look me up. Listen!—that's his step now! Turn + that door knob and hold out your hands to him, and after you've got your + arms around him get down on your knees and thank your God that you've got + such a son! I do, every hour I live!” + </p> + <p> + The door swung wide and Harry strode in: his eyes glistening, his cheeks + aglow. + </p> + <p> + “Up, are you, and in your clothes!” he cried joyfully, all the freshness + of the morning in his voice. “Well, that's something like! How do you like + me now?—smooth as a marlinspike and my hair trimmed in the latest + fashion, so old Bones says. He didn't know me either till he got clear + down below my mouth and when my chin began to show he gave a—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and stared at his father, who had been hidden from sight by the + swinging door. The surprise was so great that his voice clogged in his + throat. Rutter stood like one who had seen an apparition. + </p> + <p> + St. George broke the silence: + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Harry—give your father your hand.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel made a step forward, threw out one arm as if to regain his + equilibrium and swayed toward a chair, his frame shaking convulsively, + wholly unstrung, sobbing like a child. Harry sprang to catch him and the + two sank down together—no word of comfort—only the mute appeal + of touch—the brown hand wet with his father's tears. + </p> + <p> + For some seconds neither spoke, then Rutter raised his head and looked + into his son's face. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know it was you, Harry. I have been hunting you all day to ask + your pardon.” It was the memory of the last indignity he had heaped upon + him that tortured him. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you didn't, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't go away again, Harry, please don't, my son!” he pleaded, strangling + the tears, trying to regain his self-control—tears had often of late + moistened Rutter's lids. “Your mother can't stand it another year, and I'm + breaking up—half blind. You won't go, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not right away, father—we'll talk of that later.” He was + still in the dark as to how it had come about. All he knew was that for + the first time in all his life his father had asked his pardon, and for + the first time in his life the barrier which held them apart had been + broken down. + </p> + <p> + The colonel braced himself in his seat in one supreme effort to get + himself in hand. One of his boasts was that he had never lost his + self-control. Harry rose to his feet and stood beside him. St. George, + trembling from his own weakness, a great throb of thankfulness in his + heart, had kept his place in his chair, his eyes turned away from the + scene. His own mind had also undergone a change. He had always known that + somewhere down in Talbot Rutter's heart—down underneath the strata + of pride and love of power, there could be found the heart of a father—indeed + he had often predicted to himself just such a coming together. It was the + boy's pluck and manliness that had done it; a manliness free from all + truckling or cringing. And then his tenderness over the man who had of all + others in the world wronged him most! He could hardly keep his glad hands + off the boy. + </p> + <p> + “You will go home with me, of course, won't you, Harry?” He must ask his + consent now—this son of his whom he had driven from his home and + insulted in the presence of his friends at the club, and whom he could see + was now absolutely independent of him—and what was more to the point + absolutely his own master. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, I'll go home with you, father,” came the respectful + answer, “if mother isn't coming in. Did she or Alec say anything to you + about it before you left?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she isn't coming in to-day—I wouldn't let her. It was too early + when I started. But that's not what I mean,” he went on with increasing + excitement. “I want you to go home with me and stay forever; I want to + forget the past; I want St. George to hear me say so! Come and take your + place at the head of the estate—I will have Gorsuch arrange the + papers to-morrow. You and St. George must go back with me to-day. I have + the large carryall—Matthew is with me—he stopped at the corner—he's + there now.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very kind of you, father,” Harry rejoined calmly, concealing as + best he could his disappointment at not being able to see his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! of course you will go with me,” his father continued in nervous, + jerky tones. “Please send the servant for Matthew, my coachman, and have + him drive up. As for you, St. George, you can't stay here another hour. + How you ever got here is more than I can understand. Moorlands is the + place for you both—you'll get well there. My carriage is a very easy + one. Perhaps I had better go for Matthew myself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, don't move, Talbot,” rejoined St. George in a calm firm voice + wondering at Talbot's manner. He had never seen him like this. All his + old-time measured talk and manner were gone; he was like some breathless, + hunted man pleading for his life. “I'm very grateful to you but I shall + stay here. Harry, will you kindly go for Matthew?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay here!—for how long?” cried the colonel in astonishment, his + glance following Harry as he left the room in obedience to his uncle's + request. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps for the balance of the winter.” + </p> + <p> + “In this hole?” His voice had grown stronger. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, why not?” replied St. George simply, moving his chair so that + his guest might see him the better. “My servants are taking care of me. I + can pay my way here, and it's about the only place in which I can pay it, + and I want to tell you frankly, Talbot, that I am very happy to be here—am + very glad, really, to get such a place. No one could be more devoted than + my Todd and Jemima—I shall never forget their kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not a pauper?” cried the colonel in some heat. + </p> + <p> + “That was what you were once good enough to call me—the last time we + met. The only change is that then I owed Pawson and that now I owe Todd,” + he replied, trying to repress a smile, as if the humor of the situation + would overcome him if he was not careful. “Thank you very much, Talbot—and + I mean every word of it—but I'll stay where I am, at least for the + present.” + </p> + <p> + “But the bank is on its legs again,” rebounded the colonel, ignoring all + reference to the past, his voice gaining in volume. + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” laughed St. George, tapping his lean thighs with his + transparent fingers—“on a very shaky pair of legs—so shaky + that I shall have to go to bed again pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're coming out all right, St. George!” Rutter had squared himself + in his chair and was now looking straight at his host. “Gorsuch has + written you half a dozen letters about it and not a word from you in + reply. Now I see why. But all that will come out in time, I tell you. + You're not going to stay here for an hour longer.” His old personality was + beginning to assert itself. + </p> + <p> + “The future doesn't interest me, Talbot,” smiled St. George in perfect + good humor. “In my experience my future has always been worse than my + past.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is no reason why you shouldn't go home with me now and let us + take care of you,” Rutter cried in a still more positive tone. “Annie will + be delighted. Stay a month with me—stay a year. After what I owe + you, St. George, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have already done it, Talbot—every obligation is wiped out,” + rejoined St. George in a satisfied tone. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By coming here and asking Harry's pardon—that is more to me than + all the things I have ever possessed,” and his voice broke as he thought + of the change that had taken place in Harry's fortunes in the last half + hour. + </p> + <p> + “Then come out to Moorlands and let me prove it!” exclaimed the colonel, + leaning forward in his eagerness and grasping St. George by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied St. George in appreciative but positive tones—showing + his mind was fully made up. “If I go anywhere I'll go back to my house on + Kennedy Square—that is to the little of it that is still mine. I'll + stay there for a day or two, to please Harry—or until they turn me + out again, and then I'll come back here. Change of air may do me good, and + besides, Jemima and Todd should get a rest.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel rose to his feet: “You shall do no such thing!” he exploded. + The old dominating air was in full swing now. “I tell you you WILL come + with me! Damn you, St. George!—if you don't I'll never speak to you + again, so help me, God!” + </p> + <p> + St. George threw back his head and burst into a roar of laughter in which, + after a moment of angry hesitation, Rutter joined. Then he reached down + and with his hand on St. George's shoulder, said in a coaxing tone—“Come + along to Moorlands, old fellow—I'd be so glad to have you, and so + will Annie, and we'll live over the old days.” + </p> + <p> + Harry's re-entrance cut short the answer. + </p> + <p> + “No father,” he cried cheerily, taking up the refrain. He had seen the + friendly caress and had heard the last sentence. “Uncle George is still + too ill, and too weak for so long a drive. It's only the excitement over + my return that keeps him up now—and he'll collapse if we don't look + out—but he'll collapse in a better place than this!” he added with + joyous emphasis. “Todd is outside, the hack is at the gate, and Jemima is + now waiting for him in his old room at home. Give me your arm, you blessed + old cripple, and let me help you downstairs. Out of the way, father, or + he'll change his mind and I'll have to pick him up bodily and carry him.” + </p> + <p> + St. George shot a merry glance at Harry from under his eyebrows, and with + a wave of his hand and a deprecating shake of his head at the colonel + said: + </p> + <p> + “These rovers and freebooters, Talbot, have so lorded it over their serfs + that they've lost all respect for their betters. Give me your hand, you + vagabond, and if you break my neck I'll make you bury me.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel looked on silently and a sharp pain gripped his throat. When, + in all his life, had he ever been spoken to by his boy in that spirit, and + when in all his life had he ever seen that same tenderness in Harry's + eyes? What had he not missed? + </p> + <p> + “Harry, may I make a suggestion?” he asked almost apologetically. The + young fellow turned his head in respectful attention: “Put St. George in + my carriage—it is much more comfortable—and let me drive him + home—my eyes are quite good in the daytime, after I get used to the + light, and I am still able to take the road. Then put your servant and + mine in the hack with St. George's and your own luggage.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital idea!” cried Harry enthusiastically “I never thought of it! + Attention company! Eyes to the front, Mr. Temple! You'll now remain on + waiting orders until I give you permission to move, and as this may take + some time—please hold on to him, father, until I get his chair” + (they were already out on the landing—on the very plank where Harry + had passed the night) “you'll go back to your quarters... Here sir, these + are your quarters,” and Harry dragged the chair into position with his + foot. “Down with you... that's it... and you will stay here until the + baggage and hospital train arrives, when you'll occupy a front seat in the + van—and there will be no grumbling or lagging behind of any kind, + remember, or you'll get ten days in the calaboose!” + </p> + <p> + Pawson was on the curbstone, his face shining, his semaphore arms and legs + in action, his eyes searching the distance, when the two vehicles came in + sight. He had heard the day boat was very late, and as there had been a + heavy fog over night, did not worry about the delay in their arrival. + </p> + <p> + What troubled him more was the change in Mr. Temple's appearance. He had + gone away ruddy, erect, full of vigor and health, and here he was being + helped out of the carriage, pale, shriveled, his eyes deep set in his + head. His voice, though, was still strong if his legs were shaky, and + there seemed also to be no diminution in the flow of his spirits. Wesley + had kept that part of him intact whatever changes the climate had made. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Pawson—glad to see you!” the invalid called gaily extending his + hand as soon as he stood erect on the sidewalk. “Back again, you see—these + old derelicts bob up once in a while when you least expect them.” And he + wrung his hand heartily. “So the vultures, it seems, have not turned up + yet and made their roost in my nest. Most kind of you to stay home and + give up your business to meet me! You know Colonel Talbot Rutter, of + Moorlands, I presume, and Mr. Harry Rutter—Of course you do! Harry + has told me all about your midnight meeting when you took him for a + constable, and he took you for a thief. No—please don't laugh, + Pawson—Mr. Rutter is the worst kind of a thief. Not only has he + stolen my heart because of his goodness to me, but he threatens to make + off with my body. Give me your hand, Todd. Now a little lift on that + rickety elbow and I reckon we can make that flight of steps. I have come + down them so many times of late with no expectation of ever mounting them + again that it will be a novelty to be sure of staying over night. Come in, + Talbot, and see the home of my ancestors. I am sorry the Black Warrior is + all gone—I sent Kennedy the last bottle some time ago—pity + that vintage didn't last forever. Do you know, Talbot, if I had my way, + I'd have a special spigot put in the City Spring labelled 'Gift of a once + prominent citizen,' and supply the inhabitants with 1810—something + fit for a gentleman to drink.” + </p> + <p> + They were all laughing now; the colonel carrying the pillows Todd had + tucked behind the invalid's back, Harry a few toilet articles wrapped in + paper, and Matthew his cane—and so the cortege crawled up the steps, + crossed the dismantled dining-room—the colonel aghast at the change + made in its interior since last he saw it—and so on to St. George's + room where Todd and Jemima put him to bed. + </p> + <p> + His uncle taken care of—(his father had kept on to Moorlands to tell + his mother the good news)—Harry mounted the stairs to his old room, + which Pawson had generously vacated. + </p> + <p> + The appointments were about the same as when he left; time and poverty had + wrought but few changes. Pawson, had moved in a few books and there was a + night table beside the small bed with a lamp on it, showing that he read + late; but the bureau and shabby arm-chair, and the closet, stripped now of + the young attorney's clothes to make room for the wanderer's—(a + scant, sorry lot)—were pretty much the same as Harry had found on + that eventful night when he had driven in through the rain and storm + beside his Uncle George, his father's anathemas ringing in his ears. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously his mind went back to the events of the day;—more + especially to his uncle's wonderful vitality and the blissful change his + own home-coming had wrought not only in his physique, but in his spirits. + Then his father's shattered form, haggard face, and uncertain glance rose + before him, and with it came the recollection of all that had happened + during the previous hours: his father's brutal outburst in the small + office and the marvellous effect produced upon him when he learned the + truth from Alec's lips; his hurried departure in the gray dawn for the + ship and his tracing him to Jemima's house. More amazing still was his + present bearing toward himself and St. George; his deference to their + wishes and his willingness to follow and not lead. Was it his ill-health + that had brought about this astounding reformation in a man who brooked no + opposition?—or had his heart really softened toward him so that from + this on he could again call him father in the full meaning of the term? At + this a sudden, acute pain wrenched his heart. Perhaps he had not been glad + enough to see him—perhaps in his anxiety over his uncle he had + failed in those little tendernesses which a returned prodigal should have + shown the father who had held out his arms and asked his forgiveness. Why + was he not more affected by the sight of his suffering. When he first saw + his uncle he had not been able to keep the tears back—and yet his + eyes were dry enough when he saw his father. At this he fell to wondering + as to the present condition of the colonel's mind. What was he thinking of + in that lonely drive. He must be nearing Moorlands by this time and Alec + would meet him, and later the dear mother—and the whole story would + be told. He could see her glad face—her eyes streaming tears, her + heart throbbing with the joy of his return. + </p> + <p> + And it is a great pity he could not have thus looked in upon the autocrat + of Moorlands as he sat hunched up on the back seat of the carryall, his + head bowed, the only spoken words being Matthew's cheery hastening of his + horses. And it is even a greater pity that the son could not have searched + as well the secret places of the man's heart: such clearings out of doubts + and misgivings make for peace and good fellowship and righteousness in + this world of misunderstanding. + </p> + <p> + That a certain rest had come into Rutter's soul could be seen in his face—a + peace that had not settled on his features for years—but, if the + truth must be told, he was far from happy. Somehow the joy he had + anticipated at the boy's home-coming had not been realized. With the + warmth of Harry's grasp still lingering in his own and the tones of his + voice still sounding in his ears, try as he might, he yet felt aloof from + him—outside—far off. Something had snapped in the years they + had been apart—something he knew could never be repaired. Where + there had once been boyish love there was now only filial regard. Down in + his secret soul he felt it—down in his secret soul he knew it! Worse + than that—another had replaced him! “Come, you dear old cripple!”—he + could hear the voice and see the love and joy in the boy's eyes as he + shouted it out. Yes, St. George was his father now! + </p> + <p> + Then his mind reverted to his former treatment of his son and for the + hundredth time he reviewed his side of the case. What else could he have + done and still maintain the standards of his ancestors?—the + universal question around Kennedy Square, when obligations of blood and + training were to be considered. After all it had only been an object + lesson; he had fully intended to forgive him later on. When Harry was a + boy he punished him as boys were punished; when he became a man he + punished him as men were punished. But for St. George the plan would long + since have worked. St. George had balked him twice—once at the club + and once at his home in Kennedy Square, when he practically ordered him + from the house. + </p> + <p> + And yet he could not but admit—and at this he sat bolt upright in + his seat—that even according to his own high standards both St. + George and Harry had measured up to them! Rather than touch another penny + of his uncle's money Harry had become an exile; rather than accept a penny + from his enemy, St. George had become a pauper. With this view of the case + fermenting in his mind—and he had not realized the extent of both + sacrifices until that moment—a feeling of pride swept through him. + It was HIS BOY and HIS FRIEND, who had measured up!—by suffering, by + bodily weakness—by privation—by starvation! And both had + manfully and cheerfully stood the test! It was the blood of the DeRuyters + which had put courage into the boy; it was the blood of the cavaliers that + had made Temple the man he was. And that old DeRuyter blood! How it had + told in every glance of his son's eyes and every intonation of his voice! + If he had not accumulated a fortune he would—and that before many + years were gone. But!—and here a chill went through him. Would not + this still further separate them, and if it did how could he restore in + the shortest possible time the old dependence and the old confidence? His + efforts so far had met with almost a rebuff, for Harry had shown no + particular pleasure when he told him of his intention to put him in charge + of the estate: he had watched his face closely for a sign of satisfaction, + but none had come. He had really seemed more interested in getting St. + George downstairs than in being the fourth heir of Moorlands—indeed, + it was very evident that he had no thought for anybody or anything except + St. George. + </p> + <p> + All this the son might have known could he have sat by his father in the + carryall on this way to Moorlands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + The sudden halting of two vehicles close to the horse-block of the Temple + Mansion—one an aristocratic carryall driven by a man in livery, and + the other a dilapidated city hack in charge of a negro in patched overcoat + and whitey-brown hat, the discharge of their inmates, one of whom was + Colonel Talbot Rutter of Moorlands carrying two pillows, and another a + strange young man loaded down with blankets—the slow disembarking of + a gentleman in so wretched a state of health that he was practically + carried up the front steps by his body-servant, and the subsequent arrival + of Dr. Teackle on the double quick—was a sight so unusual in and + around peaceful Kennedy Square that it is not surprising that all sorts of + reports—most of them alarming—reached the club long before St. + George had been comfortably tucked away in bed. + </p> + <p> + Various versions were afloat: “St. George was back from Wesley with a + touch of chills and fever—” “St. George was back from Wesley with a + load of buckshot in his right arm—” “St. George had broken his + collar-bone riding to hounds—” etc. + </p> + <p> + Richard Horn was the first to spring to his feet—it was the + afternoon hour and the club was full—and cross the Square on the + run, followed by Clayton, Bowman, and two or three others. These, with one + accord, banged away on the knocker, only to be met by Dr. Teackle, who + explained that there was nothing seriously the matter with Mr. Temple, + except an attack of foolhardiness in coming up the bay when he should have + stayed in bed—but even that should cause his friends no uneasiness, + as he was still as tough as a lightwood knot, and bubbling over with good + humor; all he needed was rest, and that he must have—so please + everybody come to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + By the next morning the widening of ripples caused by the dropping of a + high-grade invalid into the still pool of Kennedy Square, spread with such + force and persistency that one wavelet overflowed Kate's dressing-room. + Indeed, it came in with Mammy Henny and her coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Marse George home, honey—Ben done see Todd. Got a mis'ry in his + back dat bad it tuk two gemmens to tote him up de steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle George home, and ill!” + </p> + <p> + That was enough for Kate. She didn't want any coffee—she didn't want + any toast or muffins, or hominy—she wanted her shoes and stockings + and—Yes everything, and quick!—and would Mammy Henny call Ben + and send him right away to Mr. Temple's and find out how her dear Uncle + George had passed the night, and give him her dearest love and tell him + she would come right over to see him the moment she could get into her + clothes; and could she send anything for him to eat; and did the doctor + think it was dangerous—? Yes—and Ben must keep on to Dr. + Teackle's and find out if it was dangerous—and say to him that Miss + Seymour wanted to know IMMEDIATELY, and—(Here the poor child lost + her breath, she was dressing all the time, Mammy Henny's fingers and ears + doing their best) “and tell Mr. Temple, too,” she rushed on, “that he must + send word by Ben for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING he needed” (strong accent on + the two words)... all of which was repeated through the crack of the door + to patient Ben when he presented himself, with the additional assurance + that he must tell Mr. Temple it wouldn't be five minutes before she would + be with him—as she was nearly dressed, all but her hair. + </p> + <p> + She was right about her good intentions, but she was wrong about the + number of minutes necessary to carry them out. There was her morning gown + to button, and her gaiters to lace, and her hair to be braided and caught + up in her neck (she always wore it that way in the morning) and the + dearest of snug bonnets—a “cabriolet” from Paris—a sort of + hood, stiffened with wires, out of which peeped pink rosebuds quite as + they do from a trellis—had to be put on, and the white strings tied + “just so”—the bows flaring out and the long ends smoothed flat; and + then the lace cape and scarf and her parasol;—all these and a dozen + other little niceties had to be adjusted before she could trip down her + father's stairs and out of her father's swinging gate and on through the + park to her dear Uncle George. + </p> + <p> + But when she did—and it took her all of an hour—nothing that + the morning sun shone on was quite as lovely, and no waft of air so + refreshing or so welcome as our beloved heroine when she burst in upon + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—you dear, DEAR thing!” she cried, tossing her parasol on + Pawson's table and stretching out her arms toward him sitting in his + chair. “Oh, I am so sorry! Why didn't you let me know you were ill? I + would have gone down to Wesley. Oh!—I KNEW something was the matter + with you or you would have answered my letters.” + </p> + <p> + He had struggled to his feet at the first sound of her footsteps in the + hall, and had her in his arms long before she had finished her greeting;—indeed + her last sentence was addressed to the collar of his coat against which + her cheek was cushioned. + </p> + <p> + “Who said I was ill?” he asked with one of his bubbling laughs when he got + his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Todd told Ben—and you ARE!—and it breaks my heart.” She was + holding herself off now, scanning his pale face and shrunken frame—“Oh, + I am so sorry you did not let me know!” + </p> + <p> + “Todd is a chatterer, and Ben no better; I've only had a bad cold—and + you couldn't have done me a bit of good if you had come—and now I am + entirely well, never felt better in my life. Oh—but it's good to get + hold of you, Kate,—and you are still the same bunch of roses. Sit + down now and tell me all about it. I wish I had a better chair for you, my + dear, but the place is quite dismantled, as you see. I expected to stay + the winter when I left.” + </p> + <p> + She had not given a thought to the chair or to the changes—had not + even noticed them. That the room was stripped of its furniture prior to a + long stay was what invariably occurred in her own house every summer: it + was her precious uncle's pale, shrunken face and the blue veins that + showed in the backs of his dear transparent hands which she held between + her own, and the thin, emaciated wrists that absorbed her. + </p> + <p> + “You poor, dear Uncle George!” she purred—“and nobody to look after + you.” He had drawn up Pawson's chair and had placed her in it beside the + one he sat in, and had then dropped slowly into his own, the better to + hide from her his weakness—but it did not deceive her. “I'm going to + have you put back to bed this very minute; you are not strong enough to + sit up. Let me call Aunt Jemima.” + </p> + <p> + St. George shook his head good-naturedly in denial and smoothed her hands + with his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Call nobody and do nothing but sit beside me and let me look into your + face and listen to your voice. I have been pretty badly shaken up; had two + weeks of it that couldn't have been much worse—but since then I have + been on the mend and am getting stronger every minute. I haven't had any + medicine and I don't want any now—I just want you and—” he + hesitated, and seeing nothing in her eyes of any future hope for Harry, + finished the sentence, with “and one or two others to sit by me and cheer + me up; that's better than all the doctors in the world. And now, first + about your father and then about yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's very well,” she rejoined absently. “He's off somewhere, went + away two days ago. He'll be back in a week. But you must have something to + eat—GOOD things!”—her mind still occupied with his condition. + “I'm going to have some chicken broth made the moment I get home and it + will be sent fresh every day: and you must eat every bit of it!” + </p> + <p> + Again St. George's laugh rang out. He had let her run on—it was + music to his ears—that he might later on find some clue on which he + could frame a question he had been revolving in his mind ever since he + heard her voice in the hall. He would not tell her about Harry—better + wait until he could read her thoughts the clearer. If he could discover by + some roundabout way that she would still refuse to see him it would be + best not to embarrass her with any such request; especially on this her + first visit. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I'll eat anything and everything you send me, you dear Kate—and + many thanks to you, provided you'll come with it—you are the best + broth for me. But you haven't answered my question—not all of it. + What have YOU been doing since I left?” + </p> + <p> + “Wondering whether you would forgive me for the rude way in which I left + you the last time I saw you,—the night of Mr. Horn's reading, for + one thing. I went off with Mr. Willits and never said a word to you. I + wrote you a letter telling you how sorry I was, but you never answered it, + and that made me more anxious than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “What foolishness, Kate! I never got it, of course, or you would have + heard from me right away. A number of my letters have gone astray of late. + But I don't remember a thing about it, except that you walked off with + your—” again he hesitated—“with Mr. Willits, which, of course, + was the most natural thing for you to do in the world. How is he, by the + way?” + </p> + <p> + Kate drew back her shoulders with that quick movement common to her when + some antagonism in her mind preceded her spoken word. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I haven't seen him for some weeks.” + </p> + <p> + St. George started in his chair: “You haven't! He isn't ill, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not,” she rejoined calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then he has gone down to his father's. Yes, I remember he goes quite + often,” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + “No, I think he is still here.” Her gaze was on the window as she spoke, + through which could be seen the tops of the trees glistening in the + sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “And you haven't seen him? Why?” asked St. George wonderingly—he was + not sure he had heard her aright. + </p> + <p> + “I told him not to come,” she replied in a positive tone. + </p> + <p> + St. George settled back in his chair. Had there been a clock in the room + its faintest tick would have rung out like a trip-hammer. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have had a quarrel: he has broken his promise to you and got + drunk again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he has never broken it; he has kept it as faithfully as Harry kept + his.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean, Kate, that you have broken off your engagement?” + </p> + <p> + She reached over and picked up her parasol: “There never was any + engagement. I have always felt sorry for Mr. Willits and tried my best to + love him and couldn't—that is all. He understands it perfectly; we + both do. It was one of the things that couldn't be.” + </p> + <p> + All sorts of possibilities surged one after the other through the old + diplomat's mind. A dim light increasing in intensity began to shine about + him. What it meant he dared not hope. “What does your father say?” he + asked slowly, after a pause in which he had followed every expression that + crossed her face. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—and it wouldn't alter the case if he did. I am the best + judge of what is good for me.” There was a certain finality in her + cadences that repelled all further discussion. He remembered having heard + the same ring before. + </p> + <p> + “When did all this happen?—this telling him not to come?” he + persisted, determined to widen the inquiry. His mind was still unable to + fully grasp the situation. + </p> + <p> + “About five weeks ago. Do you want to know the very night?” She turned her + head as she spoke and looked at him with her full, deep eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you wish me to.” + </p> + <p> + “The night Mr. Horn read 'The Cricket on the Hearth,'” she answered in a + tone of relief—as if some great crisis had marked the hour, the + passing of which had brought her infinite peace. “I told him when I got + home, and I have never seen him since.” + </p> + <p> + For some seconds St. George did not move. He had turned from her and sat + with his head resting on his hand, his eyes intent on the smouldering + fire: he dare not trust himself to speak; wide ranges opened before him; + the light had strengthened until it was blinding. Kate sat motionless, her + hands in her lap, her eyes searching St. George's face for some indication + of the effect of her news. Then finding him still silent and absorbed in + his thoughts, she went on: + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing else to do, Uncle George. I had done all I could to + please my father and one or two of my friends. There was nothing against + him—he was very kind and very considerate—but somehow I—” + She paused and drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Somehow what?” demanded St. George raising his head quickly and studying + her the closer. The situation was becoming vital now—too vital for + any further delay. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know—I couldn't love him—that's all. He has many + excellent qualities—too many maybe,” and she smiled faintly. “You + know I never liked people who were too good—that is, too willing to + do everything you wanted them to do—especially men who ought really + to be masters and—” She stopped and played with the top of her + parasol, smoothing the knob with her palm as if the better to straighten + out the tangle in her mind. “I expect you will think me queer, Uncle + George, but I have come to the conclusion that I will never love anybody + again—I am through with all that. It's very hard, you know, to mend + a thing when it's broken. I used to say to myself that when I grew to be a + woman I supposed I would love as any other woman seemed content to love; + that no romance of a young girl was ever realized and that they could only + be found in love stories. But my theories all went to pieces when I heard + Mr. Horn that night. Dot's love for John the Carrier—I have read it + so often since that I know the whole story by heart—Dot's love for + John was the real thing, but May Fielding's love for Tackleton wasn't. And + it seemed so wonderful when her lover came home and—it's foolish, I + know—very silly—that I should have been so moved by just the + reading of a story—but it's true. It takes only a very little to + push you over when you are on the edge, and I had been on the edge for a + long time. But don't let us talk about it, dear Uncle George,” she added + with a forced smile. “I'm going to take care of you now and be a charming + old maid with side curls and spectacles and make flannel things for the + poor—you just wait and see what a comfort I will be.” Her lips were + trembling, the tears crowding over the edges of her lids. + </p> + <p> + St. George stretched out his hand and in his kindest voice said: + </p> + <p> + “Was it the carrier and his wife, or was it the sailor boy who came back + so fine and strong, that affected you, Kate?—and made you give up + Mr. Willits?” He would go to the bottom now. + </p> + <p> + “It was everything, Uncle George—the sweetness of it all—her + pride in her husband—his doubts of her—her repentance; and yet + she did what she thought was for the best; and then his forgiveness and + the way he wanted to take her in his arms at last and she would not until + she explained. And there was nothing really to explain—only love, + and trust, and truth—all the time believing in him—loving him. + Oh, it is cruel to part people—it's so mean and despicable! There + are so many Tackletons—and the May Fieldings go to the altar and so + on to their graves—and there is often such a very little difference + between the two. I never gave my promise to Mr. Willits. I would not!—I + could not! He kept hoping and waiting. He was very gentle and patient—he + never coaxed nor pleaded, but just—Oh, Uncle George!—let me + talk it all out—I have nobody else. I missed you so, and there was + no one who could understand, and you wouldn't answer my letters.” She was + crying softly to herself, her beautiful head resting on her elbow pillowed + on the back of his chair. + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward the closer: he loved this girl next best to Harry. Her + sorrows were his own. Was it all coming out as he had hoped and prayed + for? He could hardly restrain himself in his eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Did you miss anybody else, Kate?” There was a peculiar tenderness in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + She did not raise her head nor did she answer. St. George waited and + repeated the question, Slipping his hand over hers, as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It was the loneliness, Uncle George,” she replied, evading his inference. + “I tried to forget it all, and I threw open our house and gave parties and + dances—hardly a week but there has been something going on—but + nothing did any good. I have been—yes—wretchedly unhappy and—No, + it will only distress you to hear it—don't let's talk any more about + it. I won't let you go away again. I'll go away with you if you don't get + better soon, anywhere you say. We'll go down to the White Sulphur—Yes—we'll + go there. The air is so bracing—it wouldn't be a week before all the + color would come back to your cheeks and you be as strong as ever.” + </p> + <p> + He was not listening. His mind was framing a question—one he must + ask without committing himself or her. He was running a parallel, really—reading + her heart by a flank movement. + </p> + <p> + “Kate, dear?” He had regained his position although he still kept hold of + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Uncle George.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you write to Harry, as I asked you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wouldn't have done any good. I have had troubles enough of my own + without adding any to his.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you afraid he would not answer it?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her head and tightened her fingers about his own, her wet eyes + looking into his. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid of myself. I have never known my own mind and I don't know + it now. I have played fast and loose with everybody—I can't bind up + a broken arm and then break it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't it be better to try?” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't think so.” + </p> + <p> + St. George released her hand and settled back in his chair; his face grew + grave. What manner of woman was this, and how could he reach the inner + kernel of her heart? Again he raised his head and leaning forward took + both her hands between his own. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you a story, Kate—one you have never heard—not + all of it. When I was about your age—a little older perhaps, I gave + my heart to a woman who had known me from a boy; with whom I had played + when she was a child. I'm not going into the whole story, such things are + always sad; nor will I tell you anything of the beginning of the three + happy months of our betrothal nor of what caused our separation. I shall + only tell you of the cruelty of the end. There was a misunderstanding—a + quarrel—I begging her forgiveness on my knees. All the time her + heart was breaking. One little word from her would have healed everything. + Some years after that she married and her life still goes on. I am what + you see.” + </p> + <p> + Kate looked at him with swimming eyes. She dimly remembered that she had + heard that her uncle had had a love affair in his youth and that his + sweetheart had jilted him for a richer man, but she had never known that + he had suffered so bitterly over it. Her heart went out to him all the + more. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me who it was?” She had no right to ask; but she might + comfort him the better if she knew. + </p> + <p> + “Harry's mother.” + </p> + <p> + Kate dropped his hands and drew back in her seat. + </p> + <p> + “You—loved—Mrs.—Rutter—and she—refused you + for—Oh!—what a cruel thing to do! And what a fool she was. Now + I know why you have been so good to Harry. Oh, you poor, dear Uncle + George. Oh, to think that you of all men! Is there any one whose heart is + not bruised and broken?” she added in a helpless tone. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of them, Kate—especially those who have been willing to + stoop a little and so triumph. Harry has waited three years for some word + from you; he has not asked for it, for he believes you have forgotten him; + and then he was too much of a man to encroach upon another's rights. Does + your breaking off with Mr. Willits alter the case in any way?—does + it make any difference? Is this sailor boy always to be a wanderer—never + to come home to his people and the woman he loves?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll never come back to me, Uncle George,” she said with a shudder, + dropping her eyes. “I found that out the day we talked together in the + park, just before he left. And he's not coming home. Father got a letter + from one of his agents who had seen him. He was looking very well and was + going up into the mountains—I wrote you about it. I am sorry you + didn't get the letter—but of course he has written you too.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I should tell you that he would come back if he thought you would + be glad to see him—glad in the old way?” + </p> + <p> + Kate shook her head: “He would never come. He hates me, and I don't blame + him. I hate myself when I think of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he should walk in now?”—he was very much afraid he would, + and he was not quite ready for him yet. What he was trying to find out was + not whether Kate would be glad to see Harry as a relief to her loneliness, + but whether she really LOVED him. + </p> + <p> + Some tone in his voice caught her ear. She turned her head quickly and + looked at him with wondering gaze, as if she would read his inmost + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he is coming, Uncle George—that Harry IS coming + home!” she exclaimed excitedly, the color ebbing from her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “He is already here, Kate. He slept upstairs in his old room last night. I + expect him in any minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Here!—in this room!” She was on her feet in an instant, her face + deathly pale, her whole frame shaking. Which way should she turn to + escape? To meet him face to face would bring only excruciating pain. “Oh, + why didn't you tell me, Uncle George!” she burst out. “I won't see him! I + can't!—not now—not here! Let me go home—let me think! No—don't + stop me!” and catching up her cape and parasol she was out the door and + down the steps before he could call her back or even realize that she had + gone. + </p> + <p> + Once on the pavement she looked nervously up and down the street, gathered + her pretty skirts tight in her hand and with the fluttered flight of a + scared bird darted across the park, dashed through her swinging gate, and + so on up to her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + There she buried her face in Mammy Henny's lap and burst into an agony of + tears. + </p> + <p> + While all this had been going on upstairs another equally important + conference was taking place in Pawson's office below, where Harry at + Pawson's request had gone to meet Gadgem and talk over certain plans for + his uncle's future welfare. He had missed Kate by one of those trifling + accidents which often determine the destiny of nations and of men. Had he, + after attending to the business of the morning—(he had been down to + Marsh Market with Todd for supplies)—mounted the steps to see his + uncle instead of yielding to a sudden impulse to interview Pawson first + and his uncle afterward, he would have come upon Kate at the very moment + she was pouring out her heart to St. George. + </p> + <p> + But no such fatality or stroke of good fortune—whatever the gods had + in store for him—took place. On the contrary he proceeded calmly to + carry out the details of a matter of the utmost importance to all + concerned—one in which both Pawson and Gadgem were interested—(indeed + he had come at Pawson's suggestion to discuss its details with the + collector and himself):—all of which the Scribe promises in all + honor to reveal to his readers before the whole of this story is told. + </p> + <p> + Harry walked straight up to Gadgem: + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Gadgem,” he said in his manly, friendly + way. “You have been very good to my uncle, and I want to thank you both + for him and for myself,” and he shook the little man's hand heartily. + </p> + <p> + Gadgem blushed. St. George's democracy he could understand; but why this + aristocrat—outcast as he had once been, but now again in favor—why + this young prince, the heir to Moorlands and the first young blood of his + time, should treat him as an equal, puzzled him; and yet, somehow, his + heart warmed to him as he read his sincerity in his eyes and voice. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir—thank you very much, sir,” rejoined Gadgem, with a + folding-camp-stool-movement, his back bent at right angles with his legs. + “I really don't deserve it, sir. Mr. Temple is an EXtraordinary man, sir; + the most EXtraordinary man I have ever met, sir. Give you the shirt off + his back, sir, and go NAked himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he gave it to me,” laughed Harry, greatly amused at the collector's + effusive manner: He had never seen this side of Gadgem. “That, of course, + you know all about—you paid the bills, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “PREcisely so, sir.” He had lengthened out now with a spiral-spring, + cork-screw twist in his body, his index finger serving as point. “Paid + every one of them. He never cared, sir—he GLOried in it—GLOried + in being a pauper. UNaccountable, Mr. Rutter—Enormously + unaccountable. Never heard of such a case; never WILL hear of such a case. + So what was to be done, sir? Just what I may state is being done this + minute over our heads UPstairs”: and out went the index finger. “Rest and + REcuperation, sir—a slow—a very slow use of AVAILable assets + until new and FURther AVAILable assets could become visible. And they are + here, sir—have arRIVED. You may have heard, of course, of the + Patapsco where Mr. Temple kept the largest part of his fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “No, except that it about ruined everybody who had anything to do with + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have heard nothing of the REsuscitation!” cried Gadgem, all his + fingers opened like a fan, his eyebrows arched to the roots of his hair. + “You surPRISE me! And you are really ignorant of the PHOEnix-like way in + which it has RISen from its ashes? I said RISen, sir, because it is now + but a dim speck in the financial sky. Nor the appointment of Mr. John + Gorsuch as manager, ably backed by your DIStinguished father—the + setting of the bird upon its legs—I'm speaking of the burnt bird, + sir, the PHOEnix. I'm quite sure it was a bird—Nor the payment on + the first of the ensuing month of some eighty per cent of the amounts due + the ORIGinal depositors and another twenty per cent in one year thereafter—The + cancelling of the mortgage which your most BEnevolent and HONorable father + bought, and the sly trick of Gorsuch—letting Fogbin, who never + turned up, become the sham tenant—and the joy—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on Mr. Gadgem—I'm not good at figures. Give me that over again + and speak slower. Am I to understand that the bank will pay back to my + uncle, within a day or so, three-quarters of the money they stole from + him?” + </p> + <p> + “STOLE, sir!” chided Gadgem, his outstretched forefinger wig-wagging a + Fie! Fie! gesture of disapproval—“STOLE is not a pretty word—actionable, + sir—DANgerously actionable—a question of the watch-house, and, + if I might be permitted to say—a bit of COLD lead—Perhaps you + will allow me to suggest the word 'maNIPulated,' sir—the money the + bank maNIPulated from your confiding and inexperienced uncle—that is + safer and it is equally EXpressive. He! He!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, will he get the money?” cried Harry, his face lighting up, his + interest in the outcome outweighing his amusement over Gadgem's antics and + expressions. + </p> + <p> + “He WILL, sir,” rejoined Gadgem decisively. + </p> + <p> + “And you are so sure of it that you would be willing to advance one-half + the amount if the account was turned over to you this minute?” cried Harry + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No sir—not one-half—ALL of it—less a TRIfling + commission for my services of say one per cent. When you say 'this + minute,' sir, I must reply that the brevity of the area of action becomes + a trifle ACUTE, yes, ALARMingly acute. I haven't the money myself, sir—that + is, not about my person—but I can get it in an hour, sir—in + less time, if Mr. Temple is willing. That was my purpose in coming here, + sir—that was why Mr. Pawson sent for me, sir; and it is but fair to + say that you can thank your DIStinguished father for it all, sir—he + has worked night and day to do it. Colonel Rutter has taken over—so + I am inFORMED—I'm not sure, but I am inFORMED—taken over a lot + of the securities himself so that he COULD do it. Another EXtraordinary + combination, if you will permit me to say so—I refer to your father—a + man who will show you his door one minute and open his pocketbook and his + best bottle of wine for you the next,” and he plunged himself down in his + seat with so determined a gesture that it left no question on Harry's mind + that he intended sitting it out until daylight should there be the + faintest possibility of his financial proposition being accepted. + </p> + <p> + Harry walked to the window and gazed out on the trees. There was no doubt + now that Mr. Temple was once more on his feet. “Uncle George will go now + to Moorlands,” he said, decisively, in a low tone, speaking to himself, + his heart swelling with pride at this fresh evidence of his father's high + sense of honor—then he wheeled and addressed the attorney: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell Mr. Temple this news, about the Patapsco Bank, Mr. Pawson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you think best, Mr. Rutter. And I have another piece of good + news. This please do not tell Mr. Temple, not yet—not until it is + definitely settled. That old suit in Chancery has been decided, or will + be, so I learned this morning and decided in favor of the heir. You may + not have heard of it before, Gadgem,” and he turned to the collector, “but + it is one of old General Dorsey Temple's left-overs. It has been in the + courts now some forty years. When this decision is made binding,” here he + again faced Harry—“Mr. Temple comes in for a considerable share.” + </p> + <p> + Gadgem jumped to his feet and snapped his fingers rapidly. Had he sat on a + tack his rebound could not have been more sudden. This last was news to + him. + </p> + <p> + “SHORN lamb, sir!” he cried gleefully, rubbing his palms together, his + body tied into a double bow-knot. “Gentle breezes; bread upon the waters! + By jiminy, Mr. Rutter, if Mr. Temple could be born again—figuratively, + sir—and I could walk in upon him as I once did, and find him at + breakfast surrounded by all his comforts with Todd waiting upon him—a + very good nigger is Todd, sir—an exCEPtionally good nigger—I'd—I'd—damn + me, Mr. Rutter, I'd—well, sir, there's no word—but John + Gadgem, sir—well, I'll be damned if he wouldn't—” and he began + skipping about the room, both feet in the air, as if he was a boy of + twenty instead of a thin, shambling, badly put together bill collector in + an ill-fitting brown coat, a hat much the worse for wear, and a red cotton + handkerchief addicted to weekly ablutions. + </p> + <p> + As for Harry the glad news had cleared out wide spaces before him, such as + he had not looked through in years; leafy vistas, with glimpses of sunlit + meadows; shadow-flecked paths leading to manor-houses with summer skies + beyond. He, too, was on his feet, walking restlessly up and down. + </p> + <p> + Pawson and Gadgem again put their heads together, Harry stopping to + listen. Such expressions as “Certainly,” “I think I can”: “Yes, of course + it was there when I was last in his place,” “Better see him first,” caught + his ear. + </p> + <p> + At last he could stand it no longer. Dr. Teackle or no Dr. Teackle, he + would go upstairs, open the door softly, and if his uncle was awake + whisper the good news in his ear. If anybody had whispered any such + similar good news in his ear on any one of the weary nights he had lain + awake waiting for the dawn, or at any time of the day when he sat his + horse, his rifle across the pommel, it would have made another man of him. + </p> + <p> + If his uncle was awake! + </p> + <p> + He was not only awake, but he was very much alive. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a great piece of news for you, Uncle George!” Harry shouted in a + rollicking tone, his joy increasing as he noted his uncle's renewed + strength. + </p> + <p> + “So have I got a great piece of news for you!” was shouted back. “Come in, + you young rascal, and shut that door behind you. She isn't going to marry + Willits. Thrown him over—don't want him—don't love him—can't + love him—never did love him! She's just told me so. Whoop—hurrah! + I Dance, you dog, before I throw this chair at you!!” + </p> + <p> + There are some moments in a man's life when all language fails;—pantomime + moments, when one stares and tries to speak and stares again. They were + both at it—St. George waiting until Harry should explode, and Harry + trying to get his breath, the earth opening under him, the skies falling + all about his head. + </p> + <p> + “She told you so! When!” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Two minutes ago—you've just missed her! Where the devil have you + been? Why didn't you come in before?” + </p> + <p> + “Kate here—two minutes ago—what will I do?” Had he found + himself at sea in an open boat with both oars adrift he could not have + been more helpless. + </p> + <p> + “DO! Catch her before she gets home! Quick!—just as you are—sailor + clothes and all!” + </p> + <p> + “But how will I know if—?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't have to know! Away with you, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + And away he went—and if you will believe it, dear reader—without + even a whisper in his uncle's ears of the good news he had come to tell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Ben let him in. + </p> + <p> + He came as an apparition, the old butler balancing the door in his hand, + as if undecided what to do, trying to account for the change in the young + man's appearance—the width of shoulders, the rough clothes, and the + determined glance of his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Fo' Gawd, it's Marse Harry!” was all he said when he could get his mouth + open. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ben—go and tell your mistress I am here,” and he brushed past + him and pushed back the drawing-room door. Once inside he crossed to the + mantel and stood with his back to the hearth, his sailor's cap in his + hand, his eyes fixed on the door he had just closed behind him. Through it + would come the beginning or the end of his life. Ben's noiseless entrance + and exit a moment after, with his mistress's message neither raised nor + depressed his hopes. He had known all along she would not refuse to see + him: what would come after was the wall that loomed up. + </p> + <p> + She had not hesitated, nor did she keep him waiting. Her eyes were still + red with weeping, her hair partly dishevelled, when Ben found her—but + she did not seem to care. Nor was she frightened—nor eager. She just + lifted her cheek from Mammy Henny's caressing hand—pushed back the + hair from her face with a movement as if she was trying to collect her + thoughts, and without rising from her knees heard Ben's message to the + end. Then she answered calmly: + </p> + <p> + “Did you say Mr. Harry Rutter, Ben? Tell him I'll be down in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She entered with that same graceful movement which he loved so well—her + head up, her face turned frankly toward him, one hand extended in welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle George told me you were back, Harry. It was very good of you to + come,” and sank on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + It had been but a few steps to him—the space between the open door + and the hearth rug on which he stood—and it had taken her but a few + seconds to cross it, but in that brief interval the heavens had opened + above her. The old Harry was there—the smile—the flash in the + eyes—the joy of seeing her—the quick movement of his hand in + gracious salute; then there had followed a sense of his strength, of the + calm poise of his body, of the clearness of his skin. She saw, too, how + much handsomer he had grown,—and noted the rough sailor's clothes. + How well they fitted his robust frame! And the clear, calm eyes and finely + cut features—no shrinking from responsibility in that face; no + faltering—the old ideal of her early love and the new ideal of her + sailor boy—the one Richard's voice had conjured—welded into + one personality! + </p> + <p> + “I heard you had just been in to see Uncle George, Kate, and I tried to + overtake you.” + </p> + <p> + Not much: nothing in fact. Playwriters tell us that the dramatic situation + is the thing, and that the spoken word is as unimportant to the play as + the foot-lights—except as a means of illuminating the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I have just left him, Harry. Uncle George looks very badly—don't + you think so? Is there anything very serious the matter? I sent Ben to Dr. + Teackle's, but he was not in his office.” + </p> + <p> + He had moved up a chair and sat devouring every vibration of her lips, + every glance of her wondrous eyes—all the little movements of her + beautiful body—her dress—the way the stray strands of hair had + escaped to her shoulders. His Kate!—and yet he dare not touch her! + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not ill. He took a severe cold and only needs rest and a little + care. I am glad you went and—” then the pent-up flood broke loose. + “Are you glad to see me, Kate?” + </p> + <p> + “I am always glad to see you, Harry—and you look so well. It has + been nearly three years, hasn't it?” Her calmness was maddening; she spoke + as if she was reciting a part in which she had no personal interest. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I haven't counted—not that way. I have lain + awake too many nights and suffered too much to count by years. I count by—” + </p> + <p> + She raised her hand in protest: “Don't Harry—please don't. All the + suffering has not been yours!” The impersonal tone was gone—there + was a note of agony in her voice. + </p> + <p> + His manner softened: “Don't think I blame you, Kate. I love you too much + to blame you—you did right. The suffering has only done me good—I + am a different man from the one you once knew. I see life with a wider + vision. I know what it is to be hungry; I know, too, what it is to earn + the bread that has kept me alive. I came home to look after Uncle George. + When I go back I want to take him with me. I won't count the years nor all + the suffering I have gone through if I can pay him back what I owe him. He + stood by me when everybody else deserted me.” + </p> + <p> + She winced a little at the thrust, as if he had touched some sore spot, + sending a shiver of pain through her frame, but she did not defend + herself. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't take him away, Harry—leave Uncle George to me,” not as + if she demanded it—more as if she was stating a fact. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He will be another man out in Brazil—and he can live there + like a gentleman on what he will have left—so Pawson thinks.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I love him dearly—and when he is gone I have nobody left,” + she answered in a hopeless tone. + </p> + <p> + Harry hesitated, then he asked: “And so what Uncle George told me about + Mr. Willits is true?” + </p> + <p> + Kate looked at him furtively—as if afraid to read his thoughts and + for reply bowed her head in assent. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he love you enough?” There was a certain reproach in his tone, as + if no one could love this woman enough to satisfy her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter then? Was it—” He stopped—his eagerness + had led him onto dangerous, if not discourteous, grounds. “No, you needn't + answer—forgive me for asking—I had no right. I am not myself, + Kate—I didn't mean to—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll tell you. I told Uncle George. I didn't like him well enough—that's + all.” All this time she was looking him calmly in the face. If she had + done anything to be ashamed of she did not intend to conceal it from her + former lover. + </p> + <p> + “And will Uncle George take his place now that he's gone? Do you ever know + your own heart, Kate?” There was no bitterness in his question. Her + frankness had disarmed him of that. It was more in the nature of an + inquiry, as if he was probing for something on which he could build a + hope. + </p> + <p> + For a brief instant she made no answer; then she said slowly and with a + certain positiveness: + </p> + <p> + “If I had I would have saved myself and you a great deal of misery.” + </p> + <p> + “And Langdon Willits?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he cannot complain—he does not—I promised him nothing. + But I have been so beaten about, and I have tried so hard to do right; and + it has all crumbled to pieces. As for you and me, Harry, let us both + forget that we have ever had any differences. I can't bear to think that + whenever you come home we must avoid each other. We were friends once—let + us be friends again. It was very kind of you to come. I'm glad you didn't + wait. Don't be bitter in your heart toward me.” + </p> + <p> + Harry left his chair and settled down on the sofa beside her, and in + pleading, tender tones said: + </p> + <p> + “Kate—When was I ever bitter toward you in my heart? Look at me! Do + you realize how I love you?—Do you know it sets me half crazy to + hear you talk like that? I haven't come here to-day to reproach you—I + have come to do what I can to help you, if you want my help. I told you + the last time we talked in the park that I wouldn't stay in Kennedy Square + a day longer even if you begged me to. That is over now; I'll do now + anything you wish me to do; I'll go or I'll stay. I love you too much to + do anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't love me!—you can't love me! I wouldn't let you love + me after all the misery I have caused you! I didn't know how much until I + began to suffer myself and saw Mr. Willits suffer. I am not worthy of any + man's love. I will never trust myself again—I can only try to be to + the men about me as Uncle George is to everyone. Oh, Harry!—Harry!—Why + was I born this way—headstrong wilful—never satisfied? Why am + I different from the other women?” + </p> + <p> + He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away. + </p> + <p> + “No!—not that!—not that! Let us be just as we were when—Just + as we used to be. Sit over there where I can see you better and watch your + face as you talk. Tell me all you have done—what you have seen and + what sort of places you have been in. We heard from you through—” + </p> + <p> + He squared his shoulders and faced her, his voice ringing clear, his eyes + flashing: something of the old Dutch admiral was in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Kate—I will have none of it! Don't talk such nonsense to me; I + won't listen. If you don't know your own heart I know mine; you've GOT to + love me!—you MUST love me! Look at me. In all the years I have been + away from you I have lived the life you would have me live—every + request you ever made of me I have carried out. I did this knowing you + would never be my wife and you would be Willits's! I did it because you + were my Madonna and my religion and I loved the soul of you and lived for + you as men live to please the God they have never seen. There were days + and nights when I never expected to see you or any one else whom I loved + again—but you never failed—your light never went out in my + heart. Don't you see now why you've got to love me? What was it you loved + in me once that I haven't got now? How am I different? What do I lack? + Look into my eyes—close—deep down—read my heart! Never, + as God is my judge, have I done a thing since I last kissed your forehead, + that you would have been ashamed of. Do you think, now that you are free, + that I am going back without you? I am not that kind of a man.” + </p> + <p> + She half started from her seat: “Harry!” she cried in a helpless tone—“you + do not know what you are saying—you must not—” + </p> + <p> + He leaned over and took both her hands firmly in his own. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me! Tell me the truth—as you would to your God! Do you love + me?” + </p> + <p> + She made an effort to withdraw her hands, then she sank back. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—don't know—” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “YOU DO—search again—way down in your heart. Go over every day + we have lived—when we were children and played together—all + that horror at Moorlands when I shot Willits—the night of Mrs. + Cheston's ball when I was drunk—all the hours I have held you in my + arms, my lips to yours—All of it—every hour of it—balance + one against the other. Think of your loneliness—not mine—yours—and + then tell me you do not know! You DO know! Oh, my God, Kate!—you + must love me! What else would you want a man to do for you that I have not + done?” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his arms, but she sprang to her feet and put out her + palms as a barrier. + </p> + <p> + “No. Let me tell you something. We must have no more misunderstandings—you + must be sure—I must be sure. I have no right to take your heart in + my hands again. It is I who have broken my faith with you, not you with + me. I was truly your wife when I promised you here on the sofa that last + time. I knew then that you would, perhaps, lose your head again, and yet I + loved you so much that I could not give you up. Then came the night of + your father's ball and all the misery, and I was a coward and shut myself + up instead of keeping my arms around you and holding you up to the best + that was in you, just as Uncle George begged me to do. And when your + father turned against you and drove you from your home, all because you + had tried to defend me from insult, I saw only the disgrace and did not + see the man behind it; and then you went away and I stretched out my arms + for you to come back to me and only your words echoed in my ears that you + would never come back to me until you were satisfied with yourself. Then I + gave up and argued it out and said it was all over—” + </p> + <p> + He had left his seat and at every sentence had tried to take her in his + arms, but she kept her palms toward him. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't touch me! You SHALL hear me out; I must empty all my heart! I + was lonely and heart-sore and driven half wild with doubts and what people + said, my father worse than all of them. And Mr. Willits was kind and + always at my beck and call—and so thoughtful and attentive—and + I tried and tried—but I couldn't. I always had you before me—and + you haunted me day and night, and sometimes when he would come in that + door I used to start, hoping it might be you.” + </p> + <p> + “It IS me, my darling!” he cried, springing toward her. “I don't want to + hear any more—I must—I will—” + </p> + <p> + “But you SHALL! There IS something more. It went on and on and I got so + that I did not care, and one day I thought I would give him my promise and + the next day all my soul rebelled against it and it was that way until one + night Mr. Horn read aloud a story—and it all came over me and I saw + everything plain as if it had been on a stage, and myself and you and Mr. + Willits—and what it meant—and what would come of it—and + he walked home with me and I told him frankly, and I have never seen him + since. And now here is the last and you must hear it out. There is not a + word I have said to him which I would recall—not a thing I am + ashamed of. Your lips were the last that touched my own. There, my + darling, it is all told. I love you with my whole heart and soul and mind + and body—I have never loved anybody else—I have tried and + tried and couldn't. I am so tired of thinking for myself,—so tired,—so + tired. Take me and do with me as you will!” + </p> + <p> + Again the plot is too strong for the dialogue. He had her fast in his arms + before her confession was finished. Then the two sank on the sofa where + she lay sobbing her heart out, he crooning over her—patting her + cheeks, kissing away the tears from her eyelids; smoothing the strands of + her hair with his strong, firm fingers. It was his Kate that lay in his + grasp—close—tightly pressed—her heart beating against + his, her warm, throbbing body next his own, her heart swept of every doubt + and care, all her will gone. + </p> + <p> + As she grew quiet she stretched up her hand, touching his cheek as if to + reassure herself that it was really her lover. Yes! It was Harry—HER + Harry—Harry who was dead and is alive again—to whom she had + stripped her soul naked—and who still trusted and loved her. + </p> + <p> + A little later she loosened herself from his embrace and taking his face + in her small, white hands looked long and earnestly into his eyes, + smoothing back the hair from his brow as she used to do; kissing him on + the forehead, on each eyelid, and then on the mouth—one of their + old-time caresses. Still remembering the old days, she threw back his coat + and let her hands wander over his full-corded throat and chest and arms. + How big and strong he had become! and how handsome he had grown—the + boy merged into the man. And that other something! (and another and + stronger thrill shot through her)—that other something which seemed + to flow out of him;—that dominating force that betokened leadership, + compelling her to follow—not the imperiousness of his father, + brooking no opposition no matter at what cost, but the leadership of + experience, courage, and self-reliance. + </p> + <p> + With this the sense of possession swept over her. He was all her own and + for ever! A man to lean upon; a man to be proud of; one who would listen + and understand: to whom she could surrender her last stronghold—her + will. And the comfort of it all; the rest, the quiet, the assurance of + everlasting peace: she who had been so torn and buffeted and heart-sore. + </p> + <p> + For many minutes she lay still from sheer happiness, thrilled by the + warmth and pressure of his strong arms. At last, when another thought + could squeeze itself into her mind, she said: “Won't Uncle George be glad, + Harry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, releasing her just far enough to look into her eyes. + “It will make him well. You made him very happy this morning. His troubles + are over, I hear—he's going to get a lot of his money back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad. And will we take him with us?” she asked wonderingly, + smoothing back his hair as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Take him where, darling?” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “To where we are going—No, you needn't laugh—I mean it. I + don't care where we go,” and she looked at him intently. “I'll go with you + anywhere in the world you say, and I'll start to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He caught her again in his arms, kissed her for the hundredth time, and + then suddenly relaxing his hold asked in assumed alarm: “And what about + your father? What do you think he will say? He always thought me a madcap + scapegrace—didn't he?” The memory brought up no regret. He didn't + care a rap what the Honorable Prim thought of him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—he thinks so now,” she echoed, wondering how anybody could have + formed any such ideas of her Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he will get over it when I talk with him about his coffee people. + Some of his agents out there want looking after.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—how lovely, my precious; talking coffee will be much pleasanter + than talking me!—and yet we have got to do it somehow when he comes + home.” + </p> + <p> + And down went her head again, she nestling the closer as if terrified at + the thought of the impending meeting; then another kiss followed—dozens + of them—neither of them keeping count, and then—and then—................................... + </p> + <p> + And then—Ben tapped gently and announced that dinner was served, and + Harry stared at the moon-faced dial and saw that it was long after two + o'clock, and wondered what in the world had become of the four hours that + had passed since he had rushed down from his uncle's and into Kate's arms. + </p> + <p> + And so we will leave them—playing housekeeping—Harry pulling + out her chair, she spreading her dainty skirts and saying “Thank you, Mr. + Rutter—” and Ben with his face in so broad a grin that it got set + that way—Aunt Dinah, the cook, having to ask him three times “Was he + gwineter hab a fit” before he could answer by reason of the chuckle which + was suffocating him. + </p> + <p> + And now as we must close the door for a brief space on the happy couple—never + so happy in all their lives—it will be just as well for us to find + out what the mischief is going on at the club—for there is something + going on—and that of unusual importance. + </p> + <p> + Everybody is out on the front steps. Old Bowdoin is craning his short + neck, and Judge Pancoast is saying that it is impossible and then instatly + changing his mind, saying: “By jove it is!”—and Richard Horn and + Warfield and Murdoch are leaning over the balcony rail still unconvinced + and old Harding is pounding his fat thigh with his pudgy hand in + ill-concealed delight. + </p> + <p> + Yes—there is no doubt of it—hasn't been any doubt of it since + the judge shouted out the glad tidings which emptied every chair in the + club: Across the park, beyond the rickety, vine-covered fence and close + beside the Temple Mansion, stands a four-in-hand, the afternoon sun + flashing from the silver mountings of the harness and glinting on the + polished body and wheels of the coach. Then a crack of the whip, a wind of + the horn, and they are off—the leaders stretching the traces, two + men on the box, two grooms in the rear. Hurrah! Well, by thunder, who + would have believed it—that's Temple inside on the back seat! “There + he is waving his hand and Todd is with him. And yes! Why of course it's + Rutter! See him clear that curb! Not a man in this county can drive like + that but Talbot.” + </p> + <p> + Round they come—the colonel straight as a whip—dusty-brown + overcoat, flowers in his buttonhole—bell-crowned hat, brown driving + gloves—perfectly appointed, even if he is a trifle pale and half + blind. More horn—a long joyous note now, as if they were heralding + the peace of the world, the colonel bowing like a grand duke as he passes + the assembled crowd—a gathering of the reins together, a sudden + pull-up at Seymours', everybody on the front porch—Kate peeping over + Harry's shoulder—and last and best of all, St. George's cheery voice + ringing out: + </p> + <p> + “Where are you two sweethearts!” Not a weak note anywhere; regular + fog-horn of a voice blown to help shipwrecked mariners. + </p> + <p> + “All aboard for Moorlands, you turtle-doves—never mind your clothes, + Kate—nor you either, Harry. Your father will send for them later. Up + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “All true, Harry,” called back the colonel from the top of the coach + (nobody alighted but the grooms—there wasn't time—) “Your + mother wouldn't wait another hour and sent me for you, and Teackle said + St. George could go, and we bundled him up and brought him along and you + are all going to stay a month. No, don't wait a minute, Kate; I want to + get home before dark. One of my men will be in with the carryall and bring + out your mammy and your clothes and whatever you want. Your father is away + I hear, and so nobody will miss you. Get your heavy driving coat, my dear; + I brought one of mine in for Harry—it will be cold before we get + home. Matthew, your eyes are better than mine, get down and see what the + devil is the matter with that horse. No, it's all right—the + check-rein bothered him.” + </p> + <p> + And so ended the day that had been so happily begun, and the night was no + less joyful with the mother's arms about her beloved boy and Kate on a + stool beside her and Talbot and St. George deep in certain vintages—or + perhaps certain vintages deep in Talbot and St. George—especially + that particular and peculiar old Madeira of 1800, which his friend Mr. + Jefferson had sent him from Monticello, and which was never served except + to some such distinguished guest as his highly esteemed and well-beloved + friend of many years, St. George Wilmot Temple of Kennedy Square. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + It would be delightful to describe the happy days at Moorlands during St. + George's convalescence, when the love-life of Harry and Kate was one long, + uninterrupted, joyous dream. When mother, father, and son were again + united—what a meeting was that, once she got her arms around her + son's neck and held him close and wept her heart out in thankfulness!—and + the life of the old-time past was revived—a life softened and made + restful and kept glad by the lessons all had learned. And it would be more + delightful still to carry the record of these charming hours far into the + summer had not St. George, eager to be under his own roof in Kennedy + Square, declared he could stay no longer. + </p> + <p> + Not that his welcome had grown less warm. He and his host had long since + unravelled all their difficulties, the last knot having been cut the + afternoon the colonel, urged on by Harry's mother—his disappointment + over his sons's coldness set at rest by her pleadings—had driven + into town for Harry in his coach, as has been said, and swept the whole + party, including St. George, out to Moorlands. + </p> + <p> + Various unrelated causes had brought about this much-to-be-desired result, + the most important being the news of the bank's revival, which Harry, in + his mad haste to overtake Kate, had forgotten to tell his uncle, and which + St. George learned half an hour later from Pawson, together with a full + account of what the colonel had done to bring about the happy result—a + bit of information which so affected Temple that, when the coach with the + colonel on the box had whirled up, he, weak as he was, had struggled to + the front door, both hands held out, in welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Talbot—old fellow,” he had said with a tear in his voice, “I have + misunderstood you and I beg your pardon. You've behaved like a man, and I + thank you from the bottom of my heart!” + </p> + <p> + At which the stern old aristocrat had replied, as he took St. George's two + hands in his: “Let us forget all about it, St. George. I made a damned + fool of myself. We all get too cocky sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Then there had followed—the colonel listening with bated breath—St. + George's account of Kate's confession and Harry's sudden exit, Rutter's + face brightening as it had not done for years when he learned that Harry + had not yet returned from the Seymours', the day's joy being capped by the + arrival of Dr. Teackle, who had given his permission with an “All right—the + afternoon is fine and the air will do Mr. Temple a world of good,” and so + St. George was bundled up and the reader knows the rest. + </p> + <p> + Later on—at Moorlands of course—the colonel, whose eyes were + getting better by the day and Gorsuch whose face was now one round + continuous smile, got to work, and had a heart-to-heart—or rather a + pocket-to-pocket talk—which was quite different in those days from + what it would be now—after which both Kate and Harry threw to the + winds all thoughts of Rio and the country contiguous thereto, and + determined instead to settle down at Moorlands. And then a great big iron + door sunk in a brick vault was swung wide and certain leather-bound books + were brought out—and particularly a sum of money which Harry duly + handed over to Pawson the next time he drove to town—(twice a week + now)—and which, when recounted, balanced to a cent the total of the + bills which Pawson had paid three years before, with interest added, a + list of which the attorney still kept in his private drawer with certain + other valuable papers tied with red tape, marked “St. G. W. T.” And still + later on—within a week—there had come the news of the final + settlement of the long-disputed lawsuit with St. George as principal + residuary legatee—and so our long-suffering hero was once more + placed upon his financial legs: the only way he could have been placed + upon them or would have been placed upon them—a fact very well known + to every one who had tried to help him, his philosophy being that one + dollar borrowed is two dollars owed—the difference being a man's + self-respect. + </p> + <p> + And it is truly marvellous what this change in his fortunes accomplished. + His slack body rounded out; his sunken cheeks plumped up until every + crease and crack were gone, his color regained its freshness, his eyes + their brilliancy; his legs took on their old-time spring and lightness—and + a wonderful pair of stand-bys, or stand-ups, or stand-arounds they were as + legs go—that is legs of a man of fifty-five. + </p> + <p> + And they were never idle, these legs: there was no sitting cross-legged in + a chair for St. George: he was not constructed along those lines. Hardly a + week had passed before he had them across Spitfire's mate; had ridden to + hounds; danced a minuet with Harry and Kate; walked half-way to Kennedy + Square and back—they thought he was going to walk all the way and + headed him off just in time; and best of all—(and this is worthy of + special mention)—had slipped them into the lower section of a suit + of clothes—and these his own, although he had not yet paid for them—the + colonel having liquidated their cost. These trousers, it is just as well + to state, had arrived months before from Poole, along with a suit of + Rutter's and the colonel had forwarded a draft for the whole amount + without examining the contents, until Alec had called his attention to the + absurd width of the legs—and the ridiculous spread of the seat. My + Lord of Moorlands, after the scene in the Temple Mansion, dared not send + them in to St. George, and they had accordingly lain ever since on top of + his wardrobe with Alec as chief of the Moth Department. St. George, on his + arrival, found them folded carefully and placed on a chair—Todd + chief valet. Whereupon there had been a good-natured row when our man of + fashion appeared at breakfast rigged out in all his finery, everybody + clapping their hands and saying how handsome he looked—St. George in + reply denouncing Talbot as a brigand of a Brummel who had stolen his + clothes, tried to wear them, and then when out of fashion thrown them back + on his hands. + </p> + <p> + All these, and a thousand other delightful things, it would, I say, be + eminently worth while to dilate upon—(including a series of whoops + and hand-springs which Todd threw against the rear wall of the big kitchen + five seconds after Alec had told him of the discomfiture of “dat + red-haided gemman,” and of Marse Harry's good fortune)—were it not + that certain mysterious happenings are taking place inside and out of the + Temple house in Kennedy Square—happenings exciting universal + comment, and of such transcendent importance that the Scribe is compelled, + much against his will—for the present installment is entirely too + short—to confine their telling to a special chapter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + For some time back, then be it said, various strollers unfamiliar with the + neighbors or the neighborhood of Kennedy Square, poor benighted folk who + knew nothing of the events set down in the preceding chapters, had nodded + knowingly to each other or shaken their pates deprecatingly over the + passing of “another old landmark.” + </p> + <p> + Some of these had gone so far as to say that the cause could be found in + the fact that Lawyer Temple had run through what little money his father + and grandmother had left him; additional wise-acres were of the opinion + that some out-of-town folks had bought the place and were trying to prop + it up so it wouldn't tumble into the street, while one, more facetious + than the others, had claimed that it was no wonder it was falling down, + since the only new thing Temple had put upon it was a heavy mortgage. + </p> + <p> + The immediate neighbors, however,—the friends of the house—had + smiled and passed on. They had no such forebodings. On the contrary + nothing so diverting—nothing so enchanting—had happened around + Kennedy Square in years. In fact, when one of these humorists began + speaking about it, every listener heard the story in a broad grin. Some of + the more hilarious even nudged each other in the waist-coats and ordered + another round of toddies—for two or three, or even five, if there + were that number of enthusiasts about the club tables. When they were + asked what it was all about they invariably shook their heads, winked, and + kept still—that is, if the question were put by some one outside the + magic circle of Kennedy Square. + </p> + <p> + All the general public knew was that men with bricks in hods had been seen + staggering up the old staircase with its spindle banisters and mahogany + rail; that additional operatives had been discovered clinging to the + slanting roof long enough to pass up to further experts grouped about the + chimneys small rolls of tin and big bundles of shingles; that plasterers + in white caps and aprons, with mortar-boards in one hand and trowels in + the other, had been seen chinking up cracks; while any number of painters, + carpenters, and locksmiths were working away for dear life all over the + place from Aunt Jemima's kitchen to Todd's bunk under the roof. + </p> + <p> + In addition to all this curious wagons had been seen to back up to the + curb, from which had been taken various odd-looking bundles; these were + laid on the dining-room floor, a collection of paint pots, brushes, and + wads of putty being pushed aside to give them room—and with some + haste too, for every one seemed to be working overtime. + </p> + <p> + As to what went on inside the mansion itself not the most inquisitive + could fathom: no one being permitted to peer even into Pawson's office, + where so large a collection of household goods and gods were sprawled, + heaped, and hung, that it looked as if there had been a fire in the + neighborhood, and this room the only shelter for miles around. Even + Pawson's law books were completely hidden by the overflow and so were the + tables, chairs, and shelves, together with the two wide window-sills. + </p> + <p> + Nor did it seem to matter very much to the young attorney as to how or at + what hours of the day or night these several articles arrived. Often quite + late in the evening—and this happened more than once—an old + fellow, pinched and wheezy, would sneak in, uncover a mysterious object + wrapped in a square of stringy calico, fumble in his pocket for a scrap of + paper, put his name at the bottom of it, and sneak out again five, ten, or + twenty dollars better off. Once, as late as eleven o'clock, a fattish + gentleman with a hooked nose and a positive dialect, assisted another + stout member of his race to slide a very large object from out the tail of + a cart. Whereupon there had been an interchange of wisps of paper between + Pawson and the fatter of the two men, the late visitors bowing and smiling + until they reached a street lantern where they divided a roll of + bank-notes between them. + </p> + <p> + And the delight that Pawson and Gadgem took in it all!—assorting, + verifying, checking off—slapping each other's backs in glee when + some doubtful find was made certain, and growing even more excited on the + days when Harry and Kate would drive or ride in from Moorlands—almost + every day of late—tie the horse and carry-all, or both + saddle-horses, to St. George's tree-boxes, and at once buckle on their + armor. + </p> + <p> + This, rendered into common prose, meant that Harry, after a prolonged + consultation with Pawson and Gadgem, would shed his outer coat, the spring + being now far advanced, blossoms out and the weather warm—and that + Kate would tuck her petticoats clear of her dear little feet and go + pattering round, her sleeves rolled up as far as they would go, her + beautiful arms bare almost to her shoulders—her hair smothered in a + brown barege veil to keep out the dust—the most bewitching + parlor-maid you or anybody else ever laid eyes on. Then would follow such + a carrying up of full baskets and carrying down of empty ones; such a + spreading of carpets and rugs; such an arranging of china and glass; such + a placing of andirons, fenders, shovels, tongs, and bellows; hanging of + pictures, curtains, and mirrors—old and new; moving in of sofas, + chairs, and rockers; making up of beds with fluted frills on the pillows—a + silk patchwork quilt on St. George's bed and cotton counterpanes for + Jemima and Todd! + </p> + <p> + And the secrecy maintained by everybody! Pawson might have been stone deaf + and entirely blind for all the information you could twist out of him—and + a lot of people tried. And as to Gadgem—the dumbest oyster in + Cherrystone Creek was a veritable magpie when it came to his giving the + precise reason why the Temple Mansion was being restored from top to + bottom and why all its old furniture, fittings, and trappings—(brand-new + ones when they couldn't be found in the pawn shops or elsewhere)—were + being gathered together within its four walls. When anybody asked Kate—and + plenty of people did—she would throw her head back and laugh so loud + and so merrily and so musically, that you would have thought all the birds + in Kennedy Square park were still welcoming the spring. When you asked + Harry he would smile and wink and perhaps keep on whispering to Pawson or + Gadgem whose eyes were glued to a list which had its abiding place in + Pawson's top drawer. + </p> + <p> + Outside of these four conspirators—yes, six—for both Todd and + Jemima were in it, only a very few were aware of what was really being + done. The colonel of course knew, and so did Harry's mother—and so + did old Alec who had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from + snickering out loud at the breakfast table when he accidentally overheard + what was going on—an unpardonable offence—(not the listening, + but the laughing). In fact everybody in the big house at Moorlands knew, + for Alec spread it broadcast in the kitchen and cabins—everybody + EXCEPT ST. GEORGE. + </p> + <p> + Not a word reached St. George—not a syllable. No one of the house + servants would have spoiled the fun, and certainly no one of the great + folks. It was only when his visit to Moorlands was over and he had driven + into town and had walked up his own front steps, that the true situation + in all its glory and brilliancy dawned upon him. + </p> + <p> + The polished knobs, knocker, and the perfect level and whiteness of the + marble steps first caught his eye; then the door swung open and Jemima in + white apron and bandanna stood bowing to the floor, Todd straight as a + ramrod in a new livery and a grin on his face that cut it in two, with + Kate and Harry hidden behind them, suffocating from suppressed laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you dear Jemima! Howdy—... Why, who the devil sent that old + table back, Todd, and the hall rack and—What!” Here he entered the + dining-room. Everything was as he remembered it in the old days. “Harry! + Kate!—Why—” then he broke down and dropped into a chair, his + eyes still roaming around the room taking in every object, even the loving + cup, which Mr. Kennedy had made a personal point of buying back from the + French secretary, who was gracious enough to part with it when he learned + the story of its enforced sale—each and every one of them—ready + to spring forward from its place to welcome him! + </p> + <p> + “So this,” he stammered out—“is what you have kept me up at + Moorlands for, is it? You never say a word to me—and—Oh, you + children!—you children! Todd, did you ever see anything like it?—my + guns—and the loving cup—and the clock, and—Come here you + two blessed things and let me get my arms around you! Kiss me, Kate—and + Harry, my son—give me your hand. No, don't say a word—don't + mind me—I'm all knocked out and—” + </p> + <p> + Down went his face in his hands and he in a heap in the chair; then he + stiffened and gave a little shiver to his elbows in the effort to keep + himself from going completely to pieces, and scrambled to his feet again, + one arm around Kate's neck, his free hand in Harry's. + </p> + <p> + “Take me everywhere and show me everything. Todd, go and find Mr. Pawson + and see if Mr. Gadgem is anywhere around; they've had something to do with + this”—here his eyes took in Todd—“You damned scoundrel, who + the devil rigged you out in that new suit?” + </p> + <p> + “Marse Harry done sont me to de tailor. See dem buttons?—but dey + ain't nuthin' to what's on the top shelf—you'll bust yo'self wide + open a-laughin', Marse George, when ye sees what's in dar—you gotter + come wid me—please Mistis an' Marse Harry, you come too. Dis way—” + </p> + <p> + Todd was full to bursting. Had his grin been half an inch wider his ears + would have dropped off. + </p> + <p> + “An' fore ye look at dem shelves der's annuder thing I gotter tell ye;—an' + dat is dat the dogs—all fo' oh em is comin' in the mawnin'. Mister + Floyd's coach-man done tole me so,” and with a jerk and a whoop, + completely ignoring his master's exclamation of joy over the return of his + beloved setters, the darky threw back the door of the little cubby-hole of + a room where the Black Warrior and his brethren had once rested in peace, + and pointed to a row of erect black bottles backed by another of recumbent + ones. + </p> + <p> + “Look at dat wine, will ye, Marse George,” he shouted, “all racked up on + dern shelves? Dat come f'om Mister Talbot Rutter wid dis yere cyard—” + and he handed it out. + </p> + <p> + St. George reached over, took it from his hand, and read it aloud: + </p> + <p> + “With the compliments of an old friend, who sends you herewith a few + bottles of the Jefferson and some Sercial and old Port—and a basket + or two of Royal Brown Sherry—nothing like your own, but the best he + could scare up.” + </p> + <p> + Soon the newly polished and replated knocker began to get in its liveliest + work: “Mrs. Richard Horn's compliments, and would St. George be pleased to + accept a basket of Maryland biscuit and a sallylunn just out of the oven.” + Mrs. Bowdoin's compliments with three brace of ducks—“a little late + in the season, my dear St. George, but they are just up from Currytuck + where Mr. Bowdoin has had extremely good luck—for Mr. Bowdoin.” + “Mrs. Cheston's congratulations, and would Mr. Temple do her the honor of + placing on his sideboard an old Accomack County ham which her cook had + baked that morning and which should have all the charm and flavor of the + State which had given him birth—” and last a huge basket of spring + roses from Miss Virginia Clendenning, accompanied by a card bearing the + inscription—“You don't deserve them, you renegade,” and signed—“Your + deserted and heart-broken sweetheart.” All of which were duly spread out + on the sideboard, together with one lone bottle to which was attached an + envelope. + </p> + <p> + Before the day was over half the club had called—Richard acting + master of ceremonies—Kate and old Prim—(he seemed perfectly + contented with the way everything had turned out)—doing the honors + with St. George. Pawson had also put in an appearance and been publicly + thanked—a mark of St. George's confidence and esteem which doubled + his practice before the year was out, and Gadgem— + </p> + <p> + No, Gadgem did not put in an appearance. Gadgem got as far as the hall and + looked in, and, seeing all the great people thronging about St. George, + would have sneaked out again to await some more favorable occasion had not + Harry's sharp eyes discovered the top of his scraggly head over the + shoulders of some others, and darted towards him, and when he couldn't be + made to budge, had beckoned to St. George, who came on a run and shook + Gadgem's hand so heartily and thanked him in so loud a voice—(everybody + in the hall heard him)—that he could only sputter—“Didn't do a + thing, sir—no, sir—and if I—” and then, overwhelmed, + shot out of the door and down the steps and into Pawson's office where he + stood panting, saying to himself—“I'll be tuckered if I ain't + happier than I—yes—by Jingo, I am. JIMminy-CRIMminy what a man + he is!” + </p> + <p> + And so the day passed and the night came and the neighbors took their + leave, and Harry escorted Kate back to Seymours' and the tired knocker + gave out and fell asleep, and at last Todd said good-night and stole down + to Jemima, and St. George found himself once more in his easy chair, his + head in his hand, his eyes fixed on the dead coals of a past fire. + </p> + <p> + As the echo of Todd's steps faded away and he began to realize that he was + alone, there crept over him for the first time in years the comforting + sense that he was once more under his own roof—his again and all + that it covered—all that he loved; even his beloved dogs. He left + his chair and with a quick indrawing of his breath, as if he had just + sniffed the air from some open sea, stretched himself to his full height. + There he stood looking about him, his shapely fingers patting his chest; + his eyes wandering over the room, first with a sweeping glance, and then + resting on each separate object as it nodded to him under the glow of the + candles. + </p> + <p> + He had come into his possessions once more. Not that the very belongings + made so much difference as his sense of pride in their ownership. They + had, too, in a certain way regained for him his freedom—freedom to + go and come and do as he pleased untrammelled by makeshifts and + humiliating exposures and concealments. Best of all, they had given him + back his courage, bracing the inner man, strengthening his beliefs in his + traditions and in the things that his race and blood stood for. + </p> + <p> + Then as a flash of lightning reveals from out black darkness the recurrent + waves of a troubled sea, there rushed over him the roll and surge of the + events which had led up to his rehabilitation. Suddenly a feeling of + intense humiliation and profound gratitude swept through him. He raised + his arms, covered his face with his hands, and stood swaying; forcing back + his tears; muttering to himself: “How good they have been—how good, + how good! All mine once more—wonderful—wonderful!” With a + resolute bracing of his shoulders and a brave lift of his chin, he began a + tour of the room, stopping before each one of his beloved heirlooms and + treasures—his precious gun that Gadgem had given up—(the + collector coveted it badly as a souvenir, and got it the next day from St. + George, with his compliments)—the famous silver loving cup with an + extra polish Kirk had given it; his punch bowl—scarf rings and + knick-knacks and the furniture and hangings of various kinds. At last he + reached the sideboard, and bending over reread the several cards affixed + to the different donations—Mrs. Cheston's, Mrs. Horn's, Miss + Clendenning's, and the others. His eye now fell on the lone bottle—this + he had not heretofore noticed—and the note bearing Mr. Kennedy's + signature. “I send you back, St. George, that last bottle of old Madeira, + the Black Warrior of 1810—the one you gave me and which we were to + share together. I hadn't the heart to drink my half without you and so + here is the whole and my warmest congratulations on your home-coming and + long life to you!” + </p> + <p> + Picking up the quaint bottle, he passed his hand tenderly over its crusted + surface, paused for an instant to examine the cork, and held it closer to + the light that he might note its condition. There he stood musing, his + mind far away, his fingers caressing its sides. All the aroma of the past; + all the splendor of the old regime—all its good-fellowship, + hospitality, and courtesy—that which his soul loved—lay + imprisoned under his hand. Suddenly one of his old-time quizzical smiles + irradiated his face: “By Jove!—just the thing!” he cried joyously, + “it will take the place of the one Talbot didn't open!” + </p> + <p> + With a mighty jerk of the bell cord he awoke the echoes below stairs. + </p> + <p> + Todd came on the double quick: + </p> + <p> + “Todd.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marse George.” + </p> + <p> + “Todd, here's the last bottle of the 1810. Lay it flat on the top shelf + with the cork next the wall. We'll open it at Mr. Harry's wedding.” + </p> + <p> + [THE END] <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kennedy Square, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KENNEDY SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 4746-h.htm or 4746-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/4/4746/ + +Produced by Duncan Harrod, and David Widger + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |